The Baby (11 page)

Alice feels nice. It's a big responsibility to look after a baby. ‘Of course. I'll make sure that she's safe. I understand about babies now.'

Nicola nods and reaches for her purse. ‘I won't be long.'

Alice grips on to the handles like a proper mum. She likes the important feeling in her tummy. She rocks the buggy like she's seen Nicola do. A rocking sensation is nice for a baby. She's read this in a book. She brings the books to Nicola so that they can share them.

Eliza stares at her. She's sucking on her dummy. One of the books said that the sucking reflex is a natural one, like she's sucking on a teat or a nipple and Eliza certainly looks happy underneath her blue checked blanket. Alice pulls the buggy towards a bench. This is where she will sit.

It's funny. But since seeing more of the baby, her farm hasn't needed so much tending.

She waits patiently, feeling the looks from passers-by. She wonders if they think the baby might belong to her. Maybe a younger sister or a cousin. It would be nice to have a baby in the family. Although she's not sure about all the smears and the mess and the crying.

It's nice that people are looking. Alice isn't used to people being interested in her. It's unusual being the kind of person getting all these looks. They're kind and happy and make a pleasant change from the horrible remarks which Alice normally hears. These people don't seem to care what shoes Alice is wearing or that her hair hasn't been washed.

One nice lady looks over the edge of the buggy, gives Alice
a wide smile and nods towards Eliza. ‘She's lovely.'

There's a thrill in Alice's throat. ‘Yes, she is.' More words bubble out. ‘But she's not mine.'

The lady steps back. She frowns a bit. ‘No, of course not.'

‘She belongs to my sister's friend. She's illegitimate,' Alice goes on.

‘I see,' says the lady. There are lines on her forehead now. And then she walks off. Alice sits back against the dampness of the bench. Eliza continues to stare, sucking on her dummy.

There's a girl with a strip of strawberry liquorice who's standing by the door of the shop. She's counting something. Her fingers flick open seven times. Then the counting stops, and she comes over. She's looking at the baby.

Alice feels the sag of the bench when the girl sits down next to her. She peers into the buggy. ‘Nice baby.'

It is odd to have so many people talking to her. So many strangers. There's another bubble of joy. ‘I know. I'm looking after her while her mum's buying nappies.'

The girl looks impressed. There's some straw in her fringe and red on her fingers from the strawberry liquorice. ‘I like babies.'

‘Me too. Only they take up a lot of time.' She grips tightly on to the buggy handles. It's a big responsibility making sure she's safe. But she likes the sound of her confident words and she likes the approval in the girl's eyes. It's very unusual. So she says some more.

‘Her mum has to get up three times in the night to feed and change and wind her. Every time she takes her bottle she has
to be winded you see – patted on the back. Otherwise she gets baby indigestion.'

She checks the girl is still listening. And she is. She's staring hard at Eliza and then at Alice. She has a pointed chin. Her liquorice is finished. The attention gives Alice more glow to her tummy. ‘I've helped bath her many times now. I do it three times a week. Her neck has to be supported otherwise she can drown. Do you know a baby can drown in five centimetres of water?'

The girl's eyes widen. ‘Really?'

‘Yes, really. Because her neck muscles haven't developed enough to move if her face was in water. So she'd die a slow and horrible death breathing water instead of oxygen.'

The girl nods intelligently. It looks like she's understood. It's something that Alice didn't know before. ‘Babies completely rely on their parents for survival.'

The girl nods again. Alice is sure that she's impressed. She's certain she's not laughing like Julia Smythe. ‘Only this baby doesn't have two parents. She only has one. So I'm helping out to give her mum a break. I like to do it.'

More sage nodding. It really is nice. Alice searches quickly for more information. It's enjoyable under this girl's interest. The importance makes her wriggle. Her hands relax on the handles. ‘I was there for the birth you see. Childbirth is long and painful, and I was outside the room and heard all of it.'

‘Really?' The girl's eyes are now as wide as saucers. ‘Did it hurt a lot then?'

