Chapter 41
Theo
The room goes silent when she begs me to find James, as if she’s holding her breath, waiting for me to go.
I get up and find James sitting on a chair outside the room with his head in his hands.
He stands and moves towards me in a way I barely recognise.
His shoulders are rounded, and his tall frame looks like it has shrunk.
I can’t speak; I just shake my head. Before I realise what’s happening, my knees hit the cold, hard ground. I feel James embrace me, holding me the way I held Elizabeth. I sit on the floor and cry. Chest-heaving sobs tear out of me.
James and I sit next to each other, silence stretching between us whilst the hospital around us continues. Nurses walk by laughing at something in their conversation. A doctor speaks loudly on his phone about an ultrasound he’s just read.
I’m so confused. My emotions make no sense. None of this does. Surely my devastation should be felt by everyone. How is the world still moving whilst my baby girl is lying in a morgue and my love is breaking in two in the next room?
I stand and lead James in to see Elizabeth. I know that deep down, Elizabeth wants to see him.
We open the door as if stepping into a forbidden place.
Careful and quiet. The sound of grief piling out of the room.
Elizabeth is lying on her side, small as a child.
Her shoulders shake with sobs that haven’t eased, and her pillow is soaked with tears.
James glances at me, silently asking for permission.
I nod in her direction, giving James the permission he needs to go and sit with her.
He sits gently and places his hand over hers, his eyes full of tears.
Elizabeth doesn’t move. She doesn’t look at him.
She can’t. He strokes her hair as he always does, and then she moves.
She moves herself closer to him and pulls him into her.
Her face nuzzles into his chest, and her hand grips his.
He holds her tight; he won’t let go until she is ready.
She’s safe with him. As I watch silently from the corner, a pang of guilt cuts through me.
Their connection is this strong because I left at a time when she needed me, and he stepped up.
I quietly turn and slip out, as if I’d never been there. I want to give her the time and space to grieve in the way she needs, and in this moment, she needs her friend. The man who has been there when I should have been. The man who never left.
I walk through the hospital and out to the front where a bench is empty, waiting for me. I sit for five minutes, my head in my hands, tears slipping silently down my cheeks. A tap on my shoulder makes me jump. As I look up, the stranger, eyes wide, apologises to me.
“I’m sorry,” they say. My first thought is that they’re apologising for the torment in my chest, and then I notice a camera in their hand.
They’re going to ask me for a picture. Rage builds so fast that I barely register what I’m doing.
I stand sharply, towering over them, and pull the camera from their hand and launch it into the car park, smashing it on landing.
“Fuck off, you inconsiderate prick.” The words tear out of my mouth without warning, and I realise that this is going to come back to haunt me. Right now, though, I don’t care.
A strong hand grips my arm, and I turn into Callum. I forgot he has been here the whole time.
“Sir, let’s go back inside.” I stare at him for a moment, unable to register what just happened.
I slowly make my way back onto the ward, so many emotions trembling through me.
James is still with her when I get back, but Elizabeth has fallen asleep.
A relief washes over me, pleased that she has finally shut her eyes.
If only for an hour, she needs to sleep.
“She asked for a sedative, so the doctor gave her one, and she drifted off soon after,” James explains.
I thank him and shake his hand. “I’m going to go home, but if either of you need me, just call, ok.
” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Are you ok, Theo?” I nod silently.
I’m not ok but I will be. For Elizabeth.
He pats my back and heads off down the hallway.
Now that we’re alone in the room, I untie my shoelaces, take off my suit jacket, hang it gently over the chair and slowly climb into the bed behind her. I wrap her in my arms and cuddle her all night.
Elizabeth sleeps. I don’t. I don’t want to leave her. Not even to sleep for five minutes. I will never leave her again.
When the sun shines through the small window, I realise that a new day has started.
Yesterday’s nightmare has gone; its effects being felt throughout my entire being.
I feel Elizabeth stir, and her breath catches as if she is still sobbing.
