one foot to the other, a nose that’s pink from trying to hold back emotion and eyes that have failed. So she’s crying. I think I prefer that to the overly cheerful scenario. The coldness of my thoughts is melted by the biggest – albeit wobbly – smile she can muster, and all of a sudden I’m on my feet and we’re hugging.
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ she whispers and tightens her hold.
‘Me too.’ I nod over her shoulder at Mum who’s making a ‘T’ sign with her fingers at me. She goes to the kitchen to put the kettle on and her absence gives my eyes permission to fill with tears. Odd. Maybe I don’t cry too much in front of her because I don’t want her to do the same?
I pull back from Demi and force a smile. We sit down at the table and let the sea breeze dry our tears a bit and she clears her throat and points at the flowers. ‘I thought forget-me-nots were appropriate given the circumstances… and freesia because they have such a wonderful perfume.’ She looked over at the Moses basket. ‘Little girls always smell like freesias, don’t they?’
Thank God for Demi. How perfect is she? No beating about the bush and a touch of humour to temper the heartbreak. ‘Oh yes. Iona always smells of freesias, even when she’s thrown up over me and filled her nappy.’
We laugh and I feel more normal than I have since…
‘Would you like to see her?’ I don’t wait for a reply, just jump up and lead the way over. We look at my sleeping baby, daft soppy grins on our faces. Iona always makes me smile, even when I’m crying at the same time. Her head is a perfect round, topped with a cap of light hair, and her skin is peachy. Some babies take a while to become peachy, but she was peachy from the word go.
‘I had a tiny glimpse of her when I came to the hospital… I didn’t stay more than a few minutes though, of course. I can’t decide who she looks like… I think you though,’ Demi says, carefully taking Iona’s tiny hand. ‘She has your nose.’
‘I’m sorry nobody told me at the hospital that you had come to see us, Dem… You weren’t to know what had happened…’ She shakes her head and says it doesn’t matter, but it does. ‘No. You’re one of the few people I would have seen at the time.’ I stroke my daughter’s hair. ‘Yes, I think she does look more like me. She has blue eyes, but then they all do at first, I think.’
‘And light hair…’ Demi looks at me and I can tell she’s struggling to fight tears, so I lead the way back onto the balcony.
I pick up the flowers and inhale their heady fragrance. ‘Ah yes, essence of Iona.’ We smile at each other. ‘And I’ll press some of these forget-me-nots and put them in a box of remembrance for Ruan. Not that I will ever forget…’ I put the flowers down, aware I’m gripping them too tightly. ‘I just wish I had more to put in the box apart from these, a teddy… and my favourite outfit I bought for him.’
Demi blows her nose and takes a deep breath. ‘Were there no photos you took of him… you know, when he was born?’
‘A few. But I never held him. I have his ashes in an urn we’re going to give to the ocean, when I feel the time is right… and that’s all. Simon organised a funeral… well, not exactly… more of a little ceremony for him, but I didn’t go.’ My voice sounds distant, second-hand – as though it has been borrowed by someone else. That aside, I realise I am relieved that at last I am actually talking about that day, the details of afterwards. If I’m relieved, it must mean that I think talking helps, mustn’t it?
‘But… but I thought…’ Demi stops and shakes her head.
‘What? Say what you think – I’d rather that than pussyfooting around the issue, believe me.’
‘Well, I thought that when babies… you know… the family always spend time with the child, take photos, prints of their feet… say goodbye – that kind of thing.’ Demi wrests her hair from the wind and secures it behind her ears.
‘Yes. I wanted to hold him, kiss his face…’ A lump forms in my throat and I swallow it down with anger. I am so sick of being on the edge of tears. ‘But I couldn’t face it because Simon said I wouldn’t want to see him; he was so small, you see… he’d been starved of nutrients. He asked if I’d like to see a photo though… I could hardly bear to look at him, imagine that? Such a pathetic excuse for a mother. He was very underweight; his face was…’ I can’t bring myself to tell Demi about his sunken eyes and the paper-thin skin drawn tight across his cheeks. ‘He was in a Moses basket wrapped in a little blue blanket and wearing a yellow hat with teddies on. He looked like he was sleeping but of course he was… he was… And I can’t help thinking it was all my fault.’ I am sobbing again and hate myself for being so weak, but Demi’s face had crumbled and that was me finished.
Demi puts her arms round me, pats me on the back. ‘How was it your fault, love?’
‘Because of my past. The drugs, pills… like I said, I’m a pathetic excuse…’
‘Hey, hey, you’re not and you can’t think like that,’ Demi says and hands me a tissue. ‘It was just one of those things. Simon said so, didn’t he?’
I nod but I’m not convinced and then Mum breezes in. ‘Here, let’s all have a cuppa and talk about something else, eh?’ she says in a ridiculously cheerful voice as she sets the tray of tea and cake on the table in front of us. ‘No use in going over it all because you’re obviously upset and…’
‘I WANT to talk about it! Don’t you get it?’ I thump my fist on the arm of my chair. Mum blinks in shock and her bottom lip trembles. Oh good. I’ve managed to upset her too, but I can’t stop. ‘I haven’t talked about it yet, not sure you’ve noticed? Because I couldn’t. Couldn’t physically shape the words, release them… Now I find I can and I want to, is that okay?’
Mum makes a thin line of her lips and nods. ‘Of course, love. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be… come on, let’s have that tea and I’ll try and talk about it without getting in too much of a state.’
‘I’m not helping, am I?’ Demi blows her nose again and takes a drink of her tea.
‘You are, actually. I think it’s your straightforward manner – just what I needed.’ I notice Mum look down at her twisty hands and I pass her some cake to occupy them.
‘So do you think that not having seen Ruan was the right thing?’ Demi asks.
I can tell by her tone that she thinks it wasn’t. ‘I really don’t know, Dem. Simon is the doctor, he knows best, but I do wonder if seeing him might have helped me to accept it more. But it’s done now. We can’t go back. I just wish it wasn’t so fucking painful!’ I notice Mum’s lips purse briefly. She’s not a fan of the F word.
Demi puts her hand on my arm. ‘It must be. I wish I could do something to make it better but I can’t,’ she says simply with a shrug. ‘It will take time and…’ She stops and shakes her head.
‘Yes, Mum said that earlier and I bit her head off.’ I give Mum an apologetic smile. ‘But you are both right. Time does ease the pain. It did with Dad, even though I never thought it would.’ Mum nods and dabs at her eyes. ‘The thing is…’ I pause, wondering if this is going to sound crazy. ‘The thing is, in a way, because I hurt so much… physically hurt in my heart sometimes… it means he was real – existed… and I know that wherever Ruan is, he knows that I love him. Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t hurt so much, would I?’
I look from one to the other but neither can speak. Strangely, I don’t feel like I want to cry now. Instead there’s just peace and calm somehow.
‘It makes perfect sense to me,’ Mum says thickly.
‘Me too,’ Demi manages.
‘Good. Right, I think I’ve done enough talking about that for now. Let’s eat all this cake before Freesia Child wakes for her next feed.’ On cue, a wail goes up from the Moses basket