Loose Connections (13 page)

Is that the one-eyed crow?

Verity stood and watched it, her hand shielding her eyes, and then she switched her gaze to the bus.

Does she know I’m here? Did she see me walk past the house?

But then the bus turned the corner and she was no longer visible. He sat back in his seat but he couldn’t settle. He kept thinking back to his weird experience in the orchard.

What was all that about? I was so tired when it happened. Did I dream it? Am I cracking up?

The journey was interminable. The slow journey into town, then the long wait for the connection at the bus depot. Then the trip out to the hospital, stopping, it seemed to Jake, every few
seconds, to take on more passengers or let them off.

When at last he arrived at the hospital, he was stiff and tired – and hungry, too. He’d been so anxious about Gran this morning that he’d forgotten to have any breakfast and
his stomach was rumbling as he walked towards the main entrance. As he reached the glass doors he caught sight of his reflection. His hair was standing on end and his T-shirt and jeans were grubby.
And, this morning, when he’d looked in the bathroom mirror, he’d hardly recognised his face, pale and strained with dark smudges of fatigue under his eyes.

He found a comb in the back pocket of his jeans and dragged it through his hair. Today he had come empty-handed to see Mum. No clean clothes, no flowers, no chocolates or magazines. He’d
just wanted to get out of the house and leave everything behind him – Gran, Irene, daft Kenny, the chaos. . .

As he put the comb back in his pocket, his hand touched the list Irene had written out for him. He dragged it out and looked at it.

Hmm. All sensible stuff: toilet rolls, tissues, washing-up liquid. . .
He’d add a few treats for himself and for Gran – if he could get her to eat them.

He rammed the list back into his pocket and took the lift up to the ward. None of the nurses saw him as he walked quickly past them, into the ward and up to Mum’s bed.

When he reached the bed, he frowned. There was no one there.

P’raps she’s in the toilet.

He sat down in the chair beside the bed to wait for her, his stomach rumbling with hunger and cramping with nerves. How could he explain why Gran wasn’t with him without making Mum worry?
She’d know something was wrong; he knew he looked shattered and she’d pick up on that right away wouldn’t she?

One of the nurses came past and saw him. She stopped abruptly and stared at him. Then she put down what she was carrying on a trolley and came over.

‘Are you Jake?’ she asked. ‘Are you her son?’

Jake nodded and got to his feet. Why did he feel so scared?

‘Where is she?’ he said, and his voice sounded funny – cracked and high.

The young nurse looked nervous.

‘I’ll just go and fetch someone,’ she said, and she turned and ran out of the ward.

Oh God! What’s happened? Something dreadful’s happened, it must have. Mum’s lost the baby again. Or maybe Mum’s dead. Why didn’t that stupid nurse tell me
anything? Why did she rush away like that? It must be bad news. It has to be.

He stood there swaying with tiredness, his heart thumping in his chest and his hands sweaty. He was feeling nauseous and light-headed and he began to tremble. He tried to concentrate on
something, focus on a spot on the wall, empty his mind. But the thoughts were there all the time, they wouldn’t go away. Gran, Verity, Irene, Kenny, Dad – and MUM.

Please. Please let her be OK. Please don’t let her die!

In a few moments, an older nurse was by his side. She took his arm and made him sit down.

‘It’s all right, Jake. Your mum’s in the labour ward.’

‘What? What do you mean?’

The nurse sat on the edge of the bed and held his hands.

‘The baby’s decided to come a bit early,’ she said.

Oh God. Will it die? Will Mum die?

His head was spinning now, the walls were coming towards him and then receding. He hardly heard her reply.

It was as if the nurse could read his thoughts.

‘She’ll be fine. And I’m sure the baby will be fine, too. It will just be a bit premature. Please don’t worry. You mum’s in very good hands.’

Jake felt the bile rise in his throat and everything in the ward – the beds, the trollies, the curtains – all merged into one huge mist before his eyes. The nurse caught him as he
slumped forward.

He was spinning out of control, things, people flying round in his head – Mum trying to reach him, Dad shouting in fear, Gran with her face blank, the black pony, the badger, the black
crow flapping at him, coming nearer and nearer. And then they all vanished and he could only see Verity staring at him steadily, mouthing something he couldn’t understand.

