Anna was desperate for a pee, so she swung her legs over the side of the bed and gradually stood up. She hadn’t been in an upright position for some time, she realized as soon as her feet hit the ground and the cruelty of gravity took charge. ‘Ow.’ All of her organs jolted into their rightful, painful places. For a brief instant, she felt slightly dizzy, so she steadied herself at the side of the bed, the opposite side to the cot with all the bad news in it, as yet unseen, unknown.
Anna shuffled into the bathroom, had a painful pee, yawned and went to the sink to wash her hands. She washed them using the liquid soap from the wall dispenser, dried them using the wall-mounted blower, and squirted some antibacterial gel on to her hands, as directed by the strict notice on the wall. It amused her that the bathroom was so uniquely hospitalish. She could be nowhere else. The long red alarm cord, the heightened loo seat equipment on the floor next to the toilet, the pile of sludge-brown papier-mâché bed pans, the very thin extra toilet paper roll, the carefully placed rails screwed to the cleany-clean tiled walls. Yes, it was very clean, she noted gratefully: they did a good job, the domestic-services staff in this place; it was exemplary. She was delighted that her daughter had been born in such a hygienic environment – it was one of the issues she and Julius had discussed when they were debating whether they should go private for the birth.
Julius had been the one with the conflict: he’d desperately wanted the status, the comfort and the cleanliness he imagined they would only have if they were in a private hospital, but he was hugely aware that he OUGHT to use the NHS like everyone else, since he was a public figure (albeit solidly backbench). Therefore, he would be accused of all kinds of hypocrisy and harassed in a way he didn’t want. He intended to bring plenty of attention to the arrival of this child, so, much to his annoyance, he’d had to think better of his preference to go private. He announced, ‘OK, Anna, you win. There is, as of now, an annulment of the decision.’
‘Don’t be so pompous, Jules. Seriously. You should be delighted to have the baby inside the NHS. All of my family have been born in NHS hospitals. Bloody hell, I’d be crucified if I went private. No, ta.’ She’d known that Julius had capitulated for the wrong reasons, but she was relieved nevertheless that she didn’t have to fight him on it, or her family. In that second, the spotless bathroom confirmed her correct choice, and pleased her.
As Anna washed, dried and antisepticked her hands, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, dishevelled and puffy from sleep, and she thought she looked closer to forty than the thirty-five years old she actually was. She didn’t care. This is what an older mum looks like the day after she’s given birth. Not everyone can be as miraculously beautiful as Princess Diana by the next day, much as they’d love to. Anna smiled at herself. She hadn’t seen her own reflection since Florence was born, so she really looked closely.
Yes, she appeared tired, but there was something … different … new … changed. What was it? She leant in until she could see the huff of her breath on the glass. Was her skin better? Did she dare to imagine she could see the ‘glow’ people speak of? Well, she was quite flushed, but she thought that was mainly due to how warm it was in the room. They were high up in the building and therefore not permitted to open a window. It was ludicrous. No, it wasn’t the glow. Was it her eyes? Did she now appear to be wiser or more knowing or something like that? Would that literally happen overnight? No, it wasn’t that, although she did notice that the inner part of her left eyeball was quite bloodshot, giving her a rather zombie-ish appearance. She must have burst a small blood vessel with all the pushing. It wasn’t a great look, but that wasn’t the change … what was it?
As she stared at her face, she knew. Her face, exactly as it looked right that minute with all its flaws and unsymmetrical quirkiness, was the exact face Florence saw. The first ever face she saw. This was now not just Anna’s face, it was Florence’s mother’s face. The face she would know and trust and love for her entire life. Or at least, until Anna died … oh God, no, she mustn’t ever die. She had a daughter now to live for, to protect and to nurture. Anna decided exactly then that, as long as Florence needed her, she simply would NOT die.
More immediately, and with a familiar feeling of dread, she thought about how she was going to have to slap on some make-up. Julius would surely want a photo shoot of them all for Hello! magazine.
Anna was overcome with a desire to see her baby again now. She wanted to hold her close and look into her gorgeous eyes and know that they would forever be looking at each other. This face. And that face.
As she left the bathroom she had a passing worry that her newly gelled hands might be a bit too astringent to touch the baby with. Perhaps she ought to call the nurse for advice? She giggled at the fact that this
