by Nikki Smith
‘Nothing,’ I say a little too quickly as she frowns. ‘It just … it looks like you’ve been pulling them out.’ I lean over to touch her, but she flinches and moves her head away. I realise she’s been avoiding me since she had Tilly and her response freezes something in my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. She won’t even look at me, shutting her eyes so if I didn’t know better I’d assume she was asleep. I don’t think she trusts me anymore, and I can’t tell her she’s right not to.
I watch as she reaches across with one hand and twists her engagement ring round on her finger, as if she can read my thoughts as they spill out of my head. She pulls off the ring and puts it on her bedside table.
‘It feels too tight,’ she says in the uncomfortable silence. ‘My fingers are swollen.’
I switch off the light, waiting for her to say something else, but she doesn’t. There’s just my own voice in the darkness, telling me that I’ve missed something important and as a result I think Ali’s found out what I did last year.
THEN
Alison – Day Four
Don’t let her in. I don’t have a choice. She’s knocking on the door. She’ll take Tilly away. She won’t. She needs to check on her. You said you’d listen to me. I am, but I can’t ignore Lisa. You promised. I understand what I’ve got to do, but I need to let her in. Prove it. I can’t prove it right now. She’ll wonder why I’m not answering. You agreed to do what I said.
I shut my eyes and press my fingers into the lids as hard as I can, watching the colours change from black to a dizzying array of stars that burn with a whiteness that’s so bright I have to open them again to get away from it. I know it’s hiding in there somewhere, I just can’t see it. I need it to leave me alone so I can sleep. I rub my face, blinking to clear the flashing lights.
I glance in the Moses basket next to my bed, plucking up the courage to call out and let Lisa know she can come in. I wish I didn’t have to. Don’t do it. Tilly’s asleep, one hand tucked under her cheek, her mouth slightly open, relaxing in an unselfconscious slumber. I reach out to stroke her face when I notice the blood. A slow trickle that seeps out of her nose, down towards her mouth, where it drips onto her pristine white sheet. It spreads out in a circle like ink on blotting paper. I freeze, too terrified to move, as a mottled pale grey colour spreads across her skin. My baby.
There’s a more insistent knock on the door. I told you not to let her in. I told you.
I step forward to touch Tilly’s back with the tips of my fingers, terrified she’s going to feel stiff, like one of those mice our neighbour’s cat leaves outside our patio door. A tiny, cold body that’s unnaturally rigid when I wrap it in a plastic bag. I force my hand forward those last few centimetres. Her skin is still warm. Soft. She’s breathing. I scoop her into my arms, pressing her into me tightly as I look at her face. No blood. Nothing on her or me. A spotless white sheet lies in the Moses basket. I gasp, letting the air rush back into my lungs. My heart thuds so hard, I think it might leave my chest. This is what will happen to her. This is what Jack will do. I can help you.
‘Leave her alone,’ I whisper over her head to the empty room.
The handle turns on the door as Lisa lets herself in. ‘Ali?’ she says. ‘I wasn’t sure if you could hear me?’
I’m holding Tilly against my chest. There is no blood. No blood. I stroke her head, inhaling her baby vanilla scent as I sit down on the edge of the bed to hide the fact my legs are trembling.
‘Sorry. I was just changing her and didn’t hear you.’ There’s a catch in my voice.
Lisa sits down next to me. ‘You sure you’re OK? You’re a bit pale.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Jack said you went to the park yesterday,’ she says.
‘Yes.’ I’m not really listening to her, focusing instead on the movement of Tilly’s back under my hand as she breathes softly in and out.
‘Ah, I bet that was nice. It’s good to get a bit of fresh air.’
I don’t reply. It’s getting harder to work out who’s talking to me.
‘Let’s have a look at Tilly, then.’ Lisa reaches out to take her and I hesitate, petrified I’ll see smears of blood on her Babygro, but there’s only white. Nothing red.
I run my hands through my hair to give myself something to do, twisting it up into a ponytail.
‘How are you feeling?’ Lisa asks.
‘I’m good.’ You need something to protect you.
‘Not too tired?’
