Claiming Noah (16 page)

Was that it? It wasn't obvious to Diana that the man had done anything to the pram, except for perhaps disturbing the wrap in some way and moving the pram away from the shelves.

Sergeant Thomas paused the video and turned to Diana. ‘Do you recognise the man in the footage?'

‘Maybe,' Diana said, desperately searching her memory. ‘I do remember seeing a man pushing a pram in the supermarket. I remember thinking how nice it was that he was out alone with his baby.' At that remark she paused and looked at Liam, but he was looking down at the table.

‘Do you remember any distinctive features about him?' Sergeant Thomas asked Diana. ‘His height? Hair colour? Did he have any tattoos or scars?'

Diana knew she had been in the supermarket – there was a video to prove it – but she couldn't remember anything she had seen or done. It was like driving down a stretch of road so familiar that you arrive home without remembering anything of the journey that got you there. But that
was
the man she had noticed with the pram, wasn't it? She closed her eyes in an attempt to visualise his face, or his clothes, anything that would help the police to identify him and track him down, but all she was rewarded with was the black behind her eyelids and a memory devoid of any visual images.

‘I'm really sorry,' Diana said. ‘I don't remember what he looked like.'

The younger officer interjected. ‘Did you speak to him? Did you make eye contact with him?'

She pressed her fingertips against her eyelids as if that gesture would bring the memory back to her, but she couldn't remember anything. She was flustered by the questions and angry at herself for her inability to recall any discerning facts about the man. ‘I'm sorry, I don't remember anything. I just noticed that he was pushing a pram, and that was it.'

The officers turned to each other and exchanged a look of disappointment.

‘Do we have anything to go on?' Sergeant Thomas asked the younger officer.

‘Not from this shot. But we're analysing the footage from other cameras in the centre to see if we can get a better visual. And we're interviewing everyone who works in the centre; someone might be able to ID him. Forensics are trying to get prints from the pram.'

Sergeant Thomas turned back to Diana. He spoke directly to her even though he addressed both of them. ‘You may as well go home now, Mr and Mrs Simmons, there's nothing else you can do for the time being. Thank you for coming in.'

He stood up, walked over to the door and held it open for them while Diana and Liam rose from their seats. ‘Please call us if you remember anything else, Mrs Simmons. We'll be in touch if we find anything.'

Monday, 7 May 2012

I
t was a full week before James came to the clinic again, and to Catriona's surprise he didn't bring Sebastian with him.

James answered her question before she asked it. ‘I left Sebastian with your mum. He seemed to really upset you last time and I thought that probably wasn't what you needed right now.'

Catriona nodded, but his comment and actions hurt her. Why hadn't he asked her whether she wanted him to bring Sebastian instead of making that decision on his own? She had been looking forward to seeing her son and putting into practice some of the techniques she had learned. She and Doctor Winder had discussed how her confidence as a mother would grow once she stopped comparing herself to other mothers and her preconceived notion of how motherhood should be. She wanted to spend time with Sebastian so she could feel more comfortable with him before she left the clinic and went home – but how was she supposed to do that if James wouldn't let her be around him?

They returned to the garden cafe, and Catriona was surprised to see that this time it was James who seemed nervous. She tried to keep the conversation light by talking about Lana and the cognitive behavioural therapy, but as time went on James seemed more and more distressed. He had barely looked at her since he arrived at the clinic and he spilled half of his coffee on to the table.

‘No more caffeine for you,' Catriona joked in an attempt to elicit a smile from James as she helped him mop up the spill with paper napkins, but he didn't even seem to register that she had spoken.

She thought about how James had said on the phone a few days earlier that Sebastian wasn't sleeping and she wondered if he was unwell. It would be like James to keep that from her so she didn't worry. James looked as if he hadn't slept either; the skin under his eyes was dark and the rest of his face sallow.

‘Okay, what's going on?' Catriona said. ‘Is there something I should know?'

James's head snapped up to look at her, his eyes wide. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You're a nervous wreck, what's going on with you?'

