The Convent (52 page)

‘Please,. I'm sobbing now myself, and I grip Det's hand again.

‘It's okay, love,' the woman says calmly and I … just want to slap her.

‘And now who is our patient?' the woman asks mildly as she kneels down next to Det.

‘Det,' the rest of us roar. ‘But hurry! Please take her. Get her out of here.'

But the woman doesn't hurry. All her movements are assured, and I suppose that has the effect of calming the rest of us down. She kneels and gently checks over Det's belly.

‘Hi there, Det,' she says. ‘How are you feeling, darlin'?'

Between moans, Det answers her as best she can.

The woman asks a few more questions as she times the pains, and then the guy kneels on the other side and they both listen with the stethoscope and confer quietly, all the while murmuring reassuringly to Det.

The rest of us watch apprehensively, longing for the moment when they're going to hoist her onto that stretcher. But when they look under Det's dress I see the surprise on their faces.

‘Oh.' The woman smiles.

‘Please get her to hospital,' Cassie says desperately.

‘No time, love. This baby is ready now.'

Oh God.
Stella and I look at each other and we start to move away at the same time, but the ambulance woman motions us back.

‘Stay where you are, girls,' she says calmly. ‘I just need to ring back to base. Just stay holding hands with her, will you?' She smiles at us. ‘You're all doing so well.'

And so we hold Det's sweaty hands as the young man lifts her onto a couple of sterile sheets and puts more pillows behind her. She grunts and moans and continues to grip our hands.

‘You're doing well, love,' the young man says, so kindly. ‘Really good.'

‘Fantastic,' the woman interrupts her phone call to agree.

‘I never knew having a baby would be so noisy,' Stella whispers to me.

Minutes tick by slowly. The grunts and groans, the puffing and shrieking are so visceral that it feels a bit like hell. When there is a knock on the door Cassie gets up.

The woman calls to her from where she is kneeling next to Det on the floor.‘We don't need any more people in here, sweetie,' she says calmly. ‘Perhaps you can tell whoever it is there that we'll be done soon?'

‘Okay.' Cassie's face is the colour of chalk. ‘I'll just stand guard outside, okay?'

Cassie wants to be as far from the action as is politely possible and I have to say that I feel the same. As I'm thinking about scrambling to my feet to join Cassie, the pace suddenly changes.

Det begins to pant as if she is running hard, rocking back and forward, and the woman pulls Det's dress up to her chest and …

I see it.

I see the head come out first. Then along with a lot of sobbing and grimacing, and gasping and pushing from Det, the whole body sort of plops out into the waiting arms of the paramedic! It sounds like a wet foot being extracted from a rubber boot.

Stella and I hang onto Det and each other, watching spellbound, our mouths hanging open. The little one has struggled free, all bloody, gasping and mewing like a cat, covered in all kinds of mucky stuff, and doesn't seem to be all that impressed with the surrounds. But there is thick black hair on the head and fingernails on every finger and with the first cry I realise the truth of what I've just seen …

How amazing to think that every single person on the earth started this way! How could it be that all of us were this small and bloody and helpless? It doesn't seem possible. I'm so stunned I can't speak.

‘A boy, Det,' Stella whispers. ‘You've got a boy.' She is right. Along with the amazing little round head covered in the black fluffy hair, the arms, tiny hands and feet and legs and round belly, there are testicles and a tiny penis.

Stella and I are both crying as we plant tearful congratulatory kisses on Det's brow. Down the other end the woman and the young man do what they have to; cutting the cord I suppose, and helping to expel the rest of what has to come out.

Det is lying back, completely out of it. The young man, Tony, lifts the squirming baby up onto her tummy and whispers encouragingly. Det takes hold of the babe, cradling the little bottom, the other hand around his head, but she doesn't open her eyes.

Cass comes back into the room along with Nick, who was outside. The two of them stand by the door looking on in awe.

‘Baby is fine,' the woman says softly, wiping Det's forehead with a sponge. ‘Breathing well and a good weight. You've done so well, Det.'