‘No. I slept quite well last night.’ You didn’t. We talked. All the time.
‘Did you? Jack said you were a bit restless.’ Of course he did. He’s telling tales.
‘I was for a while, but I managed to get a few hours.’
‘Good. And everything else is OK?’
‘Yes.’ There’s something that would help you in the kitchen drawer.
‘Are you sure? You seem rather …’ Lisa hesitates and shifts her position on the bed, leaning towards me as if she’s confiding something. ‘You can tell me if you’re struggling with anything,’ she says. Told you Jack’s been telling her about you.
‘I’m fine, honestly.’ No, you’re not.
Lisa nods. ‘Well, do say if there’s something you’re worried about. It’s quite normal to have concerns as a new mum. Everyone does.’
Smile. Agree with her. I smile. She passes Tilly back to me and I snuggle her into my chest, hoping she can’t see my hands are still shaking.
‘It might be nice if you let Jack do a few things with Tilly on his own,’ she adds. ‘Let him take her for a walk or something. It’ll give you a break. Most new mums would kill for the chance to be on their own for a while.’ She pauses, smoothing non-existent creases out of the duvet cover. ‘It doesn’t mean you love Tilly any less if you let other people help you,’ she says.
I don’t reply. She’s got no idea what she’s talking about, what I need to do to protect my daughter. No one else can do that. She doesn’t understand Jack shouldn’t be allowed on his own with her. He’s going to hurt her. I know it. Jack’s waiting until you’re asleep and then he’ll take her. Somewhere you’ll never find her again. You need something to protect you.
Lisa sees I’m not going to answer, so changes the subject. ‘Let’s check those stitches again.’
I go through the familiar routine of stripping off and looking at the ceiling as she stares between my legs.
‘They’re not looking too bad,’ she says. ‘You can put your trousers back on. Those deeper ones still look a bit red, so I’ll check them again tomorrow.’ She smiles. ‘Are you going to have some lunch?’
I look at the clock. I hadn’t realised how late it was.
‘Not yet. I’ll come and get some in a minute.’
I lie Tilly back in her Moses basket as Lisa walks out and pick up my notebook. If I write it all down, it’ll be out of my head and I’ll have some space. It never stops. My mind is so crammed with everything it’s telling me, I’m losing crucial information as it spills over the edges. I can’t hold it all in.
I can hear them talking in the kitchen. Holding Tilly with one arm, I open the bedroom door a crack and peer out. Their voices are muffled and I can’t make out what they’re saying. I wonder if he’s telling her I didn’t sleep last night. Making me out to be a liar. The kitchen door begins to open and I shut mine slowly, careful it doesn’t make a noise.
I know he’s hiding something. He never whispers unless there’s something he doesn’t want me to hear. A couple of days before I went into labour his mum had come over. She’d given us a teddy and a blanket, which I’d taken and put in our bedroom to stop Jack getting paint all over them. When I’d emerged, I’d listened to their hushed voices in the kitchen, which had stopped the minute I’d walked through the door. I’d asked him about it later when we’d been lying in
bed.
‘Why was your mum saying she couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid?’
He’d paused and
swallowed before he’d answered, telling me something about a project at work, but I hadn’t believed him then, either.
He’s left his laptop in the bedroom and I open the cover, watching the screen light up before typing in his password. I click on the tab which shows all his emails and scan down them whilst listening to their voices in the hall. I read the one that he got yesterday from the bank. An application and rejection for a loan. The thought we could be in financial difficulties makes me go cold. Tilly’s future is suddenly uncertain, and I wonder what else he’s hiding from me.
I shut the laptop and pull out the folder where I know he keeps all our bank statements. I can hear him opening the front door to let Lisa out. I don’t have much time. It doesn’t take long to spot it, an amount so large it stands out amongst the other payments. Five thousand pounds to a Mr John Reynolds last year. His father. Who he’d said he had no contact with. He’d given away our money without even telling me. As I hear the front door shut and Lisa’s footsteps retreat up the hallway outside, I look at the dates again and realise with a jolt this means we’d had the money for our last round of IVF – Jack just obviously hadn’t wanted to go through with it. And then my dad had lent it to us and he hadn’t had a choice.
