‘Lucy. Aidan.’ Dr Chandra hovered at the foot of the bed. The storm continued to rage, but nothing outside of this room mattered. ‘I’m so sorry.’ When the doctor broke eye contact, Aidan knew his life would never be the same again. ‘It’s Catherine. We did everything we could, I can promise you—’
Lucy’s scream was primal, slicing through Aidan – that scalpel through her skin – he was just as raw and bloodied.
‘I am so sorry,’ Dr Chandra said again. ‘Her heart stopped beating.’
‘But I can give her a new heart… I can…’ Lucy threw back her covers.
‘It’s too late.’
‘No! I can save her, I can…’ Lucy’s legs were still numb from the anaesthetic but she somehow managed to swing them out of bed. ‘I can…’
Aidan held her while she beat his chest with her hands, tried to push him away.
‘I. Can. Save. Her.’ She glared at Dr Chandra. ‘I’m a doctor. I demand that you take me to my daughter.’
‘We can arrange for you to see her, of course, but Lucy, Catherine was so small. The team did all—’
‘But she didn’t need a team. She just needed me.’ Lucy covered her face with her hands. ‘She just needed me.’ She wept.
In the hours that passed, Lucy and Aidan were able to hold Catherine. Lucy carefully dressed her in the premature baby sleepsuit dotted with yellow daisies that despite being small, still swamped her. A nurse took photos of them all. Faces stiff, hearts breaking, a family of three, not four, and it occurred to Aidan that’s what they’d be now. The double buggy waiting in their hallway, the two cots, it was useless now. All of it. He turned away from his wife then, from his child who he would never strap securely into the seat they had bought with the duck print to drive her home. She would never leave the hospital with them. Lucy’s emotion filled the room, her grief enormous. There was no place for his. His would come later when alone, he would shout and scream and shake his fist at the sky.
A nurse helped them take handprints and footprints of Catherine, impossibly small and they would remain forever so.
Time stretched slowly but all too fast. Lucy, in between bouts of tears, crooned ‘Hush little baby’ to her daughter, but it was all a lie. She would never buy Catherine a mocking bird, a diamond ring or a looking glass, but she sang it over and over, voice cracking, as though if she stopped singing for one single second she would have to let her daughter go.
Nevertheless, eventually it was time to say goodbye.
Time for Lucy to meet Connor. Her first sighting of her son was forever imprinted on Aidan’s mind. It was bittersweet watching her emotions slide across her beautiful face. She’d aged today. Her skin grey and looser than it had been yesterday. The love she instantly felt for her son was marred with sorrow for the loss of his twin. Guilt that she hadn’t been there when his sister had slipped away.
‘If my body had just—’
‘Shh.’ Aidan shook his head. ‘You are not to blame.’
‘I save lives every day.’
‘And sometimes you lose them too.’
Lucy was both grateful to and hostile with the staff of the NICU. Her anxious eyes following their every movement. Reading Connor’s notes. Making them explain again and again how frequently they were checking him. Telling them what to look out for as though she was their supervision doctor and they her trainees.
The staff were kind. Patient. Genuinely saddened to have lost a baby.
At last Lucy was sleeping. The nurse told him she’d be out for hours. He ran a hand over his chin, felt the bristles underneath his fingers. There was so much to do. He wanted to pack away all of Catherine’s things before Lucy came home later that week. There were so many people to tell, he didn’t know where to start. They thought they’d be arranging a christening, instead he needed to plan a funeral. He stood and swayed on his feet. He couldn’t remember when he last slept. Ate. He doubted he’d ever feel hungry again. Nothing could fill the void of loss inside of him.
Legs leaden, he stumbled out to his car. Not knowing if it was the same day. Unaware of the time. He peeled a parking ticket from his windscreen and tossed it onto the back seat.
He drove. He still couldn’t cry, but he felt it all inside of him. He reached their road but he didn’t turn into it. Not wanting to go inside and face the double buggy as soon as he pushed open the front door. Not wanting to be alone when he called his mum, Lucy’s mum. Instead, he drove to Fergus’s house, thumping his torment onto his front door. Falling into the hallway as Melissa let him inside.
‘Aidan?’
But he couldn’t speak. All of his words knotted inside of his throat.
Melissa led him into the lounge and settled him on the sofa, crouching in front of him in her candy-striped pyjamas, her hands on his knees.
‘Is Lucy okay?’
Aidan shook his head. Opened his mouth and then closed it again.
‘Aidan,’ Melissa said. ‘I need you to tell me what has happened.’
There was a gentleness about her. Her eyes. Her voice. But he didn’t want gentle. He wanted hardness. Anger. Someone to tell him it wasn’t fucking fair.
‘Where’s Fergus?’
‘He’s on a long-haul flight. He isn’t due back until tomorrow. Can I get you something? A drink?’
‘Whisky.’
‘Aidan, it’s eight o’clock in the morning.’ But still Melissa fetched a glass. Ice. A bottle.
The first gulp burned his throat. Warmed his belly. He knew that he needed to stay sober. That he had too much to do. He wanted to be back at the hospital before too long. But still he slugged a second glass of the amber liquid and swallowed it down in one go. He wiped his mouth and collapsed back against the cushions. Melissa eyeing him warily. ‘What’s wrong, Aidan?’
‘Are you and Fergus still trying for a baby?’ he asked.
‘Yes but… it’s been two years now. We need to look at other options but Fergus won’t admit—’
‘Don’t,’ Aidan said gruffly.
‘Don’t explore our options?’
‘Don’t have a baby. It’s too… It’s too…’ He reached for the bottle again. This time Melissa held out a second glass and joined him, coughing as she drank. Aidan had never seen her drink spirits before.
‘Aidan, tell me what’s wrong.’
‘Are you happy?’ Aidan asked.
Melissa swished the dregs of her whisky around her glass. ‘I don’t know. We used to be but trying to create a family, me trying to fall pregnant has put such a strain on us. Sometimes I wonder if we’re broken.’
‘Lucy falling pregnant has broken us.’ Aidan closed his eyes. ‘Connor’s okay but Catherine… Catherine didn’t make it.’
The sofa dipped as Melissa sat next to him and scooped him into her arms. He tried to push her away but she held him fast.
‘Shh.’ She soothed as he would eventually soothe his son. As he should have been able to soothe his daughter.
His muscles grew limp. His shoulders began to shake. Still he tried to keep his grief inside.
‘Shh.’ Her fingers stroked his hair. ‘Let it all out.’
The force of his sobs shook his bones as they hurtled from deep in the pit of his belly, travelling up his throat before he propelled them out of his mouth. A guttural sound, filling the quiet room. He couldn’t stop them. He needed them to stop. He needed to be strong but he felt weak. Melissa’s body trembled next to his. He raised his face. She was crying too. She cupped his cheeks with her hands.
‘I’m so sorry, Aidan. For you and Lucy. But you will get through this.’
‘How?’ His desperation spilled out in that one word.
She shook her head, unable to answer. Their eyes still locked. A torrent of tears built again and he just couldn’t bear it. He pressed his lips hard against hers. Immediately, she pushed him away, but his hand snaked around the back of her head. He drew her to him again. Kissed her firmly. His other hand creeping under her T-shirt. He grew hard. It wasn’t that he’d ever fancied Melissa. It wasn’t that he wanted her, but he wanted to feel something, anything, other than the crushing grief.
He wanted it to stop, if only for a few moments.
Melissa relaxed, her fingers tangled in his hair, raising her hips as he tugged at her pyjama bottoms. Her breath sour with whisky and sleep but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the here and now.