And Annie would say, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
Jane lay back on the pillow, exhausted by the contraction that had rippled along her. “I’m glad you’re here. I always thought you’d be here, if I had a baby.”
And Annie remembered something from the happy fog when she’d had Jacob—Jane had been the first one there, almost before Annie had held him herself, bursting in with balloons and a blue teddy the size of a small dog. Hugging Mike, delightedly. Had it been there, even then? Should Annie have seen it, the thing that was growing between Mike and Jane?
No. She wasn’t going down that road again. She couldn’t let every good memory turn black in her hands, like rotting fruit, tainted by her own misery and pain. Jane had been her best friend. Mike had been her husband. It hadn’t started until after they lost Jacob and everything fell apart. She had to believe that.
The doctor between Jane’s legs looked up, her face tense behind her mask. “Okay, Mrs. Hebden.”
Annie almost said, Yes? She bit her tongue.
“Jane, I need you to give one big last push. She’s ready to come out.”
“But Mike isn’t here! Where the fuck is he? I’ll never forgive him, never.”
“We can’t wait. On you go. One last big push.”
Jane screamed, a sound so loud Annie thought it might tear her in two, and she felt the strain in her own hand, crushed almost to the bones, and all the way down her arms. She yelped, and then suddenly, just like that, there was another voice, and another person in the room. A slithery lump was slipped onto Jane’s chest, all blood and mucus, a little tuft of dark hair, eyes crumpled shut. “A little girl,” said the doctor. “Congratulations, Mum.”
Mum. Annie found she was sobbing. No one had ever called her that. Jacob had never said it, never would. They were all crying, her and Jane and the baby, too, red-faced and squalling. “Is she okay?” Jane groped at the baby, blindly pulling her close. “Is she all right?”
“She’s beautiful,” said Annie. “She’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”
*
Later—she wasn’t sure how much later—she was sitting in the chair by the bed while Jane slept, conked out. In Annie’s arms was the baby, as yet nameless, wrapped in a white waffle blanket. One hand was clenched in a little fist. Annie was rocking her, very gently, jiggling her against her body, when the door opened.
Mike stared at her—his ex-wife—holding his baby. “What...?”
A thrill of fear went through Annie. What must he think, her being there? She jumped up so quickly the baby stirred, making a small mewing sound. “They couldn’t find you. I was here—my friend’s sick—so Jane asked for me. I... Here!” She held the baby out like a Christmas present.
Mike was staring, oscillating between Jane and Annie and his child. “I—I’d turned my phone off. We had a row... Jesus. It wasn’t meant to be for another month!”
“Well, here she is!”
“She?”
“Yup. You have...” Annie’s mouth suddenly filled with tears. “You have a daughter, Mike. Here. Look at her. She’s perfect.”
He took the baby in his arms, looking at her the way he’d looked at Jacob. “I can’t believe this. You were here, the whole time?”
“I’ve got the broken hand to prove it.” She held hers up, then jumped again as Mike grabbed it.
“Annie, I wasn’t here. I can’t believe I wasn’t here. She must hate me. I’m sorry. I’m struggling to take this in.”
“I don’t know if she’ll remember most of it,” Annie lied.
“We had a fight—I said she shouldn’t have let you in the house that time. She felt so awful about it! She’s been miserable ever since. She thought we’d be punished somehow, for what we did to you...and now here’s the baby coming early...”
“She’s fine, the doctor said. Just a bit small.”
His face twisted in on itself, and Annie realized he was going to cry, too, just to complete the set. “What if it happens again, Annie? I can’t bear it. I...” He bent his head to the baby, a sob tearing from him. “I didn’t even want another one! I can’t stand it if I lose her, too!”
Annie took the baby back, gently. “You won’t, Mike. What happened to Jakey—it was just terrible bad luck. It won’t happen again.”
He bawled into his fists. “How can you even talk to us?” he said, muffled. “After what we did? What I did? You must hate us.”
Annie shrugged helplessly. “I... I hated everyone for a while. You. Her. Me most of all. But... I guess things have changed recently. You and me—we couldn’t have got through it, anyway, could we?”
“I just couldn’t reach you. I felt so hopeless. I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know,” soothed Annie (though she didn’t think she’d ever be entirely sure). “We were broken, you and me, and you just got on with your life. It isn’t a crime. Just because I didn’t know how to.”
“She was so desperate for you to forgive her.”
“I do,” said Annie. “I do, really.” It might even have been true. Even if it wasn’t—even if Mike had done the worst thing imaginable to her—it didn’t seem to matter now. Not when there was a whole new person in the world.
He was still sobbing, incoherent. Annie directed him to the chair, then walked the baby around the room, soothing her back to sleep. She looked up to see Polly peering through the door, leaning up from her wheelchair and shielding her eyes to see. Quietly, Annie eased the door open, holding a finger to her lips. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!”
“I got bored. What the hell’s going on? You’ve been gone hours.”
“This happened.” Annie hoisted the baby in her arms.
“Is that...? Holy God. You were her birthing partner?”
“Didn’t have much choice. Mike was AWOL.” They were whispering.
“That’s him?” Polly nosied around the door at heaving-shouldered Mike and zonked-out Jane. “Annie, you’re going to have to tell me every single detail of this.”
“I will. But...look at her.” She held the baby out for Polly to see.
“Oh, my God. She’s so small.”
“I know.” Annie felt the rush of tears again. “She looks just like him. She really does. Jacob.”
“Oh, Annie.” Polly’s strained face was kind. “You’re going to have another baby one day. I just know it. Lots of cute babies, maybe with kilts on.”
“Stop.” Annie wiped her face on her sleeve, as her hands were full of the baby, who looked up with dark blue eyes. Seeing everything for the first time. A whole world in front of her, shiny and new. “I’ll be okay. I promise. But for now...say hello to someone who was, for a little while earlier at least, the world’s newest person.”
DAY 68
Bring people together
“So then it’s into the bunny hole, run around the tree, out of the bunny hole, away runs he!”
“It’s harder than you make it look, Mrs. C,” Polly said, struggling with the needles and wool. Annie knew she didn’t have the strength in her wrists to even hold them up.