Mother's Story (23 page)

‘Come on.' Margaret caught Jessica's eye and nodded towards the garden. She walked round and held her daughter-in-law's elbow, encouraging her to leave the kitchen table.

‘Oh, was it something I said?' Anthony asked loudly as he noted his wife's departure.

‘Oh, Anthony, if only it was
something
you said. I'm afraid the problem now is
everything
you say!'

Matthew, Jake, Topaz and Roger roared their approval. Polly sidled closer to her man, happy that he fitted in and was making an impression.

Jessica followed her mum and Margaret outside, each holding a warm mug of coffee to stave off the evening chill. They sat on the stone bench that during the day held a commanding view of their pretty courtyard garden.

‘Gosh, I think we'll get numb bums sitting here. Wait a mo!' Margaret disappeared inside and returned with a thick plaid blanket, which they threw over their legs, and two oversized thermal fleeces that she had purloined from Matthew's walking kit.

‘This is nice,' Coral said as she sipped her coffee. ‘That was a lovely tea, Jess. I'm stuffed.'

For Margaret there were no preliminaries. As was her manner, she cut to the chase. ‘Right then, Jessica, let's have it. Let's have it all.'

‘What do you mean, “let's have it”?' Jessica laughed, finding her mother-in-law's directness both endearing and infuriating.

‘You know very well what I mean. What's going on with you? And you are definitely not allowed to say “nothing”. We know you better than that.'

Jessica sat in silence for some minutes, not knowing where, how or if to begin.

Coral tried to prompt her. ‘We are all worried about you, Jessica. You are not yourself, love, and Matthew is beside himself…'

‘Did he tell you that?' Jessica felt a flare of anger that her husband and parents had colluded in the great ‘Let's Fix Jessica' project.

Margaret intervened, clearly not trusting Coral to strike the tone, making them sound like badly briefed accomplices. ‘No, he hasn't said anything in great detail, but your mother and I aren't stupid. We all love you both so much. Is that the problem, darling? Is it something between you and Matthew? Because, you know, being a new mum isn't easy, there isn't always enough of you to go around. Isn't that right, Coral?'

Coral nodded, worried about saying the wrong thing.

Jessica laughed and shook her head as she gazed up at the stars. If only it were that simple, that brilliantly clichéd. Where to begin? How could she tell them that most of the time she felt as if she wasn't fully present. Her mind was elsewhere, with one ear permanently cocked, waiting for her daughter to wake up crying; and when she did, Jessica would cry too at the prospect of having to cope with her. Not that that was the only time she shed tears. Oh no; she could easily cry morning, noon and night, no longer consciously but as if her spirit leaked tears. Or how about the fact that she had so little energy, even the thought of standing up was sometimes more than she could bear.

Jessica looked at the two women who sat with concern etched across their foreheads. ‘Not enough of me to go around? I like that phrase, but no, it's not that. I'm fine. Really. Just tired, very tired. Matthew is fine and Matthew and I are fine. He's wonderful and a really great dad.' She smiled at the truth. He was.

‘So everything is
fine
?' Margaret asked with false bravado.

Jessica looked into her lap and nodded.

‘So why don't I believe you, Jess?'

Jessica shrugged. The women sat in silence for a minute, each pondering how to continue.

‘You have so much to feel happy about, darling.' Coral paused. ‘I know life hasn't always been easy for you. Losing Danny was tough on you too, but you came out the other side. We are so proud of you for that. You are a very lucky girl: things have always landed in your lap and opportunities come to you. But being a mum means you have to take responsibility, smooth the path for Lilly. That's your job now.'

‘Oh, well, thanks for that. I didn't realise I had to be punished for not having to scrub loos and live in poverty!' Jessica snapped.

‘That's not what I meant at all. I am trying to say that I understand that looking after a little baby can be hard work, but she's an angel, Jess, an absolute angel. She sleeps so well, she's a great feeder and you have a lot of support.' Coral's tone was anguished.

‘God, everyone keeps telling me how much support I have! Like I should be grateful. But everyone loves being involved with Lilly. It's not like I force any of you to come and help – you all hate to be away from her!'

Margaret took a gulp of coffee and considered her words. ‘I hate to see you out of sorts. Anthony and I were thinking, why don't you and Polly go to the house in Majorca for a few days? You are right, we do love to look after Lilly and I know Coral would help out.'

