Читать книгу Hello, My Name is May - Rosalind Stopps - Страница 12

CHAPTER SIX

November 1977

Hull

May couldn’t imagine life before the weekly meetings with Helen. Helen understood her, accepted her for who she was.

‘I’m so glad to see you,’ May said on the third visit to the department store cafe. ‘I feel stronger now that I have you to talk to, less stupid. It’s because you’re in the same boat, or a similar boat or something, you know what I’m talking about. That’s it, I think; either that or the fact that you never pick me up on the stupid things I say.’

‘May,’ said Helen, ‘where’s all this talk of stupid coming from? You’re not stupid at all, and it’s a horrible word. I think you’re strong, and clever.’

‘Yes, and maybe that waiter over there is Lord Lucan,’ May said.

‘I suppose he does have a bit of a look about him,’ Helen said.

Both women laughed uneasily.

‘A look of what?’ May said. ‘A look that he could have murdered his nanny, tried to murder his wife? Is it that easy to see?’

Helen stared into her tea.

‘Aren’t most men capable of it, if they’re pushed, I mean?’ she said.

‘No!’ May said. ‘Certainly not my Alain, anyway. Do you know, he can’t even bear to hurt wasps, he collects them in a glass or a jar and puts them outside, he doesn’t like killing anything at all.’

Helen didn’t say anything, and May could see there was something wrong.

‘Never mind Lord Lucan,’ she said, ‘there’s something wrong, I can see it, and I’m here if you want to talk.’

May felt like the most useless friend ever. She had hoped that she could talk to Helen today about the terrible business with the Welsh Film Board, but she could see that Helen had her own demons, and she should have realised that more quickly. Alain’s right, May thought, I’m rubbish at empathising. I have Alain at home, and Helen hasn’t got anyone, and I’m still putting myself first.

‘It’s probably nothing,’ Helen said, ‘and I hope it’s OK for me to go on about it, but I’m worried. I think Frank has been hanging around. My ex, daddy dearest. I haven’t actually seen him, but, oh, I don’t know, it could be my hormonal brain playing tricks on me, I’m not sure. Only there seem to be little clues all the time, tiny things. So small that I’m never sure if I’m just imagining them. Flyers in the hallway of my flats, for a pizza place we went to together. But thousands of flyers, and yes, they could have been dumped, before you say it. But it’s a coincidence, you have to admit. And there’s also the flat itself.’

‘What?’ said May. ‘Has he got into the flat? Surely not, Helen, oh no. How? What do you mean?’

‘It’s honestly probably nothing,’ Helen said, ‘and I’ll scare both of us if I keep going on about it.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ said May, ‘I’m not the one who has to live with it. It’s you I’m worried about. And, for the record, I’ve always been a scaredy cat, my mum used to say I was frightened of my own shadow. You’re much braver than me, honestly.’

May shifted in her chair. The truth was, the idea of her brave, strong friend Helen being terrified was terrifying all by itself, whatever the reason.

‘It would be great to talk it through,’ said Helen, ‘because the thing is, I might be wrong, it might be my imagination playing tricks on me, I don’t know. All I know is, I’ve got a strong feeling, a really strong feeling, that Frank has been in the flat. More than a head feeling, it’s a sort of gut feeling. Sometimes I think he leaves these stupid clues. One dead flower in the middle of the table, the book I’ve been reading moved from the side of my bed and put back on the bookcase, or once, in the fridge. That kind of silly stuff.’

‘But that could be something you’ve done and then forgotten, you know, pregnancy amnesia, that kind of thing. I left my purse on my pillow a couple of days ago, then went out to buy milk.’

‘I thought that too,’ said Helen, ‘right up until the dead flower. That was yesterday. It was a red rose. May, you either have roses in your home or you don’t, and I didn’t, there was nowhere it could have come from.’

‘How could he get in?’ May asked. ‘And are you sure, about the rose, that you hadn’t had some and forgotten to throw them away or something?’

