Still John said nothing, his eyes now fixed straight ahead. Deciding to leave it for the time being, Richard’s thoughts turned to Mel. With any luck she’d be able to come home soon, perhaps even tomorrow.
It had been a dreadful time, but it was over now. In January their baby would be born, and what a wonderful way that would be to celebrate the New Year.
Paula was standing by the window when she saw a man leave the flats, but didn’t see his face until he walked round to the driver’s side of the car. She stiffened with shock, and as he drove off found her voice, exclaiming, ‘Oh no, that was Betty’s husband!’
They all scrambled for the door and rushed upstairs, Val’s voice echoing her anxiety. ‘Betty, has something happened to Mel and the baby?’
Cheryl stood in the background, tense, dreading what she’d hear. Betty looked desolate as she wiped a handkerchief across her eyes. ‘It’s all right. They’re both fine.’
‘Oh, thank God for that,’ Cheryl blurted out.
Paula asked, ‘Did he come to have a go at you?’
‘I expected him to, it’s what I deserve, but he just wanted to talk. He…He’s made me see sense at last.’
Paula placed an arm around Betty’s shoulder. ‘Come on, come and sit down.’
‘John…John wouldn’t come up to see me. I’ve lost him now, and Anne. They’ll never forgive me.’
‘Don’t cry. They’ll come round, you’ll see.’
‘That…that’s what Richard said.’
Cheryl sat quietly. She’d benefited from their plans, as had Paula, but for Betty, revenge hadn’t paid. She had tried to turn her son against his father, but instead the reverse had happened. If only Betty had left things alone, if only she’d let the past go, been happy for her son that he had both parents in his life. Now she had lost him, lost Anne, and she was utterly devastated. It was awful to see her in such a state, and leaning forward she urged, ‘You could write them a letter, explain why you did it–try to make them understand.’
‘It’s a good idea,’ Val said.
Betty nodded, and with a juddering sob, at last stopped crying. ‘I…I’ll do that. If I tell them how wrong I was, and…and say how sorry I am, it might work.’
‘It’s sure to,’ Val said, ‘but what’s this about your husband making you see sense at last?’
Betty bowed her head, avoiding their eyes as she relayed her conversation with Richard. She held nothing back, ending with, ‘So you see, Richard made me see his side of things. I realise now that I was cold–that I drove him into having an affair.’
‘He still shouldn’t have forced you out of your house,’ Paula protested.
‘He agrees it was wrong to do that, but in truth, he did give me a very good settlement.’
‘But you said it was small,’ Val protested.
Betty told them about her depression, how she had spent the money like water and had given her son a large deposit on a house. ‘Richard’s right. If I had invested the money wisely, I wouldn’t be so hard up now.’
Cheryl’s jaws tensed. When Val recruited Betty, she’d told her side of the story and they all felt so sorry for her. Now though there was a different point of view, and it made Cheryl feel worse, angry at herself for going along with Betty’s plan. The fact that she’d known about Mel’s high blood pressure, yet failed to mention it, still rankled–even if Betty hadn’t realised the risks. Thankfully Mel and the baby were all right, but Cheryl had had enough of these schemes, and if Val wanted to carry on, taking her revenge on Mike Freeman, she wanted nothing to do with it.
‘Betty,’ Val said, ‘we had a couple of drinks downstairs, but I don’t think another one would hurt. I know you’ve got a bottle of sherry, do you mind if I open it?’
‘No, go ahead.’
‘Not for me thanks,’ Cheryl said. In truth, all she wanted was to leave, but was stuck until Val was ready to give her a lift home. She could walk, and though it would be a long one, it would be better than staying here. The day had been a disaster. The presents remained unopened, the Christmas dinner uncooked and, realising this, Cheryl’s stomach growled. Val had made them a snack, but other than breakfast it was all they’d eaten that day. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said as her stomach growled again.
‘It sounds like you’re hungry, and I am too,’ Val said. ‘What about you, Betty? Along with a drink, I could make some sandwiches.’
‘I…I’m not hungry, but there’s a tin of red salmon in the cupboard, and…and the Christmas cake.’
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Cheryl offered. Yes, she could walk home, but doubted Val would let her, and anyway, she didn’t have a good excuse for leaving.
In the kitchenette the vegetables they’d prepared that morning sat in water, the chicken dressed and ready to go into the oven. Val shook her head sadly. She put the chicken in the fridge, but decided to discard the vegetables, saying, ‘What a waste, but it’s too late to cook them now.’
