Chapter Seven PRESENT DAY

Chapter Seven

P RESENT D AY

Marnie’s words settled around them like dust. Her curt, bitter insinuation that Madeleine was running away, abandoning them all, and maybe she was. Trying to figure out what to say next, she stared at the double doors of the ward when a sound made them both jolt.

They looked towards the noise that entirely splintered the air.

‘Mu-mmy!’

It was jarring to hear such a racket in the quiet, considered environment of the hospital. Even the old lady in the pink nightie, who hadn’t stirred before, opened her eyes suddenly.

It was a shriek, no less. A loud, loud combination of excitement and surprise.

Madeleine could feel Marnie now staring at her, no doubt picking up the almost involuntary smile that lifted Madeleine’s mouth at the corners. And she understood; it had always been this way. And would more than likely always be this way. Marnie, staring, hoping that Madeleine’s expression of deep joy at seeing her child might be tinged with enough regret to stoke the embers of regret and galvanise her into action, even rethink her life.

She knew that Marnie’s one wish was that Madeleine might one day come to realise that being a parent was golden and that little Edith was such a gift. Her mother had said as much to her on more occasions than she could count, the words indelibly etched in her thoughts.

‘I hope, Madeleine, that one day you might feel the pull of motherhood, might understand that it’s never too late to step in and take the reins ...’

And Madeleine would have to remind Marnie that she had been expressing a desire to the contrary her whole life, and that this situation was of both their making and that there were consequences. It was an ongoing battle and one she suspected would rage on for the rest of their lives, not that this understanding made it any easier to navigate. The words and these thoughts, however, pulled out of shape by the punch to her gut just to see the little girl, to hear her, be near her ... It didn’t get any easier.

‘There she is!’ Marnie beamed at her granddaughter.

Edith broke free of Dougie’s hand and raced across the linoleum floor, her shoes squeaking as she did so. One sock bunched around her ankle, a new bruise on her knee. Her dark, dark hair flying.

‘Mind Nanny’s chest!’ Dougie shouted as Marnie tensed, almost in anticipation of the little human hurricane that was her granddaughter landing on the bed. Madeleine well-judged the situation and stood, catching Edith as she jumped up into her arms.

And there they stood.

Almost nose to nose.

Mother and daughter.

Daughter and mother.

Madeleine and Edith.

Edith and Madeleine.

One named after her grandmothers.

One named after her great-grandmothers.

Reunited after three months apart.

What Madeleine felt in that moment would be hard to describe. It always was. Delight, on some level, to be close to the child. Happy, to see her smiling face. Relief, that the little girl was still too young to bring fire to her door with questions about rejection or her less than conventional start in life. And guilt. Armfuls and armfuls of it.

‘My mummy’s heeeeere!’ Edith shook her long fringe from her face and shouted to her grandad, who followed her into the ward.

Marnie, suddenly teary, looked away. Madeleine suspected that she would never get used to the fact that for Edith to see her mummy was a rarity. But for her and her daughter, it was of course quite standard.

‘I can see that.’ Doug smiled. ‘Hello, little sausage.’ He planted a kiss on her cheek in greeting, before taking the chair Madeleine had only just vacated, as he reached for Marnie’s hand.

His wife, his priority, always. His one true love. His other half.

Marnie seemed to soften, relax. The fact that he was there clearly made her feel better. Instantly better. It was just how it was. How it had always been. And how the sight of them gladdened Madeleine’s heart.

Marnie scooched further up the bed. Madeleine could see that just the smallest movement was surprisingly challenging. She looked exhausted, a reminder of what she had endured, that her mum’s body was broken and that there was no quick fix.

‘Grandad picked me up from school and we got a McDonald’s, but don’t tell Nanny!’ Edith did her best to whisper. Her little girl’s breath against her face felt a bit invasive. Madeleine had to remind herself that this was the norm with small children – the complete disregard for personal space and a glorious lack of self-consciousness.

‘I heard nothing!’ Marnie smiled.

