She even laughed – a weird, almost Disney-esque moment, Josie thought – as, like the bad fairy godmother, she was quickly escorted out, and everyone was suddenly talking all at once.
Thankfully, Lizzie’s phlegm missed the baby’s face by inches. A new blanket was fetched. Both cot and baby were changed. And after an intense round of chatter – the sister and Josie comforting Christine, the junior nurses reassuring the other mothers – within no more than fifteen minutes the ward was once again quiet and orderly, the echoes of the whirlwind that had so recently invaded it reduced to memories (and gossip, for when new visitors came) of the unpleasant scene that had been witnessed.
Christine was shaken, but surprisingly sanguine on the surface, but then, she’d just given birth and was shattered, no doubt. Josie suspected it would only properly hit her later. There was also the small matter of expectation and familiarity. Lizzie had always been fiery. Had always had a temper. She wore her heart on her sleeve, said what she thought, and Josie couldn’t recall a time when she’d cared the slightest jot who happened to hear her.
But this was rich, even for her – this thing had clearly sent her reeling. Which made Josie anxious; could she really be that blind about Mo? As for Christine herself, perhaps now, for all the excruciating embarrassment, she was relieved it was done now, finally over, this secret that she’d been carrying. A weight that, emotionally, must have felt almost as big as the baby’s. Which, positive though it was, still frustrated Josie greatly – why on earth hadn’t she confided in her?
Still, that was done now, and Josie knew she could only follow Christine’s lead. Perhaps she’d always known, after all, how her mum was going to react. Perhaps things were panning out entirely as she’d expected.
Well, from Christine’s point of view, perhaps, but certainly not the nurse’s. Who was indeed the ward sister. And a ward sister who now had a problem.
And once tea had been bought – the hospital trolley having rattled up in timely fashion – it was one she was keen to address. And in doing so (and this was unusual, so a testament to the difficulty of the situation) she was only too happy to include Josie. The problem was simple and quick to establish; that, from the sound of it, Christine – and her baby – had nowhere to go.
‘Which leaves us with a problem, my love,’ she told Christine gently. ‘Because I can’t discharge you till I know you have an address to be discharged to. And, with the best will in the world – and I obviously don’t know the circumstances in the way you both do – I can’t see your mother coming round. And that’s assuming we were entirely comfortable with you taking the baby there anyway. Which, given what we’ve just witnessed’ – she grimaced – ‘I’m not entirely sure we are.’
Christine shook her head. ‘No, that’s fine. I don’t want anything to do with her ever again. For as long as she lives,’ she added, for good measure.
So now what? Josie was conscious of time marching on. What had begun as a dash to drop her friend off in hospital had now become something very different. It was already gone four and she knew her mam would be wondering where she’d got to. It was Friday in her house just as much as in Lizzie’s, and she’d be wanting to get ready for her night out. It didn’t happen often but, as Josie thought about the mess Christine was in, she found herself really appreciating her mother.
Not to mention understanding the background to the extreme way Lizzie had reacted, even as she’d been completely appalled. Lizzie was clearly reeling. She’d been that blind about Mo – was still that blind, clearly. She’d obviously had not the tiniest inkling what Mo had been up to, so he’d obviously covered his tracks well. He was a master – had effectively washed his hands of Christine, and carried on, business as usual, with her mother. And as for Christine – Josie sighed; it was all such a needless mess, this – she’d simply buried her head in the sand.
But Christine was still a child. That was the crux of it. An innocent. Something Josie hadn’t been in a long time. And a victim, every bit as much as if Mo had raped her, rather than just seduced her. Something Josie still wasn’t ruling out. The five years that separated them in age suddenly seemed like a gulf, with Josie, so much older and world-wearier and wiser – and Christine, for all that she too was now a mum, still on the other side. She’d been seduced by a fucking expert and was now about to pay the price. It was all a bit of a ball scratcher, as their Vinnie would say.
Christine started, shaken awake from a half-sleep. She opened her eyes to see one of the nurses trundling up the ward, on her way round with her box of tricks on wheels. Temperature. Blood pressure. Have you needed a pee yet?
She turned towards the cot, seeing but still not quite believing. Not even a full afternoon had passed since her baby had been born and here he was, already denied a grandmother and homeless. They both were. She tried to chase the thought away. What a life you’ve been born into, she thought wretchedly, as she looked at him. He was opening and closing his eyes, as if trying out being alive and not yet being sure about it. And why wouldn’t he?
Christine glanced across at Josie, who was reading a magazine in the visitor’s chair, and remembered her question about whether she’d not considered getting rid of it. Him. Not ‘it’. Him. She shouldn’t have said that, not now he’d been born. Christine knew Josie would brood on that now.
As if reading her thoughts, Josie glanced up and slapped the magazine pages back together. She glanced up at the clock, high on the wall. ‘Good doze?’ she asked Christine. ‘Look, I need to be heading home soon, mate,’ she added. ‘Mam’ll be doing her nut if I don’t get my skates on. Question now, though, is what are we going to do with you? Because it certainly seems you’ve got your wish to get away from her, doesn’t it? But to where? That’s the thing. Where will you go?’
‘I don’t know,’ Christine admitted. ‘But if they need a new address to discharge me to, I was thinking I’ll give them Nicky’s. I was thinking I might ask him if I can move in with him – not permanently,’ she added, watching Josie’s expression become increasingly horrified, ‘not for ever. Just for a bit. Just for the first couple of weeks, for when the community midwife does her visits.’
‘Your Nicky?’ Josie looked aghast at this development. ‘Who I don’t need to remind you lives with the world’s druggiest druggy! Seriously, Chrissy, move in with him and Brian? Are you mad?’ Her voice was growing shriller. ‘Think about the midwife! What she’d see. What she’d think! She’d have the social on you before you’ve even changed a nappy, you div. You can’t go there!’
Christine looked at her friend, feeling a mixture of anger and exasperation. It was all very well Josie stating the bleeding obvious – which she was; she was under no illusions where her brother was concerned. But didn’t she get it? Where else could she and the baby go? She said so.
‘So it has to be Nicky’s,’ she reminded her friend irritably. ‘Because at least Nicky cares.’ And she believed that. Whatever else was true, she had never stopped believing that. Even if she knew he’d be less than pleased to see them.
Josie sighed heavily. ‘Oh, Chris …’ she began, in a tone that made it sound like Christine had suggested they relocate to one of the benches down by the market. ‘Oh, Chris, you can’t …’ She trailed off, running a hand along the baby’s cot. ‘Mate, look … I tell you what … God, I shouldn’t even be suggesting this. My Eddie’s a bloody saint, but he’s still only human … but –’
‘No,’ Christine said, shaking her head. ‘We’ll be fine. I told you, I’m going to ask Nicky if he’ll have us. Which he will, so there’s no need –’
‘Yes there is,’ Josie said, leaning forward towards the bed. ‘It’s not your Nicky – it’s that druggy bloody mate of his. You really want your beautiful