They then made a plate of sandwiches, unaware that in Farnham, another tragedy was about to unfold.
Richard was fighting exhaustion. After a bad night’s sleep, then Mel being admitted to hospital that morning, it had been mad to drive to London to see Betty. Yet despite his tiredness, he felt it had been worth it. He didn’t want Mel worrying, didn’t want her living on tenterhooks, and could now tell her that it was all over, that his ex–wife was prepared to put the past behind her at last.
When Richard dropped John off at his mews cottage, his son said he’d freshen up and then see him at the hospital but, feeling he had no time to do the same, Richard drove straight on to see Mel. When he arrived, he walked into the main reception area and for the first time noticed the Christmas tree. There were fewer staff than usual, but as it was still Christmas Day it wasn’t surprising. Thanks to this hospital, Mel had survived, his unborn child had survived, and he felt a surge of gratitude for the doctors, nurses and other staff who had given up their Christmas to the care of patients. He guessed that Mel would have been moved to one of the wards by now as she was out of danger so, after asking the young lady on reception where to go, he headed for the lift.
As he got out on the second floor, Richard was smiling. He was anticipating taking Mel home today, or maybe tomorrow, but instead when told by a nurse where his wife was, he walked in to chaos. ‘What’s going on?’ he cried.
‘Oh Richard. Richard,’ Mel sobbed. ‘They can’t hear the baby’s heart.’
‘What!’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Grayson,’ the doctor said, ‘we’re just about to take your wife down to theatre for a Caesarean. She has pre-eclampsia, and though we managed to stabilise her blood pressure this morning, it has now become dangerously high. We can’t afford to wait,’ he said abruptly, all his focus on Mel.
Richard was only able to briefly clutch Mel’s hand as she was wheeled away and, feeling helpless, he paced the corridor until told to sit in the waiting room. His stomach lurched, his emotions on a roller coaster. So much had happened in such a short time. First Mel had been in danger, and then out of it, and now they couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat.
With a groan Richard rubbed both hands over his face. He hadn’t wanted more children, but from the moment Mel had told him she was pregnant, his feelings had changed in an instant. He’d watched her blooming, seen how happy she was, and it felt like a second chance. When John and Anne were children, he’d been so wrapped up in making a success of the business that he’d given them little time. He’d missed so much, but this time was determined to be different, to play a larger role in this baby’s upbringing.
No heartbeat! They couldn’t find a heartbeat, he thought, his panic growing as he realised the implications of this. Oh please, he prayed inwardly, please let the baby be all right, please let Mel be all right. Mel…Mel…if anything happened to her he’d go mad. He’d given up on happiness, on love, but then Mel came along to change all that. At first he’d feared the age gap, but found it didn’t matter. Mel kept him young, and the prospect of having a new baby had given him a new lease of life.
Richard’s eyes watched the clock, waiting for news, willing time to pass. Half an hour later, John arrived, asking as he walked into the waiting room, ‘What’s going on, Dad? A nurse told me I’d find you in here. Where’s Mel?’
‘In theatre, having a Caesarean,’ but then feeling his eyes welling with tears, Richard once again held his hands over his face.
‘Why, Dad? I thought they’d managed to bring her blood pressure down.’
‘So did I, but the doctor said it’s dangerously high again and…and they couldn’t hear the baby’s heart.’
John sat down, placed a hand on his father’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, Dad, they’ll be fine.’
‘I hope so, son. I hope so,’ Richard croaked.
They sat then in silence, but then Anne turned up, she too looking worried. ‘Dad, what’s going on?’
Richard repeated what he’d told John, his daughter taking a seat on the other side of him. She reached out to clutch his hand, her expression earnest. ‘They’ll be all right, Dad, I know they will.’
He tried to draw comfort from both John and Anne’s words, until at last a nurse came into the room.
‘Mr Grayson.’
‘Yes,’ he said, leaping to his feet.
‘Come with me, please. Doctor Jackson would like to speak to you.’
‘Is my wife all right? Is the baby all right?’
She didn’t answer the question, only saying as John and Anne walked to his side, ‘I’m sorry, but just Mr Grayson.’
Richard found his heart thumping in his chest and anxious thoughts swimming round his head as he was shown into a small office. The doctor was there, his face etched with sympathy as he told Richard to sit down.
‘No, no, please, just tell me,’ Richard urged.
‘Your wife is fine, Mr Grayson, but I’m afraid we were unable to save the baby.’