‘Well, lucky old you!’ Madeleine beamed into her daughter’s ketchup-smeared mouth. ‘How do you think Mum looks, Dad? Compared to when you saw her earlier?’ She asked as if Marnie wasn’t present. Transparency was, she knew, important, the very first thing she and Marnie had agreed when she had come home pregnant.

We are honest with this child from the start. Any lack of transparency would only lead to heartache further down the line ...

And they had stuck to it. Until now that was, when the fact that Madeleine was moving to LA had yet to be broached. She was dreading telling her daughter, dreading it as much now as she had over the last couple of months, chickening out of the discussion on more than one occasion. Not that it was a topic for tonight. Edith had enough going on. They all did.

Doug studied his wife’s face and she saw her own heightened emotion reflected in his expression.

‘She has a little more colour and she’s awake, thank God.’ He kissed the back of Marnie’s hand. ‘I’ve been worried sick. Didn’t know what to do with meself. When I got that call this morning’ – his breath stuttered in the unfamiliar rhythm of distress – ‘I felt like the ground had opened up in front of me. I can cope with anything – anything. But I can’t cope with anything happening to you.’ He addressed his wife directly, unashamed and unabashed, and Madeleine loved him for it. ‘You’re my girl, aren’t you? You’ve always been my girl.’

‘I am, and I’m fine,’ Marnie piped up, clearly hoping her words were enough to reassure them all. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Course you are.’ He winked at her.

‘I think you’ve grown.’ Madeleine spoke into her child’s hair as the little one held her mamma close, cheek to cheek, reconnecting. It was always this way, the strength of feeling quite overwhelming and instantly smothered with the blanket of guilt at the fact that part of her wanted to walk away. To leave and let them all get on with the life they had built without her interference or presence often felt like the easiest option.

‘I have.’ Edith nodded quickly, as if this was some kind of conscious achievement. ‘And I think you’ve grown!’ She pointed at her mother’s head, as if aware that this compliment was something others seemed to delight in and therefore wanting to say a nice thing.

Madeleine looked at Marnie and they shared a knowing look. Edith was funny; she’d always been funny.

‘Are you okay, Nanny?’ Edith squirmed to get out of Madeleine’s arms and walked to the bed. Reaching up, she gently ran her fingers over the wires that dangled over the side of the top sheet.

‘I’m all good, little darling. This is a bit funny, isn’t it? Your nan lying here in a nightie having a rest.’ Marnie did her best to make light of it, smooth any concerns for her granddaughter before they became worries.

‘Grandad said you were poorly.’

‘I got a bug!’ Marnie sucked her teeth. ‘I’ll stay here for a little bit and then I’ll be good as new and I’ll come home to make your tea and run your bath and listen to you read.’ She winked. Clearly not all topics were to be approached with transparency.

‘Who’s taking me to school tomorrow?’

It tore at Madeleine’s heart to see the slight wobble to Edith’s bottom lip.

‘Well ...’ Marnie looked up at Doug, and Madeleine knew this would be another tiny papercut that her mum could well do without.

‘I’ll go to the market late.’ Her dad took her lead, doing what they had always done – making it up as they went along. ‘I’ll call Tony later and tell him not to give away my pitch, then, erm ...’ He clicked his fingers. ‘I’ll ask Amir to watch things while I go fetch her, and then she can stay with me until—’

‘I can take her to school.’ Madeleine spoke up.

She was aware of her parents’ collective sharp intake of breath and the brief moment of silence, as if a little stunned by the suggestion. She had never offered to get this involved. For a reason. It was potentially too confusing for Edith, and not what they had agreed. The kind of involvement she had been keen to avoid, not wanting Edith to rely on her in that way, knowing she was, in fact, unreliable. The help she proffered, at every opportunity, was nearly always of the financial kind. This, however, was a moment of reckoning. She saw the conflict on Marnie’s face – delighted and concerned in equal measure. Madeleine would never admit to feeling the same, unsure she fully understood all that went into looking after a little one. This doubt alone, painful enough in itself, flew in the face of her desire to help. Her worry, even though she would never say it out loud, was that a disastrous experience would only damage the fragile connection she and Edith shared. Plus, she wasn’t sure she was up to the task. This last thought, she kept to herself.

