by Bowes, K T
“I don’t have a marriage!” Hana said stubbornly, through lips that were barely open.
“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of you then,” Marcus said with sarcasm, looking like he regretted it the moment it was out of his mouth. He shook his head in disappointment and turned to go. “Hana, you had a great marriage first-time around...”
“Did I?” Hana’s words were loaded and barbed and she felt shocked at herself. I dealt with this, I’m better than this, her internal voice said to her, stop digging things up!
“I don’t know, Hana. Did you?” Marcus studied her, looking more perceptive than she wanted him to be and Hana shut her eyes. Marcus loved Vik. She needed to stop talking now. But when she looked back at Marcus, he stared quizzically at her sideways, as though he knew much more than he was prepared to say. Clearly he wasn’t sure whether to continue the conversation or not. Hana needed to stop his train of thought as the void beneath her feet threatened to crack wide open, so she waved her arms in a placatory gesture. “Sorry, sorry, I’m fine. I just need to get more rest, I’m tired. It’ll all be ok.”
She daren’t look at him directly again; he would see, she knew he would. Bloody clergymen, she thought to herself. They’ve got more discernment than is good for them.
“Ok. But if you wanna talk, I’m here.” Marcus winked at Hana and left her to her private agonies. She calmed her shakes and collected herself enough to go back to the kitchen, sit at the table and finish the lovely dinner.
“It’s Mrs McKiernan’s turn to cook for you tomorrow night,” Peg announced to Hana over her shoulder as she and Marcus stacked the dishes in the dishwasher.
“Wow, really? I think you should all move in with me. I’m feeling quite jealous,” Hana joked. The thought of the whole community taking it in turns to feed her daughter’s family was so lovely, it made her feel emotional. Izzie looked at her strangely as Hana rambled on about how Maihi looked after her, but Peg seemed interested.
“Is she a Believer, dear?”
“She has ‘beliefs’ certainly,” said Hana, “but I don’t know if they’re Christian ones. I just appreciate her so much; she’s kind and considerate. She mothers me and I love it.” Hana looked wistful. “I think I might text her after we’ve cleared up.”
Everyone protested that Hana should go and text her friend. “The clearing up is being taken care of,” Peg insisted. “You go and encourage your good friend.”
Hana went to the living room to turn her phone back on. She deleted the missed calls and texts from the last few days and looked at the now empty screen. The flashing lights and ‘missed’ things cluttered her brain and made her feel overwhelmed with insurmountable problems
Hana flicked the buttons, producing a half decent text telling Maihi how much she appreciated her and ending with, ‘I’m so grateful to you.’ She turned the phone off, scared Maihi might send her a barrage of questions prompted by Logan, but curiosity got the better of her a while later and she turned it back on again for a moment. A single text waited for her, with one word in the flashing box. From Maihi, ‘Kōtiro.’
It was the Māori word for ‘girl,’ but Maihi had used it to mean, ‘daughter.’ Hana pressed her phone to her forehead and tried not to get emotional. Maihi saying that made her feel less cut loose somehow. Hana had made good friends over the last decade, neighbours and work colleagues who were a significant part of her life, but none she could share her deepest darkest secrets with. Whose fault is that, she wondered, knowing it was hers.
Peg showed no sign of leaving. Perhaps her daughter’s home was usually filled with lonely strangers in which case, Hana reasoned, she should be at home here. Marcus entertained them all by running around the house wearing Elizabeth like a hat. She lay flat on his head in her vest and nappy, with her little arms and legs splayed. She squealed and giggled, her delight acting as a balm for Hana’s soul.
“Marcus, stop now,” Izzie warned. “I need to get her ready for bed.
“Yeah,” came Marcus’ muffled reply, as he hurtled down the hallway with Beth heaving with laughter. “Last one.” He performed yet another lap of honour and bowed to fake applause. Instinctively, Peg, Izzie and Hana took a step back.
As hoped, the pressure against Beth’s full stomach did indeed force out the wind, but a lot of vomit came with it. Marcus stopped dead as the puke shot forward and landed on the floorboards with a splat and sprayed out to the sides. “Good shot!” he complimented his daughter. “Well done for missing Daddy!”