Richard clutched the back of a chair. Mel was all right! Relief flooded through him, only to be followed by a surge of grief. ‘Oh God, no,’ he gasped.
The doctor was talking, medical jargon, something about the baby, but his voice sounded distant to Richard’s ears. A hand came out, holding a glass of water.
‘Please, sit down,’ the nurse said in a kindly voice, ‘drink this.’
Richard found his throat constricted, but managed to swallow the water, then asked, ‘Can I see my wife?’
‘Yes,’ the doctor said, ‘though due to the hypertension we had to administer a general anaesthetic.’
Richard was only able to nod, and turning he followed the nurse again, this time to see Mel.
After nearly an hour, John rose swiftly when his father at last returned to the waiting room. ‘Dad, is Mel all right?’
‘Yes,’ he said, obviously fighting tears, ‘but she…she lost the baby.’
‘Oh no, no,’ Anne cried, ‘she must be heartbroken. Can I see her?’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry, but she’s not up to visitors yet.’
‘Then when?’
‘I don’t know, tomorrow maybe.’
‘But…’
‘Mel’s still feeling the effects of the anaesthetic and was hardly aware I was there. I was told to leave now, to come back tomorrow, so please, let’s just go.’
‘This is down to Mum,’ Anne cried. ‘If it hadn’t been for her, Mel wouldn’t have lost the baby. I’ll never forgive her. Never!’
‘Please, not now,’ Richard appealed.
John felt a surge of anger. His sister was right. Mel had been fine until that girl had turned up, shouting her accusations, ones that he’d been ready to believe until Anne arrived. No wonder Mel had collapsed and her blood pressure had rocketed. He looked at his father, saw that he was close to breaking point, and managed to swallow his feelings enough to say, ‘Come on, Dad, let’s get you home.’
When they got to the car park, Anne said, ‘Dad, I don’t want to leave you on your own. Would you like me to stay at your place?’
‘There’s no need. I’ll go to bed as soon as I get home, and then come back to the hospital in the morning.’
‘If you’re sure, but I’ll see you here first thing tomorrow,’ she said, eyes moist as she gave him a swift hug before going to her car.
John was also worried about his father. ‘Dad, you look worn out. Leave your car here and I’ll take you home.’
‘No, son, it’s only a ten–minute drive. I’ll be fine.’
‘But, Dad…’
‘I appreciate the offer, son, but just go, will you? I’ve had enough for one day and just want a bit of time to myself. Mel has just lost our baby, our son, and I need some space,’ he begged, his voice cracking with emotion.
‘A boy? Oh Dad.’
John saw his father break down then, sobs racking his shoulders, and in the dim light of the car park, for the first time, he held his father in his arms. There had never been any great displays of affection between them, but as John’s arms tightened around his father his feelings were of sorrow, pity and love. Yes, he loved this man, but thanks to his mother he’d cut him from his life, believing all that she had told him. There were faults on both sides, John knew that now, but his father didn’t deserve this–Mel didn’t deserve this. His mother needed to know, to
hear
what she had done, and he’d make sure that he was the one to tell her.
Paula awoke on Boxing Day, her body stiff from sleeping on the sofa, but she’d insisted on staying. Val had driven Cheryl home, but Paula hadn’t wanted to leave. Betty was still upset, even though with their help she’d spent a long time composing a letter to her children.
Post was suspended until after the holidays, so it would be a while before Betty found out if it would do any good, but surely they’d understand? Surely they’d realise what a wonderful mother Betty was and, if they didn’t, they must be mad. All right, she hadn’t tried to see her husband’s point of view, may have been a bit cold, but as far as Paula was concerned it didn’t excuse what he’d done. He could’ve had a bit on the side if he was that frustrated–what was it with men and sex anyway? That thought brought back memories of her rape and she shuddered, but forced a cheerful note into her voice as Betty appeared.
‘Morning, love,’ Paula said brightly.
‘Did you manage to sleep?’ Betty asked, her voice sounding lacklustre.
‘Yeah, and as you’re up, how about I make us a nice cup of tea?’
‘I’ll do it. I need some Alka-Seltzer too. I drank too much sherry on an empty stomach and I still feel a bit queasy.’
‘You ain’t used to it, that’s the trouble.’
‘Before I knew Val I never drank at all. Oh Paula, I can’t help wishing I’d never met her now. Despite the sherry, I’ve been awake half the night thinking about it. If I hadn’t got involved with Val, none of this would have happened.’
