The Godmother (27 page)

“Thank you so much,” I said, filled with gratitude. “Really, thank you. Thank you.” Shut up you, mad woman. “Thank you,” I said again. In the space of one hour and forty-nine minutes, the twins had turned me into a gibbering wreck.

An hour later I was back at Helen's house. I'd been sitting outside her house for half of that time before she finally called, though naturally I didn't tell her that. I think she was a little surprised to discover that Bobby was naked under
his snowsuit, but she hid it well. I threw the damaged goods into the laundry room and closed the door on the sorry mess. Helen returned with a freshly dressed Bobby. I sat while Tommy happily played under another play-nest in the “family room.”

“Was Tommy sick?” she asked.

“No, but Bobby was.”

“Bobby?” Helen looked down at the play-nest.

Something was wrong. The baby lying on the play-nest had a train on his tummy.

“Isn't that Tommy?”

“No. Hard as it is to believe, I do know the difference between them.”

You might, I thought. But your husband doesn't.

“So sorry. How do you tell them apart?”

“Tommy has darker eyes.”

“What do you do when they are asleep?”

“Hope no one has swapped them around.”

I smiled, thinking Helen was joking.

“Once they wake up again, I soon know. Tommy is sick all the time. Bobby isn't. It's weird.”

“What if they both take turns in being sick, and you just think it's always Tommy.”

“Tessa, please don't do my head in more than it is already.”

As I said, I thought this conversation was quite jovial. Breaking the ice from the night before. Washing over it with humor. But then Helen burst into tears.

I couldn't calm her down. I couldn't make the tears stop. I couldn't. I didn't know a human being could have so much liquid inside them. Babies are strange. The twins got agitated and distressed by the noise. I knew how they felt. It was horrible seeing someone you loved in that much pain, and not being able to stop it. I was frightened they would start crying too, so I extracted myself from her and took them to another part of the room. I found their baby bouncers and put them in front of
Baby Bach
. The hypnosis was instant. Eventually, I thrust a glass of brandy in Helen's hand (and poured one for myself) and told her to drink it. She looked at me with such sorrow in her eyes that I couldn't bear to hold her gaze. I knew it was far too early in the
day, but sod the babies and their pure boob juice, I couldn't think of anything else.

“Drink it,” I insisted. She obediently knocked it back in one. Then she stared at the glass so I took it away.

“Don't beat yourself up about it, Helen, it's one fucking drink.” I knelt at her feet and took her hands. “You've got to tell me what's going on.”

She shook her head.

“I can't help you until you tell me. You are clearly depressed, that much I can see for myself. You need help.”

“I've got tons of fucking help, all I have is help, help, help. I can't cope. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be doing.”

“I don't blame you. I had them for two hours and they reduced me to tears.”

I wanted her to smile, but she didn't. So I tried to think of a serious solution.

“There must be a book, something to help you know what to do…”

“Books. Books. There are millions of books all telling you different things; there are books about how many books there are, which promise to make it simple, but they don't. They don't. None of them can tell me why I feel like this!” She sighed heavily. “Trust me, I don't need books.”

OK, not books then.

“Neil says I'm pathetic. Says it isn't right, a woman of my age having a nanny, and he's right.”

“He is not! You've got to stop believing your husband.”

“Don't worry, I don't. Not any more.”

Was the reason for these tears Neil, and not the babies, as I had thought? “I meant about when he puts you down.”

“I know that's what you meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“The world is full of trickery, Tessa. You know what I mean, everyone fucking knows what I mean. Even that nice man you met at the party knows what I mean, and I've never met him before. I don't even care any more. He hurts me, but not because of that.”

“What do you mean hurts you?”

I saw the tears spill over again.

“Helen?”

“He's done this, he's made me into this. I wouldn't be like this if it wasn't for him.”

“What does he do? Helen, what does he do? Does he hit you?”

“He shagged someone in a corridor of the Soho House when the boys were six weeks old.” She shook her head. “I confronted him. You know what he said? He said, ‘What do you expect when I'm getting so little attention at home?'”

It was not a pleasant feeling having your worst fears confirmed. Gossiping about scandal, and that scandal reducing your friend to pulp, were not the same thing.

“You've got to leave.”

“No. He is not running me out of my own home.”

“Fuck the home, you'll get another home—”

“My mother, I could take it from my mother. It hurts more from Neil.”

“Your mother?”

“You see, she never said she loved me. Do you understand? Neil said he loved me and then turns me into this. I know where I stand with Marguerite. I didn't see it coming from Neil.”

“I want to get you out of here before he comes back. Who knows what sort of state he'll be in.”

“Rose will be back soon.”

“No, Helen, she's gone.”

“She'll come back. She'd never leave me. She just does it occasionally to show me who's boss.”

“What?”

“But she always comes back.”

“You need to see someone, Helen, a doctor, a psychiatrist, someone who can help you. I'm sure there is something he can prescribe to help you. Postnatal depression, it's very common and that's without your pig of a husband.”

She laughed. “Pills. Pills don't make it go away. I've got to save the twins. None of this is their fault. They didn't ask to be born. I should have known. I should have known I'd be like her.” Suddenly she looked at me. “They'll take them away from me.”

“Now you're being crazy.”

“You should take them. You're their guardian.”

“Stop this, Helen.”

“You don't want them.”

“No one is going to take your children away. You just need to sort yourself out.”

“Whatever you do, don't let my mother get her hands on my boys.”

“Stop it.”

“Promise,” said Helen.

“This is a stupid conversation.”

“Promise me, Tessa.”

I thought I was dealing with a woman on the verge of a breakdown. I would have promised her anything.

“You've thought it yourself, though, haven't you? Helen is doing a shit job of this, I could do better than that. Don't lie to me and tell me you haven't.” I felt shame creep up into my cheeks. In my most evil thoughts, while gripped by the terrible green-eyed monster, I had indeed had that thought.

