Tell Me Where You Are

by Moira Forsyth

  ‘What a chatterbox,’ he said when he and Frances sat on alone over the rest of the wine. ‘I thought you said you didn’t get much out of her?’

  ‘I don’t usually. She’s taken a shine to you.’

  ‘I’ve a great way with the ladies,’ he grinned.

  ‘The boys were fine with you too,’ Frances said. ‘They’ve never really had a chance to get to know you, see you in their house.’

  ‘Frances, has all this something to do with my imminent departure? So called.’

  She could not say no, it’s to do with Alec coming back. She was using him to shield her and felt ashamed. He was a good man.

  ‘I suppose I don’t want you to go after all. But I haven’t the right to ask you to stay, it’s nothing to do with me. You want to be near your family and I understand that.’

  He put his hands over hers as they twisted her wine glass stem, and stilled the movement, holding her, so that she looked up at him.

  ‘I’ll stay,’ he said, ‘if that’s what you want. But you will have to ask me.’

  Frances bit her lip. ‘I know,’ she said.

  ‘Ach,’ he withdrew his hands and poured himself the last of the wine, ‘you’ve time on your side, A Ghraidh, for when did a Lewis man ever do anything in a rush?’

  She laughed. ‘That’s true enough.’

  ‘Get the wee one here first, safe and sound.’

  ‘Yes.’

  They sat on, companionable and peaceful, hearing from the rest of the house sounds just as reassuring as each other’s company: Andrew and Kate squabbling over TV channels, and from upstairs, Jack’s music, rock guitar, strong and rhythmic. As they listened it was as if they were living another life, one they might have had if they had met years ago, if Frances had gone to the Western Isles on that camping holiday at nineteen with Ruth and Linda, and not to Ullapool, where she had met Alec, backpacking with his friend Joe. The other life took hold for a moment; each dreamed it.

  Frances wondered, as she brought herself back to the real life, if Susan might somewhere be living one of her other lives, one she had longed for all the years of being with Alec. Poor Susan, she said aloud, seized for the first time with pity. Kenny waited for her to say more but all she said was, ‘Oh poor Susan. After all.’

  5

  As if it was starting as it meant to go on, causing no trouble to anyone, Kate’s baby began the process of being born on a Saturday, when Frances was at home. It was an eager baby, two weeks early. They had bought, or acquired from friends and relatives of Kate’s friends, a pram, a bath, a Moses basket and clothes. But they were not prepared.

  Andrew was out watching Ross County play Airdrie in a friendly before the season began. Jack was golfing at Strathpeffer with his friend Neil. Kenny was in Midlothian visiting his son and being encouraged to look at properties which seemed to him ludicrously over-priced and crammed together.

  Kate and Frances were in Inverness shopping so they were at least close to the hospital. Kate, who once would have shopped for hours on end, could manage less than one these days. They sat on benches in the indoor centre near the great clock with its Noah’s Ark of wooden characters which moved round when the hour struck. It was a few minutes to four and a small crowd of parents with toddlers in push-chairs had gathered to watch. ‘Look,’ the parents said, ‘the animals will all move round in a minute.’

  Kate and Frances watched too. Kate said, ‘I’ve got these funny cramps again.’

  ‘Braxton Hicks,’ murmured Frances, who had been re-reading her pregnancy and childbirth books. They were out of date but though fashions change, she had decided, childbirth doesn’t.

  ‘It hurts,’ Kate gasped. ‘Ow, oh, oh – oh, it’s going, it’s stopping.’

  There were tiny drops of sweat on her forehead. She was biting her lip, holding her arms round her bump, which seemed lower in the last week or so, weighing her down.

  ‘Wait,’ Frances said. ‘Sit still, see if you get another one.’

  The clock struck, the animals moved, the tiny children clapped and called out and Kate yelled –

  ‘That’s it again – yow!’

  ‘Oh Kate, not already, surely not – it can’t be.

  The car was a fifteen minute walk away along the river at Eden Court Theatre. Kate leaned on Frances to help herself up; she was very white, clutching her stomach.

  ‘What if the baby’s coming and my waters break – I’ll be so embarrassed. Can’t we go somewhere there’s no other people – aie!’

