Owning Jacob - SA

Chapter three

Jessica lived on the fourth floor of a block of squat council flats in Peckham. The lift was working, but when Ben saw the vomit drying on the floor and spattering the wall he took the steps instead. He was out of breath before he had reached the third level. He reminded himself that he ought to get back into playing football fairly soon. Or doing something. It was too easy to let it slide, and before he knew it he’d be forty and a fat bastard. There were still eight years to go, but already he’d found it only took a few weeks for the rot to set in, and it was becoming more of an effort to shake it off again.

Trying to pretend he wasn’t winded, he hauled himself up to the fourth floor. The walkways ran along the front of the flats, open except for a chest-high concrete wall. He ad never been there before. He and Jessica had never made any pretence of liking each other. He’d generally gone out whenever she called around to see Sarah, and on the few occasions when they couldn’t avoid one another they barely managed a minimal degree of civility for her sake.

The antipathy between them had been immediate and instinctive, on Ben’s part largely because he could tell that she disliked him, on Jessica’s for reasons she kept to herself.

But he thought he could guess. She resented him. Before he had come along and spoiled things, Sarah and Jacob had been part of her extended family. Sometimes he felt she thought they had hem her family. Jessica had treated the small one-bedroom flat that Sarah had moved into after Jacob was born as a second home.

She would drop in unannounced for meals, stay overnight, and answer the phone as if she lived there. Once, when he and Sarah had been seeing each other for only a few months, Jessica had let herself in and found him there alone, preparing dinner.

She had stopped dead. “What are you doing here?”

He’d given her a grin because he knew that would infuriate her. “Cooking. What about you?”

She’d ignored his question. “Where’s Sarah?”

“Jacob’s got a cough. She’s taken him to the doctor’s.

She had stood in the doorway of the lounge, on the other side of the work surface that separated it from the tiny kitchenette. He saw her take in the makings of a dinner for two spread out next to the open bottle of wine. “She didn’t tell me.”

“It wasn’t something she’d planned in advance.” Seeing her there, plain and heavy in her midwife’s uniform, he’d relented. “Do you want a glass of wine? She shouldn’t be long.”

Her eyes flashed to him again. Her mouth tightened. “No.” Without another word, she had turned and left.

“Poor old Jessica,” he had joked to Sarah one evening. “I think she’s jealous of me.”

“Of course she isn’t. She’s just shy with people, that’s all.”

“With men, you mean. If the woman was any further in the closet she’d be in Narnia.”

Sarah pushed him. “Don’t be rotten. And you’re thinking of wardrobe.”

“Okay, she’s a wardrobe lesbian.” She laughed, but he could see she was uneasy. “Come on, you know she is,” he said, teasing but exasperated too. “Admit it, it’s no big deal.”

“Why go on about it, then?”

“I’m not going on about it. I just can’t see why you won’t admit it.” It genuinely puzzled him. They both had gay and lesbian friends, so Sarah’s defensiveness about Jessica’s sexuality seemed odd. “You two don’t have any dark secrets, do you?” His smile dropped as Sarah turned on him.

“No, of course we haven’t. Don’t be stupid!” She had flushed angrily, her freckles standing out more than ever.

“It was a joke,” he said, surprised.

“I know, but you shouldn’t laugh at her.”

“I wasn’t laughing. Well, not much.” The red was fading from her cheeks, but she still seemed unhappy. “There wasn’t anything between you, was there? I mean, it’s none of my business,” he added, hurriedly. “I just wouldn’t want to upset you without knowing why.”

“She’s a friend, that’s all. I suppose I just feel a bit protective towards her.”

Ben couldn’t think why. Jessica was more than capable of looking after herself. But after that he tried to keep his opinions of her to himself.

Even so, when they’d moved to the house in Camden he had made it clear that he didn’t want Jessica to have a key.

He needn’t have bothered, because she’d hardly been there. There was too much of him in it. Sarah had only spoken to her once or twice in the past few months, and without really thinking about it Ben had been quietly pleased that the two of them were finally drifting apart. Friends or not, Sarah always seemed subdued when Jessica was around.

