Forget Me Not (24 page)

‘I promise,’ I say.

I put my arms around him and I rest my head in the hollow of his throat. I stroke the soft place on his neck, between his hair and his collar. I inhale his scent, of cigarettes and aftershave. He puts his arms around me too and we stand like that, in the dark silence, just the two of us, and I pretend for a moment that we all might have a happy ending.

I stand inside the doorway of Lexi’s room in the paediatric wing. Ben is at his daughter’s bedside, holding her hand and gazing at her. Lexi’s eyes are closed. The starched hospital linen is pulled up to her chin and the white of the sheet matches the pallor of her skin.

I’m sure Ben heard me come in, though he doesn’t acknowledge my presence. He looks fragile, shrunken somehow, as though he has withered over the last few hours. ‘Have they sedated her?’ I say.

He nods. He won’t look at me.

‘Ben,’ I say, ‘I’m so sorry about what happened. I would never, ever want to put Lexi in danger.’

‘But you did,’ he says. ‘You nearly killed her.’

He keeps his eyes on Lexi. He’s so enraged he cannot risk looking at me. Somehow, though, Isaac has convinced him to listen, because he isn’t actually throwing me out.

I could try to explain, about Cleo, but this isn’t the right time. I don’t want to sound as though I’m trying to justify my own actions. And I don’t have time. Instead, I am going to talk to him about the things that are truly important.

‘Ben,’ I say, ‘I know you believe I’m a cold bitch who prioritized her career over her family. I know you think I didn’t love my daughter enough. And you’re right. Partly, you’re right. When Vivien was little I missed out on so much that was important. I don’t think she ever forgave me. Her father never even acknowledged her existence, and then she was abandoned by me, all over again. I sent her away. When I think about it now, I can see that all of this started so long ago. But it was so different when Lexi was born, so easy.’

Ben still won’t look at me. He strokes the back of Lexi’s hand with his thumb.

I venture a few steps closer. I stand at the foot of Lexi’s bed, my hands gripping the metal bar. ‘Ben,’ I say, ‘we both know that Vivien was not coping with motherhood. I’m guilty for not helping her, and I blame myself every single day. But I think you knew too.’

Ben glances at me, briefly. Then he turns away again, back to Lexi. I keep talking.

‘I’m sure you remember how weak Vivien was, physically and emotionally, after Lexi’s birth?’ I say. ‘I helped as much as I could when Lexi was still in the Weissman Unit, but Vivien didn’t visit much, did she?’

No response.

‘I worried, at the time, that it wasn’t just the physical state Vivien was in, but that there was something more. Vivien didn’t
want
to visit her baby. She’d been through so much with losing Lexi’s twin, then the premature birth and the long hospital stay. There were so many risk factors, I should have seen she was at risk for not being able to bond with her daughter or even some kind of post-natal depression. But I convinced myself it was just a phase, that it would pass, with time, once Lexi was home and healthy.’

Ben nods and I feel a tiny bit of hope. My voice is steadier when I continue.

‘When Lexi came home, after three long months, I moved in. Obviously I’m a neonatal nurse, so taking care of her was second nature to me, and she was such a lovely, easy-going baby. But after a week or so of being in your house, I started to worry. Vivien was becoming more and more dependent on me. She was doing less and less, leaving almost all of Lexi’s care to me. It got to the stage where she insisted I do all the bottle-feeds; she was worried Lexi would choke if she fed her. She didn’t want to change Lexi or bathe her on her own either. Vivien got this idea into her head that Lexi screamed whenever she touched her. She convinced herself that it was me Lexi wanted, that I was the only one who could soothe her.’

I stop to catch my breath. Ben doesn’t say anything, but he’s listening to every word.

‘The longer I stayed,’ I say, ‘the less confident Vivien was. I was the one bonding with Lexi, while the two of them were growing apart. I truly believed that if I didn’t move out, if I didn’t step aside to give them some space, then Vivien would never have the chance to really be a mother.’

I clear my throat. ‘Vivien didn’t see it that way. She was furious with me for leaving. I didn’t explain it to her either. I thought it was best if I kept my feelings to myself and simply removed myself from the situation. That was the way I’d always handled things. And it was a huge mistake.’

