‘No! People change, things change, you just have to figure out how to change with it! Give life a chance!’
‘You don’t know, Alfie! You don’t know anything!’
‘So tell me. Tell me right now!’ He put the boat into gear, and they headed up the river, the breeze in their faces, the spray hitting the side of the boat asLady Margerymotored gently through the very heart of her neighbourhood, carried along on Old Mother Thames.
‘Tell you what? That I ate my toast, packed my bag, walked to school, had mint sponge with chocolate icing with custard for lunch, which made it a very good day.’ The details of this last day, too, were etched in her mind, as all her hurt and the impending sense of loss bubbled up into her throat, making it feel easier to let it all out, to rid her mouth of the poison. ‘I played netball, and then wandered home, put my key in the door and stepped into a different place, a different world, where everything was changed because my mum had packed her vanity case and left. She left me, and she’ – Lilly hiccupped on her tears – ‘she didn’t even wait for me to come home to say goodbye. She just ... just went. She left me for Derek Manners, who was dull! So dull, and so if that life with him was preferable, what did that say about us? My mum wasn’t likeLady Margery, there were no Sunday gatherings with our extended family, my mum wasn’t my safe place, the flat was. WaideHouse was. Even after Dad, it was my place, my haven. It’s always been that, until now.’
‘I think you’re incredibly strong. You’ve weathered your fair share of storms.’ He spoke with compassion that made her huff; he only knew the half of it ... ‘You deserve to be happy, not tethered. And you carry your dad with you – it’s not about a room or a view. Even if it wasn’t my company, Lilly, I would still, as your friend, tell you that it’s a chance to start over. It could be very exciting if you let it!’
‘Could it, Alfie? Could it be very exciting if I let it? And you are most definitelynotmy friend! You’re not!’ Her voice was hoarse as memories came thick and fast. ‘Why do men like you think it’s okay to take things away without asking, why do you do that?’
‘I’m not trying to take anything away, it’s an opportunity ...’
‘Not for me. It’s a loss, a huge loss, all because you’ve made the decision to take it from me, from all of us, so that you can sit back and say it’s your legacy, as if that’s all the justification you need. No matter what it costs me, and people like me. We are the rightful owners of the space – it’sourlegacy!’
‘I ... I don’t know what to say.’ He took a long, slow breath and blinked as if tired. ‘But I can see that nothing I am going to say is going to convince you.’
‘Nothing at all.’ She jutted her chin in confirmation.
Alfie clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head as this seemed to register, and with regret.
‘Where would you like to go next, up towards London Bridge or back towards Battersea?’
Lilly took one last long look at her flat from the river, and there she was on the towpath, young and smiling in her suede miniskirt, red knee-high leather boots, and her beaded smock top with buttons undone ... It was true what she had said earlier: why did men likehim think it was okay to take things away without asking, why did they do that?
That’s a good girl ... count backwards from ten for me ...
‘Just take me back.’ She didn’t want to be distressed in front of him, didn’t want to be in front of him at all. ‘Take me to the dock. I want to get off your boat. I want to go home now.’
‘But we still have forty minutes left.’ He sounded almost panicked.
‘I don’t want to spend one more minute here. Please, just ... just take me home.’
1973 – aged 18
When Lilly fully came round it took her a beat to understand that she was in a ward with ten beds along one side and ten more on the other. Women were sitting up, tucked beneath pristine white sheets like dolls. Her stomach pulsed with the dull ache of loss and the lower half of her body was very sore. The level of discomfort was unexpected. She had, in her naivety, thought it would all be over once the procedure was complete, that she’d be able to pop her jeans back on and walk slowly home, letting her thoughts settle and the sight of the river calm her. The sadness that rippled through her, however, was entirely expected as tears trickled over her temple, a visceral reaction as her distress leaked from her.
Her baby was gone.
Her link to Wilkie gone.
His lingering presence, the last connection that would have kept them bound for life, had been severed.
The sound of mewling was the first clue that she was in a ward for new mothers and their babies. Looking to the bed next to her, Lilly smiled weakly at the new mum in her twenties who was feeding her baby, feeling a flare of envy laced with distress. The woman opposite applied mascara while her newborn slept in a plastic crib on wheels next to the bed. It was almost more than she could stand, seeing these new mothers, hearing a child’scry. The silence around her bed, the absence of a bassinet, were physical reminders that it was all over for her.
It was a silence that she had always hated, feared even, one that carried weight.
The voice of reason told her she needed to do her best to put it behind her and get on with her life, but her heart wasn’t listening. Placing her hand on her stomach, she was surprised to find a wad of bandage, gauze and medical tape, as if she had been injured. This, too, was most unexpected, as was the pulse of pain that came from the contact.
It was some while before Dr Rudd strode through the ward and pulled the yellow, orange and pink curtain open around her bed, the thin floral cotton offering only a modicum of privacy.
‘Mrs Cooper, how are we feeling?’
‘Sore.’ She spoke from a mouth that was dry, voice croaky, her lips stuck together.
‘That’s to be expected. We can get you some tea.’ He took a step closer and put his hands behind his back. ‘I’m afraid I have some rather bad news.’ His tone, contrary to what his words suggested, was buoyant, indifferent almost, overly loud, practised but seemingly not adjusted for good news, bad or the worst. The very worst.
Lilly stared at him, wondering briefly if something had happened to her dad, this the worst news she could imagine! And just the thought of him at home along the river, no doubt smiling as he imagined her on her field trip, was enough to encourage more tears. She watched as Dr Rudd rocked on his heels and spoke as he looked over her shoulder towards the glossy magnolia-painted wall behind her bed. ‘As can happen on the odd occasion, we experienced some difficulties in what should have been a rather routine procedure. There was a severe uterine perforation that resulted in us taking the decision to perform a hysterectomy. Do you know what that is?’
