Elisabeth Carpenter - Only a Mother

‘She said she hasn’t been feeling well,’ says Luke.

The medic sits on the chair next to him. Erica tries to sit up.

‘Are you there?’ she says.

Luke glances at the man next to him; he nods.

Luke kneels next to Erica, holding the rail under her bed to stop himself falling when the ambulance turns a corner.

‘Everything’s going to be all right now, isn’t it?’ she whispers, her eyes closing longer than they’re open.

‘Yes,’ says Luke. ‘We know it was Jason. You were right about Craig.’

She opens her eyes fully.

‘I think I’m going soon,’ she says. ‘Tell him that I love him.’

Luke moves away from the stretcher.

‘You have to help her,’ he says.

‘We’re nearly there. They’re waiting for us. If you could stand clear, please, sir.’

Luke does as he’s told. He watches as the double doors are opened and they drag the stretcher from the back. He steps out of the ambulance; he doesn’t know what to do now.

He goes through the doors to Accident and Emergency, but they’ve taken her away.

She might have been confused, but Luke knows that Erica has been right about her son all along.

We’re moving, but I’m lying down.

It’s like my mother’s standing over me now.

Am I dying? Is this what it feels like?

She’s standing over me and she’s saying, It’s all right, Erica. Everything’s going to be OK.

But that can’t be my mother, can it?

The day she died, she found my sanitary towels in the outside bin. She banged on my bedroom door.

‘You hid them,’ she said. ‘I knew you were up to something. We can do something about it. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You can still do something with your life.’

I stood up from my spot behind the door and opened it.

‘No, Mum,’ I said. ‘I’m going to keep it.’

‘But I don’t want you to end up like me… bringing up children alone.’

‘What do you mean?’ I said. ‘Do you regret having Philip and me?’

‘No of course not,’ she said. ‘I’ve always loved you, haven’t I? You’ve always felt loved?’

I nodded.

‘Do you think he’ll marry you?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘He can’t marry me. Because he’s already married.’

She looked at me, then, like she didn’t know me.

‘Oh, Erica.’

Her knees went from beneath her. It happened so slowly, her balancing at the top of the stairs. I reached out my hand to her, but she didn’t take it. Our fingertips brushed and before I could stop her she fell backwards.

The sound of her head on the floor was something I’ll never forget.

There was no movement from her; she wasn’t breathing. I should’ve phoned the ambulance, but I was in shock. I knelt next to her, put my head on her belly and lay there until she started to feel cold. I should have done so much more.

I’m picturing Denise now. She’s standing over me, holding my hand.

‘Your mum says it’s OK,’ she’s saying.

I’m fading somewhere, I think. I don’t think Denise or my mum are really here at all.

It’s so bright in here, I can see it even with my eyes closed.

‘We’re losing her,’ someone keeps saying.

But I’m still here, can’t they see that?

I told him I didn’t want to be alone. I think he’s somewhere; he came in with me. Nice young man. Was it Craig?

No, no: Luke.

It was Jason all along, wasn’t it? He had us fooled and we didn’t deserve that. We were worthy of a better life.

Craig was always so precious to me. I hope he understands that now.

I hope he’ll be OK, my boy. He can take care of himself, I know that. I hope they give him justice – he’s paid too high a price for being naive, loving, confused, frustrated.

I hope he knows that I never stopped believing him. I always said that I couldn’t imagine him doing something like that, and that was true. He was such a loving little boy – that had to mean something. A mother knows these things.

They’re putting something on my chest now, pressing down on me.

I always wondered who’d come for me when I died, though I don’t really believe in all that nonsense. I can’t see anyone, but I can sense something. It feels as though my mother and Denise are right next to me. My hands are tingling, like when you know someone’s close to you – as though the tiny hairs are standing on end.

I’m not afraid of dying. I never have been.

I can see my son now, with my eyes closed. It’s perhaps two or three years in the future. He’s with a woman and she’s expecting their first child. It’s a little girl, I think.

‘She’s gone,’ says a voice.

They might call her Erica.

The taxi drops him off outside his house. After paying the driver, Luke sits on the wall of their small front garden. Looking up at the clear sky, the stars seem closer than they usually do. It’s as though he could reach out a hand and touch them.

His mobile phone beeps. He takes it from his pocket and opens the message from Amanda.

No word yet on Craig or Jason, they’re still being questioned. Leanne Livesey also at the police station. Any news on Erica?

He doesn’t want to reply. He can do that later.

‘What are you doing, sitting out here?’ It’s Helen at their front door. ‘It’s nearly ten o’clock. I’ve been worried about you.’

Luke could counter that he knows how it feels after she didn’t come home last night, but it doesn’t seem fitting.

She walks across the grass in bare feet and sits next to him on the wall.

‘Is everything OK?’ she says. ‘I heard they found a body.’ She rests a hand on his shoulder. ‘Was it someone you knew?’

‘Vaguely,’ says Luke. ‘I interviewed her nearly two decades ago.’

‘Denise Bamber?’

He looks at his wife.

‘I didn’t think you were paying attention when I was talking about it.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve been distracted.’ She takes hold of his hand. ‘So why are you sitting out here?’

‘It’s been an eventful day,’ he says, rubbing his eyes.

Helen rubs his back.

‘Have they found the girl? Leanne, is it?’

‘She’s safe, from what I gather.’

‘Thank God for that.’

‘Yeah.’

‘What happened to you last night?’ says Luke.

‘Let’s go inside,’ says Helen, standing. ‘I’ll make us a hot drink. It’s freezing out here.’

He follows his wife into the house.

‘Why are you avoiding the question?’ he says, closing the front door quietly.

She walks into the kitchen and flicks the kettle on. Luke pulls out a chair and sits at the kitchen table. He watches as she makes the tea and brings it over, sitting opposite him.

‘I’m not avoiding the question,’ she says finally. ‘I had an awful day yesterday. There was a nine-year-old girl brought in. She had the same hair as Megan. At first I thought it was her, but then her mother came in after her. Sylvie Billington her name was. Such a lovely name.’

‘ Was? ’

Helen nods, not looking up from her mug.

‘And then it was the night out. I was putting on a brave face, as I normally do, but after a few drinks, and everyone trying to be jolly, I think I began to question the meaning of everything. How could we be sitting there, drinking, chatting, when a little girl had just lost her life?’

Luke reaches a hand across the table as her tears begin to fall; she places her hand over his.

‘Simon brought his wife, Carly. She’s a therapist.’

Helen wipes the tears with her other hand.