I pause. I watch Ben, hoping he might say something. I don’t know if my words are having any impact, if he is softening towards me at all.

‘Ben, I want you to know that leaving your house on Blackthorn Road was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I loved Lexi like my own child. But I thought I was doing the right thing for both of them. I thought I was coming between them. I thought that when I left, Vivien’s maternal instinct would kick in. But it didn’t, Ben, did it? Not really.’

He looks up, looks over at me and shakes his head. There is pain in his eyes, and sorrow.

‘A bond between Vivien and me was severed a long time ago,’ I say. ‘Something important, a connection that was broken and never repaired. And because of our problems, I think there was always a little piece of Vivien that was missing. I think she struggled to love her own daughter. Because of me.’

I think there is a little compassion in Ben’s eyes now.

‘I swear to you, Ben, when Lexi was born I thought I was doing my best. If I could do it all over again I would. I would never leave. But did you really never notice anything? Something wrong between Vivien and Lexi? Something missing?’

‘She was an attentive mother,’ he says. ‘She never neglected her own daughter.’

‘But not a loving mother?’

He doesn’t answer.

‘I kept my distance, as you know. I was managing the Weissman Unit by that time and it wasn’t difficult to lose myself in my career. Vivien was angry with me for moving out, abandoned once again, I suppose. I think she wanted to punish me. We had minimal contact, but because appearances were important to Vivien, she let me in, only to the extent where it wouldn’t look odd. I was there at birthday parties, at Christmas. Over the years, I glimpsed what was happening out of the corner of my eye, but I pretended to myself I didn’t see. I didn’t ask questions because I didn’t want to deal with the answers and I didn’t want to interfere. But I know what Vivien was doing.’

Ben looks worried now. ‘What do you mean?’

I walk round until I am standing opposite him, on the other side of Lexi’s bed. She is in a deep, deep sleep. The tiny freckles scattered across her nose and the tops of her cheeks are the only bit of colour in her face. I lift her arm and I check her pulse.

Ben does not try to stop me, so I keep hold of her hand. I’ve found my resolve and it resonates in my voice.

‘I went to see Mrs Murad,’ I say. ‘She’d also picked up problems in Vivien’s relationship with Lexi. She told me she’d insisted Vivien see a psychiatrist, because she was so concerned about her state of mind. She told me, Ben, that she broke confidentiality. That she’d shared her concerns with you.’

Ben stands up. He walks over to the door and closes it. He turns back to face me. ‘Go on,’ he says.

‘Ever since the police asked me about the argument you had with Vivien, I’ve been trying to work out what you two might have argued about, what could have been so bad that you’d walk out on her.’

‘I didn’t walk out on her,’ he says. ‘She was furious with me and she told me not to come home.’

‘It was because of Mrs Murad, wasn’t it? She broke confidentiality because she was worried Vivien might hurt Lexi. And you were afraid, too.’

Ben hovers at the door. There are purple shadows under his eyes and his jaw tenses. He scratches at his upper arm. He still doesn’t want to admit the truth.

I look down at Lexi’s little face. ‘That’s why you and Vivien argued. Because you thought she was doing something to hurt Lexi.’

‘I saw a psychiatrist behind her back,’ he says. ‘Vivien was furious. She was always so private, she hated the idea I’d been talking about her. She thought I’d betrayed her.’

‘DS Cole told me that Vivien had a prescription for diet pills, for Lexi.’

‘I didn’t know,’ he says.

Ben walks over to Lexi’s bedside and sits down again, resuming his vigil next to his daughter. He grasps her hand. ‘Do you believe me?’

‘I do. Vivien wasn’t just private, she could be secretive, too.’

‘I had no idea Vivien was giving Lexi anything. I never dreamed she’d do anything like that. After Mrs Murad warned me, I talked to Lexi. It took some time for her to tell me what was going on, because I think Vivien had threatened her. But eventually, she said Vivien was giving her some sort of medicine because she was too fat. That Vivien would crush it up and stir it into a glass of milk.’

Ben begins to weep. His tears drip onto the white, white sheet. He lays his head down and his shoulders shake. I envy him. I haven’t cried since she died, not once.