***

When he came round, he was lying on the bed – on Mum’s bed – and there were more people round him. A doctor was taking his pulse, the older nurse was pouring
out some water from a jug and the young nurse he’d seen first was hovering anxiously. At first he struck out, trying to beat away the images in his head. He shouted something and then, as his
vision adjusted, he lay back, drained and confused.

The doctor smiled at him. ‘Back with us now, Jake?’

He nodded – and felt sick again.

‘When did you last eat?’

‘Last night,’ he whispered.

The doctor turned to the young nurse. ‘Get him something to eat, nurse. He needs feeding up.’

She scuttled away.

‘You look exhausted,’ said the doctor. ‘You need some food inside you and a good sleep.’

But Jake struggled up. ‘I need to tell Dad what’s happening,’ he said.

The older nurse pushed him back gently. ‘That’s all taken care of,’ she said. ‘We phoned your house and the lady there is getting in touch with your dad.’

So Irene knows what’s happening? Why does she have to be the one to tell Dad? It should have been me.

‘She tried to get in touch with you, too, but your mobile was switched off.’

T
oo right it was. I wanted a bit of peace.

After he’d had some food. Jake felt better. He got off the bed and slumped into the chair again.

The next time a nurse came past, he asked if he could see his mum. She smiled at him, and immediately he realised how stupid he was to ask.

‘No, love, not yet. But why don’t you go and sit in the relatives’ room, eh? There’s a telly there and we’ll come and get you just as soon as there’s any
news.’

‘Will it be long?’

The nurse shrugged. ‘There’s no telling with babies.’

She showed him where to go and Jake settled himself in an armchair in front of the TV. He was pleased that no one else was there. He couldn’t face speaking to anyone. He kept his mobile
turned off; he couldn’t face talking to Irene.

For a while he watched some inane daytime programme, but he couldn’t concentrate.

How long will it be? This waiting’s doing my head in.

‘It will be all right, Jake. Don’t worry.’

It was the calm, reassuring voice that he’d heard once before, when he was in the garden of the old house. The words were repeating themselves over and over in his head. ‘It will be
all right. Don’t worry.’

He knew there was no one else in the room but he’d heard the words so clearly – so strongly – that he looked round anyway. Then, slowly, he began to relax. He felt himself
drifting. Despite all the anxiety, despite the thoughts trying to keep him awake, he fell asleep, curled up in the armchair, the TV still on, a background of trivia to his dreams.

And this time they were peaceful dreams. He was in the garden of the big house again and it was summer. He was lying beneath the fruit trees, the distant voices of children playing in the park
mingling with the chatter of the birds and the steady tearing sound of the pony’s teeth pulling at the grass. This time Verity was there, too, and although they were silent, it was a
companionable silence. She was standing on the grass beside him, her arm draped over the pony’s neck. The one-eyed crow was perched on a branch preening itself and although there was no sign
of the fox or the badger, Jake was sure they were around somewhere.

‘The waiting’s nearly over.’

Who said that?

He heard himself reply. ‘Who for?’

‘For you. For your mum and dad – and for your gran.’

‘The waiting’s nearly over for Gran?’

‘Yes.’

What did that mean?

And suddenly he knew exactly what it meant and, in his sleep, he started to cry soundlessly.

***

He slept for a long time. Once or twice the older nurse popped her head round the door to check on him but when she saw that he was still sleeping, she crept away, closing the
door very softly behind her.

It was late in the afternoon when Jake woke – and even then, he wouldn’t have woken if the nurse hadn’t been standing over him, shaking his shoulder gently. In her other hand,
she held a cup of tea.

‘Here Jake, have a drink.’

Very slowly, Jake surfaced. Groggily he took in the unfamiliar surroundings and then sat up in the chair and looked at his watch. He’d been asleep for ages. Silently he took the cup of tea
and drank it down in one gulp.

‘Thanks.’

Then, as his head began to clear, the familiar cramp of fear returned to his stomach.

‘How’s Mum? Is she OK?’

The nurse smiled. ‘Your mum’s absolutely fine. And the baby’s fine, too. She’s very tiny and she’s in an incubator, but she’s doing really well. She’s a
fighter.’