‘I didn’t have a rose in the place, I’m sure of it. And I’ve been thinking about how he could have got in, when he’d given me back his key. In fact I’ve been thinking about little else. I’ve got a vague memory of getting a new one cut for him, months ago when I was first pregnant. He’d lost his. Now I’m thinking, either that was a big fat lie and he never really lost it, or maybe he’s found it again. Either way, it doesn’t really matter, I’m in trouble.’

‘Oh Helen, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry. You could come to mine, only…’

‘Hey,’ said Helen, ‘that’s fine, I didn’t mean that, I hadn’t even thought of it. You’re living in a shared house with a baby due any day, I didn’t mean that. I could still be wrong, anyway.’

‘Where will you go, if he turns up again?’

‘I’ll go to that hostel for battered wives, the one in the town centre. I went there the other day and spoke to someone. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Let’s talk about something else, this is creeping me out. What’s new for you?’

‘Ha,’ said May, ‘there’s only one story in my particular town.’

‘Let me guess, does it begin with Welsh and end with Board?’

May laughed despite her anxiety.

‘How do you do that?’ she said. ‘How do you make me laugh even when I’m worried? It’s a gift. You should market it.’

‘I could be a comedian,’ Helen said. ‘Can women be comedians?’

‘They bloody well ought to be. OK, I’ll tell you what happened, at the risk of ruining the moment. The police called round last week, and apparently it’s a crime, writing a cheque when you know you have no money in the bank. It’s called, obtaining pecuniary advantage by deceptive means.’

May shuddered as she remembered it. There had been two policemen, just like in the movies, and they both seemed impossibly huge. One of them had been kinder than the other. He seemed embarrassed that they had to go through the whole sorry process, charging her, arranging an appointment for her to come to the station, all that. The other one seemed to revel in it.

‘Have you got a husband?’ he asked. ‘Only if my missus was out running up bills she couldn’t pay when she was up the duff I’d have something to say.’

He’s out, May had thought. He’s out like he always is when I need him, and what’s more I’m glad he’s out because I couldn’t cope with him being here. They didn’t stay long, the policemen, just long enough to make May feel as though the whole house had been contaminated.

‘I guess that little one in there,’ the smug policeman said, pointing to May’s stomach, ‘that little sprog will put an end to your shenanigans. Either that or you’ll train him to pick pockets.’

They both found this hilarious, but May felt angry enough to break walls with her bare hands. She wished that she could explain to Helen how odd her life had become.

‘But the Welsh Film Board,’ Helen said. ‘Did you show them the letter that said they would reimburse you if you stayed in any hotel in Bangor? Surely that changes things?’

‘I’m afraid not. I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere. I was sure I put it in my tray on my dressing table. I’m quite organised about stuff like that, you have to be if you live in a shared house. Alain says I probably threw it away, you know, in a forgetful pregnancy moment, but I didn’t, I’m sure of it.’

‘I believe you,’ said Helen. ‘So what happened next?’

‘Well I told them about the letter, obviously I did, but they just laughed and said a crime was a crime was a crime and that I had to have an official caution. Helen, it was terrible, I had to go to the police station for it and everyone was looking at me.’

‘Did you go on your own?’

May nodded.

‘You’re bonkers, I would have come with you. And Alain, why wasn’t he there?’

May flushed. ‘He really doesn’t cope well with the police,’ she said. ‘Honestly, I can see the way you’re looking at me but it’s true, he’s quite sensitive.’

Helen snorted. ‘And you?’ she said. ‘Aren’t you a bit sensitive too? Did you even tell him, May?’

May hadn’t told him, but she could see now how stupid that seemed.

‘I’m going to,’ she said, ‘I’m definitely going to but I’ve got to wait for the right moment.’

My life has turned into a series of ‘waiting for the right moments’, she thought.

‘Alain is quite, erm, stressed at the moment. He’s finding it hard, all this waiting for the baby and not having a job that he thought he had and all that.’

May had thought that Helen might dismiss her worries but she seemed to understand straight away. She looked at May, really looked at her, and May squirmed, unable to meet Helen’s eyes.