James took his time piling the sodden napkins into his empty coffee cup.

‘Sorry,' he said finally. ‘I know I'm not myself today. I had a terrible night's sleep last night. I don't sleep well when you're not there.'

He had never mentioned that before in the six years they had been together, but she didn't want to probe him. He was probably finding it difficult to look after Sebastian on his own, especially if he was sick.

‘I can come home in a couple of days if you want,' she said. ‘I'm feeling so much better.'

‘I thought you were staying another week,' James said, his words coming out rushed.

‘I was going to, but I don't have to. Doctor Winder said my treatment's going really well, so I can leave earlier if I want to. Don't you want me to come home?'

‘Of course I do, but don't rush it. Stay the whole week. I'm fine, really.'

‘But what about Sebastian?'

James seemed to pale before her eyes. ‘No, he's . . . fine. We're fine.'

Catriona reached across the table and placed her hand on James's forehead. It felt hot and clammy under her palm. He had probably caught whatever Sebastian had. ‘I think you're getting sick. You look awful. Why don't you go to the doctor on your way home? I'm sure Mum can look after Sebastian for a bit longer.'

James nodded. ‘I think you're right, I'm not feeling great. I should probably go now.' He stood up and gave Catriona a quick peck on the cheek. ‘I'll see you in a week, okay?'

Catriona barely had time to respond before James walked off in the direction of the car park. This time she was the one standing still, watching him walk away.

•  •  •

‘You're back early,' Lana said when Catriona returned to the third floor and found her sitting alone at the table in her room, writing in a journal.

‘James couldn't leave fast enough. I barely finished my coffee before he ran off.'

Lana closed the journal and pushed it to the side of the table. The cover looked worn, with several unidentifiable stains and a series of pockmarks as if from keys or some other sharp object the journal had come up against over its lifetime.

‘Do you write in that often?' Catriona asked her, gesturing towards the journal.

‘I'm supposed to do it every day, but it doesn't always happen. My psychiatrist said it's a good way to recognise whether I'm in a manic or depressive stage, so he can adjust my medication.'

In the days they had spent together in the clinic, Catriona hadn't once asked Lana about her bipolar disorder, even though they had discussed Catriona's psychosis and depression at length. Lana's ability to empathise with Catriona had made it easy for her to speak about her condition without holding back; she admitted things to her that she hadn't even told Doctor Winder. Perhaps she hadn't asked Lana about her disorder because it seemed as if she had it under control, but that didn't make Catriona feel any less guilty when she realised how one-sided their friendship had been.

‘How long have you had it?' Catriona asked, sitting at the table next to her.

‘I was diagnosed when I was twelve – ten years ago. Just after my dad left. Mum thought I was just playing up, so it took her a while to take me to a doctor.'

‘So, you've been on medication for ten years?'

Catriona wondered if she would need to stay on her medications for years as well. She made a mental note to ask Doctor Winder when they next met.

Lana tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Yep. I'll be on it forever.'

‘Sorry if this is a personal question,' Catriona said, ‘but why do you need to be in here? You seem fine.'

Lana shrugged and traced a scratch on the cover of the journal with her finger. ‘It comes and goes. I'm usually fine when they're monitoring the balance of my medication, but if it's off I can do some pretty crazy things. I've punched a few bosses when I've been manic. It's a great way to lose your job, take my word for it. And the same goes for boyfriends.'

Catriona smiled. There were a few bosses she would have liked to punch over the years. ‘Is that why you're in here this time?'

‘No, the opposite. My antidepressants weren't strong enough and I got myself into a real funk. Mum caught me after I'd done this.' She pulled up her sleeves, twisted her arms and showed Catriona two wide plasters on the underside of her wrists.

Catriona recoiled at the sight. ‘Oh. Sorry, I didn't know.'

‘Yeah. So, that's why I'm in here this time. Suicide watch.'

