Motherlove (27 page)

‘Look, thanks, Barbara, but really, I'd prefer to go by bus.' Heather was determined to keep it pleasant. Having her mother-in-law under their roof had dangerously strained their relationship. Things needed to get back onto tolerant separate tracks. ‘I know you think I'm daft, but I just want the chance to manage on my own again. I can cope fine with the bus.'

‘I thought managing on your own was becoming a teensy bit of an issue?' Barbara could smile and smile and still be a mother-in-law. ‘Poor Martin has begun to feel quite guilty about leaving you alone all day, although Lord knows what he's supposed to do about it.' Yes, she was going to nurse every complaint, reasonable and unreasonable, that Heather made. ‘I just thought I could help, in his place.'

‘Thank you, really. But, today, I'm fine, and I want to prove I can manage.'

Not that getting into town for a dental check-up was going to be a doddle, on the bus, with a frisky toddler and a new-born baby, but Heather could cope. She was sure of it. The new buses were easier, more accommodating, and she was going to be well clear of rush hour. Of course, when they'd moved here she should have changed dentists, like the doctor, found a nearer practice, but she hadn't got round to it. Maybe next time.

And maybe a baby sling next time. She'd seen a mother in the next street with one and thought what a wonderful way it was to carry her baby. Against her breast, feeling her all the time against her own body. But maybe a bit avant-garde for the Hopcroft. The mother did draw a few disapproving stares and sniggers. Anyway, Heather couldn't afford to think about buying something new, when she had the old fashioned but perfectly serviceable carry-cot pram that Bibs had used, donated by Martin's sister when her three had done with it. A bit of a handful, but Heather had learned how to have it up and down in no time when a bus appeared.

Eleven o'clock. The buses weren't crowded at this time of day, so no jostling. The driver was relaxed enough to give her a hand, and most of the passengers were old ladies, keen to inspect the sleeping infant. Abigail, under their scrutiny, was as good as gold. Bibs was not. A bus was a place to run up and down, if a little unsteadily, making aeroplane noises. Or was it supposed to be a mechanical digger?

‘Bibs, come here and sit down!' said Heather for the twelfth time, trying not to let her irritation show. Bibs clambered onto the seat opposite her and jumped up and down, looking out of the window. A few frowns of disapproval now from the old ladies. Well, what was she supposed to do? He wasn't molesting them, was he?

The bus was busier by the time they reached the town centre. Reassembling the pram in the general rush to exit, she barked her shins, and nearly lost hold of Bibs.

A brisk walk to the dentist's. Not far, but uphill. Other pedestrians staked their claim to the pavement as if gold had just been discovered there.

‘Take a seat in the waiting room,' said the receptionist, and Heather was glad of the chance to sit, though she was up every few minutes to drag Bibs back. Then Abigail woke and wanted a feed. Faced with a grumpy old man and two leery teenage boys, Heather retreated to the cramped toilet, begging Bibs not to start whining.

Abigail was hungry, not to be rushed. When Heather emerged, she had missed her go, and had to wait another half an hour. Her check-up would have been quicker if the dentist's nurse had not spent most of the time trying to keep Bibs from helping himself to all the instruments. What had got into the boy? Was he being deliberately difficult?

No, she admitted. He was being his usual self, exploring his potential, pushing his limits. He was just like this at home, but at home it didn't matter. It gave Barbara something to tut about, but Heather could cope with him. Out in town, with things to do, it was another matter.

This was a mistake, she thought, emerging at last onto the street, this pointless bid for freedom. She should have accepted Barbara's offer of a lift, or left the children in their grandmother's care. Why had she had to be so obstinate? Still, it was done now, and there was nothing for it but to tackle the bus again and get them all home. Maybe when she was back at her front door, she would feel suitably triumphant. But for now, with no Barbara to notice, she just felt weary.

At least the walk back to the bus stop was downhill. Bibs decided an old iron bollard at the entrance to Miller's Lane was exactly what he needed to clamber on, but there was a number 42, the last of the queue just boarding.

