Page 60 of The 3am Shattered Mums' Club

‘I know you did. And I don’t blame you, you had a lot on your plate with five kids and a depressed sister.’

‘Damn right, I did. No way I could have coped trying to heal him too. He had to do that for himself.’

‘Well, he says he is better now. Better than he was, anyway.’

‘Well, he took his sweet ass time about it,’ Martina said, and Aisha heard what she thought was melancholy in her mother’s voice.

Aisha paused.

‘I’ve agreed to see him again, and well, I want to. And maybe being with me and the boys will help him with his recovery. Because you see, I know how he feels. I haven’t been feeling myself. And I know it’s hard for you to acknowledge it after everything with Jon, my dad. I didn’t want to burden you with how I was feeling.’

‘You don’t think I didn’t acknowledge it cos of ya father? I said nothing cos I knew I raised you to be a strong girl who could overcome her demons. I knew you would come true and find the light like I did. I didn’t want to make no big song and dance ’bout it, but I was here bringing positive energy to you and them babies. I could feel your pain. I prayed, I still pray. Every night for you and them babies.’

Aisha felt the heavy threat of tears. She swallowed and squeezed her hand to stop herself from sobbing.

‘You got a good set-up here, you and your woman. You just need time, like all new mothers. Time is all it takes. There’s no rush to get back to how you felt before, cos you ain’t who were before. No woman can carry a child for nine months, birth that baby and say she is the same. No sirree. Uh-uh.’

Aisha put her hands over her mouth and used her fingers to catch the tears that refused to stay put.

‘And you go on and cry, girl, cos those tears ain’t made to stay locked up.’ Aisha found Martina’s words a comfort. She had never been a mother to hold and cuddle her children often. They were fed, bathed, cleaned and sent to school. There was fun, games and rules and a whole lot of eating. Aisha remembered a mostly happy childhood. But she had missed out on the unexpected cuddles that came from nowhere for no reason other than her mother needed to feel her child close to her.

Martina rocked backwards and forwards in her chair for a few moments, and then after a minute, she stood up and went to her daughter and placed her big arms around her, and in what felt like a very long-overdue moment, Aisha wept whilst her mother held her.

* * *

2.56 a.m. – Sophy:Hello. Is anyone there?

2.58 a.m. – Aisha:I’m here! How is it going in the flat?

2.58 a.m. – Mel:I’m here too! I have just put Sky down. How are you feeling? It’s a week today, isn’t it?

2.59 a.m. Sophy:It feels a bit strange, new sounds and all that, but I’ll get used to that. What is weird is not waiting for Jeff to walk through the door any minute. I felt as though I had spent months in the house with Max, waiting for him to come home, then I would jabber rubbish to him, which he would never listen to. I feel a real sense of relief that I don’t have that waiting bit any more. Does that make sense?

3.01 a.m. – Mel:Makes perfect sense to me, doll.

3.04 a.m. – Aisha:Sorry, just had to grab another twin. I’m so proud you feel that way, Sophy. It’s marvellous you’ve been able to adapt so quickly.

3.05 a.m. – Aisha:Okay, twin sick alert. Have to go.

3.06 a.m. – Sophy:Okay, gonna try and get back to sleep.

3.06 a.m.–Mel:Oh god, that’s Sky screaming again. Does she ever wanna give her mama a break!

27

SOPHY

Sophy looked up at the house, the key in her hand, and made her way to the front door. It had been exactly three weeks since she had been back to Jeff’s, and she had been putting off returning to pick up the final few things from the loft that Jeff said he would have laid out in the hallway for her. Now she had the key in her hand and was about to walk into the house again, she began to feel very sick. Max was in her arms, his face red and wet. He had been fractious all the way here, she had sung ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ over and over just to keep his cries to a minimum, and now her throat was hoarse. It was as though Max had tuned into her anxiety and made his feelings well and truly known.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ she said. ‘We will just be a minute, and then we never have to come back to this place ever again. Well, maybe you might have to. But, anyway, just don’t worry about that now.’

Sophy opened the door and stepped into the hallway. As promised, there was the pile of things Sophy had requested: a few bags of baby clothes that had been handed down to her, an old camera and tripod, and a box of old photos and letters from her school days and some paintings by local artists she had wanted to hang but Jeff had turned his nose up at.

Sophy looked up the stairs and felt a pull towards the bedroom. She crept up the stairs, wondering if maybe it was a trick, and Jeff was going to be waiting for her in the bedroom.

I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself.She heard his voice as though he had spoken the words. But as she nudged at the door, she could see the room was empty. The bed was unmade. Sophy looked away, disgusted. Making her bed every day was the one of the most important jobs, and in all the years she had lived with Jeff, that bedroom had never looked as messy as it did now with empty glasses and cereal bowls on the bedside table. Sophy turned to the wall – her wall as she had always felt it was, with the blue spiralling wallpaper that had been the backdrop to so many of her vlogs. Max fidgeted in her arms, he was heavy at almost four months and would often try to sit forward as though he were missing the action.

Sophy took one last look around the room before she turned to leave and that was when she saw it: a tube of Elizabeth Arden Eight Hour cream on the bedside table that had been her side of the bed. One small item placed strategically as though it were claiming its space where many other items would soon follow.

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