Cuckoo (21 page)
‘I know, but they can’t stay if she goes.’
For Rose, the thought of the boys leaving was as if the last string that had been holding her up had been cut. Losing everything when it had nearly been so perfect was too much to bear. She remembered the promise she had made to Yannis in Jabberwocky, that she would never let him down. The fear pressed down on her like a heavy weight, making it hard for her to breathe. She fell against Gareth and cried until snot was hanging from her nose in strings and every ounce of tears had been squeezed from her body. He held her, his arms wrapped around her, until she had nothing left to grieve with.
‘I can’t bear the thought of losing them,’ she whispered into his shoulder. ‘I don’t want Nico and Yannis to get lost in it all.’
‘She nearly killed our daughter,’ Gareth said, his voice ice.
Rose looked up at him. ‘She’s not herself, though, Gareth. It was an accident.’
‘Was it?’ he asked, looking straight at her. ‘Do you know,’ he said, walking around to the head of Flossie’s box, and gesturing at her prostrate body, ‘do you know, I’m not so sure about that. I’m not so sure she didn’t put those damn pills right down Flossie’s throat.’ He leaned forward, grabbing onto either side of the plastic box, and he roared at Rose: ‘I’m not so sure that Polly Novak didn’t come here on purpose to fuck everything up!’
‘Is everything all right?’ Two nurses hurried into the cubicle and took positions either side of Rose, protecting her from Gareth.
He put his hands up. ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘It’s fine.’
‘I know you’re upset, but please can you keep it down, Mr Cunningham?’ the nurse said to Gareth. ‘We’ve got some very poorly people here.’
‘Like my fucking daughter,’ Gareth spat, making the nurse jump back and draw her shoulders up around her ears.
Rose grabbed his arm. ‘Gareth, please. It’s not their fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. Why would Polly want to hurt Flossie? Look.’ Rose didn’t know what she believed, but her overriding concern was to keep the boys safe with her, to give them a chance. ‘Look, Gareth, please, for me. For Flossie, for the boys. Please, go and find Polly. Bring her in here. I need to see her.’
The nurses shifted on their feet, looking uneasily at each other.
Gareth looked at her. ‘You remember what you promised before they came, Rose. You said you wouldn’t argue with me.’
‘I know, but it’s more important than that now. Please. Bring her in.’
Gareth glared, first at Rose, then at the nurses.
‘I’ll be back.’ He turned and left.
‘Well!’ The nurse who had jumped let go of her breath.
‘Sorry,’ Rose said, rubbing her eyes. ‘We’re just a bit upset right now.’
‘Just take it easy, Mum, all right?’ The other nurse, a round girl with a lilting Somerset accent, came up and put her arm around Rose. ‘Baby needs you.’
By lunchtime, Gareth hadn’t returned. The round nurse came through and ordered Rose to go and get some food.
‘I’ll stay and watch Baby,’ she added.
Rose went down to the canteen and got herself some beans on toast and a cup of tea. She didn’t want to stay downstairs to eat, so she put her food on a tray and carried it back upstairs. Halfway up, she tripped and fell forward, hurting her shin and spilling food and drink all over the floor and herself. Once down on the stone steps, she couldn’t find the energy to get up. She just put her head down between her arms and closed her eyes. People had to step around her to get on their way.
‘Where do you belong, love?’ A kind orderly finally stopped and squatted down to talk to her.
He scooped her up and led her back to Flossie. He used his walkie-talkie to call someone to clear up the mess on the stairs. ‘We don’t want any more accidents,’ he said, smiling at Rose.
The round nurse, who had been as good as her word about looking after Flossie, looked up sternly when Rose came back emptyhanded, but the orderly explained what had happened. The nurse sat Rose down next to Flossie, then slipped away. A little while later, she returned with a large Kit Kat and a cup of tea.
‘We’ve got to keep our energy up, Mum,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen it so often. You always forget to look after yourselves, but we’re no good if we’re fainting all over the shop, are we?’
Rose nodded, unable to speak. The nurse pointed to the front of her T-shirt, with its dark stains where her milk had leaked earlier on.
‘Oh dear, you’re not still feeding, are you? Poor Mum. If you were in the Children’s Centre, they’d have sorted you out with a pump. I’ll see what I can do.’
After about half an hour, she came back with a breast pump and a hospital issue dressing gown with an open back.
‘There we go, Mum. Use this to get the milk out; then you can change into this. Hubby’ll be back soon, I’m sure, with some fresh clothes. You can either throw the milk away or donate it,’ the nurse chirped as she positioned a table next to Rose, to support her arm while the pump worked. ‘I’m afraid they don’t have any storage facilities down here. When you get upstairs to Blue Ward they can keep it chilled until Hubby comes in and then he can take it back home to freeze for later. Baby won’t be taking any milk for a while.’
‘Gareth,’ Rose said. ‘His name’s Gareth.’ The pump, clamped over Rose’s nipple, whirred and pulsed. Despite the indignity of her situation, Rose felt an enormous sense of relief as her swollen breasts discharged their load into the sterilised bottle.
‘So what do we want to do with our milk, then?’ The nurse stood back, a hand on her plump hip.
‘Let someone else have it. I don’t want it to go to waste,’ Rose muttered.
The nurse slipped behind the cubicle curtain then returned with a sheaf of forms for Rose to fill in about consent and screening. Rose wished she had chosen for the milk to be thrown away, but to please the nurse, she filled them in.
‘Now, let’s get our dressing gown on, eh?’ the nurse said. ‘All that smelly dried milk. It isn’t the most hygienic, is it?’
