Me and My Sisters (25 page)

23

Louise

Jesus Christ, I think I’m having a nervous breakdown. Clara has gone crazy. She’s getting worse by the minute. She’s ten weeks old now and she’s been screaming blue murder after every feed for the past five weeks, but she’s hungry all the time and screams just as loudly if I don’t feed her. The nurses at the crèche keep telling me it’s just colic and at twelve weeks it’ll stop. The GP beside the crèche said it was reflux and that she’ll settle in the next few weeks or months. Months!

My bloody night nurse handed in her notice last week. She said she was very sorry but she’s never had to look after a baby who screamed all the time and she was exhausted. What about me? I’m exhausted and I’m trying to close Gordon Hanks’s purchase of Lifechange TV. The agency is trying to find me a new night nurse, but they said most of them are booked up months in advance. I’m going mad here. The only time Clara stops crying is when she’s in the sling.

I can’t handle the shrieking: it cuts right through me. I’ve tried all the things the GP told me to do – I’ve raised the end of the Moses basket where her head is, put Gaviscon in all her bottles, given her Infacol before every feed, kept her upright for an hour after her milk to help her digest, but she only ever sleeps for two hours and then wakes up and screams for two hours.

I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time to pace the bloody floors every night. I need to focus on work. Today I’d been stuck in meetings until ten p.m. When I got home, Agnes – my cleaning lady – was sitting on the couch and Clara was asleep on her chest.

‘Sorry I’m so late,’ I said.

‘It’s OK. She crying a lot but she OK now. She like to sleep like this. Poor baby is very uncomfortable.’

‘Tell me about it. All she does is cry.’

‘She very sweet, she just have sore tummy.’

‘Well, I’m trying everything the doctor said and it’s not making any difference.’ I sat down on the couch, exhausted. I’d been up for the last five nights in a row with Clara and she was relentless.

‘I see this with my cousin. When he four months it stop. Sometimes babies have sore in their stomach when they drinking.’

‘I hope it stops soon – it’s not easy to listen to.’

Agnes patted my arm. ‘You works too hard. You needs spend more time with baby. Then you understands how to keeping her calm.’

Agnes very gently lifted Clara from her chest to mine. She rustled briefly and then resettled herself on me.

‘Can you pick her up from the crèche tomorrow? I’ve got meetings until eight.’

Agnes nodded. ‘OK, but you needs tell your boss that you have baby now and you needs come home and see her. You needs to be with baby more. Childrens is growing up very fast. Only babies for little while. Baby needs Mummy.’

‘Yes, fine.’ I wasn’t going to get into a debate about working too hard with Agnes. I just wanted to get into my pyjamas and sleep. My eyes felt like lead.

Agnes left and I gingerly stood up, being careful not to make any sudden movements that might wake Clara. But as soon as I took a step, her eyes snapped open and she began to cry. I sat down again and patted her back. She whimpered and closed her eyes. I was too afraid to move, so I closed my eyes and passed out on the couch. Clara woke up screaming at eleven. I settled her at one. She woke up again at three, and finally, after lots of walking in the sling, fell asleep at four thirty. We were both out cold when the alarm went off at six. I hit what I thought was the snooze button, but I actually turned it off and we both slept right through until seven thirty.

I woke with a start. Shit!

I leapt out of bed and started throwing Clara’s things into her bag. I was still in my work clothes, somehow I’d never managed to get undressed. I smoothed the shirt down and decided to stay as I was. A shower would hold me up. My skirt was a bit crumpled, but it would pass. I changed Clara’s nappy, threw a pair of dungarees over her Babygro and rushed to the crèche, then on to work.

It was the first time in my twenty-year career that I had overslept and been late for work. I was mortified and furious with myself. And, of course, sod’s bloody law, Alex was standing outside my office when I came panting around the corner. I hadn’t had time to do my makeup. I’d been planning on locking my office door and pulling myself together before our ten o’clock meeting, but there he was, waiting to ask me something about the Hanks case. I could see him looking at my appearance unfavourably.

‘Is everything all right, Louise?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely great, thanks.’ I beamed at him.

‘You look a little … um, dishevelled.’

‘Do I?’ I feigned surprise.

He took his glasses off and fiddled with them. ‘You know how important it is that we stay on top of the Hanks case, don’t you?’

