Chapter 23
Kate knew it would feel good to get back into the water again, she just didn’t realise quite how good. Her whole body feels lighter, as though the river water has washed everything she’d been carrying away. There’s a pleasant ache in her shoulders and a tingle on her skin. As she walks back to the village after saying goodbye to the other women, she feels alive, euphoric, invincible.
But all of that rapidly disappears as soon as she turns onto the lane that leads to her cottage. She hears it immediately: crying coming from the direction of the Old Post Office. By the time she reaches the cottage, it is so loud that she glances at the neighbouring houses, half expecting to see angry faces peering out the windows. All the peace she felt down at the river shatters, replaced by anxiety and the familiar creeping sense of guilt.
She steadies herself for a second before opening the front door. As soon as she steps inside, she’ll be Mummy again. She just needs one more moment of being just Kate. Tilting her head, she watches a buzzard soar overhead and remembers the feeling of the river water on her skin. And something hits her with the same force as the sound of sobs coming from within the cottage: when she was in the water, she didn’t think of Rosie once.
Kate pushes open the door and drops her swimming bag on the floor, Rosie’s screams reverberating around her.
‘Hello?’
She finds Jay and Rosie in the living room, Jay pacing back and forth with Rosie in his arms, his cheeks almost as flushed as hers. A look of relief appears on his face as soon as he spots Kate.
‘Thank God you’re back!’ His voice sounds exhausted and Kate glances from him to Rosie, whose face is a violent pink, her hands scrunched up into angry fists. Jay holds her against his shoulder, rocking her back and forth, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference.
‘What’s going on?’
‘I couldn’t get her to take the bottle. I tried everything.’
Kate is already reaching under her T-shirt to unhook her bra.
‘Why didn’t you call me?’
‘I wanted you to have a good time. And I wanted to be able to do it. I read so much stuff online. Stroking her cheek, brushing the bottle against her lips … None of it worked.’
As soon as Rosie is in Kate’s arms, she stops crying.
‘That’s better,’ Jay says, ‘she just wanted her mummy.’
Kate looks down at her daughter, who blinks up at her with wide eyes. ‘But she always seems so much happier with you,’ she says.
Kate sometimes thinks that maybe her daughter doesn’t like her very much. Whenever she has thoughts like these, she pushes them down, knowing it’s probably not something you should think about your own baby. But now, as Rosie looks up adoringly at her, her mouth opening and closing slightly, Kate’s stomach flutters.
She focuses on getting Rosie to latch, relief flooding her as Rosie begins to feed. When she turns back to Jay, he is leant over, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking, and for a second, she thinks he might be laughing, but then she spots a tear dripping down onto the carpet.
‘Hey, what’s the matter?’ Ever since Rosie was born, tears seem to be constantly just below the surface for her, as though giving birth ripped off a layer of skin, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. But Jay hasn’t cried since the hospital.
He sniffs loudly, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
‘Sorry. I wanted to be able to manage. I know you needed a break. What good am I to you if I can’t help you? And what good am I to her if I can’t even feed her?’
Watching the tears slide down his face, something inside Kate cracks wide open. Maybe she should have headed straight back after the swim. But it had felt so good to sit on the bank with her new friends, sharing cake and easy conversation and watching the river.
She looks at her husband more closely now, taking in the shadows beneath his eyes and the lost look on his face. She knows he’s been tired since Rosie was born – they both have – but he’d seemed so happy.
‘Jay, she adores you! I see the way she looks up at you. Sometimes I think she only likes me for my breasts,’ she admits.
‘That’s not true!’ Jay answers quickly. ‘You’re her mum. And you’re literally keeping her alive! It’s just awesome what you’re doing for her. I feel useless sometimes. Like I’m not doing enough for her, or for you. Like you don’t even need me. And I really want to do a good job. I so want to be a good dad …’
His voice cracks again, his shoulders slumped. Looking at him, Kate wonders how she missed the pain and worry on his face that seems so obvious now. Maybe she just hasn’t looked closely enough. Maybe she hasn’t even been able to contemplate that he might be struggling too because she has needed him so much, his steadfast, reassuring OKness. But that’s a lot of pressure to put on someone.
She strokes his back gently as she looks down at Rosie’s face, her eyelids fluttering as she feeds. She looks so peaceful suddenly, her face slack and soft. In moments like these, Kate feels the enormous privilege of being able to do this for her child. But like everything to do with motherhood, there’s another side to it too.
‘I’m glad to be able to do this, but it does come with a huge amount of responsibility. The thought that I’m solely responsible for whether she eats or drinks? It’s terrifying! And sometimes I wish I could just do cuddles without having to get my boobs out.’
‘I can see that,’ Jay says, wiping his face again and looking up. ‘I guess there are good and bad parts of both our roles.’
‘And you are a good dad,’ she says, her voice cracking. ‘When I see the two of you together … I just see it. How much you love her. I always knew you’d be a great dad. It’s one of the reasons why I married you.’
For all the ups and downs they’ve had in their relationship, it’s one thing she’s never doubted.
‘I hope you know how amazingly you’re doing, Kate,’ Jay says softly. ‘I’m so, so proud of you. The health visitor was right – you’re a natural.’
And then Kate’s heart really cracks open. She tries to hold the tears back at first, not wanting to step on Jay’s moment. But they’ve been bottled up inside her for so long that once the first tear has fallen, the others come pouring out after.
‘I’m not, though. You have no idea …’
He shuffles closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she continues to cradle Rosie in her arms. As she lets him hold her, she thinks how much she doesn’t deserve it. He shouldn’t be comforting her like this, not when she’s such a fraud. For so long, she’s been trying to keep everything at bay but she can’t keep pretending anymore. It’s too exhausting.
‘What is it, Kate? What’s wrong?’
‘I’m what’s wrong,’ she says between sobs. ‘I’m not a natural at all. I’m an awful mother. And you’ll think so too when I tell you the truth …’