Catriona couldn't take her gaze away from Lana's wrists. It seemed incredible that a young, attractive girl could find her life so insufferable that she would try to end it. The irony of that thought wasn't lost on Catriona. She had nearly done the same thing. And left behind a husband and baby to grieve for her.

Lana was studying her face. ‘How about you? Are you going to be okay when you get home?'

Catriona could only shrug. She hadn't had a hallucination in over a week and the voices had disappeared completely. She felt like the desire to harm herself or Sebastian had gone, but how could she know? How could she be sure her psychosis wouldn't return the moment she left the security of the clinic? She couldn't be sure, that was the answer. No matter how well she felt there would always be that small question mark of doubt nestled somewhere in a dark recess of her mind.

•  •  •

As she had agreed with James, Catriona stayed another week at the clinic. She spoke to him on the phone a couple of times, but he didn't visit her again. When she called to tell him she was ready to leave he told her Sebastian was asleep. Despite his protests that he wanted to come and collect her, she told him she would catch a taxi so he didn't have to wake Sebastian. So, after saying goodbye to Lana and exchanging contact details so they could keep in touch, Catriona checked herself out of the clinic and ordered a taxi to drive her the short distance home.

James greeted her at the front door. He kissed her and took her suitcase from her hand. ‘Welcome home, babe, I missed you.'

‘I missed you, too.' She looked up the staircase towards the nursery. ‘Is Sebastian awake? I can't wait to see him.'

‘He's probably still asleep. Should we have a glass of wine to celebrate you coming home?'

‘In a minute. I'm just going to peek in on him.'

She climbed the stairs, trying to work out whether she was more nervous or excited to finally see her son again, and pushed opened the door to Sebastian's room. It was lit with the soft glow from a nightlight sitting on the dresser. Sebastian was awake and he smiled up at her as she approached the cot. She reached down for him with hands that shook, gauging his reaction to seeing her, and when he didn't cry or squirm away from her she picked him up and hugged him to her chest. She held her breath as she rubbed his back, waiting for him to cry, but he didn't seem upset that he was being held by her. The relief she felt made all the time she had spent in the clinic seem worthwhile.

‘He's not crying,' she said to James, who had followed her up the stairs.

‘Of course not. He missed you too.'

Catriona readjusted Sebastian in her arms so she could look at him properly, as James watched her from the doorway. She had only been away for three weeks, but her absence felt much longer. Everything seemed different with Sebastian somehow. He felt lighter in her arms and the expression on his face wasn't one she had seen before. His skin was paler than she remembered, and even though his eyes were the same soft brown as always, they had a blank look to them that seemed unusual to her.

‘Has he been sick?' Catriona asked James, walking closer to the doorway so she could see Sebastian in the light from the hallway. ‘He looks like he's lost weight.'

‘Probably a little bit, but he's okay now. Just a bug. So, tell me about the rest of your stay at the clinic – how was it?'

‘Oh, you know, just lots of sessions about relaxation techniques, coping mechanisms, things like that. It was good, I learned some really helpful things.' She turned her attention back to Sebastian. ‘Are you sure he's okay now? He doesn't look like himself. And he's so docile. Do we need to take him to the doctor?'

James came up beside her and took Sebastian from her arms. ‘I took him a few days ago and he's fine, I promise you. It's been a couple of weeks since you last saw him, remember, so maybe that's why he seems a bit different.'

He placed Sebastian back in his cot. Catriona followed him and leaned over the side, frowning. ‘Did you give him a haircut?'

‘No, why?'

‘I'm just trying to work out what's different with him.'

‘Nothing's different, it must just be your memory. Remember the doctor said the ECT might affect your short-term memory? It's probably just that.'

Catriona straightened up and tried not to cry. ‘Great, so I can't even remember my son properly any more. What a wonderful mother.'

‘Hey, none of that,' James said. ‘It's not good for you. I'll settle Sebastian and then you can tell me more about the clinic. There's a bottle of wine sitting on the kitchen bench. Why don't you pour us a couple of glasses and I'll be down in a minute.'