Jack has never wanted Tilly, and now he’s planning how to get rid of her.
‘Em’s supposed to be coming over this afternoon,’ he says, standing at the foot of our bed. ‘D’you want me to cancel?’
‘No, why would we do that?’ I stare at him.
‘I wondered if you felt up to it.’
‘I’m fine. She can give me some tips on how to handle the first few weeks.’
‘Great.’ He smiles, but I don’t smile back.
‘Don’t patronise me, Jack. You’re treating me like a five-year-old. It’s nice Em’s coming over, I’m looking forward to it. It doesn’t mean I’m happy you’re saying things to Lisa about me.’
‘I haven’t …’
‘I heard you talking to her in the kitchen. Before you go telling tales, can you at least speak to me first?’ I turn away from him and pick up my notebook, making it clear the conversation is over.
He stares at me. ‘Christ, Ali, can you drop the attitude? I’m just trying to help. I want to spend time with you and Tilly, but you seem to resent me being here at all. You haven’t asked if I’m OK, if I need anything.’ He falters. ‘I’ve got stuff going on as well, you know.’ I don’t reply. He rubs his hand over his face as he mumbles something about his father. He’s a good actor, but I can see through the pretence.
I walk into the bathroom and shut the door. I need to ask him what he did with our money, but I don’t want him realising I know yet. I need to find out what else he’s lied to me about.
I can hear him pacing around the flat. He’s biding his time. Not long left.
‘You awake?’ Em taps on the bedroom door. ‘Hi, lovely. How are you? Jack said you were here. Is it OK to come in?’
I nod and she walks over to where I’m sitting on top of the duvet, pillows piled up behind me, and gives me a large hug.
‘I don’t want to intrude.’
‘You’re not. It’s good to see you.’ I force myself to smile.
‘Isn’t she gorgeous?’ Em peers over the side of the Moses basket. ‘What a cutie. I’ve left Josh and Jessica with my mum. I thought they might be too much to cope with. Can I have a cuddle?’
I nod. Don’t tell her about me. You haven’t fetched it out of the drawer. You need to hurry.
She picks Tilly up. ‘How are you finding things?’
‘OK.’ I shut my eyes briefly.
‘Is she waking up lots? Jessica was dreadful for that. Six weeks of hell. You probably remember better than I do. You were so supportive.’
I stare at her blankly. ‘I … I didn’t really do anything,’ I say. What had I done? I can’t remember. My head’s too full. I can’t think back to before I had Tilly. She’s made everything so intense, so real. Anything that came before runs through my mind like water, diluted versions of memories that escape before I can hold onto them. It’s there, somewhere, hidden under all the noise, but I can’t find it.
I think really hard, making a supreme effort to block out the voices which are babbling so fast they’re an incomprehensible blur. Yes, there it is. I’d gone to stay with her for a couple of nights when Josh had been ill. I have hazy memories of taking her tissues and cups of tea. It all seems so unimportant, as if it was never part of my life. I smile, but I hope she doesn’t stay long. I need to get something from the kitchen.
Jack pushes open the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ he says. ‘Just wondered if Harry was in the office today, Em? I was going to give him a call. I need to ask him a favour.’
She nods.
He hasn’t shaved for a couple of days and his stubble combined with the circles under his eyes make his face darker than usual. He looks at me as if he can read my thoughts. I blink them away, concealing them out of sight.
Em strokes the foot of Tilly’s sleepsuit that’s poking out from under her blanket and I notice them glance at each other. They’ve been planning.
‘Are you sure you’re not tired, Ali?’ Em asks. ‘We can take Tilly out for a walk so you can get your head down for a bit. It did me the world of good.’
They’re going to take her away.
‘I’m fine.’ That glance again. ‘But I could try and have a nap. Just a quick one.’ This time there’s no mistaking the look that passes between them.
