THE BABY

And then it all went wrong.

Maisy was crying. On and on and on. I couldn’t bear it. I yelled, “Shut up! Shut up!”

“Shut your mouth,” Grace shouted. “Do you have to deal with her? No? Then shut the hell up.”

 

“Shut the hell up, you little moron. What are you doing here, anyway? Who wants you? Do you know what we do to little creeps like you?”

Someone’s hand comes down on my face. Someone’s foot punches my stomach. I’m drowning. I’m dying. I can’t ever escape.

Somewhere, a baby is crying.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

 

A baby was crying.

I was back in the living room. Grace had moved. Before, she was standing in front of me; now she was by the window, holding Maisy. My heart was pounding. I felt it again, that piercing sense of being hated, but I couldn’t tell if it was the woman in my memory who was doing the hating, or Amelia, and if she was hating me, or the baby, or both of us. I remembered the women in the stories Harriet had told me. There was the lady who tried to gas her children to death, and the other lady who killed her baby and left it on the doorstep. Was that what Amelia wanted? Did she think it was still her job to kill babies? Or to make me kill babies for her? Mostly, she just seemed full of anger. Like she wanted to hurt someone and anyone would do.

I could understand that.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted. “Just leave me alone!”

Grace rounded on me. “If you don’t shut the hell up right now, I’m going to make you.”

 

“If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m going to make you.”

A woman’s hand over my mouth and nose, stopping me breathing. The smell of her sweaty fingers and the metal taste of rage in my mouth. I bite on to her palm. She swears and picks me up so my feet kick in the air. Somewhere there’s a baby crying. Somehow the crying is my fault.

“I’ll make you pay for that, you little monster.”

 

“I’ll make you pay for that,” I yelled. I launched myself on to Maisy, still cradled in Grace’s arms. If I could shut Maisy up, the woman in my head would go away. If Maisy stopped crying, old Amelia wouldn’t bother me any more. I grabbed the nearest bit of Maisy I could reach – her leg. Grace pulled back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get away from her!”

Jim came into the room. He looked at us – Grace with her arms around Maisy, screaming at me, me pummelling them with my clenched fists. He grabbed me and dragged me away.

“Olivia, calm down. Calm down.”

I could hear the panic in his voice. He’s scared of me.

Grace and Maisy went out of the door. Jim put me down. He sat on the chair by the fire, watching as I kicked and raged.

“I hate you, I hate you. I wish you were dead. I wish you were dead.”

Sometimes, when I threw fits, I did it to annoy my foster parents. Sometimes I did it because I was so angry I had to let the anger out or explode. But now I did it because it was either that or listen to my thoughts.

He won’t let you stay here now you’ve tried to hurt the baby. You’ll have to go.

 

Afterwards, he tried to talk to me.

“You know that must never happen again?” he said. “Olivia?”

There’s a ghost in this house and she’s trying to kill Maisy.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Olivia. I’m serious. Maisy is only little. You mustn’t try and hurt her.”

I think I’m going mad.

“Or what? If I smack her in the nose, what will you do?”

Jim looked at me steadily.

He’ll send you away. He’ll send you away.

“You can’t hurt a baby, Olivia. It’s against the law, for one thing.”

“Would you call the police, then?”

“I wouldn’t let it get to that stage,” said Jim. “If I honestly thought you were going to hurt Maisy, I’d have to make sure you weren’t in a position to do so. I’d have no choice.”

He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even like you. He likes Maisy more than you, and Maisy can’t even talk.

“Would you chuck me out?” I said. “Mr For Ever And Ever? Would you?”

“If I had to,” said Jim. “Then, yes. I would.”