‘The gel was cold and the paper towel they stuffed in my knickers was scratchy and rough. They tried for ages to find a heartbeat and couldn’t. The probe was hard and it pressed into my tummy as she circled it around and around for what felt like forever.’ I pause and dip my head to wipe my nose on my sleeve. ‘Then the room filled with people, so many people, and they said she’d died. Our baby was gone.’ I shudder. ‘They were so matter-of-fact, like it happened every day. I suppose it does to them.’
‘So, no one ever told you it was your fault,’ he says simply.
That stops me in my tracks, and my mind spins like a hamster wheel going at full tilt. I trawl through that meeting again in my head. Who said it to me? Someone must have said it. But I come up blank. I try to make the people in that room tell me it was my fault, but none of it sounds right.
‘It was so long ago,’ I mumble. ‘Someone must have said it.’
‘If it wasn’t the medical staff. Who else do you think told you it was you?’ His voice is soft, but insistent.
‘My mum then.’ My nose is prickling and I rub it roughly. ‘I don’t know. Does it matter?’ My voice is harsh. ‘It doesn’t make any difference who said what. It doesn’t change the outcome.’ I hate calling her an outcome.
‘It does if no one ever said it. It means you decided it was your fault.’
I shake my head sharply, hardly daring to believe the glimmer of hope that all I have known for the last seventeen years has been me lying to myself. I’ve let it define me, punish me.
‘No one ever told me it was your fault. Not the doctor. Not my mum. Not your mum,’ he continues. ‘No one ever blamed you.’
‘They don’t know what happened that night.’
‘We all knew you went to a party and got drunk.’ He reaches for me, but I pull back. I’m scared to feel his touch. ‘That night made no difference to us losing our baby, Ellie. It was cruel and devastating, but it’s how life happens sometimes.’
‘You don’t know that,’ I snap. ‘You can’t.’
‘I blamed myself, you know.’
I meet his eyes. ‘You did? Why would you do that?’
He pulls back and his index finger taps the table in a steady rhythm. ‘For not looking after you enough. For being a fucking idiot and rowing with you and causing all that stress. I thought it was my fault.’
He’s crying now and my heart twists tight as if it’s being wrung dry.
‘That’s stupid. You can’t blame yourself,’ I say.
‘Exactly,’ he says, his voice raw. ‘But I did. Just like you did.’ His eyes are locked on the table now, as if he’s replaying everything in his head as he talks. ‘Everyone said it was one of those things. Life happening. But there’s always been a knot deep down inside me that wonders if I’d done things differently, then you wouldn’t have miscarried, and we’d have had a baby and a very different life together. And I wouldn’t have lost you for all those years.’ He swallows and wipes at his face. ‘I swore I’d never get things wrong again. I’d look after whoever was important to me and make up for what I got wrong.’
His obsession with looking after his mum suddenly makes sense. His desperation to do everything himself, to look after her and be overly protective and make it better. The way he’s drowned under the weight of trying to do it all.
‘Jackson, what’s happening with your mum isn’t your fault.’ I’m drawn towards him. The look on his face is torturous, and I’d do anything to take that hurt away. His shoulders quiver as quiet tears continue to run down his face, grief etched into every line of his body. I reach for him and squeeze his hand and he clutches it tight as if he’s scared I’m going to run.
‘But I must be able to do something and I don’t know what.’ His voice is breaking. ‘I’m failing everyone that I care about. I’m not with Mum when she needs me. And I couldn’t stay with you when you needed me.’ He pulls his hand away from mine and rakes his hand through his hair. His stare pours into me and the emotions swirling around us are palpable. ‘I’m no good for anyone the way things are now. I can’t split myself in two, so I’m failing you both. What do I do? Tell me how I can put it right. How do we make this work?’
I’m fighting with myself inside. I understand the need to punish yourself over and over because you deserve it. To try tomake up for all the devastation you caused everyone. And I know how much it hurts.
I want to be selfish. Tell him it’ll all be fine. We’ll find a way. That love is enough. He can do it all and no one will suffer. But I’d be fooling myself and him. He’ll tear himself up inside because he’s not giving either of us the attention he thinks we need. And I don’t think I can do that to him. Every bit of me aches to make it as easy as possible for him. I love him too much to contemplate anything else.
‘You have to concentrate on your mum. She’s who’s important. And you can’t do everything.’ I’m crying now. I can’t hold my tears in any longer and I don’t think I want to. It hurts too much. ‘We can’t do this anymore. I can’t see you.’
‘What? No, I didn’t mean …’
‘I know you didn’t. But this isn’t working, is it? Look at us. And at the end of everything, you’re going back to Australia. It’s going to hurt too much. I can’t do this.’
‘There must be a way,’ he pleads.
I want to cling to him and tell him we’ll find a way through this. I don’t want to go forwards without him. But instead, I say none of that.
‘There isn’t.’ My voice hardens. I need to be strong for both of us. ‘We’re over. I deserve someone who is going to be there for me. We lasted the last seventeen years apart. We can do it again.’
He reaches for me and I stand up, scraping the chair backwards over the tiles. If he touches me, all my resolve will crumble. ‘You said it yourself, Jackson. You cannot split yourself in two. You will never forgive yourself if you’re not there for your mum. I understand that. Tell me I’m wrong.’