‘Great.’ Jack can’t hide the elation in his voice. Of course he can’t. He wants to get his hands on her. ‘I’ll take her down the road if you like, let you get some proper rest. Em can come to make sure I don’t leave her anywhere.’ He laughs, but I don’t smile at his feeble attempt at a joke.
Em waits until he’s gone. ‘He’s just worried about you,
Ali.’
I want to tell her what Jack’s going to do. Not to trust him. That he’s hiding things from me. She won’t understand. I can’t tell her when Jack’s in the flat. He might hear me. I’ll show her instead. She’ll understand when she reads it.
‘I’ve got something for you,’ I tell her. ‘It’s an early birthday present.’ I hand her my notebook, which I’ve put inside a small paper bag that was in my bedside cupboard. ‘You can’t open it until your actual birthday though, promise?’
Em laughs. ‘Ah, thanks, Ali. You’re too kind. I’m surprised you remembered.’
‘Em … I …’ I trail off, not really sure what I want to say as the voice babbles in my ear. You need to get it. Then I’ll show you what to do.
‘What?’ she asks.
‘Did you feel like there was a lot to do when you first had Josh? A lot of things going on, I mean. Hard to keep everything in your head?’ She won’t believe you. She’ll tell Jack. You shouldn’t have given her the book.
She lets out a snort. ‘I concentrated on getting through a day at a time, to be honest.’
I nod. I’m already doing that. She doesn’t understand. My head is overflowing with what I’m supposed to remember and I can’t work out what’s important and what’s not. It’s so hard when someone’s talking to you all the time.
Em puts her hand on mine. ‘You’re doing a great job.’ She stands up. ‘You get some rest whilst we take Tilly out.’ She smiles at me. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them both.’
They might not come back. This could be the last time you see her. ‘Thanks.’
She walks out of the bedroom and I hear them chatting as they get the pram ready. Jack’s asking her about the loan they got for their car last year. We don’t need a new car; Tilly fits into the one we’ve got. Why does Jack need to borrow money? We’re not overdrawn. The balance in our current account isn’t any worse than usual. I wonder how much trouble we’re in, what it is that he hasn’t told me.
The front door shuts behind them and the flat is silent apart from the voice in my head. I wait until I hear the thud in the corri
dor of the main door closing before I get up and wander down the hall to Tilly’s new bedroom that she hasn’t spent a night in. The smell of fresh paint still hangs in the air even though Jack’s opened the window. He’s only just finished the last coat after putting up the bookshelves. He’d said we shouldn’t take Tilly in there until everything’s completely dry. We’ve got all her clothes and nappies in a pile in our bedroom. I wind up the star mobile that’s fastened to the side of the cot, the high-pitched nursery rhyme droning as it circles round slowly. A row of picture books sit waiting to be read on top of the matching chest of drawers. The various cuddly toys we’ve bought, as well as the ones we’ve been given as gifts from people at work, sit in the cot, waiting for her to play with. This is the place. This is where you need to do it.
I’ve given Em my notebook. I thought it was finished. I don’t have space to write anything else. There will always be more. Until you come with me and I can show you. I want Em to know the truth. To open her eyes to the light. But now I’m not sure I’ve done the right thing. I think she’s working with Jack. He pretends to care, but he doesn’t. We both know the truth. I’m not going to be able to pretend for much longer. He doesn’t understand what I’m trying to fit inside my head. What I have to do. Go and get it.
I pull open the drawer in the kitchen, hesitating as I glance at the knives in the cutlery tray on one side before picking up a black marker pen and walking back into Tilly’s room. Standing on a chair, I start on the wall beside her cot and begin to write what it tells me across the cream paint. Words, symbols and numbers. Everything that’s in my head. The feeling of relief as the black marks appear on the surface is immeasurable. It pours out of me, one line after another, temporarily halting the flood that threatens to drown me. Soon. I didn’t realise how everything fits together in the universe. It’s so obvious once you understand. We’re all part of one another and I can see how things are supposed to be.
Finally I run out of clean wall as the black marker starts to turn grey. I stand back and look at what I’ve done. That’s the pattern. Now they’ll understand why I had to do it. You have to come with me. I don’t think it’ll wait much longer.