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‘Still,’ Jack says, but it feels as if the fight has gone out of him.
‘We don’t have to do anything right now,’ I reassure him. ‘Think about it for a while.’
Jack leaves a short while la
ter, and I clutch Alice, pacing the house, buzzing with nervous energy. Do I feel guilty for what I suggested? Am I betraying Milly? I think about it, as carefully as I can, and I decide that I am not. This is the best solution; it has to be. And so I tell myself that Jack will come around, the lawyer will come around, maybe Matt and Milly will, as well. It might just be a matter of time, because in my own head, it makes so much sense.
That evening, after I’ve put Alice to bed, I come downstairs, thinking I might talk to Matt, feel him out just a little. Perhaps I’ll ask if I can bring Alice back to my flat for a bit. After all, I should return to my own life, and yet Alice still needs me. It seems like a sensible first step.
But before I can say anything about that, Matt speaks first. ‘Anna, I’ve got some good news. I wanted to make sure it was happening before I said anything, but now it definitely is.’ He smiles at me, his expression weary yet full of joy. ‘Milly’s coming home tomorrow.’
For a few seconds, I can’t make sense of the words. I simply stare, while Matt’s smile fades into a frown.
‘Anna…?’
‘Sorry,’ I say, although I can barely think straight enough to say anything sensible. ‘Sorry…’ I sink into a chair, my mind spinning. Beneath the dazed shock, I realise I am angry. ‘It would have been nice to have some warning, Matt…’
Matt’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. ‘Warning…?’
Staring at him, I realise how clueless he is. He doesn’t get it at all. He probably thinks this is a relief for me, because now I can finally go back to my flat, my life. He has no inkling about what I’ve been feeling, thinking. Planning.
‘I mean, it would have been nice to know, so I could change the sheets, tidy up…’
‘Don’t worry about that, Anna. You’ve done so much already. I can manage.’
‘Yes, but… can Milly cope? I mean, is she ready to…?’ I’m not sure how to phrase what I’m trying to say sensitively, when what I really want to do is scream, how could you do this to me? How could you just expect me to hand over my baby?
‘I’m taking the next week off, to help ease us back into the routine. And her mother is going to come by every afternoon for a couple of hours, so I think it will be all right.’
His dismissal feels worse than a slap. I’m not needed anymore; I’m not wanted. He’s not even thinking about me, about how I might feel. He never has… just like Milly.
I nod slowly, trying not to show my hurt, as determination crystallises inside of me. I don’t care what Matt said. There’s no way I’m walking away from this – from Alice – without a fight.
Twenty-One
Milly
For the first few days after I arrive at my parents’ house, they don’t ask me any questions. They let me sleep, or simply sit and stare. They tiptoe around me as if I’m a ticking time bomb, when in fact I feel as if the pin has already been pulled out of the grenade. I’ve already exploded. I’ve left my child.
As the days pass, the fleeting feeling that I was doing the right thing trickles away and in its place I feel a deep and abiding guilt. How could I have left her? How could I have not?
When I told Matt that I was going to my parents’ for a while, he looked shocked but also the tiniest bit relieved, which confirmed to me that I was doing the right thing. No one wanted to be around me, least of all my own child. If she even was my own child. More and more I wondered – and doubted.
Sitting in my parents’ house, with basically nothing to do, I had plenty of time to think, and none of it was good. I questioned everything – whether I should have ever agreed to Anna donating, whether I deserved to be a mother. Whether there was still hope for me – and Alice.
When Matt came to visit after a few days, he brought pictures of Alice and looked at me with puppy’s eyes, begging me to see a doctor.
‘You could at least try some medication. Just try, Milly, for Alice’s sake as well as yours. If you react badly to it, or you don’t like it, or whatever, you can stop.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ I said. It felt selfish, not to try antidepressants when they might have been the magic fix, but the truth was, I was scared. What if they didn’t work? What then?
And meanwhile Alice was doing fine without me; I could see it from the photos. Already, in just a week, she looked bigger, chubbier. She wasn’t missing me; she didn’t feel my absence the way I felt hers, like a gaping hole in the middle of my chest, but one I didn’t know how to deal with.
After a week at home, my mother finally broaches the subject. I am lying in my old child’s bed, feeling as if there is a heavy weight pressing down on my chest when she comes to stand in the doorway. She is on a break from the chemo, and although she still looks wan and frail, there is a bit more energy to her step.
‘Milly.’ Her voice is gentle as she sits on the edge of the bed. ‘Darling, we want to help you. What can we do to help you get back home and be the mother I know you want to be to your darling Alice?’
I feel too weary even to form the words. ‘There’s nothing, Mum.’