Izzie wasn’t happy. She went to fetch wet wipes and grumbled and groaned about the mess. “You’ll be decorating the hall now Marcus, you idiot!”
Arthritis in Peg’s legs meant she couldn’t get down on the floor to help mop up and Izzie and Hana weren’t in much better shape. Both managed to get down on all fours and dabbed at the sticky mess with s wipes. Peg hopped around with a plastic bag collecting the rubbish.
Marcus stood behind the pregnant women, laughing uproariously and taking pictures of their bottoms on his phone. Izzie got crosser and crosser with him. “It looks like four little boys fighting under a tent,” Marcus howled and Hana shot him a dirty look. “There you go, that’s on Facebook,” he sniggered, keying things into his phone one-handed.
Elizabeth laughed in a fake kind of way, then burped and shot the rest of her tea down her father’s shirt. “Oh, Beth!” he groaned. “Not funny!”
“Hahaha!” Hana laughed. “That serves you right!” She staggered to her knees with the last of the wipes and used a clean one to wash her hands. She managed to clamber to a standing position using the wall and a doorframe. “Oh, I’m done, Izz. I need a lie down,” she sighed.
But Izzie stayed down on all fours and Hana looked first at her rigid back and then at Marcus. “Izzie?” he fixed his gaze at the puddle on the floor. “Did you just pee yourself?”
He handed Elizabeth to Peg just as Izzie let out a gargled groan that seemed to come from deep inside. Peg’s white hair wiffled around in the breeze from the open bathroom window and her face became alight with glee. She was going to be the one at the vicarage when the action happened.
Marcus ducked into the bathroom and grabbed a bath towel off the rail, flinging it under Izzie as he knelt down next to her. He was suddenly all seriousness. “Is this it, sweetheart? Are they coming?”
Izzie didn’t answer, but the panting and groaning continued. Marcus pulled his phone from his top pocket and dialled a number, rubbing Izzie’s back the whole time and obviously trying not to panic. Peg rocked Beth, who grew more tired and grumpy by the second and Hana stayed frozen in place, her hand still gripping the doorframe.
“Can we get to the car?” Marcus leaned down and spoke into Izzie’s ear. She replied with a louder groan which became a growl and her whole rigid body seemed to be bearing down into the floor. Marcus spoke into the phone, his voice having moved an octave higher, “I don’t think I can move her...in the middle of the hall floor...I think...I think...oh no, Izzie you’re not...she’s pushing...come quickly...she’s pushing...she is!”
Hana sensed it was all happening too fast but found herself paralysed with fear. She felt woefully inadequate. Babies were something she had given birth to, but the direction of labour or the rudimentary facts were all completely lost on her. Izzie seemed to be in terrible agony and Hana didn’t know what to do. She could see Marcus didn’t either and had already started to panic. His well framed body supported his wife under her armpits, but his handsome face looked ashen in the half light. “Hana, help me!”
Fifteen minutes later and a grizzling Elizabeth had been bundled up warm, shoved into her pram and Peg was limping round to her house a few doors away with her. Hana and Marcus had somehow got the voluminous maternity dress off Izzie so they could see what was going on and in a stroke of genius, managed to haul her into the bath. “No, not again, not in the bath again!” Izzie wailed.
Hana felt quite puffed and faint as she mopped Izzie’s brow with a wet flannel and Ma
rcus sweated heavily in his pastor’s black shirt. Izzie lay in an empty bath in her bra and big knickers, looking utterly undignified. She gripped her stomach, alternately wailing and whimpering. The contractions came thick and fast and there was no time to get her anywhere else. “I’m pushing!” she yelled in a short space between two deep groans and her voice echoed in the small room.
Hana realised suddenly she was the only one panicking. Marcus had dropped into a wave of complete authority and calm. Hana decided Peg must have hit the prayer chain the minute she got inside her house, because something was definitely working. “Concentrate, Izz,” Marcus implored his wife. “Help’s coming but concentrate. Breathe like we practiced.”
“Sod off!” Izzie groaned as another contraction tightened the skin on her stomach. “I bloody hate you. I’m gonna kick you in the balls before I do this again.”