At last, Det opens her eyes and looks down at the baby, but she doesn't smile or laugh. In fact, she frowns as she examines the tiny hands and feet and then she tips the baby to the side a certain way so she can see his face, and then, after checking him all over, holds him out for the woman to take.

‘Keep holding him, love.'

‘No, no thanks,' Det whispers. The woman takes the baby and sponges him down a little and then wraps him in a couple of little white blankets. She puts an encouraging arm around Det's shoulders and urges her again to take the baby.

‘Such a little beauty.' The woman's tone is very gentle. ‘Isn't he?'

‘Yes.' Det leans forward and runs her thumbs over the baby's closed eyes.

‘You want him back?'

‘No.' Det lolls back again and closes her eyes.

I realise then that even up to the last ten minutes the whole idea of this baby was just a dream, plainly ridiculous. From the time she first told me she was pregnant I was secretly hoping that something might happen so she wouldn't have to go through with it. But he is here now. No longer just an idea or a vague notion or a plan; he's here and he's as real as the desk in the corner. In fact, this is the most real thing I think I've ever seen. I am beside myself, desperate for her to hold this little being she has just produced.

Come on, Det. Come on.

Nick comes forward and kneels down next to Det and holds out his arms for the baby. The nurse places the swaddled infant carefully into the crook of his arm and the rest of us crowd around Nick shyly for a better look. I can see that the two ambulance officers have become a little perturbed about Det's seeming disinterest in the baby. They smile as they watch us touching the baby's head, and then when Stella insists on a hold they help Nick pass the baby over, but I can see they're waiting for Det to return from wherever she is behind her eyes to claim him back.

Two more paramedics arrive with a special wheelchair.

‘Time we moved,' Penny says after it has all been set up. ‘Time to get you two to hospital. What about you hold baby on the way down?'

Det takes her baby then. She doesn't gush or cry or even smile, but she holds the baby firmly as she is shifted onto the wheelchair and then she seems to close her eyes again as they wrap blankets around her.

‘Will you hold him for me, Stella?'

Stella looks at the woman, who gives her the nod, and Stella takes the baby.

‘Okay.' Penny smiles at Det as she tucks in the blankets and packs up her things. She waves around at us all. ‘You've got brilliant friends, Det.'

Det opens her eyes and stares at her, then looks around at us as though she can't quite remember where she is or how she got there.

Once she is in the lift with the paramedics and Stella, who is holding the baby, the rest of us rush for the stairs outside to watch her being put into the back of the ambulance.

The ambulance officer takes the baby from Stella and puts him back in Det's arms.

‘You want anyone with you, love?' Tony asks.

‘I'll come, Det,' I say immediately, ‘if you want. Stella and me?'

‘That's a great idea.' Penny smiles at us.

Det shakes her head. ‘No,' she whispers.

‘You sure?' I take her hand.

Det nods closes her eyes. I motion to the woman that I want a minute with Det. She moves out of the way and I climb all the way into the ambulance.

‘Det,' I say softly, squeezing her hand, ‘will you be okay being admitted to hospital on your own?'

She nods and squeezes back.

Stella climbs in on the other side of her.

‘Thanks, Peach, but …'

‘But …'

‘But what?'

‘I'd better warn you,' she whispers, ‘that I'm probably going to bow out pretty soon.'

‘You mean?' This is unthinkable now. Panic grips me. I shake my head, lost for words.
She can't do this! Not now … Not now we've
seen him.
I look at Stella.

‘I'll only fuck it up,' Det mumbles.

‘You won't, Det,' Stella says calmly.

‘I'm a head case.'

‘You're a fantastic person.'

Det opens her eyes and grins at us both and it's like the old Det has come back for a moment.

‘I don't think so.' She smiles and closes her eyes.‘Not so fantastic.'

By this stage some of the launch guests are crowding around, most of them half-pissed, shouting out congratulations and best wishes. Stella and I climb out of the ambulance.

‘Have you got a name?' someone shouts as the ambulance doors are about to close.

