Crying for Help (20 page)

I was stunned. He’d been so angry about what had happened. Could it be that he’d decided to accept my belief that she really wasn’t quite responsible for some of the things she did? ‘Well, I …’ I began.

‘Don’t stop to analyse, just enjoy,’ Mike said, grinning. ‘Go on, sit down. Breakfast is imminent.’

It took no encouragement whatsoever for me to do exactly that, and within minutes I was wolfing it down like a woman possessed – having gone without dinner, I was ravenous.

I was just clearing the last mouthfuls when Sophia appeared in the kitchen, balancing plates and mugs precariously in front of her and still giggling about something Kieron must have said. She smiled when she saw me. ‘Hi, Casey,’ she said brightly. ‘Boy, you had a long sleep. You must have been tired! Did Mike tell you about my belated birthday card?’

I was too busy digesting her first statement to really note her second. Once again, had the previous day completely disappeared from her memory? Wiped like an old DVD?

Mike was shaking his head, though. ‘Not yet, lovey, no. Sophia had a belated birthday card in the post today, love. From her grandparents.’

‘Really?’ I mentally caught up. Perhaps this was the best way. Stick rigidly to the present. Press ‘erase’.

‘Well, from Granddad,’ she corrected now. ‘He was the one who signed it. He wrote
her
name on it, but it was really from him. And guess what else?’

‘What?’

‘He put a hundred pounds in it.’

I raised my eyebrows at Mike. ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That’s a lot of money! What are you going to do with it?’

She shrugged. ‘I dunno yet. Maybe get a new iPod or something. Anyway, I’ve given Mike the money to look after till I decide.’

‘D’you think we should tell social services about this?’ I asked Mike, once she’d skipped back outside into the garden. ‘It’s a bit out of the blue, after all, isn’t it?’

‘I’d say so,’ he said. ‘Anyway, John’s calling later, isn’t he? Run it past him. Maybe there’s stuff going on with the family we don’t know.’

‘Well, wouldn’t
that
make a change, love,’ I said wryly.

John called, as he’d promised he would, mid-way through that afternoon, by which time Sophia was engrossed in a DVD in the living room, Kieron and Mike having gone off to football. I took the phone off to the conservatory to speak to him.

‘Funny you should mention that,’ he told me when I filled him in about the card, ‘because there have been some developments with the family. Not particularly edifying ones, sadly. There’s still a big rift between son and mother, not helped, by all accounts, by Grace’s consultant’s recommendation that they should perhaps consider withdrawing life support. They don’t expect anything in terms of a recovery at this stage, and it seems both grandfather and her uncle are in agreement, but gran – well, it’s her daughter isn’t it? By the grace of God and all that … She’s not budging.’

‘Oh, God,’ I sighed heavily. This was just all so sad and tragic. ‘And what about Sophia? How’s she going to react to all this?’

And just when are CAMHS going to get around to seeing her? I thought but didn’t say. Some time before her whole world implodes might be nice.

‘Oh, there’s no need to say anything to her yet,’ John said quickly. ‘All undecided. Nothing’s concrete at this stage. And if they do … well, there’ll need to be a visit arranged first, won’t there? So she can say goodbye properly to her mum. And let’s face it, might be the best thing. You know. Allow her to move on.’

Yes, John was right. In the long term, perhaps. But she’d still have to
deal
with it, I thought, as I put the phone back in the hall. It would be huge. It would be horrible. It could tip her right over the edge. And it would be us who’d have to deal with the fall-out.

‘God, it’s just one thing after another!’ Mike said, when I told him later. ‘When’s that lass going to cop a break, eh?’

Not yet, I thought. What were the chances she was going to get that lucky? This was real life. No magic wands to wave around.

Though the news about Sophia’s mother weighed heavily on my mind, the remainder of the weekend went surprisingly peacefully. I was bemused by this sudden contact from the granddad, but also pleased. Perhaps some lasting reconciliation could be achieved within the family, even if it would take the form of coming together in grief if and when they decided to withdraw Grace’s life support.