Alice nods carefully. ‘Yes. And there wasn't access to pain relief in our bathroom where she was born. Only a packet of ibuprofen which my sister uses for period pains, but I don't think Nicola took any.'

‘No?'

Alice shakes her head. She feels her hair swing on her cheeks. ‘No. So there was a lot of shouting and screaming.' The drama burns in her stomach. The girl looks extremely interested.

Alice is on a roll, so she thinks she should start describing the blood and the towels which were destroyed and maybe the other stuff which was left on the bathroom floor for several hours after. She takes a breath.

But then Nicola wanders out of the shop, a plastic carrier bag in her hand. She's smiling at Alice, peering gently at the girl. It's strange to be in the middle of a conversation, so that someone has to wait. It hasn't happened before. It's a nice feeling to have two people waiting for you to finish a sentence. It makes her blood rush about behind her eyes. She stops talking but the girl still looks interested. She has her head on one side and she's waiting. She's brushed the straw out of her hair.

She's a bit scruffy. And she's not a follower of fashion.

Nicola takes hold of the buggy. Flexes her foot on the brake. ‘Ready?'

Alice nods glancing quickly at the girl. There's a small smile. Alice smiles back. It's nice. Nice to talk to a stranger and have a smile at the end. It's the sort of thing that would
happen to Olivia all the time.

The thought thrills her insides as she walks along the pavement with Nicola.

The meadow is picturesque today. Blurry, shimmering sunshine on damp grass. Frantic birdsong all around. Early-morning breezes breathe on her face. And there are bright white flashes as a trio of wood pigeons fly into the sky, making a clumsy racket as they are disturbed.

It could be a jungle. There is so much sound. If you listen too closely it can nearly deafen you. There is no room for any more noise.

Which is odd because it has been a quiet week. The quietest week in a while. Alice has settled into a calmer routine. She has found a new place to eat her lunch for a start. Down in the toilets by the caretaker's office. These are not used as much as the others upstairs because they are older and cold. They still have vast, thick pipes which are rusting and noisy. They smell musty. But Alice does not mind. She can eat her Cheddar cheese sandwiches undisturbed and this is a bonus. From here she is able to scuttle out unseen to either Rocket Club, Gifted and Talented Maths, or the library, which she notices the girl with the blonde hair no longer frequents. Alice has moved on to a Joseph Delaney book and she is enjoying it immensely. She feels safe under the protective eye of the librarian. She has not attempted to make friends with anybody else. She is apprehensive on this issue. So, for the moment, she has stopped the idea of making friends, even though she is letting down her family.

Her dandruff problem is being addressed. Her mum bought her some Head & Shoulders anti-dandruff shampoo from Boots after Olivia had a word with her. Alice quite likes the shampoo as it is the colour of beryllonite. The smell is good too. And after the first few washes the white flecks on her shoulders are fewer in number. It has not stopped the laughter from the girls in the corner of her tutor group however. But nothing except perhaps some sort of military tank will ever stop them. She has made the decision that her bag should be on her person at all times now though. So even when she has to go to the toilet or get something from another classroom, she takes her bag. She is learning fast. Just like she has with Eliza.

And even home feels quieter. Nobody seems to be visiting Olivia these days. Jonty has not called since the last domestic violence, and Ben and Nicola don't come. She misses these friends with their cheery greetings and their pleasant smiles and she knows for a fact that Olivia feels this too. Her sister has had several days off school over the past three months and she often looks very sad. Alice feels sorry for her sister but does not know how to make her happier. Even Sandy has tried.

Sandy is overjoyed to be let off her lead. She lollops off into the long meadow grass following a scent so that only her tail and hindquarters are showing. She bobs about and it makes Alice smile. She notices several shy clumps of daffodils dotted about here and there. There is a glow in her stomach when she thinks of these. They are signs that spring is definitely here. There will be bluebells soon enough too. They will be over in
the bottom of the meadow underneath the shade of the trees. She looks forward to the blue fuzz of the future. She wonders about picking a couple of the daffodils to take home to her mum. But thinks better of it as she will only scowl and say that wild flowers should remain in the wilderness to keep the meadow pretty.

