Mother's Story (36 page)

Today will see the release of Jessica Deane, who notoriously tried to kill her baby daughter Lilly, aged fourteen months, in what became known as ‘The Baby in the Bath' case. She has been detained in the secure psychiatric unit of Mountside Prison for four years. Her crime, like her release, polarised opinion. Women's campaigners have insisted from the outset that Deane needed medical help and understanding, not imprisonment. But there are others that believe she should have been tried for attempted murder and sentenced accordingly.

Justice Andrea Silver in her summing up at the trial made these comments:

‘This is a case that has touched the nation. You are a woman who stands before me with her life entirely devastated. Your disturbance of mind at the time, due to severe postnatal depression, coupled with your guilty plea, enables me to take a course that will offer rehabilitation and medical treatment. I see no benefit to society in awarding a custodial sentence. Your unwillingness to seek help sooner, afraid of the stigma of being labelled depressed and the inability of the organisations involved in your care to identify the level of threat, is something that we as a society need to look at.'

Her husband, Matthew Deane, now lives in the USA with their daughter Lilly who is five years of age. Experts say that she was too young to fully understand the circumstances of her early life, and apparently she is now thriving in her new home. Matthew Deane has refused to comment specifically on his wife's release.

Deane has shown remorse for the crime and is known to have made two suicide attempts whilst in the care of Mountside Hospital NHS Trust.

Her friend and spokesman Roland de Bouieller, who has campaigned tirelessly for greater understanding of postnatal depression, gave this statement:

‘We are delighted that today will see Jessica Deane released. No system can punish her as much as she has punished herself; she has lost her husband, her beloved daughter and her liberty. Depression is a terrible, terrible illness that needs to be much better understood. For all those screaming for her sentence to be increased and for her to be incarcerated, I would ask that you walk a mile in her shoes.'

We have been told that Ms Deane will be moved to an undisclosed address.

‘All set?' Polly held both her hands.

Jessica nodded. ‘Yup. Thank you. Thank you both.' She hugged her tightly, getting as close as she could across her friend's bump.

‘Careful, mate, I am a coveted vessel.' Polly winked at her best mate.

Topaz stepped forward and enveloped them both with his arms. ‘I'm so happy today. You've worked hard, Jess, and here you are, new beginnings!'

Jessica nodded,
yes, new beginnings
…

‘I want you to think about what we discussed. A retreat for women recovering from postnatal depression, with yoga, fresh air, good food. Margaret and Anthony were really keen and your mum and dad thought it was a great idea. And we'd love to be involved, wouldn't we, Poll?'

Polly nodded. ‘You bet. We go where you go, you can't shake me off!'

Jessica smiled; she didn't want to shake her off, ever.

‘I could teach relaxation and you could run art classes. It could really do some good and would be a nice place for you to continue your journey.'

Jessica pulled away from her friends. ‘We'll see.' It was the best she could offer, wanting to take one day at a time.

‘Let us know when you're settled and we'll be there on the first available flight, promise?' Polly fought back the tears that threatened.

‘Promise.' Jessica blew a kiss.

Five hours later, Jessica paid the cab driver and smiled her thanks. She retrieved her hand luggage from the boot of the rusting car and breathed in the warm evening air. Her eyes roved over the garden, remembering her honeymoon, when she and Matthew had wandered around the villa naked, eaten biscuits in bed and sat on the terrace drinking cold beer. She had never felt so carefree, so happy. She walked slowly down the path to the front door; bent down on all fours and with her arm outstretched scrabbled around in the dirt under the shrub. To her relief, her fingers soon touched cool, hard metal. She had found the ancient tin. Picking it up, she shook it, the sound of the key making a pleasing rattle. Margaret had reassured her; confident it would be where they left it.

Jessica let herself into the The Orangery and made her way to the master bedroom, where she removed her clothes and climbed between the stiff, white sheets of the double bed that she and her husband had once shared. She pulled the bolster pillow into her arms and held it close. She set her alarm clock before slipping into a peaceful slumber.

The high-pitched beep woke her some four hours later. She climbed slowly from the mattress and put her dressing gown on before tidying the bed, pulling the top sheet taut and smoothing the creases from the pillows. After drinking a solitary glass of red wine, she made her way outside on to the terrace. It was midnight.

Jessica lit a candle and held it up at arm's length as she looked out over the majestic Tramuntana Mountains, their jagged profiles grey against the dark sky. She let the warm wind flow over her. For her this was the most special time of day, as the sea sparkled in the moonlight and the land was covered with a blanket of hush. Aubergine-coloured clouds rolled on the horizon. Jessica faced them head on, no longer afraid, remembering a time when her survival was dependent on punching very large holes in them, through which she could poke her head and take a breath. Not any more.

She looked at the sun-lounger on which Polly had reclined in the nude.
‘I'm going to lie here and tan my cherub for a bit!'
Jessica smiled, picturing her, dear, dear Polly, her lifelong friend and now about to become a mum herself. She and Paz had shown such love and support; Jessica knew she would never be able to repay them. She considered their idea for a retreat. This would certainly be the perfect spot.

Jessica inhaled the heady floral and citrus scent that wafted on the breeze. She placed the candle on the table behind her and pulled the beautiful red leather notebook from her pocket. Opening it at random, she ran her fingers over the thick creamy pages of her journal. Alongside the words, beautiful illustrations were dotted throughout, a study of her and Matthew's hands, entwined. Lilly's rosebud mouth, breaking into a smile. Her mum, dad and Danny, sitting on a Devon riverbank, all wishing their holiday would never end. A diary full of thoughts and recollections never meant for anyone's eyes but hers. She raised it to her mouth and kissed the cover of this little book that had become a friend, a friend that had helped her through her darkest of days. Days that were now behind her. Gripping a few sheets between her fingers, she ripped the pages from the spine and tore them into smaller squares before flinging the confetti over the rails to drift hundreds of feet below, scattering on the wind as they sailed away from her. She stood watching and laughed into the night wind.