In the meantime, however, I was just glad of the calm and as happy as everyone else to make the most of it. I was particularly touched by the way Kieron was handling things. Despite everything – and he’d borne the brunt of so much since Sophia had been with us – it was as if he’d decided to do his level best to form a bond with her, putting aside all that had happened in the past.

Bar Sophia’s quiet demeanour, I had no evidence to support that, but by Monday I’d decided that perhaps the events of last Friday had marked some sort of pinnacle. Perhaps they were a watershed we’d reached and could now move past. The idea was ridiculous, and, in hindsight, I think I just willed myself to think that. But it was the Easter break from school now, which meant Sophia was home full time, and the prospect of being in an environment so racked with tension – hard enough in term time – was an alternative I simply couldn’t contemplate.

And with the school holidays came more sun, which made everything feel better. For me, particularly, as it meant I could spend more time in my garden, and with a baby in the family, this meant a return to the simple outdoor pleasures I’d enjoyed when my own two were tiny.

‘Let’s fill the little paddling pool,’ I said to Sophia on the Monday morning. Riley was bringing Levi over and, since the temperature was so balmy, we’d planned to spend much of the day doing absolutely nothing in the sunshine.

Sophia jumped to it, seeming as infected by spring fever as I was, helping me to lay blankets on the grass, inflate and fill the little pool, and get out all the baby toys from the cupboard in the conservatory. Levi was not only sitting up now, but rolling as well, so it would be good to give him some outdoor space to explore.

By the time Riley arrived the garden looked like a nursery-school playground, but instead of the whoops of laughter and cries of ‘What are you like, Mum!’ I’d anticipated, Riley’s expression when she arrived was pinched and drawn.

‘What’s up, love?’ I asked her, because it was so obvious that something was.

‘Oh, Mum, look at him,’ she said. ‘Look at his poor little face! He’s got chickenpox. We’ve hardly slept a wink!’

It didn’t take much of a look to confirm it, either. Some get it mildly, others aren’t so lucky. Both of my two had suffered badly with chickenpox – I’d got through bottle after bottle of calamine lotion. And it looked like poor Levi was following suit. He was liberally plastered with the tiny pink blisters – he even had them inside his eyelids. ‘Oh, you poor little thing!’ I cried, reaching in to lift him from his pram. Levi, however, was having none of it. He screamed immediately and began squirming and kicking to be put down, big tears running down his cheeks and irritating his face even further. Riley lifted him back from me and laid him back down.

‘It’s no good, Mum. He’s been like this all night. I think he just wants to be left alone, to be honest. It’s like he’s angry with us because we can’t do anything to help him.’

‘And it must hurt, being held, when your skin is so sore.’

‘Exactly. But he’ll be so much better out here in the garden. He always seems to settle better outside.’ She smiled a tired smile. ‘And I could definitely use some down time. Hopefully he’ll drop off to sleep in his pram and we can enjoy a spot of girlie sunbathing and gossip, eh, Sophia?’

So, having already done my housework for the day, and seen my ‘boys’ off to their respective weekday places, I got out three sun loungers, made up a batch of drinks and sandwiches, and the three of us then spent an enjoyable hour doing just that.

It really was a gorgeous day, far warmer than was usual for the time of year, and there was a delicious pleasure in doing absolutely nothing for a while, bar chatting about the latest celebrity gossip and half-listening to the radio: Sophia had switched on the one in the conservatory and relocated it to the open French doors so we could hear it. Even Bob, normally so energetic, seemed content to lie and slumber, his eyes half closed and his tail giving only the occasional flick.

I should have known the peace and tranquillity wouldn’t last, though. After an hour or so, Levi, all done with napping, woke up. Instantly reminded of his wretched condition, he began grizzling again, plaintively and miserably. It made it all the worse that he was generally such a happy, contented baby. We just weren’t used to seeing him, or hearing him, so sad.

Sophia put her magazine down. ‘Shall I wheel him around the garden for a bit, Riley?’

I was touched by her gesture. It was sweet of her.