‘Don’t say that, Betty. It was just bad luck your plan went wrong and you can’t blame Val for that. She was just trying to help us, to help all of us, and I’ll never forget what she did for me.’
‘I know, I know,’ she said tiredly ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m trying to use Val as a scapegoat and that isn’t fair.’ Betty then looked at the letters lying on the table, stamped and ready to post. ‘Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?’
‘Of course they will,’ Paula said, hoping she was right but not voicing her fears. Then there was a knock on the door.
‘It’s a bit early, but I expect that’s Val,’ Betty said as she went to open it.
‘She’s probably worried about you,’ said Paula, but then trailed off, her mouth gaping in surprise.
‘John!’ Betty exclaimed.
He brushed past his mother and, seeing Paula, yelled, ‘You! I might have guessed you’d be here.’
Paula jumped to her feet, and in the face of his anger her eyes flicked around, desperately looking for escape. She dashed to Betty’s bedroom, but there was no drowning out his voice.
‘Yes, it’s just as well she ran, Mum. It’s thanks to you both that Mel lost the baby.’
‘What? No! Your father said they’re out of danger.’
‘They were, but Mel’s blood pressure shot up again. She had to have an emergency Caesarean. It was a boy, Mum, my half–brother, but they couldn’t save him.’
‘John, I’m so sorry, really I am. I had no idea that blood pressure was dangerous, that the baby was at risk.’
‘The fact that she was heavily pregnant should have been enough to stop you from pulling that stunt! But no, you had to have your revenge, didn’t you? Well Dad’s in a terrible state now so I hope you’re happy. You make me sick! For years I kept away from Dad, listened to your poison, but no more. I’m finished with you. Don’t try to ring me, or see me. Just stay out of my life!’
Paula heard a door slam, followed by Betty’s cry of anguish. She rushed back to the living room but, finding her inconsolable, sobbing, and frightened, ran downstairs to bang on Val’s door. ‘Val, Val, you’ve got to come. Betty’s in a terrible state and I can’t get her to stop crying.’
‘What happened?’
‘Her son came round. It was awful. Mel lost the baby and—’
‘No, no,’ Val cried, and together they dashed upstairs.
It took a long time, but at last Betty stopped crying, her face blotched, eyes red rimmed as she gasped, ‘Val, Val, what have I done? The baby, the poor innocent baby…’
‘I know, it’s awful, but it wasn’t your fault.’
‘My son thinks it was, and when I tried to make a feeble excuse, I realised he’s right. I
did
know that Mel had high blood pressure, should have asked Cheryl if there were risks. But I didn’t. All I cared about was revenge, and…Maybe, deep down, I wanted this to happen.’
‘Of course you didn’t.’
‘But Mel was having Richard’s baby, and I was sick with jealousy.’
‘Stop this,’ Val urged. ‘I know you’re distraught, but I know you better than that.’
Betty clutched Paula’s hand, fighting tears again, and then groaned, ‘Oh, my head is splitting.’
‘Why don’t you go back to bed? Paula can come downstairs with me and we’ll pop up to see how you are in a couple of hours.’
Betty didn’t argue and released Paula’s hand as she rose to her feet, bent like an old woman as she went through to her bedroom.
‘Val, I don’t like leaving her like this,’ Paula protested.
‘With a headache like that, sleep is the best thing for her. We won’t be far away if she needs us.’
Doubtfully Paula followed Val out, worried about Betty’s state of mind. ‘Maybe we should call Cheryl.’
‘If she’s no better in a couple of hours, we’ll do just that,’ Val assured her.
Paula wasn’t happy, but thinking that Val probably knew best, she said no more.
Richard was at the hospital. Mel looked awful, her face, hands and feet grotesquely swollen with oedema, but it was the desolation in her eyes that worried him the most. He did his best to comfort her, and when Anne arrived, he left her with Mel while he went to find a nurse. She led him to the ward sister’s office, where he voiced his concerns.
‘The fluid retention will reduce, Mr Grayson, and once her sutures have been removed, your wife will be allowed home.’
‘I’m worried about her state of mind. She won’t talk.’
‘It’s to be expected. She’s grieving, Mr Grayson, and it takes us all in different ways.’
‘I don’t know what to do, how to comfort her.’
‘Just give her time.’
Richard thanked her, but still felt helpless as he returned to Mel’s room.
‘She’s asleep,’ Anne said. ‘I’ll go to the tea machine. Can I get you anything?’
