A Mother’s Sacrifice

by Gemma Metcalfe

  I take a moment to think about what I’m doing, knowing I have to be certain of Magda’s guilt before doing something I’ll regret. For days now I have hovered on the edge of madness, my paranoia casting suspicion on one person after another. Wasn’t it just a moment ago I was convinced Annette and Ron were going to steal Cory? And yet the message on the Babygro literally rearranged itself as Magda held it up to me. I thought Annette couldn’t possibly be pregnant but am I really so sure of that? Perhaps I just wanted to believe she was lying; perhaps my eyes couldn’t see what was directly in front of me because blaming Annette was easier than admitting I was losing my mind.

  I drop my arm down to my side, knowing only that I cannot trust myself. ‘I’m sorry, Magda… I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’

  ‘Good girl.’ Magda’s eyes fall down to the knife. ‘I knew you never had it in you. Weak Louisa, weak as always. Now be a good girl and pass me the knife.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I hear myself saying, inevitability washing over me in one calm breath. ‘Or at least I was before I became a mother.’ I lift the knife and shove it into her stomach, watch in morbid fascination as her eyes bulge, a silent scream evaporating on her lips. ‘And never underestimate a mother whose child is in danger! Especially not one who’s lost her fucking mind!’

  At that moment, everything turns black.

  ‘The woman Folly is loud; she is seductive and knows nothing.’ Proverbs 9: 13

  ‘About frickin’ time! You do realise she almost killed me while you were out there doing your Peeping Tom impersonation. Good job the sleeping pills kicked in when they did or you’d have another dead body to deal with!’

  The hippy greets me with a mouthful of vermin and a look of disdain as I enter the kitchen through the back door. She is slumped against the cupboard door directly under the sink, her T-shirt pulled up around her middle allowing me to see the lace on her garishly pink bra, which, rather worryingly, matches several strands of her hair. I shiver… some people have no decorum.

  A small nick just shy of her bellybutton is trickling out blood. Unfortunately for me it isn’t quite enough to kill her but one can still dream. Louisa lies face down almost on top of her, snoring like a kitten.

  ‘Keep your hand on it, for goodness’ sake. Lord above, all you had to do was be nice until she passed out.’ I shake my head at her, slightly irritated she’s almost scuppered my plans. ‘I mean, for heaven’s sake, what is the world coming to when friends can’t get along?’

  ‘I’ve been nice to her for months now,’ she whines, her face turning a brilliant shade of white as she lifts up her hand to inspect the puncture wound. ‘Anyway, I didn’t do anything, not really, she’s off her flaming nut.’

  I make my way over to the worktop where the laced PG Tips still stands.

  ‘Are you going to actually help me?’ she shouts, spittle flying from her mouth. ‘Or are you just going to leave me to die?’

  I roll my eyes, make my way over to the sink where I tip out the mug’s contents, ensuring I give it a good rinse and wipe around the rim. I’m forced to step over Louisa as I do, who mumbles something incoherent. I tut. If the police do their job correctly they may somehow discover I was here at the time of the crime. I don’t suppose they will though. Understaffed you see – another shameful consequence of our incompetent new government.

  ‘You’ll stay as you are. And please keep your voice down, I really don’t want the neighbours hearing.’

  The hippy shuffles around on her bottom as if attempting to stand. ‘Are you actually listening to me?’ she asks, her breath now somewhat laboured. ‘I’m bleeding out. You’re going to need to get me to a hospital. Or at least let me call an ambulance.’

  I slide my eyes down to the steak knife which lies discarded a metre or so away from her, a mental image playing out behind my eyes, one which consists of me bludgeoning her to death with it. At least then she might stop prattling on and on as if she’s the only one to consider. Unfortunately it would be far too messy and, although unexpected, I surmise that this alternative situation has unwittingly added an extra layer of authenticity to the staging. The hipster’s still somewhat useful, although it pains me to say it. No, her demise will have to wait; after all, patience is a virtue, and fools make mistakes ‘Give it an hour and then call the ambulance,’ I tell her, lowering myself into a crouching position ready to begin the process of waking up Sleeping Beauty. ‘It should all be over by then anyhow.’