‘Thanks, love,’ said Riley. ‘I don’t know that it’ll help any, but, yes, why not. He might at least be distracted by the change in scenery.’

Sophia jumped up and then spent the next ten minutes duly pushing the pram around the perimeter of the garden, but, as Riley predicted, it didn’t seem to be helping. If anything, Levi’s cries were getting even louder, and I could tell this was beginning to upset Sophia.

‘Sophia, love, just fetch him back here and sit down. He’s just poorly, love. Nothing we can do. Don’t worry, he’ll be okay.’

Sophia wheeled the pram back and Riley stood up, then pulled a bottle of liquid paracetamol out of her baby bag and began to shake it. She passed Sophia Levi’s dummy with her free hand.

‘Here, love. Can you take this? And when I give Levi his medicine, do you think you could pop it straight into his mouth after so he doesn’t try to spit it straight back out again?’

‘Okay,’ Sophia said, nodding, and, seeming pleased to have been given the responsibility, she then knelt close beside the pram ready to do as asked. But when she did, it was obvious that Levi was not happy – furiously spitting medicine, he immediately struck out, throwing his dummy way across the lawn and accidentally scratching Sophia’s nose as he did so.

She looked shocked, but not half as much as we were about to be, because Sophia’s reaction was as fierce as it was instant. She immediately slapped him on the leg, really hard.

Riley dropped the medicine bottle and yanked her away by the shoulder. ‘What the hell are you
doing
!’ she yelled in her face, her maternal rage rising. ‘You don’t hit babies! What the hell did you think you were
doing
?’

I had jumped up from my sun lounger now. ‘Sophia! Are you mad?’ I jabbed a finger towards Levi, who was now really screaming, the weal on his tiny leg reddening even as we watched. ‘Look!’ I snapped. ‘Look what you’ve done! What were you
thinking
?!’

Thinking nothing, I realised, even as I shouted. She just did it. An instinct as natural to her as breathing. Hit. Lash out at someone. Hurt.

Riley had by now snatched Levi up from his pram. She was almost beside herself, I could tell. She looked straight at me, perhaps sensing my hesitation about how best to handle this. Because I
did
hesitate. The only thing certain right now was that our nice girlie day in the garden was over.

‘Don’t you
dare
, Mum. Don’t try to pacify her, okay?’ She turned to Sophia. ‘Go on. Get out of my sight! I can’t even bear to look at you!’

Sophia’s own expression had now morphed from shock to defiance. Or, perhaps worse, to that glazed, look-right-through-you mask she had. ‘Fuck you!’ she spat at Riley. ‘Fuck you both! You fucking hate me!’

‘Sophia!’ I shot back at her, matching her decibel for decibel. ‘Go to your room
now
! Don’t you dare start all that again!’

I could feel my anger building to unmanageable levels. In contrast to Friday, when I’d felt the stuffing had been knocked out of me, here, just like Riley, I felt pure maternal rage. This was my daughter and my grandson and it was my job to protect them. If she defied me again now, I knew I might not be responsible for my actions. I needed to calm everything down, fast.

‘
Go!
’ I yelled again. ‘Just
go
!’

And, to my relief, she must have seen something in my expression. ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she answered. ‘I’m going, all right!’

She ran inside then, but even before I could feel my pulse slowing she was back in the conservatory doorway, waving her packets of pills and emergency steroid injection kit in front of her. ‘And I’m locking this lot in my room with me!’ she called to us. ‘You like that kid more than you like me, do you, Casey? Well, let’s see how you feel when I’m
dead
!’

With that, she ran inside again, and even from the garden both of us could hear the sound of her thundering up the stairs. I looked at Riley, whose face was immobilised by shock. Even Levi had stopped crying now, transfixed. Then it hit me, and hard. This was serious. This was potentially fatal. I had no idea what an overdose of all those drugs could do to her, but I certainly had enough imagination to guess, and I wasn’t about to take any chances.

‘Oh, God …’ I said, springing into action and racing inside after her. I took the stairs two at a time and was at her door in moments. I knocked loudly. ‘Sophia! Open this door right now!’