Jessica tightened her dressing gown around her waist and stood pressed against the railings. There she balanced, with her fingers gripping the barrier and the candle flickering in the darkness behind her. Her gift of an acorn nestled safely inside her palm. She spoke into the darkness. ‘Oh Lilly.' Her words when they came were delivered slowly and calmly. ‘Your grandad once told me that death changes the way people are remembered, lets those left behind pick out the best bits and disregard the bad. I think in one sense he's right. But I want you to know that I cling to the remote possibility that we might reconnect and that I might, one day, get the chance to tell you just how much I miss you…' Jessica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I don't know why I got sick, Lilly, and I don't know how I could ever make it up to you,' she sighed, ‘but I do know that I'm your mum and I love you. I love you. Don't ever doubt it, I love you!'

The candle flame faltered and went out.

Lilly was crouching in the garden, gathering stray petals from the vividly coloured lilac shrub. She would use them to make perfume that she would wear at her wedding later, when she married her teddy bear. Several dolls and her fat penguin were attending as guests. Her teddy was already dressed in his bow tie in readiness for the occasion.

Matthew smiled as his little girl chattered to herself. The New England sun warmed her skin on another bright, beautiful spring day. He watched her through the open kitchen window while he trimmed broccoli spears and prepared cauliflower for lunch.

Suddenly Lilly stood and with a tilt to her chin, looked up towards the sky and shouted, ‘Daddy?' Her little voice was clear and golden.

Matthew beamed, knowing he would never tire of hearing that word. It made his heart sing. He placed the knife on the counter. ‘Coming!' He made his way to the garden from the square hallway of their grand American Colonial home, glancing at the photograph of Lilly with her Grandad Roger and Nana Coral when they had come to visit. Their faces shone with joy, happy to be hand in hand with Lilly once again as she gathered acorns from the wood and gave one to her nan, a present. It had been lovely to see them; strange, but lovely. Familiar. He hoped they were well.

‘What are you doing there, Lilly Rose?' he asked as he bent down to match her height.

‘I'm making perfume for my wedding!' she sang rather haughtily, flicking her long curtain of hair over her shoulder. Matthew laughed; she always added a sense of the theatrical.

‘You can be a guest after you have been the vicar.'

‘Right. Got it.' He nodded as if learning his part.

‘Daddy?'

‘Yes?'

‘When you got married, did my mummy have a pretty white dress?'

Matthew thought about his beautiful bride, his golden girl. ‘Yes. Yes she did.'

‘Did she look like a princess?' Her eyes widened.

Matthew nodded and held his little girl's hand. He pictured Jessica standing to take a bow, remembering how the tiny crystals sewn into the delicate cream lace of her fitted bodice sparkled in the candlelight, her awkward bow before she took her place next to him, gripping his hand on the tabletop. ‘Yes. She looked exactly like a princess. She looked beautiful.'

‘Daddy?' She did this, said his name while she thought of what next to say. He loved it.

‘Yup?'

‘I sometimes think I'd like to see my mummy. Not the photos but my in-real-life Mummy. I'd like her to do my plaits.' She paused, placing her finger in her mouth and blinking rapidly, worried she had given too many of her inner thoughts away. Even aged five, she knew this was a sensitive area.

‘Well, we should consider that. We can talk about it some more and have a good old think about what's best.' He squeezed her hand, anxious as ever of shattering the peace they had found and yet torn, riddled with guilt that Lilly was without a mother and Jessica denied her little girl.

Lilly twisted her foot into the grass. ‘Do you think she's better now, or is she still poorly?'

‘I think she's a lot, lot better.' He acknowledged this.

‘Madison's mummy was poorly and she was in the hospital for a long, long time.'

Matthew nodded. The school fundraiser still fresh in his mind for Madison's mum.

‘But…' Lilly paused and drew breath. ‘But Madison and her sister got to see her even when she was really sick. They made her a card and when it was Madison's birthday they took her cake into the hospital and her mum sang to her and they opened all her presents right there on the bed!' she added wide-eyed. ‘And… and I would like to tell Mummy about my sleepover and show her my ballet stertificate.' Quite suddenly, her eyes filled with tears and she threw herself into her dad's arms.

‘It's okay, Lilly Rose. It's okay, darling.Your mummy loves you so very much. I've always told you that.'

‘I love her too, Daddy, but I want to speak to her. I need to ask her something.'

Matthew sighed as they made their way inside. ‘Come on, let's dry those tears and get you cleaned up, you've got a wedding to get ready for, remember?'

Lilly wiped her nose and tried out a smile. Her dad was right, brides were supposed to be happy on their wedding day.

The phone rang on the breakfast bar. Paz grabbed it. ‘Hello? Hey, mate! Oh God! So good to hear your voice!'

He gesticulated wildly to Polly who stood by his side.

‘No, we're just here for a visit – what a place. Yes. Yes of course. Hang on.' He covered the mouthpiece with his cupped palm. ‘Go and get Jess, quickly!' He spoke with urgency.

Jessica came in from the terrace, her shoulder-length hair hung in a glossy curtain. Her nose was peppered with freckles. ‘Who is it?' she asked quietly, still slightly nervous of contact with the outside world, they had already had to field several calls from quote-hungry journalists.