  ‘An hour! You can’t leave me an hour! It’s gushing out!’

  I suck on my teeth, her dramatics seriously starting to sour my palate. ‘Forty-five minutes at least. And don’t forget to explain to the paramedics that lovely Loulou here was threatening to throw herself off the nearest bridge just before she stabbed you. Don’t forget the stabbing part, please, I quite like that bit.’

  ‘No,’ she screams, her hissy fit conjuring up an array of strange grunting noises which makes me come over all queasy. ‘I won’t sit around and die. You said you loved me. You said we could be together; that we’d get rid of Louisa so me, you and Cory could be together for ever! You said I just had to do as you said and then I’d finally be able to have my baby!’

  ‘Deary, deary me.’ I reach over towards the knife, the handle fitting into my gloved hand like it was crafted especially for this purpose. The voice of God suddenly booms in my ear, his breath shaking the entire house. ‘You were only ever a disciple of mine, dear Magda, a way to spread the good news.’ I bring the knife down into her stomach, tilt my head to the side and smile. ‘Surely you must have realised that all disciples are persecuted eventually? Still… it was all for a good cause.’

  ‘Louisa… Louisa… come on now, up you get.’

  I look up through half-shut eyes, see a figure crouched in front of me. Lips moving. Head tilting. Eyes alight with excitement. Familiarity fires off my brain stem but falls just short of recognition. ‘Who are you?’ I ask, the question clawing its way out of my mouth. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Louisa. Don’t be silly – it’s me. There’s been an accident. We need to get you out of here.’

  The pain in my head radiates down my spine as I try to sit up, sights and sounds bending back into shape but remaining somewhat awry ‘What accident?’ I poke my tongue around inside my mouth, counting my teeth one by one to check none are missing. ‘Have I had an accident?’

  ‘You don’t remember?’

  ‘No.’ Tears well up in my eyes. Think, Louisa. Think. Think. One thing you can see. One thing you can hear. One thing you can touch. I narrow my eyes, see a cupboard door. A brass tap. A tub of unopened formula. ‘I’m in the kitchen.’ I sound strangely triumphant.

  ‘You are. But we need to get you out of here.’

  A pair of arms wedges themselves under my armpits, hoisting me to my feet. ‘No, I feel sick. Leave me here.’ I slump down into the human aid, both of us falling backwards, my legs and arms as heavy as lead. I’m lightheaded, acid burning my throat’s lining. ‘Call an ambulance. I’m going to puke.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Laboured breaths vibrate into my eardrum. ‘Just move. Now. The ambulance is waiting. Stand straight and walk.’

  Relief floods through me, visions of the ambulance parked outside a mirage in my mind’s eye. ‘Are you the paramedic?’

  ‘You know exactly who I am. Stop being ridiculous. Place your feet in front of you, there’s a good girl.’

  The heels of my bare feet skin across the hard, cold floor, unable to find my footing. ‘Where’s Cory? Is he safe?’ My eyelids fall down over my eyes, my neck ready to buckle. I need to sleep. I can’t stay awake. ‘Cory…’ I manage to squeeze out his name through my teeth, prising my eyes open. ‘Can you tell me if…?’ A figure, dressed from head to toe in black, silences me. It lies motionless, a knife sticking out from its torso, its white, withered hand wrapped around the handle. I blink in rapid succession, a scream of terror starting somewhere in the base of my stomach. ‘No,
no, no…’

  ‘She’s dead. You killed her. That’s why we have to go.’ The voice is calm, monotonous.

  I’m suddenly outside, the cold wind whipping my hair up into a frenzy. It’s dark. So dark I can no longer see. ‘The ambulance,’ I stutter, feeling saliva trickling down the corner of my mouth. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I’m taking you to the hospital. Get in the car.’

  ‘But what about Magda?’ Her name on my lips causes a memory to bleed into the forefront of my mind. ‘Oh God. I killed her. Am I under arrest?’ I bend my back and shoulders around in an attempt to face what must be a police officer, certain the car in front must be a police car.

