Chapter Twenty-Two

We didn’t have long to wait for the baby to arrive. I started to have contractions at around midnight on January 3rd and Ben drove me to the hospital, casting worried glances in my direction. ‘Isn’t it too early?’ he kept saying.

I looked out of the window, counting the time between contractions and vowing to get him well out of the way when I was talking to the midwives about dates. I was sure I’d be able to fob him off easily enough. For my part, I couldn’t wait to meet the little person who had been growing inside me these past nine months and felt almost giddy with excitement.

The birth was remarkably straightforward, if unbelievably painful, and Elodie arrived, looking more serene and perfect than I could ever have imagined. I held her tiny, perfect hands and counted her dainty little toes with a feeling of awe like I had never experienced before. She was mine and mine alone. I could see Peter in her but more than anything, I could see myself. It was such a strange sensation to look at another person and see yourself reflected back.

Ben was immediately smitten and it surprised me how good he was with her. It should probably have made me feel guilty but instead I just felt grateful that he was there and so supportive. When we first brought her home, we both spent hours just watching her sleep in her Moses basket. I don’t think either of us could believe we had been left in charge of this tiny baby who was entirely dependent on us for her survival.

Once Ben went back to work, my mum came to stay for a week and I let her do the lion’s share of the work, while I got as much sleep as possible. She was wonderful with Elodie, which I had mixed feelings about. On the one hand, I was grateful for the help but on the other, I felt it was the least she could do to make up for the crap childhood she had given me, after she accused my dad of all sorts and had him sent away.

Mum and I had always had an odd relationship. Somewhere along the line, she had become scared of me and as a result, she irritated the hell out of me. It became a vicious circle: the more I sensed her nervousness around me, the nastier I became, which only served to make her more nervous. Both of us breathed a huge sigh of relief when I moved out of our poky little house on an estate in Croydon, to move into a place of my own in London.

But after I had Elodie, it seemed like we developed a slightly uneasy truce. I thought that maybe it was because I really did need her help for the first time ever. I was bone-tired and had absolutely no clue what I was doing, so I had no choice but to watch her and learn. As well as looking after Elodie, she also mothered me – feeding me and letting me sleep whenever I wanted – which I had to admit I enjoyed. I was almost sad when she left to return home. Almost. And she must have felt the same way, because after that she began to pay more regular visits, taking over the housework and childcare the minute she walked through the door.