‘Feelings of hopelessness and self-blame? Thoughts of suicide or self-harm?’ he probed gently. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs Cain,’ he added quickly, when Mel dropped her gaze.
Again, Mel nodded. She’d tried not to allow her mind to drift down that path in the dark hours, tried so hard, but seeing the hurt in Mark’s eyes, the confusion, yet perversely feeling compelled to hurt him more because of it, she had started to believe he would be better off without her. Knowing that he’d felt the need to talk to someone else, a female someone else, only compounded those feelings. Mel guessed Mark would never really understand how devastated she’d been, realising he hadn’t been able to talk to her.
Dr Meadows leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled thoughtfully under his chin. ‘I know you’ve struggled with these symptoms on a previous occasion, Melissa. The road to recovery isn’t an easy one, is it?’
‘No.’ Mel agreed wholeheartedly with that. The road she’d travelled had been a long and tortuous one, full of mountains to climb and potholes to trip her up.
‘Half the battle is admitting it, of course,’ he went on. ‘People can be judgemental. It’s human nature, I’m afraid.’ He paused and sighed. ‘Don’t judge yourself through their eyes. That’s the important thing to remember. Postnatal depression is common. If only mental health issues weren’t still thought of as a stigma, I’m sure many women would admit to feeling like you do.’
Would they, Mel wondered. Weren’t new mothers their own harshest judges?
‘We have the technology, we can fix it,’ he joked, winking.
Mel relaxed a little, which was obviously what he’d intended. If only it were that easy, though. ‘A brain transplant, you mean? Perfect.’ She smiled back. It felt good to do that. When did she lose her smile?
‘A short course of antidepressants initially, I think,’ he said. ‘Counselling possibly, if you feel the need to talk. It might help. Is your husband supportive, Mrs Cain?’
‘Yes,’ Mel answered hesitantly. ‘But… he’s been down this road before too.’ She let it hang.
He nodded. ‘If you don’t mind my suggesting, I think you’ll find he’d like to be. He arrived enquiring after you while you were with the nurse. He’s waiting for you.
* * *
Watching Mark’s expression change as he walked across to his child, Melissa felt joy tinged with unbearable, palpable pain. It felt as if her heart might tear apart inside her. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t Mark’s fault. It was her. Her problem. Her stupid, dysfunctional brain.
And now, where once he had been free to walk away, he would feel obliged to stay, because his love for Evie and Poppy was unequivocal. But could he really cope with this? Again?
‘Hey, little miracle,’ he said, taking Evie carefully into his arms and gazing wondrously down at her, as if he couldn’t quite believe her. Mel swallowed a tight lump in her throat.
‘She’s beautiful,’ the nurse said, sighing audibly as Mark bent to place a soft kiss on Evie’s forehead.
Mark smiled, the kind of warm, adoring smile fathers reserve for their children. ‘Like her mother,’ he said throatily, turning to face Mel.
Seeing the love in his eyes, peppered with crushing anxiety, Mel caught a sob in her throat. She had to get better. For Mark’s sake, for her children’s sake, she had to get well.
Thirty-Three
MARK
Unfastening Evie’s car seat, Mark lifted her out, and then breathed a sigh of relief as Mel’s car turned into the drive.
‘Here she is, baby,’ he said softly, waiting for Mel to pull up before he went inside. He couldn’t stay. Lisa had covered for him, but he needed to get back soon. He wished Jade was home. He wished to God Mel wouldn’t insist on driving. The last thing Mark wanted was for Mel to think he was trying to take away her independence, but, in his estimation, she shouldn’t be, particularly with a child in the car. She was exhausted and distracted, and he also feared that she’d started drinking during the day.
As if to demonstrate his point, Mel climbed out of her car, walked past him to the front door, and then went back for her keys. And then back for a second time for Evie’s baby bag.
‘Thanks for coming, Mark. We’ll be fine now,’ she said, walking past him again to unlock the front door. She reached for Evie’s carrier, as if expecting him to hand it over and go back to work.
‘I’ll bring her in.’ Mark smiled and stepped towards the house.
Mel nodded tightly, but moved aside, allowing him to carry Evie through. ‘Shall I take her up?’ he asked, as Mel followed him into the hall.
‘No.’ Mel returned his smile, but still she seemed miles away. ‘I thought I’d have her with me in the kitchen for a while. I’ve missed her company.’
Mark hesitated, thinking that Evie might be tired after all the excitement, which would probably make her fractious later.
‘I’ll take her up in a little bit,’ Mel said, pulling off her coat.
Mark nodded and carried Evie through to the kitchen, heading for the island in the middle of the room, where he hesitated again. Would she be all right parked up there? Of course she would, he chastised himself. Mel wasn’t likely to accidentally knock baby plus sizeable car carrier onto the floor. Still, though, he pushed the seat well into the centre of the work surface.
‘Have the assessors been yet?’ Mel asked, coming in after him as Mark eased Evie out of her coat.
‘Sorry?’
‘The fire assessors. I wondered if Jade had managed to get the go-ahead on the work to her house?’
Mark tried to think. He’d noticed that Jade didn’t seem to show much interest in the house. She’d barely been near the place. But then, it couldn’t be easy sifting through the burned-out remnants of your life, future plans turned to ashes. ‘A couple of weeks ago, I think. She said she was getting some estimates together. Why?’
‘No reason. I just wondered.’ Mel shrugged, looking preoccupied as she walked across to the kettle. ‘Do you like it?’ she asked out of the blue, leaving Mark struggling to keep up.
‘Like what?’ Checking Evie didn’t need changing, he headed for the fridge for her water.
‘My hair.’ Mel turned to him, her pretty green eyes awash with worries Mark had no clue about and felt powerless to help her with.
He looked her over, noting her pale complexion, which the hair colour did nothing to improve. ‘Truthfully,’ he said, hoping he wasn’t about to put his foot in it, ‘I prefer your natural colour.’
Seeming unperturbed, Mel nodded. ‘Coffee?’ she asked, turning away.
‘No. Thanks.’ Concerned at the seemingly random conversational leaps, Mark watched her carefully. ‘I have to get to work.’
‘Sorry. Yes, of course you do.’ Mel paused. ‘I’m thinking of changing it back.’
The hair, Mark assumed. ‘Good idea,’ he said, going back to Evie, who Mel hadn’t so much as glanced at since she’d come in.
‘Would you lie to me, Mark?’ Mel asked, completely out of left field.
‘Never,’ Mark answered straight off. In actual fact, he felt he was lying, right there, going along with her insistence in ignoring the elephant in the room. He wanted to talk to her about what was happening, not skirt around the issue, having this stilted, staccato conversation. How could he hope to help her if she wouldn’t confide in him? ‘Where did that come from?’
Mel ignored that, too. Or maybe she hadn’t heard him. From the impassive expression on her face, Mark wasn’t sure. Making her coffee in silence, she wandered to the back door, opened it and went out to sit at the patio table.
Minus coffee. Mark noticed it still sitting on the work surface. ‘Back in a minute, sweetpops.’ Evie seeming to have satisfied her thirst, he grabbed a paper towel to mop up the drips, and then followed Mel out with her drink.
‘I have to go soon, Mel,’ he reminded her, placing the coffee on the table and checking his watch, debating whether he should ring in and claim some emergency. But how many times could he do that? Perhaps he should keep it up his sleeve, in case there was another day when Mel needed him more. He shook off the thought. ‘Will you be all right?’
She didn’t respond.