Marcus smirked and looked apologetically at his mother-in-law. “I dare you,” he told his wife. “If you think you can get your leg up that high.”
A screech of brakes, running feet and the slam of the front door heralded the arrival of Izzie’s midwife. She appeared in the bathroom with an air of capability. “Where are we up to?” she asked, kneeling next to the bath.
Hana backed out gracefully. She stood outside the door not knowing what to do for the best, jumping at the sound of more running feet and the slam of the front door again. This time, an advanced paramedic breached the corner and Hana pointed silently at the bathroom door. Loud noises came from inside, as though someone was being rent in two. Hana stifled a sob. “It’s my daughter,” she told the man. “The babies were meant to be born in the hospital. Isn’t it dangerous for them to be born in an old iron bathtub?”
“Na. I’ve seen worse,” the man replied, patting Hana’s hand.
Hana removed herself, sitting on her bed and leaning forward, praying for all she was worth. She wished she knew where Peg’s house was so she could flee. She tried to plug her fingers into her ears. But the noise from the bathroom was dreadful, as poor Izzie dealt with the contents of her distended womb. “Oh God,” Hana pleaded. “Please help her, please help her.”
Hana felt completely split between worrying and praying for her daughter and then for her grandchildren, whose attachment was already fixed to her. Hana emerged from her room to the sound of more footsteps and new voices, finding two white sleeved St John’s ambulance-men outside her bedroom door. Deciding to do something useful, she offered them both tea. “Ooh, yes please, love. A drink would be awesome, aye.”
Hana led them to the kitchen and tried to concentrate on making the drinks. While the kettle boiled, she squeezed her fingers hard on either side of the bridge of her nose to stop the tears coming. Pulling herself together she managed to produce some biscuits from a tin and some half passable drinks.
“That’s us!” said one of the men leaping to his feet, as the end of Izzie’s most piercing yell was punctuated by a new-born’s howl. Hana froze and the man patted her arm as he passed her. He returned a few moments later, clutching a tiny pink bundle in a very old and faded bath towel. “This little man’s all great, fighting fit and just waiting for his other half.” The ambulance man handed the little boy straight to Hana, “You her sister?” he asked.
Hana would have smiled in other circumstances. Instead, she shook her head and peered at the tiny boy in her arms. He was beautiful. Much paler skinned than Izzie. Probably Marcus’ gene pool had struck lucky in its influence over him. The tiny boy had the biggest blue eyes Hana had ever seen. His little face crumpled and puckered as though he might cry and Hana wondered how odd it must feel for him to have spent nine months, nose to nose with a sibling and then suddenly be without them. Thoughts of her older brother rose unbidden into her mind and she pushed them away.
“Hey little boy.” Hana stroked the soft cheek and watched the baby’s huge eyes open and close. The ambulance man smiled over at her. He was in his fifties, trim and healthy looking. “They need to get the next baby out within twenty minutes, to avoid complications. It was looking fine while I was there.”
Hana smiled gratefully at him. The other ambulance man was younger, probably only Izzie’s age. He just finished his tea as the bathroom door clicked open and another wail split the night. Not Izzie this time, but a baby’s cry. The paramedic emerged with another towel-clad-child and Hana walked over for a look. This baby was pale also, but equally alert. Hana reached out and took one little hand from each of them and held them together in one of her own, giving them back their contact. “Two healthy little boys,” the paramedic smiled. “She did real good.”
The child in the paramedic’s arms began to snuffle and make little popping noises as though about to set off crying. He forced his tiny fist into his mouth. “How’s my daughter?” Hana asked the man, fear in her voice and face.
He smiled at her, offering reassurance. “She’s done great, but it was really quick. She needs to go back with these guys for the night. Proper check-up for her and the babies. Just to make sure.”
Hana nodded, not quite daring to allow relief to flood her yet. The older ambulance man pointed at his colleague. “If you give the baby to Mike here and then fetch some things for their mum, we can take them all straight off?”
