The Woman Before Me (20 page)

I looked at the monitor with its green light and computer printout and tried to think of something to ask, but there was only one question I could form in my mind and I was scared to say it. Taking my silence as satisfaction Doctor Cross moved on to the next crib. I felt a hand on my shoulder; it was the nurse, now finished with her paperwork. “Do you have any questions, Rose?” She must have read my mind, or it must be what all mothers wanted to ask, because she went on, “he’s in the best place, you know. A few years ago and we didn’t have the technology, so his chances would have been slim. But these days we can do so much more. It’s just a question of taking each day at a time.”

I watched Joel’s eyelids flicker and peel back. He was awake. His navy eyes flickered over my face, wise as an old man’s. Surely his memory was unformed, yet still he lifted tiny fists as if in recognition. I placed my hand on the side of the crib, and gave him a finger to grip.

“Joel,” I whispered, testing the sound on my tongue.

Back in my room, Nurse Hall had only just left when another woman appeared. She stood in the door, dressed in white like an angel. The sun was in her eyes and she blinked, smiling. I recognised her immediately. She was the mother with the beautiful son. I couldn’t place her, but I felt that I knew her from somewhere.

She stepped into my room uninvited. I tensed, like a threatened animal. When she sat next to my bed I saw how small she was; despite recent pregnancy she was slightly built and her features were as fine as a porcelain doll’s. Her white dressing gown made her seem ethereal.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming to see you. My baby’s having a nap and I fancied a little walk.”

She spoke hesitatingly, her face beautifully sorrowful. “Nurse Hall told me your son’s in the neonatal unit. That must be so awful for you. But it’s the best one in East Anglia.”

Immediately I had the measure of this frail girl-woman, from her pale skin and white-gold hair to the brightness of her personality. She was one of those optimistic, sunshine types who normally avoid women like me. But she was blinded by the hospital tag round my wrist, a match to her own, and the empty crib by my bed.

But maybe her instinct was right. We weren’t the same, but we’d both given birth; had a child; both laboured. Although my child had been cut from me with a knife. Two babies, two little boys, one fighting for life in an incubator, one sleeping peacefully.

She sat at my side and asked about Joel. “My son was born yesterday. The labour was so sudden, I was lucky to get here in time. My husband drove like a maniac, it’s a wonder we didn’t crash!” She laughed as she said this. “But it was all fine in the end. We’ve got to stay in a few days, because I tore quiet badly,” she whispered this, a confession from one woman to another, “but I don’t mind staying. Get my confidence a bit. It’s not coming very naturally to me, all this. I had to be shown how to change a nappy!”

I listened and envied her those pathetic worries. I tried to keep my voice light, “have you thought of a name for your son?”

“I haven’t discussed it with my husband yet,” she said, “but I want to call him Luke. Dominic will be visiting later, so we’ll talk about it then. He won’t admit it but he’s worn out, what with working all day and then being up all last night with the excitement. I told him that he needn’t come tonight, to go home and rest, but he wouldn’t hear of it. It’s so hard for the men, don’t you think?”

“Mmm.”

“They must feel so helpless during labour. He was supposed to take two weeks off after the baby was born, but he went in to work today. He doesn’t see the point in using up his holiday just to sit around here. He’s a deputy head at a boarding school, so it’s hard for him to switch off. What does your husband do?”

“He’s in catering.”

“Dominic works so hard. He’ll be here soon. I asked him to bring in some makeup. I just wish I had some decent clothes to wear, but nothing fits.” She squeezes the spare flesh on her stomach. “I’m a dance teacher. I used to teach 20 lessons a week. You wouldn’t think it to look at me now, would you?”

It all fell into place. The mention of dancing was the switch that sparked my memory. She was the young student dancer who you fell so hopelessly in love with. She was the woman in the photo you kept in your wallet. She was your ex-wife, Emma.

My pulse throbbed. Thoughts of you going to her, of the night you came home smelling of green apples, raced through my veins like poison.

I knew you mustn’t see her. She mustn’t know who I was. I had to keep you away from her.

If you were to see each other, all those months would have all been for nothing.

“Dominic!”

“Hello, love. The nurse said you were here.”

Her husband walked into the room, tall and imposing in a grey suit. I was struck by how much older he was than Emma.