‘Hey, it’s not your fault. I know what you’re going through, honestly.’

But mine isn’t a complete baddy like yours, May thought. Mine can knit, mine can sing, mine can talk about poetry.

‘I’m not saying Alain is as bad as Frank, not at all,’ Helen said, as if she could read May’s thoughts, ‘but I can see that you’re not at ease, May, that’s the thing. You’re not comfortable, or relaxed, and I’m still old-fashioned enough to think that those are things women ought to be, when they’re, what’s the common term for our condition?’

‘Up the duff,’ May said, thinking of the policeman, and the speckles of white foam at the corners of his mouth.

‘Let’s drink to that,’ Helen said and they clinked their teacups.

May wanted to change tack, talk about Helen’s problems. She felt that she had monopolised the conversation and she wanted to make absolutely sure that her friend was safe, but a sudden fierce cramping pain made her unable to think about anything else. This can’t be it, May thought, not here in Binns cafe with my friend. It felt like a stomach cramp, as though she had eaten something bad.

‘Helen,’ she said, ‘I think there’s something wrong. My stomach. It really hurts.’

Helen put her hand on May’s.

‘Do you think you might be having a baby?’ she asked, and as May looked up she saw the twinkle in her friend’s eye.

No, May thought, no, this isn’t how I planned it. I’ve got no idea where Alain is.

‘I can’t start without Alain,’ she said.

Helen laughed. ‘Did anyone ever explain to you that giving birth is not like having a meal in a restaurant? You can’t book it for a convenient time. Hang on here and I’ll go to the phone box across the road in the station and ring the hospital, nothing will happen for a while, trust me, I’ve read every book there is. I’ll come with you, if you’d like.’

May thought that she would like that very much. It would have been lovely to have Helen by her side, gentle and encouraging. Another pain bit into her and May wondered what on earth she was thinking. Alain had longed for this moment, prepared for it, read about it, and had a phone installed in the flat with the last of the money her mother had left her. The phone. That was what she needed to do.

‘Please can you go to the phone box and ring the hospital and Alain?’ May said. ‘Tell him to meet me there? You could say we just met. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love it if you could be there. Women’s lib and all that. But blimey, Helen, he’s even read the book. He’s desperate to be there. Ow,’ she broke off as the pain crunched through her. ‘It hurts, I’ve always been a coward. Take no notice, don’t let me scare you.’

May gave Helen a slip of paper with the phone number on it. Helen squeezed May’s hand and took off for the phone box, leaving May sitting at the table. The contraction tapered off and May put her hand on her bump, surprised at how hard and solid it felt, and how fast things seemed to be going. All the books had talked about gentle contractions at the beginning, time to get in tune with your body, easing your way into labour and things like that. This was more like a sudden onset thunderstorm. May didn’t feel ready.

She was crying when Helen returned.

‘I’m not sure I’m ready for this right now,’ May said. ‘Sorry, sorry, did you get through to Alain?’

Helen gave May a tissue and patted her hand.

‘I did, and there’s nothing to apologise for, nothing to worry about, my friend. We can talk about everything later,’ Helen said. ‘You make notes and tell me how it goes. You’ve got a job to do now, and you’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll be thinking of you.’

I’m not like you, May was thinking, even as her body screeched into gear, flexing muscles she hadn’t known she had, I’m not on my own, I’m so lucky. Alain isn’t like Frank, he’s just having a difficult time. My situation isn’t as bad, I’m not like you. I’m not a battered wife or anything, I’ve read articles about them and my Alain is an angel.

‘It’s all fine,’ she said, hoping that Helen would understand. ‘Alain will be here any minute, I know he will. He’s an amazing man, so funny, so clever. He’s a sensitive man. He knits. Oh,’ May put her head on the table, trying to remember the breathing she had learned from her book, ‘oh, this bloody hurts.’

‘Maybe it would help if you stop worrying about Alain. Just concentrate, woman, you can do it.’