‘What, me stay at your house and then you take me to school in the morning, Mum?’

There was no mistaking the look of sheer delight on Edith’s face at the prospect. It did much to bolster Madeleine’s confidence.

‘Well, that’s a possibility, or maybe ...’ Marnie sounded conflicted, clearly trying to think of Plan B, as if doubting that Madeleine was in fact the cavalry. It smarted. Madeleine resisted the temptation to remind her mum that this was what she had always hoped for – Madeleine stepping up to the plate.

It had felt like an easy decision, to take a back seat in the face of such a sledgehammer coming down on to her life, the answering of Marnie’s prayer not to place her child with strangers, not to allow that chain to be broken. Yet there was nothing easy about the consequences that she only fully understood in retrospect. Not that she regretted it – ‘regret’ was a strong word – and while it wasn’t easy, she was almost entirely certain that in the exact same circumstances, she’d do the exact same thing again, knowing she wasn’t ready, and would likely never be ready to commit to a life of bedtime stories and warming up beige food while her child did her homework at a cosy kitchen table. That was a life for someone else.

Someone like Trina . . .

Doug placed his hand on his wife’s forearm and rubbed her skin with his fingertips. A subtle reminder, she was sure, to let it be. Her lovely dad, always the peacemaker.

‘What do you think? Would you like that, Edith, to go home with Mummy?’ he asked his granddaughter directly.

‘I really, really would!’ The child jumped around on the spot. It was dusk, usually a time when she was winding down, and yet here she was, full of beans.

Marnie, who had gone a little pale, turned to look at Madeleine.

‘If it’s too much, love ...’ she began. ‘I know how busy you are, and the last thing I want is for you to feel burdened, and I don’t want Edith to feel tricky – it’s already an unfamiliar situation.’ The last bit she whispered.

‘No, it’s ... fine ... It’s ...’ She struggled to find the words to allay her mum’s fears and give herself the confidence that she could do this. It was typical of Marnie, doubting she had the ability while pushing her to try. It did little to build her confidence.

‘We’re having a sleepover!’ Edith twirled until she nearly toppled with dizziness.

‘It’s fine. It is. It’ll be fine.’ Madeleine painted on a smile. ‘If Edith comes home with me, then you guys can have some time alone right now and I’ll drop her at school in the morning.’

‘Do you know where to—’

‘Yes, Mum.’ Madeleine cut her short, her manner a little sharper than was necessary, as embarrassment flared. She wasn’t entirely sure which class Edith was in and knew the place had been remodelled a little since her day, but how hard could it be? ‘I know where.’

‘Of course you do. Can you wash her uniform?’ As usual, the little girl looked like she’d been rolling in dirt.

‘Mum, please, of course I can wash her uniform. I even have a spare toothbrush. It’ll be fine. I’ll call you when she’s gone in tomorrow, so you know I haven’t mislaid her and that she survived the night.’

‘What does mislaid mean?’ Edith piped up.

‘Lost, it means to lose something, so I’m going to call Nanny in the morning to prove I haven’t lost you.’

Edith looked wide-eyed.

‘Mummy is joking!’ Marnie did her best to chuckle. The exertion showed on her face.

‘Come on, you. Say goodbye to Nanny and Grandad and you’ll see them tomorrow.’

Edith blew her nan a kiss. Madeleine looked on as Doug ruffled her hair. A reminder of how deeply they cared for their granddaughter, how they had taken her into their lives and loved her unconditionally, as was their wish.

She could feel her parents watching her leave, their stares burning into her back, as they headed along the corridor. It did nothing to aid her flagging confidence, wary as she was to be walking out of this building with Edith for the second time in her life. And, just like that first time, without a clue as to how best care for her, and a weight to her bones at the prospect of having to figure it all out.

‘Oh no! I forgot to tell Nanny something!’ Edith stopped walking and turned to run back.

‘Wait, Edith!’ She grabbed her arm, stalling her, as she bent down to whisper, ‘We need to be quiet and not really run around, as there are lots of sick people who need to sleep.’