“This is Rose,” she told him, but Dominic barely glanced at me. He only had eyes for Emma.

30

The following morning I woke to the sound of the early shift changes, to the mumble of nurses discussing cases during handover while a cleaner listlessly pushed a broom under my bed. I was still in my own room, still segregated from the other women. Thoughts of Emma tormented me. Despite myself, I remembered her singsong voice, her guileless face. And she was just yards away. Just when it seemed I could have everything I wanted, when I’d finally won your love via Joel, all too easily I could lose it all if you saw her. I couldn’t let that happen and knew I had to keep you away.

I waited for my breakfast impatiently. Afterwards I could go and see Joel in his plastic crib. I wanted to ask if I could bath him. I looked at the clock – it was 8.15. Breakfast was late, but I could hear the trolley approaching. When it came into view I saw the smiling Nurse Hall, who greeted me with a yawn. “You look tired,” I said.

“Yeah, it was a mate’s birthday last night, so we went clubbing. I didn’t get home till three. I’ve got a hangover from hell, but it was worth it.”

Nurse Hall wasn’t that much younger than me, I guessed she was about 25, but her life seemed like a teenager’s. I couldn’t ever go to a nightclub. It just wasn’t my kind of thing, though you’d tried to persuade me to go a few times. I felt too old for dancing and besides I wasn’t attractive enough to feel good in a club. I wondered what it would be like to get dressed up, to drink vodka, to dance on a podium to loud music until three in the morning. I wondered if it would be possible to forget my worries, envying Nurse Hall the dark shadows under her eyes and her pounding head.

“How’s Joel?”

“He’s put on three ounces in the last four days.”

She beamed at me. “That’s excellent, Rose. He’ll soon be ready to go home. Have they said anything about that?”

I shook my head, concentrated on stirring my tea. I daren’t think about us going home, it was too big a step. The thought terrified me. But something else terrified me more: you seeing Emma.

“I wondered if you’d do something for me.” I said.

“What’s that, Rose?”

“Will you phone Jason? Will you ask him to give me a bit of space, to stay away for a day or two.”

“That’s a bit of a tough request. ”

“I just want to rest. It won’t be for long. I don’t want him to see me tired and teary.”

Nurse Hall bit her lower lip. “If you’re sure, Rose, then I’ll call him.”

“I’m positive,” I said, “He needs to stay away from the ward. Just for a few days.”

“Okay. I’ll do it now.” Nurse Hall touched my shoulder, “you’ve got a visitor.”

I looked up and saw Emma. She was radiant in a powder blue smock, and cradled into the crook of her arm was her sleeping son.

“Hi, Emma,” Nurse Hall said and I was disappointed that she used the same friendly tone of voice to her that she’d just used to me. “How are you? And how’s little Luke?”

Emma beamed down at the baby, whispering so she didn’t disturb him. “Both good, thanks. In fact, guess what? We’re being discharged this morning.” She said this to both Nurse Hall and me, sharing her news. “I’m nervous – it seems such a big responsibility. I wish I could stay here for a bit longer.”

Nurse Hall gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s just so special taking a baby home. You’ll be just fine, Emma. A good mother always worries.” She whispered my consolation prize, “it’ll be you next, Rose.”

As if embarrassed by her good fortune, Emma sat next to me on the bed. “Of course it will. Shall we go together to see Joel?” Her hand was warm on top of mine and I could smell her perfume, light and sweet like green apples.

Together we walked to the neonatal unit, Emma almost pulling me along despite the weight of Luke in her arms. She didn’t support Luke’s head too well, and it lolled about precariously. I was slow, measuring the fear with each step. I wondered if this would be the last time I would walk it. I tortured myself with the thought of an empty crib at the end of it.

When we arrived I saw Joel was in his incubator, and relief poured through me briefly before I saw how small he still was. He was awake, navy eyes focused on me as I bent over him.

“Can you see me, Joel? Or am I just a blur?” I whispered, offering him my finger to grip.

He was silent, but his mouth was open as if he would speak, if only he could. Now free from the machines and wires, I could touch him easily and I kissed his cheek, then the bridge of his nose. His hand held my arm, as if to cuddle it, and I kissed him again.