  People turned to look. Rigid, transfixed by pain, she gripped Frances’s arm. Frances said breathe, breathe slowly, breathe through it, but she could hardly breathe herself. Keep calm she thought, think what to do.

  First labours were usually long, but something in the speed of these contractions told her this could be different. She couldn’t gauge the level of Kate’s pain since Kate made a terrible fuss if she had a splinter in her finger, but these pains were coming so fast she was alarmed.

  ‘We’ll get a taxi.’

  In Marks and Spencer, Kate clutching her again, she spoke to one of the older assistants who took them into the staff room and called her supervisor. Frances and Kate sat on green padded chairs and were offered cups of tea which neither could drink.

  ‘My car’s in the staff car park,’ the supervisor offered. ‘Could I take you up to Raigmore?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Frances said at once. ‘That’s very kind.’

  ‘No trouble,’ the woman said. ‘Poor lass.’

  Kate was beyond herself, could not think, could not believe what was happening to her.

  ‘Frances,’ she whispered as they edged downstairs, ‘do you think the baby’s coming?’

  ‘Yes,’ Frances said, ‘that’s what’s going on. Never mind, we’ll soon have you in hospital’.

  ‘Oh no,’ Kate realised, ‘people have babies in taxis, I hope I don’t – what do you do – do you have to take your knickers off in a car?’

  Frances laughed. ‘That would be the least of it, believe me.’

  Kate, unreassured, clung still more tightly to Frances. ‘You won’t leave me, will you?’

  ‘I’m coming too, don’t worry.’

  ‘I mean, don’t leave me at all – promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  It will all be out of my hands, Frances thought, knowing hospitals. Still, first thing was to get her there. In the supervisor’s car Frances sat in the back with Kate, but to her immense relief there was a respite from the contractions. Kate relaxed a little and lay back, closing her eyes.

  ‘It’s stopped,’ she said. ‘Maybe nothing will happen after all.’

  ‘We’re going to the hospital anyway,’ Frances said.

  At the main doors they got out, Frances full of thanks for their driver.

  ‘It’s very kind of you – we’d better go.’

  ‘I hope it goes well. Good luck.’

  Inside, all the drama ceased. No-one was excited by their arrival. Nothing seems to happen fast in hospitals, Frances thought, knowing that could not always be true. No-one rushed Kate anywhere; no-one seemed to think there was any hurry. Eventually they were taken to a labour ward and waited there for Kate to be seen by a doctor. Frances sat on a chair by the bed.

  It was a midwife who came.

  ‘Are you booked in?’

  ‘Yes,’ Frances answered for Kate.

  ‘I’d better get some details.’ As she wrote Kate’s name the girl cried out.

  ‘That’s it coming again – Frances!’

  The midwife put down her clipboard and came round the side of the bed. ‘Lie back,’ she said. ‘That’s it.’ She drew the curtains round and helping Kate take her trousers and pants off, began to examine her. Frances stayed close by.

  ‘Are you her mother?’

  ‘I’m her aunt. She lives with me.’

  ‘Are you staying with her through the labour?’

  ‘Yes!’ Kate gasped.

  ‘Yes.’

/>   ‘Right, we’ll get her down to delivery. She’s about four centimetres dilated, and it looks as if things are beginning to happen.’ She smiled at Kate, ‘Let’s hope it’s going to be quick, eh? It could all slow down again, it might be hours yet.’

  ‘Hours?’ Kate was furious. ‘I can’t go on having these horrible pains for hours. It hurts too much.’

  The midwife exchanged a glance with Frances. ‘We’ll see how you go,’ she said. ‘We can give you something to help with the pain if it gets too bad. You put this on meantime. Put her clothes in this basket, Mrs – ’

  ‘Douglas.’

  ‘Mrs Douglas – and leave it beside the bed. Right, see you in two tics.’

  Kate looked in dismay at the white shapeless garment the midwife had left with them. ‘What’s that?’ Resentfully she struggled out of her clothes, trying to keep herself covered up at the same time.

  ‘It fastens up with these ties behind.’ Frances said. ‘As soon as I can I’ll bring your own things.’

