‘How’s it going elsewhere?’ Lisa asked him, coming back from a call-out to the town centre, where a group of local youths had decided to break the tedium of hanging around looking bored and had phoned in a sighting of the girl. Another false alarm.
Mark guessed she was asking after Melissa. Edwards had pulled him up twice this week for tardiness, now the norm for him with pandemonium on the home front. Mel had gone from sleeping heavily to waking several times in the night, thus insisting on taking over the night feeds. Mark would have been glad of it, grateful, were it not for the fact that he felt he had to watch her like a hawk, which really didn’t make him feel great. Plus, it had thrown Evie’s routine into chaos. Jade must have the patience of a saint, Mark had decided. She hadn’t said so, but he’d guessed, from the look in her eyes, that she wasn’t happy trusting Mel with the baby. Mel was also trying to catch up and fill the orders that had come in from Garden & Homes head office. Mark had been relieved, until he’d helped her load some ceramic stuff into her car, only to discover a carrier bag full of empty wine bottles.
‘One day at a time.’ Mark smiled wearily in Lisa’s direction, glad she was concerned enough to ask. He’d discovered from Lisa the full extent of Mel’s reaction to his ill-timed text last week. Apparently, Mel had been reasonably calm, asking Lisa to leave and then telling her she didn’t think for one minute he’d fucked her, because he preferred younger women with tits. Mark still winced when he thought about that scenario. Lisa obviously didn’t text him early in the morning any more, which meant he was rarely up to speed when he did finally arrive at the station.
‘He’s still imagining the girl’s alive,’ Cummings said as he walked past Mark’s desk, heading for the door. Obviously, he had assumed they were discussing Daisy.
‘There’s always the possibility,’ Lisa pointed out.
‘No chance,’ Cummings called back from the corridor. ‘She’s pushing up daisies, mate.’
‘Crass bastard,’ Lisa tossed after him. ‘Can’t we do something about him?’ She turned back to Mark, visibly agitated. ‘I mean, do we have to share an office with the twat?’
‘It’s not easy when his old man’s Edwards’ golfing buddy, but, trust me, I’m trying,’ Mark assured her. Frankly, he’d rather work from the toilet than share an office with the man, but he was stuck with him, for now.
Sighing, he got to his feet. He’d pulled up a possible location – a pre-existing cottage on the perimeter of the Hawthorn Farm land. He needed to get uniforms together to check it out.
‘Maybe I’ll just hire a hitman,’ Lisa muttered moodily.
Mark’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Nice idea. Not allowed, unfortunately.’
‘Plan B then,’ Lisa said.
Mark arched an eyebrow.
‘Laxatives in his coffee, since he’s so fond of spouting crap.’
Mark shook his head as he collected up his jacket. ‘Messy,’ he said.
‘Mark… if you need anything, an ear anytime, you know where I am. Right?’
‘Cheers, Lisa.’ Mark nodded appreciatively. ‘I might take you up on that. But I think we have things pretty much under control for the moment.’
Assuming Mel accepted help getting things under control that was, and kept her doctor’s… Shit! Mark checked his watch and hurriedly pulled out his phone. He’d meant to call and remind her what time her appointment was.
Thirty-Two
MELISSA
After several unsuccessful attempts to feed Evie, to the exasperated stares of some of the patients in the waiting room, Mel gave up, close to tears. Hurriedly, she got to her feet, pressing Evie to her shoulder. She’d already tried rocking her, changing her, pushing her around in her stroller, waving the few toys they had in the surgery at her, walking around with her, but still Evie wailed as if she were being murdered.
Growing more and more fraught, Melissa almost had a heart attack when her phone rang, hurriedly grabbing it from her coat pocket. Seeing it was Mark, she hit answer and snapped into it, ‘What? I’m here!’
‘I thought I’d just check,’ Mark said. ‘Make sure you made it okay.’
‘It’s a trip to the doctor’s, Mark, not an Antarctic expedition. I do not need checking up on.’
‘Right.’ Mark paused. ‘Is that Evie crying?’
Mel was tempted to end the call. Who the hell did he think it was? ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘I’m trying to feed her.’
Mark paused, infuriatingly. If he could hear Evie crying, why didn’t he just go? ‘I take it Jade isn’t with you then?’ he asked cautiously.
‘No. I don’t need a babysitter either, Mark.’ Mel felt her hackles rising. ‘I’m an adult. I’m quite capable of driving myself to the doctors.’ She felt tears welling afresh, even as she said it. She did need a babysitter, for Evie. Clearly. But she was her mother. Why couldn’t she seem to do anything right for her?
‘You drove there?’ Now Mark sounded disbelieving.
Pulling the phone away from her ear, Mel stared at it and then ended the call. Why didn’t he trust her? Why did he keep watching her, as if waiting for her to fall? Was she falling? Had she only imagined she’d been happy and content such a short while ago? That Evie had? Her family?
Was it possible she was going mad? That she’d been the only one not to notice it, until now? Cold fear constricted her stomach, icy fingers tugging at her heart, at her mind. In this room full of people, she suddenly felt utterly alone.
‘What is it, sweetheart?’ she whispered, pressing her face to the top of Evie’s soft, downy head, breathing in the smell that was supposed to bind mother and baby together forever. Yet Evie didn’t want her. It was as if she could see, through her innocent child’s eyes, that her mummy wasn’t who she was supposed to be.
Mel wasn’t aware of the fat tears sliding down her cheeks, the anguished sob escaping her throat. She didn’t hear her name being called, until Dr Meadows spoke right next to her, slid an arm around her shoulders and steered her gently towards one of the nurses’ rooms.
* * *
Watching a nurse cooing to Evie, who was now gurgling happily, having drained a bottle of formula feed, Mel waited for Dr Meadows to finish going through her notes. She almost hadn’t come – but for Mark’s insistence, she wouldn’t have. She was glad she had now. Dr Meadows had been kindness itself, somewhat restoring Mel’s faith. Despite a growing queue of ever more disgruntled patients to see, he’d taken time out to make sure she was looked after, and, more importantly, that Evie was. He’d waited until she was composed and then fetched her personally back to his office, thus allowing her to avoid the hushed whispers and sympathetic glances in the waiting room. Mel really didn’t need those.
He’d listened while she’d garbled an apology, and waited while she explained that she had no idea why she was feeling this way, that things had been good in her life and that this feeling hadn’t crept up on her so much as hit her like a bombshell.
He’d asked her to explain how she was feeling. After a brief hesitation, Mel had, summarising symptoms she knew only too well: lack of energy, exhaustion, sleeping too much, too little, loss of appetite. She was irritable, easily agitated, apathetic in turns. Each admission tightened the knot of fear inside her. She had problems concentrating and making decisions. Mel ticked all the boxes for the bleak depression she’d thought she’d escaped. The scariest box of all was the feeling that she was unable to look after her own baby. That she might even harm her own baby.
‘And you’re struggling with feelings of guilt?’ Dr Meadows asked astutely, turning towards her. His eyes were full of compassion, with no sign of the judgement Mel had been so worried about. She felt guilty all over again for not seeking help sooner.
Drawing in a long breath, she nodded.