“That was before I knew how very hard it is. Honestly, Helen, I had no idea. I saw the perfect Pampers baby on telly and thought it was all smiles and bubble bath, and yes, I have to admit, I thought it looked pretty easy. I didn't know babies could do this.” I looked at her.

“It's not their fault. It's mine.”

“You've got no support. I've been crap. Your mother hardly wins the ‘good granny' award, and where the hell is Neil's family? I've never seen them at any of your parties.”

“Neil doesn't like them.”

“Why not?”

“Because he's an arsehole.”

Frankly, hearing Helen talk like this was progress.

“In fact, if you're ever in Norwich, you should look them up. Neil is embarrassed by them, but it's them who should be embarrassed by him. If you're ever in Norwich, you should look them up.”

She'd said that already. But I was still not likely to go to Norwich.

“They live off the cathedral green. It's easy to find because there is a weeping willow in the garden. It goes down to water. It's the only one with a weeping willow.”

“We need to work out what you're going to do.”

“They are lovely people. A real happy home.”

“Right. Norwich. Cathedral. Weeping willow. Got it.”

“Happy home. That's good.”

Helen's eyes were beginning to close.

“Wake up.”

“I'm so tired.” Her head nodded forward. “So tired.” She literally fell asleep sitting up. All I knew about depression was that it wiped you out so I eased Helen back on to the sofa. I looked at my watch. I would have liked to go home, get some sleep, tidy the flat, but Helen needed the sleep more and with Rose gone, someone had to look after the babies. Neil couldn't, even if he did come home. Which I actually hoped he wouldn't.

That Sunday afternoon, while Helen lay catatonic on the sofa, I played Mummy with the twins. I loved it, for an hour or so. They gurgled at my animal impressions and I enjoyed holding their attention. Their eyes followed me everywhere. Only when I left them to make a cup of tea and some toast did they start to grizz—which led me to the premature conclusion that looking after kids was a piece of cake, as long as you had nothing else to do. And that included going for a pee. I made three cups of tea over the period of that afternoon and drank none of them. I had the twins asleep in my arms when Helen finally stirred. She made some coffee, took it upstairs to have a shower, and came back down twenty minutes later. She seemed much better. Amazing what caffeine and make-up can do.

“Thank you for letting me get that off my chest.”

“With all due respect,” I said quietly, “I think it's going to take a little more than a chat with me to sort out your problems.”

“You're right. Neil has to be dealt with and I am going to deal with him. This shouldn't have gone on as long as it has.”

“I know a very good divorce lawyer,” I said.

“I can't afford to get divorced,” she replied. Then she laughed. “Only joking. Don't worry, you remember my solicitor, he makes a pretty good ally. He's good at dealing with Marguerite, too.”

“And what about seeing a doctor?”

Helen met my gaze. “I have a very understanding doctor,” she said.

“Good. Talk to him, then.”

I couldn't bear it, she looked so sad. “I will,” she said.

“I think you should give up breastfeeding, too. It's wiping you out, you've lost far too much weight.”

No wonder Neil wanted Helen to feed, I thought. It kept her locked up behind her pearly gates while he went out and sampled the pleasures of early stardom.

“We'll get you back on your feet, Helen, don't you worry. You're a child of the universe, remember?”

Helen looked at me then. “I've lost a bit of the magic dust, haven't I?” she said quietly.

To the point that you are barely recognizable. “It's natural. I don't know much about marriage and kids, but I guess it's hard.”

Helen nodded. “I thought it would be easier than this. I thought I'd feel bigger as two. I didn't realize I'd feel smaller.”

I hugged her because I had no idea how to respond. Neil had been a panic buy, but she was well over the twenty-eight-day returns policy.

“Thank you, Tessa. You have always been a great friend to me and I know I'm not that easy.”

“Who is? The older I get the more I realize everyone's a bit nuts.”

“You're not.”

“Don't be fooled.”

“I don't care what you say, I couldn't have got this far without you.”

I felt a pang of guilt. I'd been so mean, so unsupportive. “I'm sorry I didn't realize what a tough time you were having. I think I was jealous.”

“Jealous of Neil and me?”

“OK, well maybe not the Neil bit.”

“I've really fucked up,” she said. I presumed she was talking about Neil.

“Nothing you can't change.”

“It's going to get really tough. He'll come after me, he'll try and get the twins, he'll ask for ludicrous amounts of money, I know it.”

“He has a problem with drugs, and a problem with booze. What court in the land would give a parent like that the twins?”

“None.”

“There you are, then. What have you got to worry about?” I took Helen's hand and squeezed it. She smiled at me.

“You're right,” she said. “I want them to have a happy home, Tessa. I didn't and look what it's done to me. I don't want that for the twins. I'll do anything to make sure that doesn't happen.”

“OK. I'll help you with the twins too. Francesca has had three kids, she'll have all the answers. I bet every new mother feels like this, in way over their heads, knackered, depressed, I bet it's all normal. We just need to get Neil out of the way.” I was trying to be helpful.

“You think?”

“Yes. I know the girl from China Beach is in there somewhere, we've just got to find her again.”

“I'm pathetic,” said Helen.

“You're not. You've taken a beating but you'll be OK.”

Helen suddenly stood. “You're right. Thank you. You must be desperate to go home, I'm so sorry for keeping you here and spoiling your evening.”

“I'm OK. I've got no plans.”

“Actually, I think it would be better if you went. I could do with spending some time on my own with the boys, and if Neil comes home, we should be alone. You've been here all day, you must want to get home.”

“Of course, right. Well, OK then. If you're sure.”

“I need to do this by myself. But thank you for everything.”

“I'll go and change,” I said.