‘She?’ He was fully awake now.

Why was I so sure it was going to be a boy! Mum said she was sure she thought it was going to be another footie player! A fighter. Does that mean there’s a chance she won’t make
it?

The nurse smiled. ‘Don’t look so surprised. Yes, you have a beautiful little sister.’

‘When? When did it happen?’

‘About an hour ago.’

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

‘Well, there was a lot to do, sorting out your mum and sorting out the baby.’

Jake jumped up, the dregs from his tea cup spilling onto the carpet.

‘Can I see Mum?’

‘Yes, of course you can. I’ll take you to her right away.’

The nurse took him to the lift. It took an age to arrive. The machinery creaked as it stopped at every floor.

Come ON! Hurry UP!

When they got out of the lift, Jake wanted to run. ‘Where is she?’

The nurse put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘It’s OK, Jake,’ she laughed. ‘Your mum’s not going anywhere!’

Mum was in a side ward and Jake could see her through the glass door before they went in. She was lying back on her pillows, her dark hair spread out and her eyes closed.

Jake couldn’t wait any longer. He elbowed his way past the nurse and crashed into the room.

Mum’s eyes opened slowly and then she smiled at him. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and held out her arms. Jake flung himself at her, all control gone, all the worry of the
past weeks coming out in huge sobs as he clung to her. He didn’t hear the nurse behind him saying, ‘Gently, Jake. Gently. She’s just had a baby!’

At last Mum prised him away from her. They were both crying now. Mum smiled at him and smoothed his hair out of his eyes.

‘What a pair we are, eh?’

Jake sniffed. ‘Are you OK, Mum?’

‘I’m fine, darling. I’m absolutely fine.’

‘And the baby?’

The smallest shadow crossed her face before she answered.

‘She’s tiny, but she’s healthy. You can go and see her if you like.’

‘Why isn’t she here?’

Mum blew her nose on a tissue. ‘She’s in the special care unit, darling. She needs a lot of attention until she’s stronger.’

Jake frowned. And then the voice came back into his head; ‘She will be fine. Don’t worry.’ It was so clear that he looked round at the nurse. But she hadn’t said
anything.

The nurse took him to the special baby unit. He had to put on a cap and a gown and and wash his hands before he went into the room. It was light and warm with several funny-looking cots with
see-through tops and wires coming out of them attached to monitor screens that were pulsing with lines going up and down. It was very quiet.

The nurse spoke to a doctor who was checking one of the babies and explained who Jake was. The doctor led Jake over to a cot by itself in the corner.

‘Here she is. Here’s your sister.’

Jake hardly dared to breathe as he bent down and peered at the tiny scrap of life lying there with tubes and wires coming out of her.

‘She’s so small!’ he whispered. ‘And she’s sort of yellow!’

The doctor smiled at him. ‘That’s because she came so early,’ he said.

Jake continued to stare. He couldn’t believe that this tiny thing was a real person.

‘You can touch her, if you like,’ said the doctor, and he showed Jake how to put his hand through one of the holes in the side of the lid.

‘I won’t hurt her, will I?’

The doctor shook his head and, very carefully, Jake put his hand through the hole and touched the baby’s skin. It was soft and warm.

‘Put your finger into the palm of her hand,’ said the doctor.

Jake’s hand looked huge and clumsy beside her tiny one, but even though her hand was so small, Jake noticed the long tapering fingers. Very gently, he extended his little finger until it
lay in the tiny palm. Immediately, the baby’s fingers curled round his finger.

Jake looked up at the doctor in wonder.

‘She’s gripping my finger!’

‘I told you she was a fighter,’ said the nurse.

‘P’raps she knows who I am!’ said Jake.

‘Of course she does.’

Jake couldn’t tear himself away. The baby’s eyes were tight shut and he could see her tiny chest going up and down as she breathed. She continued to grip onto his finger.

‘When will she be able to come home?’ he asked the doctor.

‘When she’s stronger. She needs to grow and develop a bit more before she goes out into the world.’

‘How long?’

The doctor shrugged. ‘I’m guessing a few weeks. But we can’t say for sure.’