And now, he thought, reaching the right door number, they had both lost her.

He paused to catch his breath before knocking. When he realised the bumping of his heart wasn’t just exertion he clenched his fist and rapped on the door. There was no answer.

A small spyhole was set in the centre of the door, and he had the sudden feeling that Jessica was watching him through it. He knocked again, harder. This time, after only a short wait, the door was opened.

Jessica regarded him without expression. Sometimes, when she was with Sarah and didn’t know he was looking, she would smile and for a transient moment achieve an animation that was close to prettiness. That was rare, though, and she wasn’t smiling now. She wore her starched midwife’s uniform like armour. Her hair was parted in the centre and drawn severely back by a black plastic clip, while her moon face was free of make-up. Ben was faintly shocked to notice that her skin was clear and young-looking. He wondered if the absence of make-up was a denial of vanity, or because of it.

“I’m going to work in ten minutes,” she said without preamble, and stood back to let him in.

He went through the short hallway and into the lounge.

It was uncluttered and almost clinically clean. There was a neat three-piece suite, only one chair, which looked used, and a laminated cabinet that contained a hi-fi unit and a few books. Other than that the room was bare. There wasn’t a single plant.

He didn’t sit down, and when Jessica followed him in she made no attempt to offer him a seat. She stood in front of the unlit gas fire, arms folded.

“Well? You said you wanted to talk to me.”

They had barely acknowledged each other at the funeral, and she had been openly unwelcoming when he had phoned. He’d had to insist that it was important, but now he was there he didn’t know where to start. “It’s about Sarah.”

She looked at him, waiting.

“Look, I know we’ve never hit it off, but you were Sarah’s best friend,” he went on. “You knew her before I did.”

Jessica gave no sign of unbending. She stared at him, as hard and ungiving as stone. Ben couldn’t imagine how someone so cold and unsympathetic could be a midwife, and not for the first time wondered about her motives for choosing it as her career. But this wasn’t the time to think about that.

“I wanted to ask about when the two of you shared a flat when she was pregnant. Sarah told me some things, but not in any detail.”

“And?”

“It’s a part of her life I don’t know very much about.”

Jessica was almost smiling, although there was nothing pretty about it. “So now you want to take that from me as well?”

Ben hadn’t expected her animosity to be so naked. “I don’t want to take anything from you. I never did.”

Her expression said she didn’t believe him. He felt more uncomfortable than ever. “This is a bad time. Perhaps we ought to leave it for a while.”

“There isn’t a good time as far as you’re concerned,” she said, and there was no mistaking the hate now. “I said I’d see you because of Sarah. But after this I don’t want to set eyes on you again. Ask what you came for and then go.”

“All right. The real reason I came was to ask you about Jacob.” He was watching for some reaction, but couldn’t see any.

“What about him?”

“You delivered him. I just want to know what happened.”

“What do you mean, ‘what happened’? She went into labour and I attended. That’s it.”

“Why didn’t she go to hospital?”

Jessica’s mouth was a thin line. “Didn’t she tell you any of this herself?”

“Yes, but I wanted to ask you.”

She glared at him, then gave a terse shrug. “It was the middle of the night. There wasn’t time. She started suddenly, and by the time we realised what was happening the baby was on its way.” She lifted her chin fractionally, staring him down. “Besides, there was no need for her to go to hospital. I was there.”

“You were only a student, though. What if there’d been any problems?”

“Then I’d have sent for help. But there weren’t.”

“Didn’t you send for a doctor?”

“I told you, there was no point. We called for one the next morning — he came and made sure they were both okay, and then went. I knew more about childbirth than any GP would have. Or her mother, though you wouldn’t have thought it to hear her.” She gave an angry shake of her head. “She insisted her little daughter had to go back home with them. As if I couldn’t have given her everything she needed.”

She was no longer looking at him, lost in the anger of six years ago, and Ben felt sorry for her. And sorry he had come. He felt more and more that he was wasting his time. There was only one thing left he had to ask.

