murder inquiry. And that was serious.
There would be no sleep now.
She sat there watching. Planning.
27
Hester jumped at the voice, opened her eyes.
‘I’m…’ She didn’t know. What
She blinked. Unaware of how long she had been standing there. She must have blacked out again. ‘It… wasn’t dark when I started lookin’ at it.’
Her husband grunted.
‘It’s…’ She looked again at the baby. It wasn’t moving, its breathing shallow. But it was peaceful.
She looked at the kitchen area. ‘I’ll get it for you.’
Disorientated from her blackout, she pulled the blanket up to the baby’s chin, being careful not to wake it, and ignited the Calor Gas heater. Then she switched on the light over the baby’s head. She had rigged up one of the electrician’s work lamps at the side of the cot, clamping it to the bedhead so she could see the baby from wherever she was in the house. The lamp threw down hard light and heat. It illuminated the baby all right, but she could also see the condensation on the bare brick and stone, glistening and running above the heater. The house would soon be warm enough, she thought. The baby was wrapped well enough.
She must have been staring at the still baby for a long time. She did that sometimes, stood still, not moving from the spot she was in. Losing all track of time. This time she hadn’t noticed the day slip away, to be replaced by night. And she hadn’t heard her husband enter. But that wasn’t so strange. Usually she just heard him as a voice in her head, a presence, and she knew straight away that he was there.
She looked at the baby one more time and, satisfied that it was all right, crossed over to the kitchen area. Her husband had built it for her. He had put up plasterboard walls to divide it from the open space, built shelves and cupboards from what he had salvaged on his travels. He had even painted the bare stone and brick walls in the kitchen area white. She liked that. Thought it made the place look more homely. And that was important, now they were a proper family.
She stood in the kitchen area. She hadn’t prepared anything. She looked round to see what she could make quickly. There were two skinned rabbits on the counter top, some root vegetables in a basket. That would do.
‘How… how about rabbit stew?’ she said, closing her eyes, hoping her husband wouldn’t see her lack of preparation.
He grunted again.
She nodded and, as fast as she could, lit the stove, put on a pan of water to heat up. She looked round. The baby was lying still in the cot, making no sound. Good. Knowing no harm could come to it, she made their evening meal.
Later, after she and her husband had eaten and she had washed up and cleared away, she returned to the baby. She couldn’t keep away. She had been getting up and checking on it all through dinner. She had heard her husband give a few exasperated growls, but he had said nothing. She had smiled inwardly at that. Perhaps he was an understanding man after all.
While she was staring at the baby, her husband slipped away again, leaving her alone with the infant once more.
It hadn’t wailed for ages. Once she had changed and fed it, it had kept quiet, slipping into what she thought was sleep as she rocked it in her arms. She remembered, before she blacked out, studying it as it lay breathing shallowly but raggedly in her arms, its eyelids just about closed, leaving only a sliver of milky white showing through as its eyeballs rolled into the back of its sockets. It was so small, so helpless. She could have done anything to it. Cuddled it, kept it warm, squeezed it tight. Or put her fingers round its throat, choked the air out of its tiny, frail body. Anything. She felt a rush of adrenalin as that realisation sped through her. She had the power of life and death. She could play God.
Power. For the first time in her life. She had smiled at the thought. No wonder people went to such lengths to have babies.
Hester looked down at it now, deliberating what to do. She wanted to pick it up. After all, that was what mothers did. But it looked so peaceful lying there, hardly moving, hardly breathing.
That was when she thought something might be wrong.
She leaned in closer, angled the lamp over to see it better. The pink blotches on its face seemed to be lessening in number. Its skin now had a blue tinge all over and the yellow was increasing. Hester didn’t think that was right. It most definitely wasn’t what they looked like on TV. Something was wrong.
‘Oh God, oh God…’
She looked round, panic welling inside her, willing her husband to turn up, but he was nowhere to be seen. She would have to cope on her own.
‘Oh God… oh God…’
What to do, what to do… She looked down at the sleeping child. She couldn’t take it to the doctor, she knew that. She hated doctors, had had a bad time with them all her life. So what, then? Did it need feeding? She checked her watch. No. Changing? She couldn’t smell anything. Should she pick it up? Yes. That seemed like a good idea. Then what? Hold it. Why? Because that was what mothers did, she reminded herself. Because doing that would make it better.
She reached down, picked the still infant from the cot. She stroked its cheek. It felt cold to the touch, its skin clammy. Just like stroking the walls behind it.
She held it to her. Warmth. That was what it needed. She got into bed, holding the baby to her chest. Eventually her arms began to cramp up from keeping them in the same position for so long, so she put the baby back in its cot with an extra blanket on top of it. The tin cot was right beside her bed. She lay on her side, looking at the baby.
And that was how she lay well into the night. Staring at the baby, keeping vigil for signs of a worsening condition. Trying to keep awake but dropping off occasionally. At some point during the night, she woke to find her husband was back.
‘The baby’s not well,’ she said.
He grunted.
She looked at the baby once again. For the first time she voiced the fear and doubt that had built within her. ‘I don’t… I don’t think it’s goin’ to get better. Not on its own.’
‘Can’t we just…’
She nodded. She knew that.
‘Right.’
‘What if it doesn’t?’
And he was gone again.
She took his advice, tried to get some sleep, but couldn’t. Instead she lay there, watching the baby. At some