‘Okay.’ Edith gave an exaggerated nod, her thick hair again falling over her face.

They tiptoed slowly and quietly back into the ward.

Her dad was standing now, bent over the bed, holding Marnie close, her fingers gripping the fabric of his sweater, her face buried inside his neck, as she sobbed. It felt intrusive, even to observe this moment of intimacy, let alone interrupt it.

As they drew a little closer, she caught fragments of their conversation.

‘... my love, my love!’ Doug breathed against her.

‘. . . scared, Doug . . . so scared . . . an operation. An operation on my heart. ’

‘. . . my girl. We’ll get through it . . . the best place . . . the surgeons . . . all very routine . . . day in and day out . . . you’ll be fine.’

It was heartbreaking to witness Marnie’s fear first-hand; the least she could do was keep Edith from witnessing the same.

Reaching down, she gently lifted Edith into her arms. Her little girl certainly had grown, and to lift her from the floor was a reminder that she was heavier than Madeleine remembered. It was still lovely though, to feel the weight of her in her arms, the thought of her made real, a connection. They made it back to the corridor unseen by Doug and Marnie. Madeleine placed her gently on her feet.

‘I think Nanny and Grandad are having a lovely chat. Can whatever it is you need to tell her wait until tomorrow, do you think?’

‘Yes.’ Edith nodded, but the protuberance to her bottom lip suggested this was far from satisfactory.

‘Or maybe you can text her later from my phone or call her before bedtime, how about that?’

At this her daughter brightened and reached for her hand.

Madeleine tried to rationalise the cloak of self-consciousness that held her fast, knowing that anyone looking at her walking along with this child would likely not guess at the tangle of nerves that knotted in her gut. The responsibility of being alone with Edith weighted her down like a physical thing. She was unskilled in the task, unfamiliar with the detail, and it was petrifying. Supposing she got it wrong? Supposing Edith got hurt or sick? Supposing she did lose her? This was very different to playing board games with her at the little kitchen table in the flat, where Marnie was never more than twenty feet away, and definitely not the same as taking her to the swings for a ten-minute jaunt. This was a familiar anxiety. Whenever she saw Edith after any time apart, her initial reaction was one of sheer delight. Her little girl always seemed more capable, and more grown-up, than she remembered, and so very beautiful. It tore at her heart and was bittersweet. Edith was clearly happy at home with Marnie and Doug, and all Madeleine wanted to do was wrap her arms briefly around her, inhale the scent of her and hold her to her breast before letting her go, freeing both of them to live their lives ...

Instead, she buried the desire to display such love, as if she had given up the right to behave in that way when she had given up the baby into the loving care of her parents and walked away, stuck in the belief that she couldn’t have it all.

‘I’ll press the button!’ Edith shouted, pulling her from her thoughts, as the little girl raced ahead and jabbed the call button for the lift. Her enthusiasm for such a mundane task brought a smile to Madeleine’s face.

The lift doors opened and they stepped in.

‘Hello!’ Edith waved at the elderly couple who stood at the back of the lift holding a plastic bag, their faces etched with worry – a standard expression in this vast building where the human condition was spread over its floors.

‘Hello.’ The older woman smiled, as if relieved to be in the little girl’s presence. A spark of sunshine on what might have been for them a dark day.

Ordinarily, upon entering a lift, Madeleine would have smiled briefly and stared at her phone, willing the lift to open again so she could leave without interacting with the strangers. Edith’s introduction had denied her the preferred anonymity and so she stood awkwardly, feeling like she had no right to have taken the child – a kidnapper no less, and just as jumpy.

‘I’m going home with my mummy!’ Edith informed them with pure joy.

‘Well, that’s good.’ The woman held her gaze, as if it would be odd if the child were not going home with her mum. Little did she know.

‘I don’t know where she lives, but my nanny is poorly and so she’s staying here and Pop can’t take me home as he has to be up early for the market and then I wouldn’t be able to get to school.’

Madeleine wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, as her blush spread from her chest to the roots of her hair. It was exposing and embarrassing all at once, as Edith gave more information to the strangers than she was comfortable with.