The nurses have been in and out of the room all night taking her observations, but not once did she wake.
As she moves around the bed, I pull her into me, sshing her cries that immediately start again.
“I’m here, baby girl. You’re ok.” Her hand drifts to her stomach. All she can feel is emptiness, her stomach already smaller than yesterday. For a moment, she thought she was still pregnant, and it had all been a bad dream. She turns to face me.
“She’s gone,” she whispers. Part question, part confession.
“She’s gone, baby.” Her sobs start again, her head in my chest.
“I don’t want to go home, Theo. I don’t want to leave her here alone.” I don’t know what to say to her. I’m lost for words. I don’t know how to help her.
The doctor comes in an hour later. Elizabeth isn’t listening to him. She doesn’t reply to his questions, and when he hands her leaflets on grief counselling, she leaves them on the bed.
She can’t speak. She just wants to hold her baby. She wants to be strapping her into a car seat and driving home with her. She wants to introduce her to our home, Bear, and her friends.
I thank the doctor and ask for some time. I need to get her out of the hospital slowly. I can’t rush her. I tell her to take her time, and I slowly get her dressed, scared I’ll break her, her fragile body so small. I kiss her on the head and leave the room to find a wheelchair.
****
Elizabeth
Alone, I look around the room. If a stranger walked in, they wouldn’t see what I see. I see chaos. The blood. I can hear the machines beeping, panicking doctors and nurses, and then my baby, in the corner, silent. No cry, no noise, just a still baby being gently wrapped in a white blanket.
“Where did I go wrong?” I whisper to myself.
A nurse comes in to help me finish getting ready to leave. As she puts my shirt around my shoulders, the fabric feels too much. It’s burning my skin. Too much weight. Too much sensation. Too much everything.
I am a shell of myself.
****
Theo
I return with a wheelchair and tell her that Nigel is waiting outside with the car. She lowers herself down in the chair with the help of me holding her arm. She looks so fragile. So sore.
And then… we leave.
The cries come again. Quieter this time. We’re leaving our baby. She is still here, on her own, and Elizabeth is leaving her there. The one thing she begged not to do.
Nigel is waiting, grief written across his face. He helps Elizabeth up into the car and slowly shuts the door. As we drive away, her sobs get louder, her hands to her mouth in an attempt to contain them. She rests her head in my lap, and I hold her the entire way home.
When we arrive at the manor, I open her door. She doesn’t move. Her body is still, and she is staring at the headrest in front of her.
“Put your arms around my neck, Sunshine.” She does as she’s told, and I lift her out of the car and carry her up the stairs. As we near the nursery, Elizabeth stops me with a gentle hand on my chest.
“Put me down, please, Theo.” I put her down, and she slowly opens the nursery door. Her hand runs gently over the crib. She picks up the brown bunny, bringing it up to her face, then she sinks to the floor and lays herself down on the carpet.
She stays there all day. I try several times to get her into our bed, but she refuses every time. She drifts in and out of sleep next to the crib, clinging to the bunny.
I don’t know what to do for her. I feel an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
When the clock strikes 8:00pm, I resign myself to the fact that Elizabeth isn’t coming out of the room, so I drag our mattress from the bedroom to the nursery floor, placing it beside the empty crib.
I lift Elizabeth from the floor and gently place her onto the mattress, draping the duvet over her.
There she stays for three more days until I decide that it is time to ask for some help.
I pace back and forth along the marble floor in the hallway as the phone rings twice before James answers. I call him not as a friend, but as a doctor. That is what she needs right now.
“Hey, Theo. How are you both doing?” he asks, his voice full of caring.
“James, I don’t know what to do to help her. She hasn’t left the nursery since we arrived home. I have run out of ideas. She’s not eating or drinking. I need your help.” I am begging him to come. To help me.
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” James hangs up, and for the first time, I pray. To whoever will listen. Pray that James can save the love of my life.