Carol Birch - Orphans of the Carnival

‘Theo.’ She shook him gently. ‘I think it’s starting.’

Theo blinking, scowling at the candlelight, his hair in his face.

‘It’s early,’ he said, grunting, sitting up in a groggy fuzz, ‘are you sure?’

She stood shivering, holding her wet night-dress away from her body. ‘Look at this.’

‘It’s too soon,’ he said.

‘I know.’

Theo groaned. First sign, Trettenbacher had said, bring her in. We won’t leave anything to chance, her being so small. He swung his legs out of bed and the cold hit him.

‘What time is it?’

‘About five.’

‘Oh God!’ He started dressing, semi-conscious. Julia stood quietly, holding her stomach with both hands and looking down at it. It felt heavy, ridiculously so, but then it had done for ages. She listened for pain within her body, but there wasn’t any, just a great cold that made her tremble all over.

‘Quick,’ said Theo, ‘put a dry nightie on.’

She took one from underneath the piles of bibs and bootees and neatly folded baby dresses in the chiffonier.

‘Right,’ he said, running out to fetch a carriage with his coat half on, ‘get yourself all muffled up. Be ready.’

She wiped herself clean with a towel and was ready by the time he came back. In the carriage she felt something shift inside. ‘Theo!’ she said, gripping his arm.

‘Nearly there,’ he said. But the first real pain she’d ever known began, and she tightened her grip so much on his arm that he clenched his teeth. The pain soared, made her close her eyes, tense every muscle and hiss. ‘Nothing at all to worry about,’ he said with more confidence than he felt. ‘You’re getting the best possible medical attention.’

The pain ebbed but came again at the door of the hospital. Trettenbacher himself came out to greet her, flanked by nurses. She was doubled over, Theo holding her up.

‘My dear, your teeth are chattering,’ Trettenbacher said, rubbing her cold hands. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

‘I’m not afraid,’ she gasped. ‘I’m cold.’

‘Well, we shall warm you up! This way—’

‘You’re in good hands now, Julia,’ Theo said, shifting from foot to foot in the cold. ‘Trettenbacher, do you need me for anything? Should I wait?’

‘Not at all. It won’t be for some time.’

‘You’ll keep me informed.’

‘Of course.’

‘Brave girl!’ Theo said. ‘You can do it!’

‘Of course she can!’

The nurses took her to a room painted white, with a high bed. The pain was gone. They told her to lie down and call them as soon as it came back. A door was open, there were voices. One of the nurses came back with an extra blanket. ‘Very cold out there this morning,’ she said pleasantly, ‘icy. How are you feeling?’

‘Scared,’ said Julia.

‘Of course you are.’

She was a kind-looking woman with a tired smile and a soft, wrinkled face, deeply hollowed. ‘Everyone feels scared with their first. Only natural. Don’t worry, it’ll all be over before you know it.’ Julia knew her from one of the doctor’s visits.

Another came and stood looking over her shoulder. This one knew her only by reputation and had been longing to see her. ‘Poor strange thing,’ she said quietly.

The hollow-faced nurse smoothed down the blanket and checked the water jug. ‘I’d try and get a bit of sleep if I were you,’ she said.

Impossible.

It was hideous. The pain beyond words and imagination, a raw black bubble blowing bigger and bigger, unendurable. Surpassing, turning its monstrous back for the fall like a sea beast. In the respites, the nurses came and went, and Trettenbacher with his assistants. All morning. But what was time? She knew it passed because of the window. She’d watched the light come up, watched the snow so cool and lovely a world away, wanted to roll in it, roll away the heat, watched the flakes grow sparse and slow, watched the white unremarkable sky persist in indifference as she burned, till slowly, scarcely perceptibly, it dimmed towards another evening.

‘I can’t stand it,’ she said, tears wetting the front of her nightgown.

‘Not much longer,’ a voice said briskly. One of those doctors. There were lots.

The hollow-faced nurse, smiling kindly.

‘She’s quite the stoic, isn’t she?’ someone said.

Then it was dark and there were no more respites. In the end it was only pain, and the pain was like fire, greedy for air, greedy for the whole world. Julia put back her head and moaned, a long harsh growl that rose to the pitch of a scream.

‘Time to send for the father,’ someone said.

‘Chloroform,’ said Trettenbacher calmly, calling his students round him.

The pain was taking her away. The voice, urbane, whispered in her ear, ‘There is nothing to worry about. We’ll give you something for the pain now, your baby is very large and we’ll need to help him along.’

She couldn’t see or think.

‘Take another look, Dr Chizh, can you feel the head? Breathe. Breathe in very deeply, very deeply.’

She was lost in the dark.

‘Heroldstein, check her pulse.’

Chizh cut and Trettenbacher, stern-faced with concentration, reached in with his metal tongs and slowly pulled into the world a big, hairy boy with screwed-up eyes and clenched fists.

Peace. No more pain, or if there was it was ignorable, just ordinary pain, tame pain that would one day die. They were sewing her up. The baby had not cried when they pulled him out, though he took in that first mighty gasp of the world audibly. What is this now, and how should I meet it? Steel yourself. He was quiet when the nurse finally placed him swaddled in his mother’s arms, the most beautiful baby in the world. Apart from the soles and palms of his tiny pink feet and hands, he was hairy all over, even the backs of his ears, and his big cone-shaped head bore a great healthy black mop. He was puzzled, perfect.

That’s how it was when Theo arrived, their two hairy entranced faces staring each at the other.

‘He knows me, Theo,’ she whispered.

‘Of course he does.’ Theo reached furtively towards the baby’s mop of a head. ‘You’re his mother.’

‘No, I mean he knows me. Isn’t he beautiful?’

‘He is.’

‘Just look at him. Theo. Theo Junior.’

‘He won’t look at me,’ said Theo Senior.

‘He can’t see much yet.’

‘He sees you .’

‘Yes, he does. He sees me. Do you want to hold him?’

He’d rather not, but couldn’t say. Babies were odd. He might drop it. Well, he’d better do this, so he took it and there it lay, it, him, the baby, warm and heavy in his arms. ‘Hello,’ he said to it.

‘I wanted so much for him to be normal,’ she said, ‘but now it doesn’t matter. His skin’s pale, look. He gets that from you.’

‘So it is.’

Poor child would suffer, Theo thought. Mine. My child. How did it come to this?

She burst into tears. ‘He’s so beautiful and everyone will call him ugly,’ she said.

‘No, they won’t.’

But of course they would. His path was clear. Ape-Boy. Remarkable, Unparalleled, the only Mother-and-Child Ape-People in existence.

‘He’ll be a wonder like you are.’

‘But I’m ugly. The ugliest in the world. But he’s not, he’s beautiful, but no one will see it. It’s not fair.’

‘Ugly’s only a word,’ Theo said.

‘No, it’s not.’

She wiped her face with one hand.

‘We have to look after him, Theo,’ she said. ‘We have to make sure nobody’s cruel to him.’

Theo’s own eyes filled up, but he wasn’t sure who he was crying for. ‘Of course we will,’ he said. ‘It’ll all be fine, he’ll be fine, we’ll be fine.’