  ‘Just get in the car.’ A force knocks me forward, a sound, a baby’s cry, floating out from the passenger seat into the night air. I spin round just as a car flies past the garden fence, illuminating the person’s facial features, sudden recognition turning my stomach to liquid. ‘Oh good God.’ I look back again at Cory, lying on the passenger seat of the car. ‘Why on earth do you have Cory?’

  ‘His name is Gabriel,’ says Doctor Hughes. ‘And I’ve come to take him home.’

  ‘The Angel Gabriel was sent from God.’ Luke 1: 26

  ‘It’s okay, Gabriel… Daddy’s here. You remember me, don’t you?’

  I smile at my son before glancing over at Louisa who now lies face down on the back seat of my car. It pleases me that she remains motionless, her right arm hanging limply down into the footwell. I’d never have hit her if she’d just got into the car quietly. Honestly, women can be their own worst enemies at times.

  Old Dee Bridge is less than a mile away, and I toy with keeping the lights off until I reach it. Although I very much doubt I’ll be pulled over or spotted at almost 11 p.m., you can never be too careful. Fail to prepare… well, you know my motto by now.

  The interior light allows me to properly see Gabriel for the first time since he was reborn. It’s been difficult to live without him for the past two years, to hold on to God’s words that we would one day meet again.

  I can see him properly now, his features all in perfect proportion, his eyes dark and oval. No longer am I restricted by the lens of my binoculars, or having to steal glances as I follow his useless mother through the city. He looks up at me, recognition shining in his eyes. Up close, he is more perfect than I remember him to be. His eyes are brighter, his skin whiter. God has obviously taken very good care of him in the time he’s been away.

  ‘Did you enjoy heaven?’ I ask him, seeing my own image reflected back in his pupils. ‘I’m your daddy. I’ve been waiting such a long time for you.’

  He opens his mouth and cries, his porcelain skin blotching up. ‘Don’t be sad. It will soon be over. We just have to dispose of the vessel and then we can be on our way home. Here, look…’ I open the glove box and pull out his baby-blue blanket, his name embroidered on the side. ‘You loved this blanket. It was your favourite.’

  A grunt from the back seat alerts me to Louisa’s impromptu awakening. She’s seriously starting to test my patience. Can she not get anything right? I climb into the driver’s seat and start the engine.

  Deciding I am more likely to be pulled over with the car lights off, I flick them on and ram the car into gear. Sometimes in life, it’s best to play by the rules.

  ‘ Thank you, Lord Jesus,’ I say out loud. ‘Thank you for returning Gabriel to me!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Louisa

  Then

  I charge down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and out of the front door, ignoring Aiden’s pleas for me to come back.

  The pavement outside the children’s home is covered in frost, the icy air whistling around my ears as I dart across the road. I don’t stop to think about where I am going, only that I have to get away; from Aiden, from Stacey, from the flashbacks of my mother and Esther. Fat tears roll down my cheeks, my nose and throat blocked, constricting my airway.

  ‘It’s okay, baby,’ I say through my tears, the palm of my hand pressed into my stomach. ‘I’ll always protect you. You’re safe with me.’

  Cars fly past me as I round the corner onto a main road, none of them bothering to stop and see if I am all right. I guess I’m invisible, just like I always have been.

  I walk for a long time, past a row of trees, their branches bowed down from their own weight. The pain and grief comes in waves, like shards of glass in my gut. How could Aiden do such a thing? He loved me, he said so himself!

  I suddenly find myself on the canal bank, the rocky path digging in to my bare feet. The night is so dark I can barely see my hand in front of my face. To the side of me, the Manchester Ship Canal crashes against the embankment, Barton Swing Bridge up ahead.

  I am wearing only my nightdress and dressing gown, the cold wind whips up the hem, lashing my bare legs. I stop, look down into the water, the moonlight skimming the surface. All it would take is one moment of courage. One split second and finally I’d be free.

  ‘Louisa!’ I swivel around at the sound of his voice, hear his heavy breath in my ear even though it’s difficult to see him in the darkness. The blood in my ears is as thick as tar, every muscle in my body stiff with cold and fear. ‘I’m sorry, okay,’ he whispers, stepping closer to me. ‘Please, just come back.’

