Chapter 8
‘Come on, Eva…’ Noah knew getting irate wasn’t going to help matters but he was tired – new job, new town, surprise parenthood, all of it was taking its toll. All he wanted now was for Eva to eat the cauliflower cheese portion he’d heated up followed by the stewed apples and settle down for the night so he could do the same. He was on the early shift tomorrow and needed a decent sleep.
But it seemed like he was asking for a miracle for Eva to cooperate. He grunted in frustration, Eva let out an ear-piercing wail, went rigid in her highchair, bright red in the face with anger at him, her food, the world.
‘I know how you feel, Eva!’ he yelled before stomping over to the window.
He wasn’t proud of himself for losing it. But some days were easier than others. Some days, he felt in control and on top of things, in a routine. On other days, like today, he didn’t.
He pressed his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes.
Eva was still wailing and he turned to look at her. They were both as helpless here as each other. She wanted this less than him, he suspected. She’d lost her mum, she had a poor stand-in parent with him, and here he was being an absolute arse.
He went over to her, unclipped the highchair harness and scooped her up in his arms. ‘I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.’ Her wet cheek, stained with fat tears, pressed against his.
He went out into the kitchen, the cauliflower cheese abandoned, and took out the nice cold portion of stewed apples Geraldine had put in the fridge in a little plastic pot.
A bit calmer, he said, ‘Why don’t we try this one?’ And instead of taking her back to the restrictions of her highchair, he collected a kiddie spoon from the drawer and went outside to the back porch. ‘At least if you smack this away like you did the cauliflower cheese, we’re outside so no clearing up involved.’ The cauliflower cheese had gone all over the arm of the sofa when she’d unceremoniously hit out at the spoon he was holding because she wouldn’t pick it up. Of course, the mixture had run down into the groove of the material too, which meant it would be harder to clean it all off.
Eva could lift up the spoon and feed herself but sometimes Noah had to take the lead and this was one of those times. He settled her on his lap and as the spoon went towards her lips, rather than her turning away or keeping them tightly shut, she opened wide and in went the stewed apples.
He’d never felt such relief, and at something so simple. ‘You like this one? Thank goodness for that.’ He got a second spoonful in before she could change her mind. Her forehead was sweaty, her hair stuck to her skin and her eyes were red from crying. Every now and then, she took in a ragged breath as she slowly calmed down.
As Noah fed Eva, he talked about the cottage that had once belonged to his grandparents, about Dorset, about the town of Whistlestop River. ‘Your mum loved it here; even as a kid, she used to say she’d come back some day. Our parents were forever moving us around, but your mum said the countryside was the only place to bring up kids. Personally, I thought she was mad, I’m more of a city guy, but sitting out here, I’m inclined to admit she had a point.’
The sun had begun to set, the sky taking on a burnt-orange hue that fell across the river to give it a mystical sheen. The leaves on the trees beyond lost their colour with the fading light and silhouettes of branches danced across the water’s surface. As Eva’s body relaxed against his and she had more of the stewed apples, he looked down at her. ‘I’m not very good at this parenting business, Eva. But for some reason, your mum, my sister, thought she was doing the right thing leaving you with me and I wanted this to work, I really did…’
His voice caught and he stopped talking. It didn’t matter that Eva would have no idea what he was saying; he did, and he hated himself for it. He hated that he was a failure at the role he’d been given to do. He’d had no preparation, neither had Eva, and if it wasn’t for Geraldine and having a job to escape to every day, he was pretty sure he would have totally lost it by now.
When Eva began to fuss again, not long after she finished her apples, he felt his tension rise. What if she was only a fidget away from a full-scale meltdown again? He wasn’t sure he could handle much more. Not tonight.
He rocked her gently; that didn’t work. He stood up and paced with her up and down the porch; that didn’t work either. He sat down again and thought perhaps she wanted to look out to the river like he was rather than her view being of the side of the porch, but by now she was drooling and chewing on her fists.
Noah was close to calling Geraldine to ask what to do when he remembered his brilliant nanny had bought these funny rings she called teething rings and put them in the fridge. He’d seen Eva with one in her mouth before Geraldine left; he’d washed it when she dropped it and popped it back in the fridge before attempting the fiasco that was dinner.
He went into the kitchen and plucked the bright-orange ring from the top shelf next to all the little portions of Eva’s food in their tiny containers. As soon as he handed the ring over, Eva grasped it and put it straight in her mouth.
And she calmed down again.
Reprieve… for now.
‘See what I mean by I’m not very good at this,’ he said as darkness replaced any colour in the sky and the only light came from the wall lights out on the porch. ‘Geraldine knew what to do when I didn’t. She’s the sort of parent you need, not me. Cassie was crazy to think this would work.’
They stayed out on the porch until Eva stopped sucking on the teething ring and her eyelids grew heavy. He’d learnt along the way that at this stage, it was a case of getting in there quick – when a baby was soothed and on the road to slumber, you didn’t push it and make them overtired. He’d done that more than once and always paid the price.
Inside, he changed Eva’s nappy with the lights in the smallest room of the cottage down low, he warmed her a bottle of formula and she drank every last drop, the latter part while she was almost asleep, before he settled her into her cot.
He tiptoed out of the room and pulled the door to behind him.
Another day, another bedtime, another tick on the survival spreadsheet for him.
