Alphabet Weekends - Elizabeth Noble [34]
She had finally found words for it. They had been spoken and heard.
Anna started to cry again.
Anna and Bridget
Anna had been sitting with the baby on her shoulder, his head in her neck, for almost an hour.
‘I should probably put him down, Mum. Don’t want to spoil him.’
‘Why not?’
Bridget felt irritable. That was easy for her mum to say – she had nothing else to do but sit there nursing. It would be a different matter when Toby expected to be cuddled while she was trying to feed Christina, or get some washing done, or cook supper for her and Karl. ‘Because he has to learn to go to sleep on his own.’
‘That’s what Gina Ford says, is it?’
‘That’s what I say, Mum. Give him here.’ Bridget lifted her son’s tiny body off her mother, and, in one seamless movement, put him into the Moses basket next to the sofa. ‘There you are, darling. Good boy.’
She had sounded perfunctory. Anna felt bereft. There was a row of tiny cardigans drying on the rack. She started folding them carefully, laying them on her lap.
‘You don’t have to do that, Mum.’
‘I want to help.’
‘And you have. You put Christina down for her sleep while I fed Toby, and you’ve looked after him while I cleared up from lunch.’
‘That doesn’t seem much.’
‘I don’t want you to come here to work, Mum.’ Bridget tried to keep the impatience out of her voice but knew she was failing. She was just so tired. She could cope with the kids, but Mum as well… She felt close to tears. She checked the clock on the mantelpiece. Still another three hours before Karl came home.
‘I’m not ill, you know. It was a cancer scare, not actual cancer.’
Now Bridget really had to bite it back. She knew it was a scare, for Christ’s sake. And scare was the right word. It had scared the shit out of all of them. But she wasn’t the one behaving like the end of the world was nigh. Neither were her sisters, and nor was her poor father. It was Mum. She’d been like this for months now.
‘I know that Mum.’ She took a deep breath. She really didn’t want to do it now, but maybe it would be better than this atmosphere. ‘I do. But you’ve been so…’ she struggled for an adequate word ‘… weird ever since. We never know what we’re going to get.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re so up and down. One minute you’re fine, the next you’re snapping everyone’s heads off. Or, worse, all Uriah Heep, like you’re a burden or something. It’s exhausting, a bit, Mum, to be honest…’
Bridget’s voice trailed off. Her mother was profoundly sad, and she wished fervently that she hadn’t started this. What was she doing? She wasn’t equipped to wash her face and brush her teeth, let alone have this conversation.
‘Is that why you didn’t want me at the hospital?’
Bridget had been about to deny it, but then she said, softly, ‘Yes.’
‘And why you didn’t call me to look after Christina?’
‘No, Mum. I explained that to you. Karl’s mother had specifically asked if she could. You can see her point of view, can’t you? Karl’s an only child, she hasn’t got a daughter of her own, she knew I had you…’
‘Only you didn’t, did you? You didn’t need me there.’
‘I needed my mum there. But, these days, you don’t seem much like her.’
‘So you’d rather call Natalie?’
‘Mum!’ Bridget was exasperated. ‘It’s not a question of “rather”. You’re so unpredictable!’
‘You’re talking about me as if I’m mentally ill. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘No, of course not. I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Nor do Nat and Suze – or Dad. None of us knows what to do! Dad’s at the end of his tether – surely you can see that?’
Of course she could. You aren’t married to a man for forty years without knowing when he’s at the end of his tether. Anna just didn’t know what to do about it. ‘Are you all talking about me?’
‘Of course we are.’ Bridget was almost shouting now, and Toby snuffled and shifted in the Moses basket beside them. ‘We all love you, Mum.’ The tears that are never far away