Det shakes her head sadly.

The doors slam shut and the ambulance reverses out through the gate. Cassie, Nick, Stella and I rush out onto the street to wave her off.

Once the ambulance disappears, Cassie rushes back to the launch to take care of things. So it's just us three left, Nick, Stella and me, walking slowly back towards the convent. None of us speak.

‘If she doesn't want him, I do!' Stella suddenly yells before bursting into a flood of tears.

‘You'll have to fight me for him,' Nick says, his voice hoarse with emotion, and puts his arm around Stella.

‘And me,' I say quietly. They don't hear me. But it's true. I mean it. That baby is ours now. He belongs to us all.

‘You go home,' I say when Stella clicks off the phone from telling Mum what has happened. ‘I'll just go up and make sure Det's studio is locked.'

‘You want us to wait?'

‘No thanks.'

I don't turn the light on immediately but stand against the door and breathe in the faint smells of sweat and blood that are still there in spite of the half-opened window.

How strange to be in this quiet room now when less than half an hour ago it was filled with people, and the noise and drama of someone being born. I walk over to the window and look out.

I can just see Stella in the dim light standing near the gate with Nick, along with some other figure I can't make out. Three dark shapes in the strange light. Remnants of the launch crowd trickle past them, chattering and laughing and calling their goodbyes as they make their way towards the big gates.

Across from me is the other wing of the convent, so pretty with the few yellow lights blazing, and above it the spires and roofline against the big, bright, star-filled sky.

Did she come tonight, I wonder. The launch was well advertised. Did my mother sneak in to look at Det's paintings? Did she see
Blood Ties
too?

A baby has been born in this very room and it fills me with an odd kind of wonder. I know it happens a million times every day in every country, yet I feel as though I have just witnessed a miracle.

Tonight I need God and … not just any God. I don't want some vengeful old man in the sky, or some self-proclaimed prophet hanging on a cross. I don't want Zeus or Buddha or Shiva.

I want someone or something bigger than me to care about this child. Not only that, I need that same being to be prepared to put in motion all that needs to happen for that little boy to be safe. I'm not saying I believe this will happen, only that I must at least ask. So where do I find God?

It's not my father or my mother, but it's me, O Lord, standing in the
need of prayer …

Not my father or my mother but … me.

The old spiritual that we sang at my last school speech night comes to mind. I remember liking it at the time, all the the sadness and the longing in it. I had no idea what it was about then, but I do now.

That's what I need. Prayer. But how do you do it? I don't kneel down. That would be too much. But I stand with my elbows on the windowsill. I close my eyes and try to conjure up something that feels like God. It shouldn't be that difficult, I tell myself; after all, my own mother presumably did this
every single day
at my age in a room just like this one. And my grandmother is still doing it.

But it turns out I'm no good at praying. I only get as far as a star-spangled sky with galaxies gliding grandly through space, our little planet so tiny and helpless, spinning around the outside of the sun, and a sort of cosmic breath blowing through it all and … I lose focus. The whole edifice crumbles away.

I have come into this room to find God and …
he isn't here.

I pull down the window, lock Det's room and walk downstairs into the night. I let myself out the side door and through the main gate.

Passing the big bluestone church, I see that the door is open and I walk into its gloomy interior. There is some kind of ceremony going on. I don't know what it is, but an old priest is tottering around mumbling something; there are only a few other lonely souls in the pews.

I walk up the aisle and park myself in one of the pews and stare up at the mural above the altar.

Mary is ascending through the clouds towards heaven, with a legion of angels accompanying her on either side. Hands joined in prayer, she is on her way to some better place. Her expression is serene rather than happy, as though she might be holding a great secret. My grandmother would have seen this image every morning at Mass and likewise my mother.

And now … here I am.

But my knowledge of Mary is as scant as my knowledge of her son. Jewish and poor, she had a baby in a stable and then had to watch that same child get horribly murdered thirty-three years later. And now, two thousand years after the event, here she is caught mid-flight on her way to the next life.