When May tried to put the events that followed in order later, she wasn’t sure what went where. There was an ambulance, and a stretcher, and a solicitous manager offering free teas for a month, and Helen giggling at that.

‘You’re quite safe,’ May remembered Helen saying, ‘she’s not going to be battering down the doors begging for a cuppa for a while, I think she’s going to be busy, don’t you?’

The manager blushed. ‘A year,’ he said, ‘a year, I meant a year, have free teas for a year, and have a lovely day.’

Even May managed to laugh at that as the ambulance men wheeled her out of the restaurant and into the lift. She was sure that she could walk but they wouldn’t let her. Nowhere in the books had it said that things would go this quickly. May wished that she could meet the authors of the books and punch them.

May didn’t see Helen go. One minute she was there, the next she had gone, taking her comfortable, calming presence with her. May felt very alone.

It seemed ages before Alain came. May lay in the hard hospital bed and watched the clock on the wall move from afternoon to evening. The pain became a part of her, an extra limb, and she became so used to it that she forgot from time to time why it was happening.

When Alain arrived, May was surprised to find that she felt fairly indifferent, too busy with her body to be thrilled. He bent to kiss her and she registered a smell of the outside, of life beyond the walls of this small room. A combination of fried food, unwashed skin and traffic fumes, and she wondered if he always smelled like that.

‘Hey,’ he said, ‘darling, I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. There was traffic, and this old woman had dropped her shopping and I had to help her pick it up, there was no one else around, I’m sorry.’

May felt as though the pain had washed her clean, cleared her mind. She wondered which part, if any, of what Alain had just said was true.

‘Does it hurt much?’ Alain said, holding her hand and rubbing it.

Stupid question of the century, May thought.

‘Not now you’re here,’ she said. She wondered if he would be able to tell that she didn’t mean it.

‘My brave darling,’ he said. May thought that he sounded just as insincere as she did, as though they were both reciting lines from different scripts. She pulled her hand back and decided to be more honest. Maybe then they’d feel more like a team.

‘You should try it,’ she said. ‘Lie down on the floor and get someone to drive across your stomach with a steam roller, like they use to lay roads. Make sure they keep doing it, every few minutes. Should be a doddle.’

Alain smiled and rubbed her hand some more. May forced herself to smile. Stop the bloody hand rubbing, she thought, and resolved to tell Helen later how annoying she had found it. It would make her laugh. She could see from the way that Alain looked at her that he was expecting her to spare him by being quiet and stoic, and she knew that she had to try. It was important to get this right, she could remember that even though she was no longer sure why. She hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. At the antenatal class they had told her to practise breathing while she twisted the flesh on her thigh and May was good at that, she could twist until her thigh was bruised, but this was way, way worse than a bruised thigh.

May had chosen to give birth in a small cottage hospital. She had wanted an experience that was as natural as possible, minimum intervention like in the books, and she tried to remember that, concentrate on it, make it happen even though she was frightened.

‘Keep going, honey,’ Alain said, ‘you’re doing so well.’

Am I? May thought. Am I really? Do I have any choice?

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ May said, ‘I really am. Just us and our baby.’

She winced as another pain tore through her. Maybe it would hurt less if she could stop thinking so much, go with the flow.

‘You’re so brave, my darling,’ said Alain.

He loves me, May thought, he loves me and I’m having a baby. It’s OK, everything is OK. I can do this, come on, baby.

He held her hand again and bent towards her.

He sang the song they had listened to as they first made love, and May felt stronger for hearing it. So what if they had some little problems, she thought, he was here with her when it mattered. Another pain began, harsher this time, and May clung to Alain.

‘No one said it would be like this,’ she said. ‘Why is it hurting so much? Do you think there’s something wrong?’

‘Here,’ said Alain, ‘let me put this cold cloth on your head. I’ll tell you a story, if you like, about the animals in the Hundred Acre Wood. They all have babies too, you know, how do you think Piglet got born?’

