‘Tell me again how Mummy died,’ Ella said, her red cheeks glistening with tears.
I’d finally managed to coax her out of her princess castle. She’d been in the tent ever since learning of Dad’s death. Both Mum and Lauren had tried getting her to talk about how she felt, but she’d asked repeatedly to be left alone and eventually they’d agreed. They’d implied that it was the stroke that had killed Dad, steering clear of any mention of suicide for now.
When Ella climbed out of the tent and came to sit alongside me on the bed, I’d expected questions about her grandfather’s death, so it threw me when she brought up Alice instead.
‘What happened to her?’
‘Um, like I told you before, she got very sick when she was giving birth to you. She, er, she died a few hours after you were born.’
‘So I killed her.’
‘No. Of course not, Ella. You mustn’t say that. It was just terribly bad luck. Tragedies happen sometimes. We all wish they didn’t, but there’s nothing we can do.’
‘How exactly did it happen?’
Reliving Alice’s death was the last thing I wanted to do at that particular moment, yet I couldn’t decline. Ella had a right to know. I’d sketched out the details for her before, but this was the first time she’d asked for specifics.
‘She had a thing called a brain haemorrhage. It’s a type of stroke, like Grandad had, only a really bad one. Do you remember how I told you that in Grandad’s case the blood supply to his brain got cut off for a while?’
Ella nodded.
‘Okay. Well, what happened to Mummy was that one of the tubes carrying blood to her brain actually burst.’
‘Because she was having me?’
‘Having a baby puts a woman’s body through all kinds of strain.’
I could still picture the look of horror on the midwife’s face as if she was standing right in front of me. It was an image I’d never forget. ‘Call nine nine nine!’ she’d barked. ‘We need to get her to hospital immediately.’
They’d advised us against Alice having a homebirth for her first baby, in case of complications, but she was determined. She’d always hated hospitals. And so she died in the back of an ambulance weaving through rush-hour traffic, never reaching the doctors who might have been able to save her. The doctors who would have been at her side in minutes had she already been at the hospital.
‘So it was my fault,’ Ella said, whisking me back to the present.
I knelt down in front of her. ‘No, Ella. Not at all. You mustn’t think that. Please, don’t think that. It’s not your fault in any way.’
I understood self-blame better than anyone and it was the last thing I wanted Ella to have to go through. It had taken me many counselling sessions to move beyond my own belief that I was responsible for Alice’s death. At one point I’d been firmly convinced that if I’d not cheated on her, she’d still be alive. My logic was based on the fact that I would have preferred the safer option of a hospital birth, but I let Alice have her way because I was so racked with guilt about my one-night stand. I should have pushed harder against it, I told myself over and over in those terrible first days and weeks after her death. If I’d put my foot down instead of trying to ease my conscience, things could have been so different.
It took me a long time to accept that life was far greater and infinitely more complex than me and my decisions, good or bad; that I had no way of knowing how my actions might or might not have affected things. Only then did I appreciate how important it was to live in the present with my beautiful daughter, rather than waste away in a past I could do nothing to alter.
‘How come Grandad died too, then?’ Ella asked. ‘If I’d told Nana straight away that he was sick, he might never have been stroked.’
‘No, Ella. We’ve been through this before. It was me who told you not to say anything until the morning. You weren’t responsible.’
She started sobbing again. ‘Why does everyone keep dying? You were coming to get me from school when you got killed. So that’s my fault too.’
‘No. None of this is your fault. You have to stop thinking like that.’
I closed my eyes, hunting for the right words; hating not being able to take her into my arms and comfort her. ‘I’m sorry, Ella. I wish I could give you a proper answer, but there isn’t one. It’s totally unfair. No one, never mind a child your age, should have to experience so much loss in such a short time. I wish I could wave a magic wand, like one of the wizards in your story books, and make it all better, but I can’t. I am here for you, though, and I’ll do everything I can to help. The same goes for Nana and Lauren. You know that, don’t you? You’re never alone.’
Later, once Ella had calmed down, she asked me about her grandad’s spirit. ‘Where is he, Daddy? Will I be able to see him?’
I sighed. ‘I don’t know where he is, love. I haven’t seen him either. I’m trying to find out.’
‘Might he be in Heaven already?’
‘That’s possible.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘Heaven?’
Ella nodded.
I let out a wistful sigh. ‘I don’t know for sure, darling. I haven’t been there, but I imagine it as somewhere incredible, full of happiness and warmth. I think it will somehow appear different to each person there, so it can be everyone’s perfect place.’
‘Do you think Mummy’s there?’
‘I do.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to go there too, so you can be with her again?’
Her question caught me off guard. I ought to have seen it coming, but I didn’t. Perhaps now was the time to have the big discussion with her. I considered it for an instant, but I couldn’t forget Lizzie’s warning not to burden Ella with my impossible decision. Besides, how could now be a good time? She’d just lost her grandad. What could be crueller than talking about the possibility of losing me again as well?
‘Um, I’ve not really thought about it,’ I lied. ‘Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.’
I pulled a silly face, managing to coax a hint of a smile out of her, before asking how she was feeling about her grandad’s death.
She looked down at her bare feet and rubbed them along the carpet. ‘Sad. I thought he was getting better.’
‘I know. We all did.’
‘Um, Daddy … I’m a bit worried about Nana now.’
‘What do you mean, love?’
‘What if she dies too?’
It was heart-breaking to hear my six-year-old daughter ask that question. It was no surprise she thought like that, after all the death she’d experienced, but it wasn’t right. At her age, she shouldn’t have to think about anything more pressing than which doll to play with or what TV programme to watch. It reminded me again of Lizzie’s warning, pushing me further towards her way of thinking. The last thing my daughter needed right now was to be concerned about my future.
‘Your nana’s as fit as a fiddle,’ I said. ‘She’s going nowhere.’
I immediately regretted my choice of words, as I remembered an evening not so long ago when Dad had claimed to be ‘as fit as a fiddle’ to Mum. ‘You know you’ve got your Auntie Lauren as well,’ I added. ‘And your Uncle Xander. All three of them love you so much.’
‘I guess,’ Ella replied, reaching across the bed for Kitten and squeezing the toy animal tight against her chest.
I thought back to the days when I could hug Ella like that; a sudden swell of emotion caught me unawares.
‘What’s wrong, Daddy?’ Ella asked as I gulped down the pain and uncertainty.
‘Nothing, darling,’ I replied, forcing a smile. ‘I’m fine.’