‘Bibs! Come on!' Could she do it? Run with the pram and a toddler?

Bibs would not budge.

‘I said come on!' She grabbed him and tugged him howling behind her. She would do it if the bus driver chose to be generous. He could see her hurrying, surely?

Maybe he could, but it wasn't his generous day. The doors hissed closed and the bus swung out into the traffic.

‘Shit!' Heather came to a halt, ignoring a look of disgust from an old lady. ‘Please shut up, Bibs!'

The boy continued to howl.

What now? Wait here another half an hour for the next 42? Walk to the bus station? A hundred yards down the road was the shelter for the number 43. Every quarter of an hour, to the other side of the Hopcroft estate. Take that and deal with a long walk home at the other end?

Bibs was bawling still, dragging back towards his chosen bollard.

‘Listen,' said Heather. ‘How about we go to the park? Swings and roundabouts?'

Bibs stopped crying instantly.

Forget the buses. If they were going to have to wait, they might as well enjoy it. Walk through the park, give Bibs his half hour of playtime, and there was always the number 16, which ran down Buckingham Road. It didn't go into the Hopcroft, but it stopped close to the roundabout, less than half a mile from Linden Close.

Problem solved. Pleasanter than waiting here. They would go to the park.

iii

Lindy

Gary was hungry. Lindy fried him eggs and bread, but they didn't have any bacon or sausages. He curled his lip at that, but how was she to know he'd want a cooked breakfast? He usually rolled off the mattress at about midday and just groped for a can of beer and a cigarette.

Today he was up by eight, looking important, like he had a proper job to go to. ‘Got things to do,' he announced, rubbing the eggs off his mouth.

‘All right, Gary.'

‘I'll be out. Mind you keep things quiet here, remember?'

‘Yes. Are you going to be out all day?' It was good that he was going to be out early, because that Rothsay woman could come calling any time. Gary wouldn't give her the time of day, probably just throw her out, but best if he weren't here to see her. Or for her to see him.

‘What's it to you? Mind your fucking business and keep your mouth shut.' He was playing the big man, throwing his weight about. She knew, when he did that with her, he was worried, needed to give himself a boost. It was going to be very soon then, this job. Maybe today even. And who knew what would happen then? She wanted to put her arms round him and kiss him but he pushed her away. He was a man, about men's business; no time for all that kissy stuff.

As she watched him swaggering off down Nelson Road, her own criminal instincts told her he was doomed. Bound to muck up. And then he'd be answering to the police or to Carver. Which would be worse?

It was sad but she had other things to think about. The Rothsay woman would be coming here demanding to see Kelly. If Lindy wasn't in, she couldn't see her, so Lindy would be out, with Kelly, till dark if she had to be.

She picked up the shawl, donated by Baby Garden. Soft and white and lacy, with a fringe, so pretty. The weather wasn't that warm. Kelly would need to be wrapped up.

There was no Kelly. No baby to wrap up. Again that huge devouring emptiness. It only went away when she pretended it wasn't true. All these baby clothes, dry now, ready for the baby that wasn't here.

Lindy took up a sleepsuit, hugged it to her, rolled it. Rolled another round it. A jacket, a dress, she wrapped the shawl round them all. It felt like a baby, wrapped and hooded in the shawl, clasped to her aching breast. She stood for a moment, rocking back and forth on her heels, soothing it to sleep.

Better go, or
they
'd be here to take her baby away. She clomped down the bare dirty stairs, clasping Kelly to her as Tyler, with bloodshot eyes and four days growth of stubble, lurched across the hall.

‘C'm here.'

‘Geroff! Don't you touch her!' She edged past him, prepared to kick, and made it to the liberty of the front door. Out into Nelson Road. It stretched forever. Lindy didn't want to be walking along it as Caroline Rothsay drove down. She ducked into a side road, kept walking, anywhere, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as she wasn't at home when the Rothsay woman called.

