Day 10: Virginia

Dedicated to: Hilary Hodgson

11.43am

It’s a normal day. I was up at 5.30 to feed Ella; Jake rose half an hour later. While he showered, I smeared peanut butter on toast for us both and made coffee. We ate with the radio on, passing Ella between us. He left at 7.15 and I’ve spent the morning washing, ironing and sterilizing, with Matthew Wright in the background, prattling about cyclists.

Now Ella’s asleep, I’m doing my least favourite task: worrying. Every morning, as close to 11 as I can manage, I worry about Jake and Virginia for an hour. Right now I’m picturing their eyes and how he looks at her. I see her smile, her mouth and what it might be doing.  He looks pleased with himself, not a bit guilty.  

I’ve had to make her up because I don’t have a picture – she’s still so new that she’s just a silhouette on the company website. I’ve given her green eyes and dark hair, delicate features and a pert bottom. He wouldn’t be able to resist.

Just 17 minutes more and I can stop thinking about it. I feel sick and light-headed. But this has to be done because, like my grandmother taught me, if you worry about something it will never happen. So naturally, I’m very worried that my husband will leave me for someone he works with. Anyone would be.

Ella wakes sooner than expected – I should have started earlier. After lunch, I’ll worry about her being kidnapped for an hour. Then we’ll go for a walk.

2.30pm

Ella woke up early again and I’d only managed 50 minutes’ worry. It should be fine; I did extra yesterday. I’ll just be extra careful on our walk. I ring Jake at work and Virginia answers. She tells me he’s in a meeting and I try to believe her as an image of him groping her enters my mind.  I shake my head, I’ve worried enough about this today. Any more would be unhealthy.

We’re about to go out. Ella looks perfect lying in her pram in her cream anorak. Her face pokes out of the hood, pink with blue eyes and eyelashes that go on forever. She has milk rash on her cheeks and is the most beautiful little person in the world. For the hundredth time today I’m hit with the weight of my responsibility. Taking a deep breath, I push her outside.

We go to the park. Later I’ll tell Jake we fed the ducks, but today I daren’t go near the lake. I will another day, when I’ve worried more about the brakes on Ella’s pram. Still, we have a lovely time – the autumn temperature is perfect for us not to overheat or catch a chill. The ground is covered in golden leaves, like spilled cornflakes, and crunches beneath my feet and the wheels of the pram. I point the sound out to Ella. Soon she’ll walk on autumn leaves herself and laugh with surprised delight at the noise.

I buy a bun and eat it on the bench while making a shopping list. Ella wriggles and mews, her fists opening and closing around some invisible object. She blinks in the sun and I pull the pram’s hood up to shade her eyes. I imagine the world shrinking to the few square feet around us, until we’re the only people left. For a moment I wonder if I can make this happen by staying completely still. But then Ella’s gurgles take on a restless tone and I know we have to move if we’re to get the shopping done and be home in time for her 4 o’clock feed.

3.12pm

Jake rings as we’re walking to Sainsbury’s. He asks how Ella is, what we’ve been up to and if I had lunch. He tells me work is boring and he wishes he was home with us. It’s normal stuff, but he sounds different, as if he wants to get away. I hear a woman in the background and try to detect if it’s Virginia. While we’re ending our conversation, she’s already speaking to him about something else. As he puts the phone down he chuckles at something. Perhaps they’re talking about me, or Ella. I wonder if Virginia wants children.

I don’t know why I change direction, but instead of going to Sainsbury’s, I head for the Tesco Metro opposite Jake’s office. I’ve no design to visit Jake at work – he hates it when I do that – I just want to be near him.

3.41

Jake’s car is in the office car park, not that I really thought it wouldn’t be. The tiny Tesco is full of mums like me, with buggies and children, and it’s not designed for us. The aisles are too narrow and the corners too sharp. I’ve almost crashed into someone and ran over a schoolchild before I’ve picked up a single item. I shouldn’t have come here. My skin prickles, I want to remove my coat, but I can barely move. If I’m hot, perhaps Ella is too. I check, but can’t tell because my own hands are so warm.

I look at my shopping list and cross out anything we don’t really need. I need rice for tonight’s dinner, but the dry food aisle is the worst. I stand at the end for several minutes but it’s no good, it’s packed. We’ll be crushed to death.

“Nightmare at this time isn’t it?”

It’s a woman’s voice.

“Shall I watch your pram while you grab what you need?”

I turn to face her. She has green eyes, dark hair and delicate features. Her smile reveals perfect teeth. It’s her.

It’s Virginia offering to watch my baby.

“Are you OK?” the bitch asks. I grip the pram to steady myself, my peripheral vision fades and I see, with absolute clarity, what’s happening. The worrying hasn’t worked.

She reaches out to touch me. When I try to scream, no sound comes out. Then all is black.

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