May tried to relax, to go with the pains and listen to Alain’s voice, so calm and familiar. She couldn’t concentrate on the content of what he was saying, and he obviously knew that, because once or twice she realised that he was repeating himself. It didn’t matter, what was important was his tone, so soothing. He stopped whenever the pain got too bad, and pressed the cold flannel to her head. If she had been truthful, she didn’t much like that, the feeling of wetness seemed a little too much to cope with, but May didn’t say. She was grateful that he was there, by her side at this special time.

‘Anything you’re worried about, just tell me,’ he said, ‘we can be completely open with each other now. This is the time of our lives, May.’

The time of your life, maybe, May thought. You’d feel differently if you were being squeezed to death from the inside out by an alien creature. Another rogue thought to tell Helen. She waited until the next big pain was gone before speaking again.

‘Really?’ she said. ‘Do you mean that? Only I never understood, about the Welsh Film Board, and why they didn’t pay the money they promised, for the hotel.’ May shouted the last word as another pain threatened to swallow her whole. There. She’d said it. Maybe it was the injection the midwife had given her, some kind of truth drug along with the pethidine.

‘Hotels, money, what on earth are you talking about?’ Alain said. ‘Have you gone crazy? Do you want me to call someone?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s the drugs, ignore me.’ Not the time, she said to herself, not the time, not the time. It’s all OK.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

May started to cry.

‘Come on now, no need for waterworks,’ the midwife said when she came in to check her progress. ‘We’re getting there, we’re rolling along nicely. Bun’s in the oven, almost cooked.’ She laughed at her own joke. May held her hand out for a tissue and Alain handed it to her.

‘I think it’s just hard for her,’ Alain said. ‘We’re new to all this.’

‘Bless you,’ the midwife said, ‘what an understanding man you’ve got there, Mum. Don’t you worry now, it’ll all be over soon and you won’t remember anything, you’ll probably be back here next year having another one, you’ll like this one so much.’

She went off, chuckling again at her own joke. May stared at Alain.

‘Did she really say that?’ she said. ‘Tell me we’re not doing this again next year.’

Alain laughed, and the sound was comforting. ‘It’s not that I don’t want a football team of babies,’ he said, ‘not at all. But it isn’t me who has to go through all this pain, darling, so I’m am hereby and forthwith handing any decisions about future members of our family to you.’

May would have liked to laugh but everything hurt too much. She couldn’t believe that she had been fussing over money, hotel bills, all that stuff. What on earth did it matter when she had this helpful, kind, loving man by her side? The pain was terrible and getting worse, and she couldn’t deal with it on her own.

‘I’ve been rubbish recently,’ Alain said. ‘I want to be better to you, and to the baby, honestly I do. I don’t blame you for asking about the job, I’m just so ashamed that it didn’t work out, that I couldn’t provide for you. I’ve been feeling so odd, I can’t explain it. I’m going to try harder, I promise I am.’

‘It’s OK,’ said May. Her voice seemed to come from a long way away.

She raised her arms above her head and hung on to the bars of her bed head. It helped for a few seconds.

‘May,’ said Alain. For the first time, he sounded worried. ‘May, are you alright? Shall I get the midwife back in?’

Alain started to cry. May watched, but found it difficult to connect now that she had arrived at a place where terrible, excruciating physical pain had suddenly become completely normal. She steeled herself and, with an enormous effort, reached out and took his hand. For a while it was just the two of them, concentrating and working together. May pushed all of her other concerns to the back of her mind.

‘I couldn’t do this without you,’ she said.

We’re a team, she thought, together. Only once she thought she saw boredom in his face, but the next time she looked it was gone. May thought she might have imagined it.

‘Come on now, darling,’ he said as the pains got closer and closer together, ‘you can do this.’

May realised that the midwife had come back in to the room.

‘Is everyone alright?’ she asked. ‘Let’s have a look at you now. Goodness me you’ve moved on a fair bit, and hardly any noise at all. You’re a quiet one I must say.’

May felt grateful for the praise. See, she wanted to say, see, I’m doing this OK after all.

‘I think she’s amazing,’ Alain said, ‘I’d be terrified.’