‘
Fuck off!
’ her voice cracked, she yelled so loud. It was almost unrecognisable. ‘I’m going the same way my mother did, I swear to you! I’m doing it! Now
fuck off and leave me alone
!’

I inhaled slowly. I was still breathless. There was sweat beading on my forehead. ‘Look, Sophia,’ I said. ‘What you did was wrong, and you know that. But it isn’t
the end of the world
!’ I struggled then, trying to come up with the best things to say, the image of her sitting on her bed, popping pill after pill … how many did she have of them, for God’s sake? I knew Riley’d said not to pacify her, but this was serious. I did not want to have a dead child on my hands. Or my conscience. Oh, God …

‘Just come out, love,’ I tried. ‘Riley’s calmed down now. She was just shocked. As she would be, but it’s all going to be …’

‘
Fuck off!!!
’ she screamed again, though she was becoming incoherent. She just kept repeating the words, over and over and over, intermittently screaming and laughing hysterically. God only knew what was going on in that room. I wished desperately for Mike. He would know what to do here. At the very least he’d be able to barge the bloody door open.

‘Sophia!’ I called again, trying to break through the cacophony. ‘If you don’t come out now, I’m going to have to call for an ambulance!’

As threats went, this was hardly a big one, I knew. But at least they would be able to get into the room with her. They
had
to.

‘Ambulance!’ she screamed back at me. ‘You think I need a fucking ambulance? Well, go on, and while you’re at it, call the fucking police as well! Because, I swear to you, I’m going to murder the fucking lot of you! When you’re all tucked up in bed asleep, just you wait! I fucking will! I’ve done it before, you fucking bitch, and I’ll do it again, you hear?
Fuck you!
’

‘Mum!’ Riley’s voice. She was at the bottom of the stairs, holding Levi, beckoning me down. ‘Mum, come on. Come down. This is pointless.’

I could see just how shocked she was – she’d obviously heard everything. She beckoned again, and I realised she was right. It
was
pointless. I rattled down the stairs and followed her into the kitchen. Sophia was still ranting and screaming upstairs, so at least I knew she wasn’t slipping into unconsciousness.

Riley passed me the phone. ‘Go on. Call that ambulance. Do it now.’

I took the phone from her, feeling a chill running through me.
I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again
, she’d said. And the suicide attempts. She’d made previous suicide attempts. I didn’t know what or who to believe any more.

Riley put Levi back in his pram – he’d now been stunned into silence – then made coffee as I called 999 and gave the details. I also phoned John and gave him a brief résumé, promising to call him back and update him once the paramedics had arrived.

We then went into the conservatory, and I lit a much-needed, calm-before-the-certain-storm cigarette. It felt bizarre but the noise above us was comforting. All the while she was making it, I knew she was conscious. And, unable to get in, there was nothing else I
could
do but wait for the sound of the sirens.

‘Oh, God, Mum,’ said Riley. ‘I had no idea things were this bad. This is madness. Utter madness. How do you cope with all this stuff?’

I didn’t know, so I couldn’t answer. So I just shrugged instead. ‘How’s Levi? I’m so sorry, love, I really am. That was just horrible.’

‘He’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘His leg is a bit red, but he’ll survive. I just can’t believe that she
did
that, you know? How could anyone hit a tiny, defenceless baby like that?’

I nodded. Though I knew, in truth, that the answer was ‘all too easily’. In the real world, some people hit babies. A tragic fact.

She trailed off. We both did. We just sat there in silence as upstairs the bangs and crashes and screams and rants continued. As Riley said, the whole thing felt like madness.

But it was only minutes, thankfully, before an ambulance arrived, and on the doorstep there soon stood two capable-looking paramedics, one of whom, I was pleased to note, was Phil, whom I’d met on Friday at the high school.

‘Here we are again, then!’ he said, cheerfully, which calmed me greatly. At least, I thought, he knows what he’s dealing with. Up to a point.

The other paramedic was a woman, who introduced herself as Bev.

‘Right,’ she said, as Phil headed straight off up the stairs. ‘What’s the history to all this kerfuffle, then?’