“He’s a beautiful baby.” The nurse behind spoke, making me jump. I turned around and smiled. But she wasn’t talking to me. She was talking to Emma and looking at Luke. Emma was animated.

“Everyone here’s been so wonderful, it’ll be hard to go home and be alone with him. It’s a bit daunting, to think about having this new responsibility. Do you know what I mean?”

The nurse nodded, turned to me. “Joel is looking alert today. When Doctor Cross comes round we’ll ask when she thinks you’ll be able to go home.”

“Really?”

“He’s gaining weight steadily, and feeds well from his bottle. In fact, you could try him at the breast if you like. He’s probably strong enough now.”

The nurse was oblivious to my heart thumping in my chest, and came to my side, lifting Joel out of the crib. He lay in her arms like a doll, pale and serene. “Now then, young man. Would you like some milk? Shall we try without the bottle today?”

She gently handed him to me, and I weighed his light body. His mouth found the skin on my arm and lightly sucked; the nurse saw this. “I think he’s hungry, Rose.”

The nurse fussed around, pulling a chair closer. I sat, knowing I had no choice. “You’ve been expressing milk with a machine, so this will feel a little weird.” With a casualness that comes from dealing daily with people’s bodies, she lifted my top. My doughy breasts were knotted with milk, tattooed with blue veins. Emma was watching and I wished she would turn away. “Luke’s bottle-fed,” she told me. “So I won’t be much use to you, I’m afraid.”

Joel started to move his head from side to side his mouth open like a tiny bird, and the nurse was pulling at me, trying to position me. Emma cuddled Luke, watching the performance, as the nurse pulled me this way and that, when all of a sudden it was too much. I couldn’t handle it. “Get off me!” I shouted, pushing the nurse away, and she pulled back like I’d slapped her. Emma was there in an instant, her free hand around me. “Don’t worry, Rose. It’s okay. I couldn’t get the hang of breastfeeding either.”

Your lover was comforting me. Can you imagine how that felt?

It was quiet in the unit after that. Emma helped me to feed Joel from a bottle, and didn’t mention me losing my temper. The nurse didn’t approach me again, but stayed at the desk writing until the end of her shift when she scuttled off, leaving me with Emma. It was nearly visiting time, and she was expecting Dominic. She was coming round to the idea of leaving the hospital, “Dominic will be so pleased. He’s hardly had a chance to get to know Luke yet. It’s scary, but at least he’ll be home to help for a while.” She took a makeup pouch from her handbag. “Could you hold Luke, while I go to the toilet? I want to put some lippy on.”

She left me with the two boys.

I’d never studied Luke closely before. His skin was a healthy pink, and his eyes were a navy grey. He wore a blue cap, which I pulled from his head. There was a thin covering of pale curls. I looked closer. Golden-red curls. I looked at his face anew, thinking how familiar it looked.

Looking around, I saw that the nurse had left the room and was talking to another nurse in the corridor. I went to Joel’s crib and lay Luke next to him.

They could have been brothers, with Luke the stronger fitter eldest. I had given birth to the runt.

Although Joel was smaller, the shape of the face was the same, and their almond eyes almost identical. And that beautiful gold-red hair. I saw what I should have seen straight away: his face was yours, Jason.

I picked Luke up, out of Joel’s crib. It wasn’t his fault that his mother was a whore, his father weak. But my fury with you scorched my face, made the blood rush inside me. Where was the justice? Emma had given you a beautiful son, when the one I had produced was sickly and pale. It was so wrong, so unfair and I felt hate take over my heart. Rita and Mum had both warned me to leave you, that pain would follow if a child was born.

The new nurse on duty arrived, and eyed me warily as she went to the desk. I could tell she’d been warned of my earlier outburst.

I returned to Joel, lying still in his crib. I looked down at my own baby, smiling, until I saw that his eyes were fixed.
Fixed on me.
Until I moved and his gaze didn’t follow. His skin looked waxy and I stroked him, shocked that he was cooler than normal. I pinched his arm, and when he didn’t respond, I put my head to his ribcage. There was no movement of his chest.

I panicked, throwing Luke into an empty crib, grabbing Joel by the chest and shaking him. “Joel! Joel!”

The nurse was straight over, snatching Joel from me and laid him back down, her ear to his mouth. She turned and ran for the alarm, a red button she punched with her fist before returning to Joel.