‘We’re all guilty,’ I say. ‘Vivien abused Lexi, physically and emotionally. I don’t say she did it on purpose, but she did. And we both stood by while the damage was done. And now, Lexi needs someone to watch over her. Every minute of every day. And I want to be that person. I want to atone. I want to make up for all that my granddaughter has suffered.’

Ben’s shoulders become still. He looks up at me with red eyes.

‘Do you really expect me to allow you to be around my daughter, after what happened tonight?’

‘Yes.’ My thoughts are clear and I know exactly what I need to say. ‘Ben, I lied to the police.’

Alexandra could not sleep. She lay on her back, in her bed, worrying, because she had forgotten to do her maths homework. She felt for the corner of her quilt, the secret place where she had worked the stitching loose over many sleepless nights. She found the small hole she had made, and she poked her little finger through. She was careful to hide this damage from her mother.

She had left her maths folder at school and now it was really late and she had been playing on her iPad for too long and she couldn’t tell her mother about the homework. Her mother had been crying.

And she didn’t know where her father was.

Her stomach ached and her heart was beating too fast again, as though it might burst from her chest. Thoughts about her homework, her mother’s tears, her father not coming home, sped round her head like cars round a racetrack, making her dizzy.

Alexandra knew she was fat. Her belly stuck out, her mother said, and it was true, she had to try hard to close the zip on her school skirt. But the pills made her frightened, they made her heart race and they made her full of wind, she felt like a blown-up beach ball about to burst.

Alexandra sat up, feeling ashamed. She had the runs, again.

She spent time in the bathroom, scrubbing herself and then the toilet, pouring in bleach, opening the window. She changed her underwear and her pyjamas, stuffing the dirty clothes into the bottom of the washing basket. She tried to make herself clean and to smell good, to please her mother.

Her heart was still going too fast. She didn’t want to have a heart attack and die. She wanted her father. She thought about phoning him, she kept one of his business cards under her mouse pad, but it was midnight and she wasn’t sure what her mother might do if she heard her using the phone so late at night. Her mother used to let Alexandra sleep next to her when her father was away working. But that was years and years ago. Before she was fat.

She couldn’t lie still in her bed any longer. Her heart was a wild bird trapped inside her, flapping its wings so hard it might die of fright. She had seen that once on television. She had told her father about the medicine; she had broken her promise to her mother. Something bad was going to happen.

Alexandra slipped her feet into her velvet slippers. She walked out of her bedroom and quietly up the stairs.

The door to her mother’s room was closed, but the light was on inside, it shone through the gap at the bottom. Her mother was awake. Alexandra knocked, waited a couple of seconds, then turned the door handle. As the door opened, she could hear the sounds of the television. At the end of the passageway she could see a dim, flickering light.

‘Mummy?’ she called out. She made her way along the passage, trailing her hand along the wall. She stopped at the end, when she could see her mother sitting up alone in bed.

‘Where’s Daddy?’ she asked quietly.

‘Alexandra, it’s midnight. I’m never going to get you up for school in the morning.’

‘My heart’s going too fast, Mummy.’

‘Nonsense. Stop worrying. The doctor said it’s fine.’

‘But—’

‘
It’s time for bed, Alexandra!
’ Her mother’s arm jerked up and her voice was loud and sharp.

Alexandra backed away, tears slipping hot and indignant down her cheeks.

She slammed the door of her mother’s bedroom. She closed her eyes, but the image of her mother’s anger burned on the back of her eyeballs. Her underwear was slimy again. The pills made her leak and she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t always get to the toilet in time. The worst part was when it happened at school.

She waited outside on the landing, under the picture of her mother on her wedding day, hoping her mother might come and find her. But she didn’t. Her door stayed closed.

Alexandra decided there and then that she would take those pills and flush all of them down the toilet. The thought was half funny, half scary-exciting. She ran back down the passage and padded down the staircase in her slippers, all the way right down to the basement. Alexandra was not afraid of the dark.

She opened the top cupboard, the one near the window. She reached up on tiptoes to where her mother kept the medicines. She took out the box and popped all of the pills out of their plastic coats.