‘Well, I hope your nanny gets better soon,’ the man added sincerely, seemingly as unfazed by the revelations as the girl was.

It was striking, the small act of friendship offered by a stranger that warmed her from the inside out. It was the Edith effect for sure; she now turned and waved at the couple, who walked in the opposite direction as they left the lift.

It amazed her how at ease and chatty the little girl was. Skipping along the hospital corridors, yanking Madeleine’s arm up and down as she did so. Her small, sticky hand inside her own felt alien, clumsy, and she wanted to let go of it, unsure how to walk in her heels and keep pace with her daughter jumping around by her side.

It was a relief to have seen Marnie awake and talking. Still, it hurt her that there was a thin veneer of distance between them that had been present since she’d first told her she was pregnant. It had changed things. It had changed everything! At first she’d thought it was that her mother was disappointed at how she’d messed up, got pregnant when it was not part of her plan. But the moment she saw Marnie with Edith, she understood that it wasn’t getting pregnant that was the problem, but the choices Madeleine made after. Not that she could do a damned thing about that now.

The cab ride from Newham hospital to her apartment was a reminder of how Edith liked to chat. Her little voice ricocheted around inside the cab, as she looked up through the glass roof of the taxi and voiced her every thought.

‘Look! I can see a church! And another church! And there’s a cat!’

‘I like these lights!’

‘Lots and lots of cars!’

‘That man’s eating his sandwich at the bus stop!’

‘I need a wee!’

‘That’s the river over there. My great-grandad used to work on the river, didn’t he, Mummy?’

Madeleine had nodded; it was true, he had.

‘Chicken and noddles!’ she read aloud.

‘Noodles,’ Madeleine corrected.

‘Yes! Noodles!’ The little girl laughed, only to start bouncing in her seat. ‘My friend Travis went to the Tower of London, but I’ve never been.’

‘Maybe I can take you.’

She liked the thought, planning a trip. They never did that, only ever meeting at Marnie and Doug’s for birthday teas and Christmas dinner or if she happened to be passing. It felt easier that way, keeping it casual and abiding by Marnie’s rule – not to interfere, not to confuse anyone and to allow her mum to parent with freedom in the way she saw fit. Madeleine hoped that making a plan wasn’t overstepping the mark. But if she could manage a sleepover, surely a trip to the Tower of London would be a breeze, as long as she could fit it in before she hopped on a plane bound for LA.

‘Yes!’ Edith jumped in the seat. ‘Can we go to Legoland too?’

‘Oh, I’m not sure. We can think about it.’ She was wary of committing to too much; not only did she not want to step on Marnie’s toes, but she was after all heading off in a couple of weeks –a conversation yet to be had with Edith. In the face of today’s events, she relished it even less.

The taxi pulled up outside her apartment building and as she helped Edith out of the cab, she felt her gut roll with nerves. Unsure now if it was such a good idea to bring her daughter here, wary of someone seeing them and her having to explain, and was it going to be confusing, showing her where she lived? Showing her how she lived? Deep down, she knew Edith was smart and figured once she’d seen Madeleine’s life up close, it wouldn’t be too long before Edith figured out that her mother had chosen that life over staying on the Brenton Park estate with her, and had a thousand questions she felt ill-equipped to answer. Not that there was anything she could do about it at this point in time on a school night.

Edith counted the stairs to her apartment as they climbed. Madeleine opened the front door and switched on the lights, watching as her little girl stepped over the threshold and surveyed the flat with her hands on her hips, looking and sounding so much like Marnie it was comical.

‘Well, this is very nice!’

‘You like it?’ It was a lovely compliment from her child, who only spoke the truth.

‘I do. It’s like my school hall where we have gym and do singing!’ She pointed up towards the rafters of the double-height ceiling.

‘I’ll take it!’ At least Edith seemed to understand the sheer joy of the cavernous space.

‘You haven’t got much stuff though, have you, Mum?’