  ‘I can manage,’ Kate muttered, on the verge of tears. ‘It’s just I feel so big and ugly and awful.’ Mortified, she huddled on the bed.

  The midwife brought a wheelchair. ‘Now then, let’s get you down to one of the delivery rooms.’

  Later, looking back, Frances had only an impression of whiteness, and the bright heat of Kate’s contractions coming fast again, then slowing and stopping. At six o’clock she realised the boys would be home and wondering where she was.

  ‘I have to call home,’ she said to Kate, ‘and I can’t use a mobile – I’ll need to find a payphone.’

  ‘You won’t be long, will you?’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘Why have they all gone away – the nurses?’

  ‘Because there’s nothing they can do. We just have to wait till your baby is ready to be born.’

  ‘Well, hurry up then.’

  ‘What?’ Andrew exclaimed when she got hold of him. ‘I thought it wasn’t due for ages yet?’

  ‘It looks as if the dates were wrong. Or it’s early.’

  ‘I suppose I’ve to get my own tea?’

  ‘I suppose you do. Get some pizza out of the freezer or something.’

  ‘You want to speak to Jack?’

  ‘I’d better go back to Kate. I’ll call you later.’

  ‘Tell her good luck. Is that what you say, good luck?’

  ‘It’ll do.’

  Kate was lying quietly when she got back. ‘Another nurse came in,’ she said, ‘and asked a lot more questions. It’s all stopped again though.’

  ‘Why don’t you get up and walk about? That’ll help.’

  ‘I can’t. This horrible nightie thing is all open at the back.’

  Frances looked round and saw a striped terrycloth dressing-gown on a hook. ‘Here, put this on, then you’ll be decent.’

  ‘Yuck. It’s worse than the nightie.’ She let Frances guide her arms into the sleeves then they walked up and down together, slowly.

  ‘I feel stupid doing this,’ Kate said, and heaved herself back onto the bed.

  The midwife came and went and so did another nurse, older, in a different coloured uniform. ‘You’re doing very well,’ they told Kate.

  ‘How long is it going to take?’ Kate wanted to know. ‘Ask them, Frances, next time they come in.’

  But all they said was, ‘You’re doing fine. We’ll see about painkillers if you need them. Maybe just a bit of gas and air. Let’s see how we go.’

  ‘I want painkillers,’ Kate hissed to Frances.

  ‘They probably mean pethidine or something like that. See if you can manage without – it makes you dopey. I hardly knew Jack was being born, and as for killing the pain – ’

  ‘Kate lay back again, subdued. ‘I thought they might give me some paracetemol. Probably wouldn’t work, eh?’

  For an hour or so, nothing seemed to happen.

  ‘Maybe it was a false alarm after all,’ Kate suggested. ‘We could go home.’ She sighed. ‘It’s boring. If I get contractions it’s awful, mega pain, I’m not kidding. But if I don’t, it’s boring lying here.’

  ‘Do you want to walk about again?’

  ‘No.’

  After a moment, Kate said, ‘Kenny’s nice. Do you think you and him’ll live together when Andy goes away to uni?’

  ‘He’s thinking of moving nearer his son,’ Frances said, taken aback by Kate’s directness.

  ‘Why? I thought you two got on really well. Like you were married, sort of.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yeah, he really likes you, I can tell.’

  ‘Well,’ Frances said, ‘I suppose he could babysit, and let you and me go out clubbing.’

  Kate raised her eyes. ‘Oh ha ha.’ She sat up. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want to be married to Alec again, would you? You know, if he wasn’t married to Mum.’

  Frances understood now why Kate was so keen on Kenny.

  ‘You can put that idea out of your head. I don’t want to be with Alec. Ever.’ She put too much emphasis on the last word, and Kate noticed.

  ‘What if he wanted to?’

  ‘It would make no difference. All that’s over. I don’t see any point in talking about it. He’s married to Susan, he has been for years.’ She wanted to explain it better, to convince both of them that her marriage to Alec belonged to another life, as if to another Frances, but was too unused to revealing herself to be able to do it now.

  Kate was silent; she seemed to be making up her mind whether to say something more.