With a cold beer, he went back to his position on the seat on the back porch. A night owl hooted from somewhere, a creature moved in the bushes beyond, creating a rustling of leaves. It was a far cry from the soundtrack of the city – sirens at night, voices outside at all hours, sounds he’d strangely got used to. Perhaps it would be the same here; perhaps he’d grow accustomed to the sounds of relative silence after a while.
Noah and Cassie’s grandparents had lived in this signal box cottage after it was handed down to them by their grandmother’s father, who worked with the railways. Noah and Cassie had come here a lot as kids, always enjoyed the adventure of being allowed to run along the path beside the river, fish using their colourful nets, even go out in a little rowing boat in the summer. The cottage had passed down to Noah and Cassie’s parents but their father had always had a yearning to return to his native New Zealand and that was what they had done. They’d tried to persuade Noah and Cassie to go with them, told them tales of the wonderful life they could have, but by then Noah and Cassie had been settled here and stuck to holiday visits. Those had ended when both of their parents died within three years of each other. Their house in New Zealand had been sold to pay off the mortgage, while the signal box cottage had become Noah and Cassie’s.
Noah and Cassie had agreed to rent the cottage out. He’d gone to London to join an air ambulance team; Cassie had taken a job as a legal secretary about an hour away. But she’d always said eventually she wanted to buy him out, live in the cottage herself. And he’d agreed; it would suit her down to the ground. Cassie’s plans didn’t change when she had Eva either. The flat she was in became even smaller, she said, she was more than ready for a big, big change and with the baby’s father not in the picture – something Cassie rarely talked about, which had Noah wondering whether the guy was married or had something else to hide – she had nothing stopping her.
What stopped Cassie’s lifelong dream and plan was the day she died. Eva was seven months old and Cassie was due to start back at work and utilise their creche. Cassie had always been a planner, she took things in her stride, and maternity leave and motherhood were no different. Eva was her world, and Cassie was Eva’s. Cassie took her daughter away on a glamping weekend in Dorset where there were other parents and children and she’d planned a couple of hikes with Eva in the rigid baby carrier she wore on her back so well. It all sounded like a dream trip for them both before Cassie returned to work but it hadn’t turned out that way. Cassie had left Eva with another mum and gone horse riding along the beach at sunset. It should’ve been a beautiful experience, but her horse had fallen, taking Cassie with him. The wait for medical help had been a lengthy one due to emergency services being deployed elsewhere. By the time help came, it was too late. And it was something that made Noah seethe if he thought about it too hard.
He would never forget that day. He’d never forget the call informing him of the accident, the doctor’s voice as he gave him the shocking news, the journey from London to Dorset. He’d always remember Eva’s cries mixed with his own as he walked the corridors of the hospital, leaving his sister behind for the very last time. He could still see his good mate Sid putting Eva into the car seat in the back of his own car and transporting them both back to his place, where they had enough baby paraphernalia to allow him to start learning this role of parenthood from scratch.
Eva had been safe in another woman’s arms at the time of Cassie’s accident; she was going to be fine. Except for having no mother, except that he’d become her parent in an instant. It was her and him against the world from now on. And he wasn’t sure that was going to work.
Noah had known ever since Eva was born that he would be the guardian should anything happen to Cassie and he’d assured his sister he’d never have it any other way. The day she told him her wishes, she also informed Noah that in the event of her death, she wanted Eva brought up in Dorset. He’d wrapped her in a hug and said, ‘You and your idyllic countryside life.’ She’d shoved him, told him to take it seriously which he’d insisted he was but really, you never thought those wishes committed to paper would ever really surface, did you? He, like a lot of others, especially siblings who weren’t that different in age, simply accepted the request and life carried on pretty much as normal.
When Noah lost Cassie, he hadn’t immediately decided to head for Dorset. But his circumstances had made it the better option. And once he’d made the decision to relocate, the signal box cottage and life here became the link he saw to giving Cassie’s daughter the future she deserved. Or at least that’s what he’d thought before he realised what a crap parent he was.
Noah finished the last of his beer, but the peace was soon lost when he heard Eva crying. Again.
He let her go on for a couple of minutes but even he, with his lack of parental knowledge, knew that it was the sort of cry that was going to go on and on and on if he didn’t do something.
He tried the other teething ring but this time, Eva wasn’t having any of it. He tried putting on the mobile above her cot but that didn’t work. She was kneeling now, her little fists at the bars of her cot as though she was a prisoner trying to escape the cell she was in.
‘I know how you feel, Eva.’ He moved to pick her up but then smelt the culprit. Most times when he changed the nappy pre-bottle, they were good, but given the aroma snaking its way around right now, it hadn’t happened this time.
He lifted her out and put her onto the changing table mat. She thrashed from side to side, when he took off the nappy the contents would’ve had him stepping back in horror if he didn’t know that you never ever left a baby unattended on a changing table. She twisted again and he tried to steady her, putting his hand in poo, which had him dry-heaving.
It took a good forty minutes to get that messy nappy off, clean her up, put another one on, sort himself out, get Eva calm again. And this time, after he settled her in her cot and pulled her door almost closed, he leant against the wall next to it. ‘I’m sorry, Eva. I’m sorry, Cassie.’
This wasn’t working. He couldn’t do it. He was useless and Eva deserved a proper parent.
And the only option he could see was to find Eva’s biological father. Married or not, as old as the hills or not, he didn’t care. The guy had to be better than him, didn’t he? It’s what Cassie would’ve really wanted, wasn’t it? For her daughter to be raised by a proper parent.