Much later that afternoon, Gareth still hadn’t turned up. Rose and Flossie were finally transferred to Blue Ward, which seemed to be full of very sick babies. A large, open-plan area with spacious, curtained-off stations for each tiny inhabitant and his or her retinue of drawn-looking parents and grandparents, it was more thoughtfully lit and laid out than the corner of the Accident & Emergency Ward they had been in. Flossie had a station with a comfortable chair that could be folded out into a bed for Rose. They also had their own TV – not that Rose could even think about watching it. She couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Flossie, who was still deep in her induced sleep. Their new nurse introduced herself. In contrast to the A&E nurse, this one was quick, calm and unobtrusive. She checked Flossie’s machines every half – hour and kept telling Rose that Flossie was doing very well.
Whatever that means, Rose thought.
She hated being around all those tiny, half – alive babies.
A while later, the quiet of the ward was broken by a flurry of noise and activity at the main nurses’ station. It was Gareth, who came rushing up to Rose and Flossie. In one hand he was carrying a rucksack. The other was firmly wrapped around Polly’s wrist, dragging her like a reluctant, naughty child, or a prisoner. He looked demented.
‘I couldn’t find you,’ he panted. ‘I thought – why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me you’d been moved?’
A palpable shiver rode through the ward as the attendants of every baby looked sharply up at the cause of the disturbance.
‘Please, sir, you have to keep the noise down.’ The efficient nurse moved towards him.
Ignoring this, he turned to Rose. ‘I thought she was—No one said—’
‘I’m sorry you had a fright,’ the nurse said, holding her ground. ‘But look, Flossie’s here, and she’s doing well.’ She turned to Rose, bent down and put her arm round her shoulder. ‘Rose, is it OK if he stays?’ she asked.
‘Thanks, he’s fine to stay.’ Rose smiled faintly at the nurse.
‘Look,’ Gareth said to the nurse, forcing a calm note into his voice, ‘I just couldn’t find them, OK?’ He fell to his knees in front of Rose and put his arms around her, burying his face into her shoulder. She realised he was crying.
Polly, abandoned in the middle of the room, stood there, looking nervous and tiny.
‘Thank God you’re both all right,’ he said, looking up at Rose at last.
‘You’ve been ages,’ was all she could say.
‘It’s been a bit of a ride,’ said Gareth. ‘Long story. How is she?’ He turned to Flossie, reaching through the box to touch her belly. ‘She looks as if she’s got a bit more colour.’
Rose couldn’t see it herself, but she nodded anyway.
‘We had the police round earlier,’ Gareth whispered. ‘Asking about drugs. They interviewed her,’ he pointed at Polly. ‘I showed them her prescription pills. Luckily they didn’t search the house or anything. Anyway, I’ve flushed my weed down the toilet as a precaution. In case they come back with dogs or something.’
‘That’s wise,’ Rose murmured, still looking for the signs of improvement in Flossie that he had seen.
‘I brought her in, like you asked,’ he said, pointing again at Polly, but not looking at her. ‘I’m not changing my mind, though.’
‘Let me talk to her,’ Rose said.
‘Ten minutes. I’m getting a coffee. I’ll be back.’ And he left, striding across the ward, like a giant in his dirty suede jacket. He didn’t even glance at Polly as he passed her.
Polly stood still, twisting her long loose hair around her index finger, a nervous smile nudging at her mouth.
‘Come here,’ Rose said, gesturing to a seat by her side. ‘And look.’
‘Oh God.’ Polly hovered towards the end of Flossie’s bed and stood there like a tragic angel in a Victorian engraving. She was dressed, Rose couldn’t help noticing, immaculately, in a flowing black dress with a transparent black floaty thing over the top. Her make-up was sombre, but beautiful, despite – or because of – the red-rimmed eyes. She was hugging herself and blinking.
‘I’m so sorry, Rose. It’s all my fault,’ she said. ‘It’s all my fault.’
‘It was an accident. Wasn’t it?’ Rose said, searching Polly’s eyes for clues.
Polly rushed and threw herself at Rose’s knees, clasping her hands together in her lap, looking up into her eyes. ‘Oh yes, it was, such an accident. Please, Rose. Forgive me.’
Rose felt her own hand rest on Polly’s praying palms. It sort of floated there, not really connected to her wrist, acting on its own will. She was unable to speak, yet she felt a well of pressure in her ribcage. If she sat there for much longer she would burst and the contents of her heart would spill all over this woman who suddenly seemed so alien to her.
Polly broke down, collapsing her face onto Rose’s knees. ‘I’m sorry, sorry. I can’t believe it,’ she sobbed. ‘You offer me everything you have and I do this. What kind of monster am I? I don’t deserve a friend like you.’
Rose watched as, once again, her hand found its way onto the back of Polly’s head, then lifted and patted as it stroked her hair.
‘Everything I touch turns bad. I nearly killed myself. I couldn’t even keep my husband alive. And now this. I’m cursed, Rose. Cursed.’
‘Shhh,’ Rose said. She really did want her to shut up. ‘Now stop this. Get up. Look.’ She stood and turned Polly round to look at Flossie. Polly swayed as Rose took her hand and put it on Flossie’s chest. The sight of those thin, fragile fingers with their rounded, bitten nails on Flossie’s tiny tube-studded ribs was almost too much to bear. Rose caught her breath at the same time as Polly shuddered.
‘So tiny, so innocent,’ Polly said, shaking.
They stood there, Rose’s hand on Polly’s hand on Flossie’s body.
‘She’s going to be all right?’ Polly said at length, taking her arm back to place it back around her own body.
‘They say her chances are good,’ Rose said, repeating the doctor’s words.
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