A Mother’s Sacrifice. Gemma Metcalfe

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СКАЧАТЬ not. I love Cory, love the bones of him.

      Tamzin smiles thinly. ‘Well, it’s all bloody nonsense if you ask me. Never had any of this depression or postnatal thingamajig in my day. A good stiff drink and night out at the Bingo, that solved everything.’

      ‘I think you’ll find it’s always existed.’ I reach up for a strand of hair but refrain from pulling, not wanting to give Tamzin the satisfaction. ‘It hasn’t appeared out of thin air.’

      ‘Hmm,’ she replies, her lips pursed, as if sucking on something unpleasant. ‘I blame feminism. A lot of hairy women dancing around a campfire chanting about their rights. That’s what’s caused it, you mark my words.’ She pushes her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose. ‘Anyway…’ She stands up a little too quickly, which causes her to wobble. ‘If you do decide to have a funny turn, I’m sure I can step in for little Rory.’

      ‘It’s Cory,’ I mutter under my breath, as she staggers out of the room. ‘And in your bloody dreams.’

CHAPTER FOUR

      Louisa

      Now

      The back garden is pitch-black, the half-moon only allowing enough light to make out the solid shape of the shed and outline of the garden fence, which runs parallel to next door’s garden. I wrap my cardigan tightly around myself and make my way over towards James who is sat on the garden bench, the red glow from the tip of his cigarette acting as a beacon. The fierce wind lifts up my hair, smacking it full force into my face, leaving the bald spot behind my right ear exposed. I have to stop pulling out my hair. The health visitor will visit soon and if she notices the baldness she’ll probably take Cory away from me.

      I look down at the baby monitor in my hand, checking again that the green light is flashing. It pains me to leave Cory sleeping inside, but I sense that James needs me. He’s always subdued after his parents visit, which is understandable really; Tamzin has the ability to turn a jester suicidal. I swallow down my dislike for her, reminding myself that she’s Cory’s grandmother, the only one he’ll ever have.

      Sitting down beside James, I place my head on his shoulder. ‘Hey, you.’

      ‘Hey.’ He kisses the top of my head, which is a relief to say the least. He’s fine, I think to myself, he’s happy. Everything is as it should be. ‘How are you doing?’ he asks. ‘Sorry about Mum.’

      ‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about her, you know I take it with a pinch of salt. She doesn’t mean any harm, not really.’ I’m not sure that’s entirely true and yet I sense James needs to hear it.

      We sit for a few moments in silence, enjoying the warmth of each other’s body against the backdrop of the freezing cold night. He continues to smoke his cigarette, inhaling deeply and holding it in his lungs as if savouring the hit.

      I nudge him in the ribs. ‘Thought you were quitting when Cory was born?’

      Exhaling a sad laugh, he throws the butt on the ground and stamps on it. ‘Never going to quit with her as a mother.’ He tilts his head over towards the house even though Tamzin is long gone. ‘Did you hear her? My son’s not firing blanks, cause for celebration.’ His tone is mocking and yet his voice breaks ever so slightly.

      My stomach dips with guilt. ‘She talks rubbish. Anyway, you’re a father now, ignore her.’

      ‘I suppose.’ Standing up, he proceeds to pace up and down the path. Without the fiery ember of the cigarette, I can hardly see him, his silhouette only just visible. I look down again at the baby monitor to check the signal is still strong. Three red bars leap up to five, as if detecting sound. I jump to my feet.

      ‘What’s the matter?’ James’s voice is clipped.

      ‘Maybe Cory’s woken up?’

      ‘He’s not crying. He’ll be fine. Stay out here a little bit.’

      I chew on my bottom lip while continuing to look down at the monitor, which has suddenly dropped down to two bars. ‘I think I best go and check on him. This thing is really active. Best to be on the safe side.’

      ‘He’ll be fine.’ James’s voice is a little harder this time, almost as if he’s annoyed. He takes out a packet of cigarettes and lights one, tips the packet over towards me. ‘For old times’ sake.’

      I shake my head. ‘You know I haven’t smoked for years. I’m not about to start now.’

      ‘Suit yourself.’

      I take a deep breath, confused as to why he’s tempting me with cigarettes, especially so soon after giving birth to our son. He knows how hard it was for me to quit smoking, especially given my issues. Cigarettes and red wine have always been my crutches, but as soon as we began trying for a child, I managed to quit both of them.

      I have suffered with anxiety my whole life, depression coming and going in spits and spats. The illnesses are as much a part of me as my red hair and freckly skin. When I was a child I attended therapy for a while. The therapist’s name escapes me now but I remember how she smelt of ginger nuts and coffee, and her hair always looked messy even though her face was permanently plastered in make-up. She told me the darkness inside of me would one day go away, that it was only temporary, like a snotty nose or a grazed knee. I believed her at the time. I waited patiently for the scabs to heal, for her medicine to work its magic. But she was wrong. It wasn’t temporary, it wasn’t a grazed knee or a snotty nose. It was more like eczema, a lifetime affliction which flared up at the worst possible moments, needing only slight provocation.

      Now, many years later, I am finally starting to believe that the therapist might have been right, that finally I can be free. Cory has to be the cure to my illness. I owe it to him as much as I owe it to myself. ‘Is there something else bothering you?’ I ask James. ‘Apart from your god-awful mother.’ I slide my eyes over towards him and hold my breath, proud of my courage even though a part of me is terrified of his answer.

      A long silence stretches out between us. The smell of fresh smoke seeps up my nostrils and I feel my index and middle fingers twitch in response. ‘James?’ I whisper. ‘We can talk about whatever you want, you know.’

      He shakes his head, slowly, almost deliberately. ‘I’m fine, Lou… there’s nothing to talk about.’ He flicks his half-smoked cigarette into the bush behind him, plummeting his face back into darkness.

      ‘You should use an ashtray.’

      ‘Shhh.’ I sense him freeze. ‘Can you hear that sound?’

      I look over at him, his large bulk reminding me how small I really am. ‘Can I hear…?’

      ‘Quiet! I can hear something, in the trees… like footsteps.’

      My blood runs cold. I look over towards the rear garden fence, the wasteland beyond overrun with bushes and trees. The bare branches seem to morph into creatures of the night, the wind cutting between their openings creating an audible whistling noise. ‘No, you can’t. It’s just the wind.’ My words are shaky, my tongue suddenly feeling too large for my mouth. I instinctively look back down at the baby monitor where two bars have lazily dipped down to one. ‘The signal isn’t good here. I need to check on Cory. Finish your cigarette. I’ll make us a drink and some supper.’ Quickly, СКАЧАТЬ