Jessica's mum nodded, quickly.

‘Maybe a little holiday might help you recharge your batteries and come back with a new head?'

Margaret's naive suggestion caused Jessica's temper to flare suddenly and in a manner entirely out of character. ‘That's a great idea, Margaret – a week in fucking Majorca! Paella every night and a couple of jugs of sangria and I'll come back perky, the perfect mother! Jeez, why didn't I think of that?' she barked.

Margaret was shocked into silence: Jessica had never spoken to her like that before. She wasn't angry, however, but saddened and concerned.

Coral reached out and took her daughter's hand. ‘Margaret is only being kind and trying to help you, Jessica Rose. There is no need to talk to anyone like that.'

Jessica slid down the bench and placed her head on her mum's shoulder. Coral allowed her to cry while the three sat in silence. No words were needed, just the odd pat on the shoulder or stroke on the back of the hand and a barely audible cluck or compassionate hum. ‘Oh, Jessica, my little girl.'

Anthony wandered out onto the patio with a cafetière full of hot refill. He caught his wife's eye as, almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. He knew enough not to approach, retreating back into the shadows, happy to re-join his son and chums at the kitchen table.

Eventually, Jessica breathed deeply and felt her head clear. ‘I'm sorry, Margaret,' she sniffed. ‘I am really sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I don't know what came over me, I…' She felt a mixture of huge remorse at having flared up at her mother-in-law, but also a strange kind of elation at having released some of the pent-up emotion that had been bubbling for some time.

‘Darling, don't apologise. If you can't vent your spleen at those closest to you, then you are in big trouble.' Margaret smiled at her daughter-in-law; she meant it, every word.

Jessica tried to laugh. If only she knew just how big her trouble was.

Margaret continued. ‘All I want to say to you, Jess, is that you know where we are if and when you need us. You're a big girl and more than capable of sorting out whatever it is that's eating at you; this I do know. I have masses of faith in you and your ability to be the best mum on the planet. Lilly is very lucky to have you.'

Coral chipped in. ‘That's true, Jess. Please remember that you will always be my baby and if things get too much for you, I'm never more than a phone call away.'

‘Thank you, Mum. Thank you both.'

‘And remember, darling, you are never sent more than you can deal with.' Margaret nodded sagely.

Jessica smiled. ‘I used to think that was true, but these days I am not so sure.'

Coral kissed the crown of her daughter's head as they stood and began to amble back inside the house.

‘What's wrong with fucking Majorca anyway? I thought you loved it there? Matthew said it was the perfect honeymoon.'

‘Margaret!' Jessica giggled; it was rare for her mother-in-law to use such language. The three laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks.

Anthony nudged Roger and looked up from the table where he and Matthew were talking football. ‘What's so funny, girls?' he called out.

None of the women could manage a response through their hysterics. Matthew smiled; it was so good to see his wife and mother laughing again. Roger winked at the boy and patted his arm. Matthew felt a heady combination of relief and optimism that it was all going to be okay.

Jessica lay in bed and thought about Margaret's words. She doubted very much that Lilly was lucky to have her, betting that Lilly wished she had a mum that didn't want to sleep day and night, didn't want a mum that would rather shut the world out and hide. What bothered Jessica most was the way everyone else seemed to mother naturally, by instinct, even Polly. And yet for her, nothing about it felt natural. She had assumed when she was pregnant that she would experience what everyone said she would: that she would take one look at her baby, her flesh and blood, and fall in love. Unless… A sudden thought made Jessica sit up as Matthew came into the bedroom.

‘That's Lilly settled. She's had all her bottle and I reckon we are good for a few hours.' He sighed. ‘That was a great evening, wasn't it? Really good to see everyone. And I must confess to rather liking Paz, he's up for a laugh and I like that. He and Polly are going to Romford next weekend. I said we might pop over there too, if you feel like it. Might be nice for Lilly to get some different air. Learn about her Essex roots…' He winked at his wife, who was distracted.

She spoke quickly, clearly agitated. ‘Do you know, Matt, that sometimes babies get mixed up in the hospital? I read an article about it once, about this woman in Russia who took her baby home and fed it and looked after it and it wasn't until the child was about ten that the authorities contacted her to say there had been a mistake and she had been given the wrong baby and that another woman had been raising her child and they had to meet up and swap back.'