Her mum has been scowling a lot lately. It's something to do with the baby.

Caws in the trees above her from roosting crows make her lift up her head. She does not like the sound very much. They remind her of horror stories and there is something superstitious about these birds' dark shapes. But she pushes the thought from her mind. Superstitions are irrational beliefs which are usually founded on ignorance or fear.

Alice unties her coat which is knotted around her waist and settles it on the floor. From here she prepares to sit down and go through the process of tending to her farm. It is, after all, early enough for no one to be around.

She spends a happy twenty minutes chatting quietly to her animals. Sandy, every so often, makes an appearance, pushing her nose against Alice's leg to check that everything is all right. Alice threads her fingers through her straw-coloured fur to reassure her.

A pair of magpies appear close by; their machine-gun rattle and brave hopping distract her from her animals. She is surprised at the magpies daring. They do not seem to mind Alice being so near. They strut and pose at each other. She squints at them in the early-morning sunshine and sings, ‘One
for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy!' which her dad taught her. This is yet another superstition, but on this occasion it will not do any harm. It is not like there is anyone to witness her.

She then salutes them, shouting, ‘Hello Mr Magpie,' and calls for Malachite who has used the opportunity to stray over to the other field. So it is with horror and alarm that there is then a loud rustle above her and a small hailstorm of twigs and last year's dried up leaves. She looks up, her eyes wide and frightened at the commotion.

In terror she sees a pair of legs. She feels the blood rush to her face as she remembers the last twenty minutes. How she was talking and playing and singing to real and imaginary animals. How ashamed her sister would be. Now she and Olivia are getting closer it feels all the more important to make her proud.

Now she has really let down her family.

The legs dangle in ill-fitting jeans right above her head. They reveal socks which are not a pair; a pink, spotted one and one which looks like it could belong to a man because it has the Guinness beer symbol on the ankle. Despite herself, Alice peers curiously. The ankles most definitely do not belong to a man. In fact, she would go so far as to suggest that these were the ankles of a girl, rather like herself.

‘Oh God!' The words are said in a panicky voice from the person dangling in the tree. This person might be stuck. Or, worse, about to fall.

As a precaution Alice takes a step back. Her sister might
prefer her to flee the meadow in an attempt at avoiding embarrassment. But curiosity gets the better of her. She stays and peers at the pair of legs.

She does not have to wait long. With a shout of annoyance the pair of legs gives one last waggle and then something falls in an untidy heap on the grass in front of Alice.

Attached to the legs are a torso, arms, hands and head belonging to a girl not much older than Alice. The girl from the bench by the shop. The girl who was interested in Eliza. She grunts uncomfortably as she falls on to the ground. But apart from the breath pushed out of her for a second, she seems remarkably unscathed.

Alice is amazed and afraid. She has never seen anyone fall out of a tree before. In fact, apart from a few dog-walkers over the years she has never seen anyone else in this meadow. She feels slightly irritated. She has rather got used to the idea that this is her own private meadow, even though it is a public footpath and people have the right to walk, ride and cycle through it.

The girl in a heap in front of her looks a mess. It looks like she has not brushed her hair this morning because there is a fuzz ball at the back. And her stripy jumper is ill-fitting and baggy. Her trainers are scuffed and very muddy and she has a green anorak which is sliding off her shoulders.

The girl cheerfully grins up at Alice. Alice knows she has alarm stuck on her face like the strawberry jam from breakfast.

The girl stands up and then, to Alice's shock, sticks her hand out towards her. She realizes she is meant to shake it.
Like people do on formal occasions. A meadow is not a formal place, but Alice takes the hand and shakes it.

‘Hello. I'm Bethany Rose Dennis. I am twelve years old. My birthday is 1st September and I like Harry Potter collectables. What about you? I remember you with the baby from outside the shop. I think you have imaginary friends. I can tell because I do too.'

Alice widens her eyes. The girl is smiling and nodding, waiting for Alice to reply. She does not look like she is laughing at Alice. She does not look sly or suspicious or intimidating. Despite witnessing Alice playing with her farm.