pushed through Lauren’s swollen throat in bits.
‘I don’t know why I keep crying. I’m fine, I’ll be fine. Nothing happened. I think I’m going mad, that’s all.’
She gave a mirthless laugh, holding on tightly to her husband, making dark patches of wet and snot on the shoulder of his shirt. Patrick smelled of tea tree shampoo and his own slightly smoky scent. He smelled like home.
‘Lauren, my heart,’ said Patrick as he held Lauren’s face between his hands and smiled down at her. ‘You were mad before.’
That made her laugh for real, and the bad spell was broken. They both laughed, and then Lauren was crying again, and Patrick wiped her eyes with a wad of the cheap hospital tissues from the box by the bed. At that moment, the babies were almost as serene as Mrs Gooch’s. She really didn’t know why she kept crying. It didn’t make sense, when she saw what she and Patrick had made.
Patrick moved towards the cot. ‘Morning, boys,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ve been kind to your mother.’ He turned back to Lauren. ‘Did they keep you awake?’
‘Of course they did. They’re babies.’
Her vision began to swim and sway, her eyelids felt heavy.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, but his voice was muffled and far away. Sorry for what, she thought.
When she opened her eyes he was on the other side of the bed. Odd, she thought, I don’t remember falling asleep. A few seconds had gone, snap, a filmic scene change.
‘I spoke to my mother this morning,’ he was saying. ‘She sends her love. She wanted me to tell you, you did really well, you know, most women would have gone straight for a C-section.’
Lauren would never stop wishing that she had done just that. She couldn’t go back now, nothing would change what had happened during the birth, her stupid decisions, her worthless birth plan. But the regret was heavy on her. She felt like a fool for defying the consultant, even as she blamed him for planting the doubts in her mind, about whether she was capable, whether she would succeed. Perhaps if he’d believed in her from the start, she would have been fine.
‘If it was me giving birth to twins,’ the consultant had said, ‘I’d have a C-section.’
Ridiculous. He was a man. How could he know what it was like to give birth?
‘Thanks,’ she’d said, ungratefully. ‘I’ll think about it.’
My body knows what it’s doing, she thought. I’ll let nature take its course. I think I can trust in myself to be able to push these babies out on my own. People have been doing this since people have existed. How hard can it really be? Everyone has to be born, right?
Idiot. She hadn’t done well. She’d been washed through the birth, powerless, on a tide of modern medical intervention. They’d done well, the numerous, nameless nurses, midwives, doctors – without them she would have died, and the babies, too. But Lauren? She didn’t feel that she’d done anything but fail.
‘You’re a hero, honey,’ said Patrick. ‘You deserve a medal.’
I do not, thought Lauren. But she smiled, pasting it thinly over her pain.
After a moment, Patrick asked, ‘When are you coming out?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Lauren. ‘I don’t know when they’ll let me.’
‘They don’t have to let you. You can discharge yourself.’
The idea seemed absurd. Lauren had assumed they were in charge. ‘Can I?’
‘Of course. It’s not prison.’
Home. She could go home.
‘I want to go home,’ said Lauren.
‘Let’s go.’
Lauren gaped at him. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Why not? I brought the car seats. I’ll go and get them.’
‘Honestly Patrick, I don’t think they’ll let me. What about the bleed, when they took me back into theatre—’
‘Of course they will. You’re OK now, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Well then.’
‘And there’s the other thing,’ she said, ‘the tranquilliser. I’m still a bit high, to tell the truth.’
Patrick examined the size of Lauren’s pupils.
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Better.’
‘The hospital didn’t say what it was, in the message, only that you became very upset and needed some medication. Did something happen to you?’
Yes, thought Lauren, someone tried to take our babies. I escaped. No one else saw. But then, it wasn’t true, everyone said so. They said it was a hallucination. And yet it seemed so real.
‘Lauren?’
She’d been gazing, blurry-eyed, into the middle distance. For how long? She tried to remember what Patrick had asked her.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said that you can tell me, whatever it is. Did something happen last night?’
A flash of cold, a blinding light. Lauren’s nostrils filled with that muddy fish smell. Goosebumps, as all the hair on her arms stood up. Could it have been real?
‘No,’ she said, ‘not really. I thought I saw something. I thought there was someone here who couldn’t have been. Doesn’t matter now.’
‘Of course it matters,’ said Patrick, leaning in, all concern. ‘It sounds scary, you mean like a waking dream or something?’
‘Yes, I think so. I wasn’t asleep though – I hadn’t slept, I haven’t slept properly in three days—’
‘Well, that’s it then, isn’t it? You’re not crazy, you just need some sleep.’
Yes. That was it. So obvious.
Patrick went on, ‘No one can sleep in hospital, it’s so hot and noisy. You know, I read an article about sleep deprivation, it’s more important than you think, to get good rest. No-brainer, really.’
Fatigue rolled over Lauren, pressing her down into the hard mattress, pulling on her eyelids, stinging her eyes.
‘I feel like I’ll never sleep again.’
‘Oh, but don’t worry. It’s not forever, it’s only for a few weeks. Then the sleep gets better.’
This seemed impossible. ‘Really? Only a few weeks?’
‘That’s