Headed for town. It was okay except that nosy cows kept trying to look at her baby. She wasn't having none of that. She was starving too, but stopping for something to eat was a problem. Women at counters, they wouldn't keep their eyes to themselves.

Maybe town wasn't such a smart idea. She climbed up on the footbridge that crossed high over the Stapledon link road, with its roaring traffic. It was like being up in the sky up here. She'd stood up here with Gary once, when he was pissed. He'd dropped something on a car below. What had it been? Half a brick probably. She remembered the loud crash as it hit a car roof and they'd both run, haring off the bridge into the alleys beyond, before anyone could catch them.

Seemed stupid now. Now she was here on her own and she didn't have anything to drop. Except the baby. Supposing she dropped Kelly, down in all that traffic. It would be horrible. Better move on. Where? Where could she while away the day?

The park maybe. She could hang around there and no one would notice. Sit on one of the benches. Or on the swings. No wardens any more. No nosy bastard in uniform yelling at her for playing on the swings because she was too old. There were the toilets. People hung around there, with stuff. Something to make the day pass easier. Except that she wasn't supposed to be touching stuff any more because of Kelly. But she could sit on the swings.

Like being a kid again, instead of a seventeen-year-old. She liked it, the feel of swaying backwards and forwards, the creak of the chains, letting her heels drag on the broken tarmac. Get up a nice rhythm. Twirl round even, winding the chains together until they were tight and she was on tiptoe, then lift her feet up and whiz round till she felt light-headed. That was great.

But maybe not so good for the baby. And there was only so much you could do on a swing if you were holding a baby. You couldn't go up really high because that needed both hands and she didn't want to put Kelly down. So she left the swings and took a couple of turns on the roundabout. It would be good, sitting there with Kelly, watching the world go round and round, but she had to keep dropping down to push it on. The gears were rusty.

What else? Round the lake maybe. The boatyard. That would be great, taking Kelly out on a paddle-boat. They could drift under one of the weeping willows and hide there like it was a fairy house, and snooze the day away. Except that the boat man would come prodding them with his long pole when their time was up. Anyway, she couldn't afford a boat and they only ran the boats at the weekend. The yard would be locked up.

Unless there was a way to sneak in. But the lock wasn't smashed for once, the wire fencing was intact and all the boats were drawn up on the tarmac, upside down to drain. Lindy would never be able to drag one down to the water, not holding Kelly. And anyway, there were too many people around. Office people, eating their sandwiches, reading newspapers, finishing off their lunch break.

There was the crazy golf, up the other end of the lake. She walked up but the kiosk was shut. She climbed over the fence – all the office workers had gone back to work – and mooched around on the empty course, littered with cigarette butts and empty cans, but it wasn't any fun with no ball. You couldn't pretend to hit a ball.

You couldn't pretend…

She ran, like someone was after her, heart pounding. She might trip, running. Must be careful, with the baby. There was the summerhouse. She could sit in that. Sit and watch and wait. With her baby.

She sat there for a bit, but it smelt too much of pee, so she went and lay down on the grass among the trees and she knew she was dead tired. She let herself doze off.

She woke feeling stiff; the grass was damp. Better go back to the swings maybe. She walked round, through the trees, among the squirrels. Gary chucked stones at them; he got one once, killed it, and kept wanting to do it again. He made Lindy throw stones too, but she always missed. She was glad. She liked the squirrels, she liked anything furry, if it didn't bare its teeth and snap at her, but she didn't tell Gary that. She had hated seeing the squirrel dead, however proud Gary was.

Plenty of squirrels today, dashing across the grass, darting up the trees, afraid of her. That was sad. She would have happily picked one up and cuddled it. Cuddled a squirrel. Cuddled her baby. Sadness twisted inside her.

Out of the trees, onto the rolling grass, past a clump of bushes. Some of them had little red flowers. And there was the pram, and the baby.