“Sarah’s father told me Jacob was a big baby. Over six pounds.”

“Six pounds three ounces.” The figure was thrown at him. He accepted its accuracy.

“He said he didn’t look premature at all.”

“So?”

“Isn’t that unusual?”

Jessica’s look was full of contempt. “Not particularly. He might not even have been very much premature anyway. Sarah’s periods weren’t regular, so it was difficult to know how far into her term she was. And some babies are bigger than others, you know. Like anything else.” There was derision in her voice. “Is there anything else you want to ask?”

He didn’t even feel relieved. Just stupid. “No.”

“Good. In that case you might as well go.” She went and stood by the lounge door.

Shamefaced, Ben went past her into the hallway. Another doorway led off it into a kitchen that was as barren and clean as the rest of the flat. A solitary placemat was set out on the small table, with a stainless-steel salt-and-pepper cruet and glass vinegar bottle positioned at its top. They had the look of permanent fixtures. A newspaper lay neatly folded to one side of them, face up.

Ben walked past, then stopped and went back. “I haven’t forgotten. I just can’t see why she would have saved them.”

Jessica gave a derisive snort. “Is that what all this is about? You think she took somebody else’s baby? What’s the matter, are you tired of looking after him already?”

“I just want to know the truth, that’s all.”

“The truth? The truth is that Sarah gave birth to an autistic child, and now she’s dead you’ve decided you don’t want the responsibility. Well, you married her,” she spat. “Now live with it!”

“So Jacob is hers?”

“Of course he’s hers! I delivered him! Or are you going to call me a liar as well?”

Ben was never sure if he’d planned what he said next or not. But the fabrication came smoothly, as if rehearsed. “So how come they’ve both got the same birthmark?”

Jessica frowned. “What?”

“The newspaper said the baby had a birthmark on his right shoulder. Jacob’s got one there as well.” He expected scorn for the transparent fabrication.

Jessica’s gaze went blank for a moment. Then it snapped back into focus. “That doesn’t prove a thing. Lots of children have birthmarks,” she went on, but the hesitation had been too long. He felt a horror begin to uncurl in him.

“Oh Christ,” he said.

“I’ve told you, it’s just a coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“She did it, didn’t she? She took that baby.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Just because two babies have similar birthmarks—”

“There isn’t any fucking birthmark!”

She blinked. Her eyes broke away from his gaze. “Look, you’re going to have to leave now. I’ve got to... I’ve got to go to work.”

The bluster lacked conviction. Her hands fluttered, then fell limply to her side. Ben felt himself swaying. His legs barely supported him as he went unsteadily to the nearest kitchen chair and sank on to it. In spite of everything, he hadn’t really believed it. He realised he hadn’t come to be told this; he’d come to be reassured.

Jessica hadn’t moved from the doorway. Her face was sullen and resigned, the colour leeched from it. The midwife’s uniform seemed like a costume.

“Why?” he asked. “What made her do it?”

“She lost her baby.” Her voice was lifeless and flat. “I came home one night, and found her sitting in the dark. She’d spontaneously aborted that afternoon. In a public toilet.” She came to the table and sat down herself. She looked shapeless, as if only the starched fabric was holding her together. “I wanted to call for a doctor, but she got hysterical when I tried. So I didn’t. I made sure she wasn’t still bleeding or anything. It wasn’t as if they could do any good anyway. They’d only want to know where the foetus was, and then the police would’ve had to be called in. She’d been through enough already after that... that bastard left her when she was pregnant.”

She looked it him, viciously. “Did you know she tried to kill herself?” She gave a nod of triumph when she saw he hadn’t. “No, I didn’t think so. Well, she did. She took an overdose not long after she came to live with me. I found her and made her sick before she was too far gone. I thought she might miscarry then, but she didn’t. I wanted to spare her anything else. I thought... I thought if I could find the baby and bring it back I could say she’d lost it in the house, and that way there’d be no police, no fuss about it.”

