Mummy

Mummy

“Mummy, please can you careful it again? It’s really burny”

“Ok, darling, I’ll do it in one minute”

“Now, mummy, please. It’s making me ouch”

Anna was running the hoover round the front room, tidying away Lego bricks into the plastic bucket, fluffing up and straightening the cushions, putting all the felt-tip pens back into their case, stacking up the sheets of Petal’s drawings into a neat-ish pile, and generally trying to make the sitting room look like a reasonably normal, tidy home. Essentially, she was trying to hide all signs of the chaos and mess that her five-year-old daughter, Petal, created on a daily basis. Just like all five-year-olds everywhere since the beginning of time. I need to check on Petal. This will just take one minute.

A boeuf bourguignon was gently simmering on the hob. The ironing board was up in the laundry room, with a basket piled high with clean linen that smelled of fresh air, waiting to have its wrinkles and creases smoothed away. The dryer was tumbling wet towels into warm, fluffy ones. The back door leading to the garden was open so that Frankie, their little dachshund, could run in and out as he pleased. Anna would go searching the lawn for dog poop later. I need to check on Petal.

Marcus had invited Maria and Jesper round for dinner so they could discuss the possible investment opportunity of a jackfruit farm in Nigeria. Marcus and Jespers’ ideas, honestly! Anna and Maria were the ones who needed to temper them in order to avoid financial ruin, which they generally did with good humour, good food and plenty of red wine.

Anna lit a heavy glass jar candle on the mantelpiece to fill the obstacle-cluttered living room with the scent of calming lavender. I need to check on Petal.

“Mummy”, Petal wailed.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Just one minute, darling”

Anna unplugged the hoover, pressed the button on the top, and the cable whipped back inside the black plastic casing, whizzing as it wound itself up like a snake. She put the lid on the plastic bucket of Lego. I need to check on Petal. As soon as I put the hoover away.

Anna put the hoover in the understairs cupboard and shut the door. The boeuf bourguignon was bubbling nicely, and she gave it a stir to make sure it wasn’t sticking to the bottom of the cast iron pan. She opened a bottle of red wine to let it breathe. She started setting the dining table. Four settings. Placemats. Cutlery. Wine glasses. I need to check on Petal.

Petal was screaming. The scream was piercing. Like a razor-sharp blade of a knife slowly slicing open Anna’s temples. She held her head to try to make it stop. She felt the wave of nausea hit her and sank down into a dining chair before she fell down. I’m coming, Petal. Just one minute. I promise. I won’t let you down this time.

When Marcus came home forty-five minutes later, that’s how he found his wife, Anna. Sitting, collapsed at the dining room table. Her eyes hollowed out like a ghost, her skin deathly grey and her hands trembling slightly. The house was silent and still. It was airless and smelled only of dust, like the house itself had died.

“Anna”, Marcus said gently, stepping towards her carefully, like walking on a frozen lake where the ice was too thin.

“Anna”, he whispered again.

“I need to check on Petal”, she said. “Where is she?”

Marcus sat down next to his wife and held her in his arms. He smoothed her hair softly and let her rock back and forth against his body, like rocking a baby to sleep.

“Get Petal for me”.

“Anna”.

“I need to check on Petal. Get her for me”.

“Anna”.

He let her carry on rocking in his arms. He knew it would stop soon. And he knew the rocking was better than what was coming. The rocking came to its abrupt halt, and he braced himself.

The howl was terrifying. The howl carried the pain that Anna couldn’t verbalise but could vocalise. A noise that came from her chest splitting open and strangling its way through her throat. The howl of a wild animal watching its cub being torn to shreds by a predator, unable to save it.

“Anna. It’s ok. I’m here. Let it out. Breathe”.

The doctors had said to let her howl, not to try and stop it. It was her only release for the moment. But that was two and a half years ago. They said it might take months, but everyone handled it differently and had their own timeline. It was a process. Now the doctors were talking about psychiatric evaluations. Especially since the suicide attempt.

Marcus didn’t think it was really a suicide attempt. He was sure it was just that his wife had barely slept since. And what with a near-always empty stomach, the sleeping tablets had just been too strong for her. I mean, it’s not like she’d left a note or anything.

“Mummy, mummy, mummy”, Petal was screeching.

“I’m coming, darling, I’m coming”. The words broke through her howl as she tried to stand up, her legs wobbly and feeble. She looked around her, spinning her head left to right and left again, trying to locate where Petal’s screeching was coming from.

“Anna”.

“Petal, I’m coming”.

“Anna”. He tried to hold her as she made to run from the dining room in search of their daughter.

Anna tore at her husband like the wounded, wild animal that howled inside her. She ripped at his shirt with her claws and scratched at his face. She pummelled her fists into his chest. And screamed and howled and roared, hot tears streaming into the crevices of her sunken cheeks.

Later, when she had worn herself out, he tried to encourage her to eat.

“Just a little bit of soup”. He blew on the hot creamy chicken broth in the spoon, lifting it to her lips, as if feeding a baby.

She sat there motionless, staring vacantly at the wall behind him, letting the soup dribble down her chin. He wiped it off gently with a piece of kitchen roll.

Later in bed, Marcus lay on his back, a tear silently rolling down the side of his face onto the pillow. Anna had taken two sleeping tablets and was in a fitful sleep, fighting a demon and calling out Petal’s name in desperation, over and over again.

“I’m coming, Petal”. It came out breathless and muffled, like she was suffocating.

Marcus turned his head to helplessly watch his wife relive her nightmare. At some point, he must have fallen asleep. When he woke up it was still dark outside, but a bright full moon illuminated the bedroom through a tiny slit in the curtains where they weren’t fully pulled closed. He rolled onto his side and reached out a hand to stroke Anna’s peaceful face, but it was stone cold and covered in vomit.

Anna’s last words pierced through him.

“I’m coming, Petal”.