Poppet

Yellow

MELANIE AND AJ have reached an impasse. So early in their relationship and they’re as wary and mistrustful of each other as divorcees. They are wooden at breakfast, hardly speaking. He’s surprised and taken aback at the way she has pulled down the shutters, and he believes she’s embarrassed by it now. He’s known a lot of women who’ve risen through the ranks to a position of power; many find staying there incredibly difficult. It’s as if they are so surprised to have got there at all that they cling on harder than they need to.

He loads his breakfast stuff into the dishwasher and goes into the garden again – just to see it in the daylight. He doesn’t know what he’s searching for, so he kicks around a bit, trying to look important, then goes back inside. He keeps catching her watching him, and when he thinks her attention is elsewhere he, in turn, studies her. Searching for any hint she’s going to tell him she doesn’t want to go on with this – that she wants to cool things. He won’t be surprised when it happens. It’ll be because she’s embarrassed – the worst reason, but she has her pride.

By the time they get to work AJ is wrung out. He is exhausted, and the memory of whatever it was in the garden won’t leave him alone. Flashes of it come back to him when he closes his eyes: a face covered in something – a stocking mask maybe. Its absolute stillness and lack of urgency – so motionless that he still can’t quite believe it was a human being – are the worst things. The image won’t stop pressing at him, and eventually he gives in. He lets it take him the first place it will. He isn’t surprised to find himself outside Monster Mother’s door.

Monster Mother sits in the window as always. She is holding her stump high above her head. There seems no particular reason for her doing this; she neither tires of it, nor refers to it when AJ comes in, but smiles graciously, half rising to give him a tiny bobbing curtsey, twitching the hem of her floaty yellow lace with her good hand, the stump still raised aloft.

‘Gabriella.’

‘Hello, dearest AJ. The world is extremely yellow today.’

‘Yellow as in … ?’

‘As in sunny.’ She settles down, beaming. The arm stays up in the air, cheerfully revealing the huge thatch of gingery hair in her armpit. ‘The world is happy.’

‘Happy because …?’

‘Because it’s gone. The Maude will leave us alone now. We’re safe. Ohhhh, AJ.’ She turns her amazing eyes to him. They are eyes that could light up the world. ‘It’s all because of you. You are so lovely. You’re the favourite of all my children. You grew up the straightest – the straightest of them all.’

AJ gives a wan smile. Isaac Handel has gone from the unit and now Monster Mother is happy. It’s too much of a coincidence to ignore. ‘Can I sit down?’

‘Of course, my lovely son.’ Monster Mother still hasn’t lowered her arm. ‘Sit, sit. Do you want some tea? Some cakes? Strawberry is nice.’

Monster Mother has the wherewithal to make neither tea nor cakes in her room, but AJ inclines his head politely. ‘That’s OK, Gabriella. I’ve just eaten, thank you.’ He sits. Takes a breath. ‘Gabriella? Do you think Isaac knows something about The Maude?’

Instantly Monster Mother’s mood changes. A cloud flits across her face and she lowers her stump.

‘Gabriella?’

She moves her tongue around in her mouth, as if she’s having an internal argument with herself. Her eyes flicker from side to side.

‘Gabriella? I asked, do you—’

‘I gave birth to him – how am I supposed to forget? I don’t forget any of you. I still cry because of Isaac.’ She pauses and mutters to herself, her eyes lowered to a point on the floor, as if there is something or someone there she is speaking to. Finally she jerks her head up and looks hard at AJ. ‘Where is he?’

‘I don’t know. He’s left us.’

‘Where is he now? Is he coming here?’

‘No. He’s not coming back. I promise you.’

‘A promise?’

‘Yes, a promise.’

Monster Mother lowers her chin and frowns. Her eyes close halfway. She mutters to herself again, words AJ can’t hear.

‘Gabriella? Tell me something else. Our clinical director, Miss Arrow – do you remember Isaac ever talking about her?’

Monster Mother glares at AJ, her breathing suddenly picking up speed.

‘Gabriella?’

In reply she jumps up from her chair and turns away so she’s facing the window.

She sways, muttering under her breath, massaging her arm stump the way she does when she is anxious.

AJ rubs his eyes tiredly. He has gone as far as he can. Her silence is the answer he wants.

Enough is enough.