Her fingers teased at her skirt, pinching a fold of it, then smoothing it down and repeating the process. “She wouldn’t talk at all, at first, but eventually she told me she’d left it in a bin near the Piccadilly tube station. I put her to bed, but it was late by then. I thought I’d have a couple of hours’ sleep and go to Piccadilly first thing. She was still sleeping when I went. I wanted to be back before she woke up, but when I got to the station I couldn’t find the right bin. I started looking in all of them, until the streets started getting busier and I had to stop. I never did find out where it was. There was no mention of it being found, so I suppose it just got taken away when the bins were emptied. I couldn’t do anything except go back home, and when I got there Sarah had gone. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t call the police, so I just waited and hoped she’d come back. But when she did she’d got a baby with her.”

A corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “She looked so happy. Like the day before hadn’t happened. Like Sarah should look. I tried to get her to tell me where she’d got it from, but she didn’t seem to know what I was talking about. And when I asked whose baby it was, she just said, ‘Mine.’ I tried to make her realise what she’d done, but it only made her confused. I was frightened she’d sink back into the state she’d been in earlier. I couldn’t think what to do. And then, all of a sudden, it came to me. I didn’t have to do anything. Sarah had been pregnant, and now she’d got a baby. It was big for a premature one, but not so big that it’d cause problems.”

He couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Problems? It wasn’t hers! Jesus Christ, she stole it!”

Jessica gave him a look of contempt. “What did you expect me to do? Go to the police?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have gone to the fucking police! They wouldn’t have prosecuted — not for something like that. She’d have been given psychiatric help!”

“Put away somewhere, you mean? You think I’d have let them do that to her?”

“It would have been better than what you both did!” He felt he had fallen through to another, less rational pocket of reality. “Did she know? What she’d done, I mean? Did she know afterwards?”

Jessica raised her shoulders, listlessly. “I don’t know. She might have, at some level. I’d cut out the reports from the newspaper and saved them in a drawer, but when I looked after she’d gone back with her parents they’d gone. She never said she’d taken them, and I never asked her.”

“You never spoke to her about it?”

She shook her head, but for the first time there was something subtly defensive about her. Ben thought he understood why Jessica had kept the cuttings. And why Sarah had been uneasy discussing their relationship. The woman had wanted to tie Sarah to her.

He didn’t bother to keep the disgust from his voice. “Didn’t you worry that someone might have found out?”

“Who was going to find out? I was nearly a qualified midwife, no one would doubt what I said. The doctor hardly even examined her when we called him out the next day. If I’d been based at the hospital the baby had been taken from somebody might have wondered, but I wasn’t. There wasn’t any risk.”

“No risk? She’d taken somebody else’s baby! All right, she was ill, she didn’t know what she was doing. But you’re supposed to be a... a fucking midwife, for God’s sake! How could you do it?”

“Because it was for Sarah.” Jessica stared back at him, defiant and serene. “I’d have done anything if I thought it would help her.”

“Help her! That wasn’t helping her! You were just letting her hide from what happened! And what about its real parents? Didn’t you care about what they must have gone through?”

“Why should I?” she flashed. “Some pathetic squaddie and his stupid breeding-cow? Why should I care more about them than Sarah? I see their kind every day, squeezing out one brat after another! They’ve probably got three or four by now. They’d get over it, but Sarah wouldn’t have! Care about them? I’d have taken it myself if she’d asked!” Her eyes were bright and moist. “Have I shocked you?” she sneered. “Didn’t you think plain old Jessica was capable of something like that? God, you make me sick. You married her, you fucked her, but you never loved her. You don’t know what love is.”

Ben couldn’t bear to stay there any longer. The small kitchen was suddenly airless, dense with the possibility of violence. He stood up, startling himself with the sound of the chair legs scraping across the lino-covered floor.

“I don’t know what you’d call what you did,” he said, thickly, “but it wasn’t love.” He got as far as the door, then stopped. “I can’t pretend I don’t know about this. I can’t just ignore it.”

Jessica didn’t look up. “Do what you like,” she said, dully. “I don’t care any more.” She was still staring at nothing when he went out.