‘God, that's really horrible! Why are you thinking about that?' Matthew asked as he sat on the side of the bed.

‘I just am.' She shrugged.

‘Well don't. It's silly to think about things like that, it'll only upset you. And it's very rare and probably only happens in Russia.' Matthew removed his socks and pulled his T-shirt over his head.

‘We… we didn't see Lilly being born, did we? I mean, I was knocked out and you weren't in the room. I was thinking—'

Matthew stood and raised his palm. ‘Stop right there.' He placed his hands on his hips. Jessica watched the heave of his chest and noticed the tense set of his jaw; she could tell he was angry. He put his T-shirt back on and made for the door. Stopping with his hand on the frame, he turned towards her. ‘You need to snap out of this, Jess. You need to find a way to snap out of it. Okay?'

She nodded. ‘I'm sorr—'

‘Yes. Yes, so you've said. Often.' He hesitated. ‘You know, Jess, I miss our sex life, of course I do. We were really good at that.'

Jessica felt the flush of awkwardness work its way up from the base of her chest to her neck. She hated it being mentioned and thought about the night near Halloween, the night they made Lilly, when she'd come home and stripped in the kitchen. His words from that night rang inside her head:
‘How can I admit that I can't leave the house on time because my wife is too sexy. It doesn't make any sense!'
She opened her mouth to form a sentence, but realised the only words forming on her tongue were ‘I'm sorry,' and she knew he didn't want to hear those. Instead she closed her mouth and stared at her husband, feeling the quake of her trembling thighs against the duvet.

‘But that's not what I miss the most, surprisingly.' He shook his head. ‘No. I miss the laughter. I miss my mate. You are not only my wife, you're my best friend. We used to laugh every day and I miss that more than I can say. You used to talk all the time and sometimes I'd think, “Shut up, Jess, just for a minute.” But now…' He paused. ‘I hate the silence. It saddens me how quiet you are.'

Jessica tried to think of something to say, but again she couldn't.

Matthew wasn't done. ‘It's strange, isn't it? I see you every day and yet I actually feel quite lonely. I'm lonely.' He looked at her, his expression distraught, then made his way downstairs.

Jessica sank down under the duvet and lay very still.

‘I'm sorry,' she whispered, closing her eyes and praying for sleep. She didn't understand how she could be so tired and yet sleep evaded her. She pictured Matthew's face and felt her heart crumple with fear. ‘Please don't leave me, Matt. Please don't ever leave me!' she breathed into the night air.

The next morning, Jessica stared at Lilly and ran through a checklist. Her eyes were green, Lilly's were brown. Her hair was dark and Lilly's blonde. Her nose quite pointed, Lilly's flat.

This was the start of a very dark time. Jessica figured that if Lilly wasn't really hers, then that would explain why she couldn't do it, couldn't mother her properly. If she wasn't hers, then her lack of feelings, her guilt and disconnection, all made perfect sense. She was convinced that if Lilly was her baby, she would have found it easier and there would have been that instant love that she had eagerly anticipated. This idea was more palatable to her than the alternative. The truth. She googled ‘DNA kits' and wondered if there was a way to do it without Matthew finding out.

2nd November, 2014

I have been cleverly hoarding pills. Any pills. I have a real cocktail. Painkillers, sleeping tablets, anything I can get my hands on, including one I found in the bathroom that's large and pink and looks ominous. One of the nurses must have dropped it without noticing. I thought about where to try and hide them, but everywhere is too obvious, like under my mattress or stuffed into a sock in my drawer. Instead, I decided not to hide them and so far this has worked. Rather than secrete them away, I lay them on a page inside my closed notebook, which is left casually on my bed or the chest of drawers for everyone to see. No one touches it; there are rules about people's personal things. Everyone can see it's just a harmless sketchpad, clearly visible, but what they don't know is that my pad is full of danger. Not only the pills that lie scattered across one of its pages, hidden by the sheet on top, dotted like the brightly coloured stepping stones of a path that leads to a much, much better place. But the ideas drawn in pencil on the pages, these are dangerous too. I try and capture images as they pop into my head. A bath full of water with broken glass littering the floor, a siren light swirling around a room, turning everything it touches blue and a crowd, surging forward, all with arms outstretched, grabbing for me, wanting a piece of me. And me with my eyes closed, craving peace with every cell of my being. A peaceful mind and a peaceful spirit. This is what I pray for.