‘Of course, Alex. I know you want everything to go smoothly for your brother-in-law. I’m on top of it.’

‘What was the final purchase figure agreed on last night?’

‘Thirty million plus their significant debts,’ I said. ‘I was about to email you the final details. Everything went according to plan. Lifechange TV finally agreed to the price Hanks wanted.’

‘Excellent. He will be pleased.’

‘We just need to finalize the paperwork and we’ll have it all wrapped up.’

‘Was Dominic with you at the meeting?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I want to keep him in the loop. He’s a very sharp young man.’

‘He certainly is.’ I attempted a smile.

‘Right, I’ll leave you to it. Keep me posted on any further developments.’

‘Of course.’

Alex left. I sank into my chair and took out my makeup bag. Christ, I looked awful. I had black rings under my eyes from sleep deprivation. Jasmine came in with a coffee. ‘Thanks.’ I took a big drink.

‘Rough night?’ she asked.

‘Um, yes, she’s been a bit unsettled lately.’ I didn’t want to get into a big baby chat with Jasmine. I wanted to keep our relationship a working one. I did not want to swap baby pictures and cute stories about our kids. Besides, I didn’t have any cute stories about Clara. I wanted to give her back, and I didn’t think that qualified as a sweet tale.

‘The first few months are the hardest,’ Jasmine said. ‘Hang in there.’

‘Right – thanks. Can you get me Gordon Hanks on the phone?’ I asked her.

‘Sure.’ She turned on her heels and I continued to try to make myself look presentable. It took a lot more makeup than usual. As I was trowelling on the blusher to get some colour into my cheeks, Jasmine buzzed. ‘It’s Julie. She’s calling to see if Clara is sleeping,’ she said.

I grabbed my phone. ‘Julie, I’ve told you before that I do
not
want you discussing anything personal with my secretary.’

‘Keep your hair on. I just said I was calling about Clara.’

‘I know, but I don’t discuss her in work. And I don’t want people knowing I’m getting no bloody sleep.’

‘I take it from your sunny disposition that things have not improved?’

‘She’s worse. I nearly killed her last night.’

‘Did you try the Infacol?’

‘Yes, I bloody did.’

‘Are you feeding her little and often?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’ve raised the mattress?’

‘Yes.’

‘Keeping her upright after feeding?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is she getting sick after her bottles?’

‘No. She just goes rigid and screams.’

‘It does sound like reflux. I Googled it and they’re the symptoms. But they say it almost always goes by six or nine months.’

‘Six months! I thought it would be gone by four.’

‘It probably will. The Internet always gives the worst-case scenarios.’

‘It has to stop soon, Julie – I’m going insane. I didn’t realize how much I need sleep. I often worked until eleven, but I was still getting six or seven hours’ uninterrupted sleep. I can’t handle this. I almost fell asleep in a really important meeting last night. I had to keep digging my nails into my arm to keep myself awake. I haven’t been for a jog in four days. It’s a mess. I wish I’d never bloody had her.’

‘Louise!’

‘I’m just being honest.’

‘You can’t say that.’

‘Why not? It’s true. I can’t cope with her and her screeching. She’s been bad for the last five weeks, but at least I had some help at night. I’m on my own now and it’s hell. I’m sick of it. I dread going home and the bloody weekends seem never-ending.’

‘OK. Now listen to me. The first few months are the hardest for any new mum, especially one with a difficult baby. It will get easier, I promise. You’ll start really enjoying her when she’s settled down a bit. Has she smiled yet?’

‘Smile? She’s too busy wailing.’

‘Did you try sleeping with her on your chest?’

‘Yes. It works for about two hours and then she’s off again.’

‘You sound really fed-up, but I promise it’ll get better. This is temporary. Why don’t you take a couple of days off work, get some rest and spend some more time with her? It’ll help you bond with her.’

Spend more time with her? Julie wasn’t getting it. The last thing I wanted to do was spend more time with Clara. I hated going home. My clean, minimalist apartment was a mess. The hall was stuffed with buggies and baby bags. There were clothes and toys, playmats and rattles, nappies and wipes, bottles and muslin cloths all over the place. I hated the chaos. I hated the clutter. I hated the untidiness.