Hana nodded and reluctantly parted with the child. In Izzie’s room she immediately spied a suitcase standing up against the wardrobe door. Hana opened it a little bit just to make sure she was sending the right thing and found a tiny, knitted matinee jacket at the top. Further down was a pack of super-duper-haemorrhage-size sanitary towels and so she quickly did the zip back up. She wheeled it carefully down the hall and put the handle into the ambulance man’s hand. He nodded at her with approval and went outside, wheeling it behind him. The other men and the babies were already in the ambulance. Hana saw them fiddling with little monitors inside and one of the babies began to cry lustily.
The bathroom door opened and Hana saw her daughter being propped up by Marcus, while the midwife struggled to help her into a bathrobe. Izzie didn’t look well and Hana felt overcome by such a rush of love and complete inadequacy, she felt lost. Like the helpless voyeur of a train crash, she watched, unable to move as the paralysis spread through her body. Marcus heard the little sob escaped from between her lips and called her into the bathroom. “Look,” he said, pulling her closer, “she’s fine. Just hold her arm while I fetch her some knickers.”
Hana held her daughter close and cried into her hair.
The midwife wrapped up what looked like a giant, bloody dinner plate. Hana tried not to dwell on what it could possibly be. The room was covered in wet and blood-soaked towels and Izzie’s dress had been trampled on the floor. Marcus returned, shoving his wife’s feet into underwear and fixing a huge sanitary towel in the gusset. He pulled them up around her waist and kissed her on the forehead. Hana felt eternally grateful for this man who loved her daughter enough to perform such personal tasks for her. Izzie started to sag and Hana grunted uncomfortably. “I’m dropping her,” she panicked.
Marcus took the weight in his strong arms, stuffing his wife’s arms into the bathrobe at the same time. “Where are the boys?” Izzie asked.
“In the ambulance waiting for you, sweetheart,” the midwife replied.
“I thought the paramedic was coming back with a trolley for Izz?’ Marcus asked, but before Hana could decide to run out and find him, the sound of sirens ripped the silence of the street to shreds. “Another call I guess then,” Marcus added and picked Izzie up in his arms. He carried her out to the waiting ambulance and felt his way up the stairs. The paramedic’s station wagon hurtled off in the distance.
The ambulance doors closed almost the instant Marcus sat down and the vehicle roared off into the night. Hana was left with the midwife and a big mess in the bathroom. The midwife was putting her instruments back into her case and turned to smile at Hana. “When are you due?”
“January,” Hana replied, bending awkwardly to pick up Izzie’s stain
ed dress. She stood holding it and looked around, not quite knowing what to do.
“If I was you,” the midwife said helpfully, “I’d go and get some carrier bags, some cloths and strong cleaner. Then we can do it quicker. I need to get to the hospital after Izzie.”
“I actually don’t know where things are,” said Hana feebly, looking around her. “I only got here today. You go, I can sort all this out myself.”
Hana set to cleaning and the midwife disappeared shortly after, reassuring her the boys were fine and Izzie would probably be home in the next few days, once she established a routine. “The babies were early but looked to be absolutely bouncing. Izzie won’t want to be away from Elizabeth for too long.” She smiled at Hana’s ashen face. “Everything will be fine,” she promised as she squeezed Hana’s writhing hands.
Hana spent the next two hours cleaning up after the birth, mopping the hall floor and bathroom and scrubbing every surface. By the time she finished, it looked cleaner than it did before and the maternity dress swished around in the washing machine with the stained towels, a double helping of washing detergent and a couple of scoopfuls of stain remover. The peal of the house telephone cut into the silence and Hana almost slipped on the wet floor in her haste to answer it.
“All fine here, Hana. Boys are...well they’re great actually!” Marcus sounded proud. “Izzie needed a few stitches but is doing all right. I think Peg will probably keep hold of Beth, which was the original plan anyway, so don’t worry if she doesn’t reappear. Get some sleep; you must be shattered.”
Hana denied it but as soon as Marcus mentioned ‘tiredness’ and ‘shattered,’ Hana’s energy levels autocorrected and she was hit with extreme fatigue. Marcus ended the call so he could start ringing his parents and everyone else and Hana went to sit in the kitchen. The drinks from the ambulance men were cold, so she cleared up and made herself some tea.