‘No thanks,’ he murmured and, as his daughter left, he sat beside Mel, took her hand, but felt no return pressure. Anne had thought her asleep, but Richard knew better. ‘I’ve spoken to the ward sister. She said you can come home soon.’
Still she said nothing, her eyes closed. ‘Mel, Mel, I know it’s awful, but we can try again. We can have another baby.’
It was as though a dam burst. Mel cried out in anguish, tears flooding her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. ‘No, no, I’m not fit to be a mother. It was my fault. I lost him. I lost my son…our son. They wouldn’t let me see him. They said he…he had something called…called anencephaly.’
‘l know, darling, but it wasn’t your fault,’ Richard said as he continued to hold Mel’s limp hand. He remembered going to the doctor’s office, grief clouding the man’s words, the medical jargon only sinking in when he arrived home. He had cried for his son, for a baby who never had a chance of survival.
‘It was. It was my fault,’ Mel sobbed. ‘It must have been something I took. You’ve heard about thalidomide, what that did to unborn babies.’
‘That was in the late fifties and early sixties. It’s been withdrawn now. You didn’t take that; in fact, I can’t remember you taking anything.’
‘I once took an aspirin when I had a headache.’
‘Oh, Mel, Mel, that wouldn’t have done any harm.’
‘You can’t be sure of that. It
was
my fault. It must have been,’ she wailed.
‘Dad, can I come in?’
He swung around. ‘Not now, Anne.’
As the door closed, Richard turned back to Mel. She was sobbing and he wanted to hold her, to drag her into his arms, but feared hurting her wound. Nothing he’d said helped, and he was seriously worried now. ‘Mel, I’m going to find the doctor. Maybe he can make you see sense.’
‘Richard, don’t tell Anne about the baby. She…she’ll hate me.’
‘Mel, it wasn’t your fault.’
‘It was…it was. Don’t tell her. Don’t tell anyone, please, Richard, please!’
‘All right, darling, I won’t say a word for now, but you’ve got to calm down.’
‘I…I can’t.’
‘I’ll get the doctor.’
Richard found Anne hovering in the corridor. ‘Oh, Dad, I only got a glimpse of Mel, but she looked awful. Can I go in again?’
‘Not yet. She needs to see a doctor.’
He hurried to the ward, lucky to find one just finishing his rounds. He listened to Richard, then went straight to Mel’s room.
‘Now then, Mrs Grayson, what’s this your husband’s been telling me? You can’t blame yourself, you know. Anencephaly is a neural tube disorder and I can assure you it doesn’t occur as a result of taking aspirin.’
‘A…a neural tube disorder. I…I don’t understand.’
‘It’s a disorder that involves an incomplete development of the skull, sometimes also the spinal cord, or other protective coverings.’
Mel’s eyes were swimming with tears. ‘If it wasn’t the aspirin, then why? Why did it happen?’
‘Research is being carried out, but at the moment we don’t have a definitive answer. We know it occurs because the neural tube fails to close, usually early in pregnancy.’
‘So it
is
my fault. There’s something wrong with me,’ Mel wailed.
The doctor tried to reassure her, but Mel was becoming hysterical again, hands now tearing at her hair. ‘Mel, Mel, don’t,’ Richard begged.
‘I’m going to give you a mild sedative, Mrs Grayson. We’ll talk again later.’
A nurse ushered Richard from the room. ‘Your wife will sleep now, Mr Grayson. You might as well go home, but you can come back this evening.’
‘I can’t leave her like that!’
‘There’s nothing you can do. She’s in good hands and, as you heard, when she wakes up the doctor will speak to her again.’
Anne ran to his side again. ‘Dad, what’s going on?’
‘The doctor’s giving Mel something to calm her down.’
‘Can’t I see her?’
‘Not now, but maybe she’ll be up to it this evening.’
Richard reluctantly left the hospital saying, ‘I expected to see John.’
‘He’s gone to see Mum, to tell her what she’s done. Like me, he’ll never forgive her.’
‘No, no, it wasn’t your mother’s fault.’
‘Yes it was,’ Anne retorted. ‘Mel was fine until that…that bitch Mum sent turned up.’
He had to bite back his words. Mel didn’t want anyone to know the baby had anencephaly, had been hysterical about it, and until Mel was ready to accept she hadn’t caused it, he’d have to remain silent. He was sure it wouldn’t be for long, and once they knew the truth, despite the stunt she had pulled, the children would reconcile with their mother. For now, though, Mel’s state of mind had to come first.