  ‘Get away from me, leave me alone.’ I turn my face away from him, feel my chin trembling under the weight of my tears. ‘I hate you. And I’m telling, really I am!’

  ‘You have no idea who you’re messing with!’ Sharp nails bury themselves into my wrist. I look up, see the whites of his eyes, his pupils dilating. ‘You tell anyone and you’re dead, you do understand that, don’t you?’

  I sink down to my knees on the canal bank, the frozen path like shards of glass digging into me. ‘You said you loved me.’

  There is a moment’s silence when all I can hear is my own solitary breath.

  ‘I do love you, Loulou.’ Aiden lowers his voice and bends down in front of me, his nose now inches away from mine. ‘Look, I’m sorry, okay, for threatening you just now. I didn’t mean it, I’m just angry and frightened.’ He reaches out his arm towards me once again and pulls me into his side. I can smell the aftershave on his neck, the same one I stole from his backpack and sprayed onto my pillow so I could be close to him when he wasn’t working. His fingers glide through my hair, his skin dry and rough but at the same time warm and comforting.

  ‘Why did you cheat on me? Especially with her!’ I can’t help the venom which creeps into my voice, even though I want nothing more than to fall into his arms and have him tell me everything is going to be all right. Despite what he has done to me I am terrified of him leaving.

  ‘She tricked me,’ he says quickly. ‘Pretended she was feeling sick. Asked me if I’d sit with her. And then she just started kissing me, pulling at my clothes. When you walked in I was trying to stop her.’

  ‘I don’t believe you, I saw you. You were on top of her!’

  ‘It’s true, Louisa. She’s manipulative, you said so yourself.’

  I bite my top lip, unsure as to whether he is telling the truth. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘You know so,’ he continues, his tone almost pleading. ‘I don’t fancy Stacey, she’s a child. Come on, baby…’ He places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. ‘You’re the only one for me. I love you so much.’

  I nod, realising only now that I still haven’t told him about the baby! Regardless of what has or hasn’t happened with Stacey, she isn’t carrying his child – I am! Surely that has to count for something? I stand up, wipe away the dirt and grit from my knees. ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’

  ‘What, Loulou?’ Aiden also stands, his silhouette now looming over me.

  I am momentarily stopped from replying by flashing blue lights on the bridge up ahead.

  ‘You called the police?’ Aiden’s voice hardens around the edges. ‘What for?’

  ‘No, I never. I promise.’ I look beyond where he stands to a
row of houses which line the canal bank, see a downstairs curtain twitch, soft light seeping out through the thin fabric. ‘Somebody must have seen or heard us.’

  ‘Come on, we have to get out of here and back home. I can trust you, can’t I?’

  I nod, deciding I have to be a grown-up about this whole situation and forgive Aiden in order to stand any chance of keeping him and our baby. He loves me, and all couples have their ups and downs, don’t they? Jeremy Kyle says so himself. ‘But there’s still something I have to tell you. Please, it’s really important.’ I reach out, grab hold of his wrist, feeling the quick, heavy beat of his pulse.

  ‘What is it? Hurry.’

  I look up for the briefest of seconds, see a torchlight sweeping through the sky like a shooting star, know without any doubt that I’ll remember this moment for as long as I live. ‘I’m pregnant, Aiden. You’re going to be a daddy.’

  At first I feel oddly calm, the silence all around me somewhat beautiful as I stare up at the wall of water that covers me like a blanket. Then, all at once, I realise what has happened.

  Aiden has pushed me into the canal.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Louisa

  Now

  ‘It’s time, Louisa.’

  I open my eyes to darkness, the smell of leather so strong I can practically taste it on my tongue. I’m lying face down on something cold and hard, cramp radiating up my right leg. The man’s words disperse into a cloud of amnesia as I try to process what he has just said. I’m certain I know him, and that I’m afraid of him, but I can’t remember why, the pain in my head wreaking havoc on my memory. All I’m certain of is that he’s behind me, his dry breath condensing on the nape of my neck.

  I squirm, try to relieve the pressure building in my leg, my foot curling in on itself as I do until I scream out in pain. The sound is muffled by whatever I am lying on, my own breath hot and slippery against what I’m certain is leather.