  ‘If Mum was – you know – never coming back – ’

  ‘Kate, I don’t want to be married to Alec. Is that clear enough for you?’

  ‘They had this massive row. The night before she went away.’

  Frances’s heart jolted. ‘Did they?’

  ‘It usually happened before she went away.’

  ‘She’d gone away before? Left you?’

  ‘Yeah, but not for all that long. A couple of weeks, maybe.’

  ‘Where? The Retreat?’’

  Kate looked blank. ‘What? No, Alec said it was a friend, she had a friend.’

  ‘The same friend each time?’

  ‘Maybe. Look, I don’t know, do I? They wouldn’t tell me anything. And I didn’t really want to hear about it, it made me sick.’

  ‘So what happened this time – they had a row?’

  ‘They sort of niggled at each other all day. Then they were in the kitchen and she was supposed to be cooking, only she wasn’t, I began to think I’d have to get my own tea again. I was going through to see if we had chips or something in the freezer, then I heard her saying, that’s it, I’ve had enough, you’ll never understand. Stuff like that. Suddenly they were both yelling, so I went out. I couldn’t stand it, they knew that, but it never stopped them. Afterwards they were always like, oh Kate, are you all right, don’t worry about us. I couldn’t stand it. So I went to my friend Sara’s, I stayed over with her. When I went back in the morning, early to get my stuff for school, Alec was making toast. She must have gone already. I never spoke to him. He’d put the drawer back, but there was still a few forks and things on the floor.’

  Frances thought of knives and shuddered. ‘Kate, what on earth do you mean – forks?’

  ‘When I went out the front door she was throwing things – I don’t know what – then there was this noise like somebody dragging a drawer out. She must have thrown that, the drawer all the cutlery was in. There was an awful clatter.’

  Kate’s eyes were full of tears. She rubbed them away with the belt of the despised dressing gown.

  ‘Oh Kate, I’m so sorry. It must have been horrible for you.’

  She could not think what to say; there was no comfort for this. She remembered Alec coming to her almost nine months ago, saying, ‘Susan’s missing.’ Perhaps he hadn’t lied, but he had not told the truth either. She was an
gry with him and Susan, that they could behave like that with Kate in the house and so carelessly let her come and go. The selfishness of it! My sons were spared that, she thought. We were better on our own.

  ‘Listen,’ Frances said, turning the subject, ‘did you hear a baby cry there? Someone’s beaten you to it.’

  ‘Are there other people having their babies at the same time?’ Kate had not thought of this. ‘Wow. That’s amazing. But I still wish it was tomorrow and my baby was here and I didn’t have to wait any more.’ She leaned back on the pillows with a sigh.

  At eight they were offered food but neither could eat. They had cups of tea and a digestive biscuit each.

  ‘Maybe I am hungry,’ Kate said, after this.

  ‘I’ll see if I can get you a sandwich. You do need to eat – keep your strength up.’

  But as Frances made for the door, Kate yelled, ‘Don’t go away – it’s starting again! Oh – ow – it’s worse.’

  Frances held her. ‘Breathe,’ she said, ‘in – out, that’s it, slowly.’

  It was different this time, she could see that, the pain escalating, with only a couple of minutes between each contraction. She eased herself away from Kate and went to the door, looking for a nurse. There was no-one, so she rang the bell by the bed. A different midwife appeared, younger than the last, Irish, soft voiced but brisk.

  ‘I think we’ll break the waters now,’ she said. ‘That’ll get things going.’ She smiled at Kate. ‘Here, I’ll fix these pillows for you. Lie back now. There you are, that’s better.’

  It’s all right, Frances told herself, they know what they’re doing. Babies are safely born every day, every minute. She was stiff with anxiety. This was worse than having a baby herself. Or no, she amended, seeing Kate’s face, astonished by so much pain, aggrieved. Not worse. But bad.

  Kate waved a hand at her. ‘Frances!’ so Frances took the hand and held it. ‘What are you doing?’ Kate asked the nurse in fright, but in a moment it was done, and the warm liquid seeped out and ran down the inside of her thighs.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she gasped. ‘I’m glad that didn’t happen in Marks and Spencer.’

  Frances and the midwife laughed, then stopped as Kate cried out,