‘Julie, I can’t take any more time off. Look, I’ll be fine. I just need to get her into a routine. I’m going to try the
Contented Little Baby
one again this week.’

‘Do yourself and Clara a favour and forget that stupid routine. Just go with her. Let her find her own routine.’

‘Clara’s current routine is to sleep for an hour, eat for an hour and scream for an hour or two. It’s not exactly ideal. I need to work. I want to work. I like to work. And, by hook or by bloody crook, I’m going to get her sleeping.’

‘Go easy on her, Lou. She’s a tiny baby, not a soldier.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘By the way, you need to call Mum. She said she’s left six messages and you still haven’t phoned her back. She’s getting worried. I told her everything was OK, that you were swamped in work and that Clara was a bit lively at night, but that all was well. You need to ring her, though.’

‘I haven’t had a second to myself. I’ll get around to it soon, but it’s not high on my list of priorities.’

‘She’s your mother, Louise. She’s just worried about you – give her a break.’

‘Look, I have to go. I’ve got a meeting that I need to try not to fall asleep in.’

‘Good luck, and go easy on Clara.’

I hung up and typed a summary of last night’s meeting with Gordon Hanks and Co and sent it to Alex. I wanted to prove to him that I was still on top of it, still in control.

Later, in the canteen, Dominic sidled over to me. ‘I heard you were late in this morning, and that you looked – I think “dishevelled” was the word Alex used to describe you.’

I tried not to show him how much it bothered me that Alex was criticizing me. Granted, Dominic was climbing the corporate ladder faster than anyone I’d ever seen, but he was still a junior partner and I objected strongly to being discussed in this way.

‘I think he used the word “drunk” to describe you at the partners’ dinner last year,’ I retorted.

‘Ah, yes, but that was before Alex got into Harrington House and got to know me properly over rounds of golf. Now we play every other week. It’s a pity you don’t play, Louise. We had a tremendous day out last Saturday with my father, Alex and Zachary Gray. It was nice to spend so much quality time with the CEO. But I’m sure you were having the time of your life bonding with your baby.’

I tried to think of a good put-down, but my brain was too fuzzy.

‘Be careful you don’t crawl too far up Alex’s arse. You may suffocate,’ a voice behind me said to a stunned Dominic.

I turned to see Meredith holding her lunch tray. I beamed at her.

Dominic sputtered, ‘There’s no need to be so –’

‘Crass? What’s wrong, Dominic? Can’t you take a joke? You’re pretty good at dishing them out.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of –’

Meredith put her hand up to stop him. ‘I don’t have time to waste talking to you. I need to speak to Louise about a client.’ Meredith beckoned me over to a table in the corner of the canteen.

‘Thank you!’ I squeezed her hand.

‘He’s a little upstart. You look like death. Is the baby not sleeping?’

‘She’s a nightmare.’

‘Damn – it’s hard when they don’t sleep. Where’s your night nurse?’

‘She did a runner, said she was too tired. The agency is trying to find another. How the hell did you do it, Meredith? I’m really struggling.’

‘My husband did the nights from Monday to Thursday. I did the weekends.’

‘I think she has reflux. Her father obviously had shitty digestive genes that he passed on to her.’

‘You need to find some kind of night nurse or babysitter to do a few week nights. You can’t survive on no sleep. Your work will suffer and that little prick is dying for you to mess up. He’s just waiting for his opportunity to pounce.’

‘Tell me about it. I can feel him breathing down my neck.’

‘I’ll ring around and see if any of my friends know of any good night nurses or someone who can help you out.’

‘Thanks – you’re a life-saver.’

‘Don’t let the bastards get you down – and remember, Louise, it’s up to us to shatter the glass ceiling!’

I ate a slice of chocolate cake for dessert for the first time since the canteen had opened eight years ago. I needed the sugar to keep me going. I tried calling Sophie again. I’d left three messages for her. I wanted to know if she had any advice on how to deal with Clara. She spent all her time drinking coffee with other mothers. Maybe one of them had had a baby with reflux. But Sophie hadn’t returned my calls, which wasn’t like her. She always phoned back, and it wasn’t as if she was busy.

‘Look, Sophie, this is the fourth message I’ve left in the last three days. Can you just call me back, please. I need to ask you something about Clara. I know you’re busy with your trainer and your Pilates, but I really need to talk to you so just call me.’