Madeleine laughed loudly at the observation made by the child, who lived in the cosy confines of the flat where she too had grown up. The flat where knick-knacks and ornaments crowded the windowsills and dusty faux flower displays nestled on cluttered bedside tables, and where crockery that wouldn’t fit into the limited cupboard space was piled up on the countertop, to be navigated every time you wanted to put the kettle on. Her apartment was luxuriously spacious and fairly bare; her life streamlined. Just the way she liked it.

‘I have got stuff, I just put it away, out of sight.’

‘I see.’ Suddenly she placed her little hand on her forehead. ‘Oh no, Mum! I haven’t got my reading book. I need to read my chapter!’ Edith spoke with a hint of tears, suggesting she might be a bit more overwhelmed by the day’s events than she was letting on. ‘It’s in my book bag on the end of my bed and that means I won’t have it for school tomorrow, will I?’

‘Well, that’s okay.’ She did her best to appear calm and in control, knowing that was what Edith needed right now – a steady hand on the tiller, as well as being unsure how she’d cope if the little girl lost her sunny demeanour. ‘What we can do is find your book online and you can read a chapter on my tablet, and then I’ll write you a note and we can give it to your teacher, explaining the situation and letting them know that you’ll have your book bag for school the day after, and that you did your reading. She’ll understand.’

‘He. My teacher is Mr Lawal.’

‘I thought it was Miss Shrapnel, or something like that?’

‘Miss Shrader was my first teacher. In baby class.’ Edith pulled a disapproving face, as if disgusted at the idea that she might still be a baby.

‘Oh.’ Madeleine swallowed; it didn’t feel good not knowing this most basic of details. Tangible proof of how she was only on the periphery of Edith’s life. ‘I guess I’m rubbish when it comes to the detail.’ She tried to make light of it, at the very same moment that Edith’s shoulders began to go up and down and her chest heaved and a fat tear rolled down her cheek.

‘Edith! No! No! No! Please don’t cry! It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay. What’s the matter? I promise I’ll write a note to your teacher, and Marnie is going to be fine – she’s as strong as an ox, and—’

Edith opened her mouth, as if she hadn’t heard a word or if she had easily dismissed them. Her cry was as loud as it was unnerving. Madeleine dumped her handbag on the countertop and wrapped the little girl in a hug. ‘Please don’t cry! Please. You’ll make me cry and then what will we do? What’s the matter, darling? Why are you so sad? What can I do to make things better? Would you like some toast?’ She hoped there was bread somewhere.

Madeleine’s heart beat a little too quickly for comfort and she wished she knew what to do. Her first instinct was to call Marnie, before remembering that she was laid up in a hospital bed awaiting heart surgery – a terrifying fact that she had to keep from Edith at all costs.

‘I don’t want you to mislay me. I don’t ... don’t want to get lost. I want ... I want to go home now!’ her daughter sobbed.

‘Oh, Edith, sweetie! I won’t mislay you, I never could!’ How she regretted making the ill-informed comment in front of her, a rookie mistake that she was now paying the price for. ‘I was only joking with Nanny. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll watch you sleep; I’ll watch you sleep all night, and in just a few short hours – quicker than a wink – I’ll put your uniform on you and take you to school and then ...’ She stopped talking, unsure of the plan for the rest of Marnie’s hospital stay.

‘I want my dad.’ Edith took stuttered breaths and pulled away from Madeleine’s arms. ‘I want my dad!’

Madeleine’s heart sank. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Jimmy for the longest time.

‘I want my dad!’ The wail was deep, heartfelt, and moving.

‘All right, all right, love. How about we Facetime him? Would that work, do you think?’

Edith wiped her face and nodded, her crying slowed and her breath seemed to come a little easier.

‘Right. I’ll call him on my iPad and you guys can chat before bed. How about that?’

‘Okay.’ Edith nodded as she wiped her damp face on her sleeve and kicked off her shoes, before heading for the sofa. Her face trying to be brave was heartbreaking to see.

Shit! Madeleine lifted her tablet from her bag and tried to control the tremble in her fingers as she prepared to make contact with the man who had promised to love her for a lifetime ... if not forever.