Oh God, that’s what the noise is!
She leaps clumsily out of bed and pulls a jumper on over her pyjamas. Shit … shit … She pounds downstairs and bursts into what Amber calls the nursery. Mabel is lying on her back, screaming hysterically. Rushing over to the cot, Ruby picks her up and holds her tightly, stroking her hair and kissing her sweaty red cheeks.
‘I’m sorry, my little one, so so sorry,’ she soothes, rocking her from side to side. ‘You poor little darling. How long have you been crying? Bad Auntie Ruby for not hearing you.’
Mabel seems momentarily comforted, then picks up from where she left off, her shrieks penetrating Ruby’s eardrums and no doubt the bedroom walls.
‘No, no, please don’t cry, you’ll wake the neighbours. I know you’re cross, but it’s okay now, I’m here. Forgive me! I was upstairs in Mummy and Daddy’s room and I couldn’t hear you.’
She suddenly remembers the baby monitor and is dismayed to see that the light isn’t on. She feels sick with guilt.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m a despicable person.’ Mabel continues to cry and Ruby rubs her back soothingly. ‘Except I’m sure I switched it on last night … In fact I know I did.’ She picks up the monitor with her free hand and studies it critically. ‘Perhaps it’s broken. Or run out of juice.’ She presses the button and the green light comes on immediately. ‘Nope. Oh shit. How did I forget? That’s so bad. Don’t tell Mummy, Mabel, or she’ll kill me.’
Her niece has reached the sobbing stage now, taking deep gulps of air that make her tiny ribcage vibrate with effort. Then she starts to hiccup. Ruby carries her into the kitchen and sets about warming a bottle of formula milk – not easy to do with a distraught baby perched on her hip.
‘I must be going mad,’ she says to Mabel. ‘I could have sworn there were two bottles left, but there’s only one.’ She glances over to the sink, where a clean bottle and teat are drying on the draining rack. ‘Isn’t that weird? I’ve no memory of giving you that. God, I know I was tired last night and had a couple of beers, but …’ She pulls a face, ashamed of herself.
Putting Mabel to bed hadn’t been easy. Ruby had stupidly overexcited her and then been unable to calm her down. She’d not enjoyed her bath and had refused to lie in her cot. All the instructions about being kind but firm and not cuddling had to be abandoned. Maybe that was when Ruby had relented and given her an extra feed. She remembers feeling at her wits’ end, finally lifting Mabel up and taking her into the sitting room. She lay with her on the sofa and watched a film until Mabel eventually fell asleep, splayed out starfish-like across her chest. She tries to remember the final moments of the evening – returning Mabel to her cot, placing her in the correct position and turning on the night light so that she wouldn’t be alarmed if she woke. She was sure she turned the monitor on too.
Feeling annoyed with herself for always being so scatty, she sits down at the dining table and moves Mabel onto her lap. At first the baby sucks eagerly, but after a minute or so she spits the teat out.
‘Not hungry? That’s a first. Maybe you’re uncomfortable. Shall we change your nappy?’
She takes her back to the nursery and lays her down on the changing mat, which Mabel doesn’t like one bit. She kicks and squeals as Ruby removes her from the sleeping pod and takes off her nappy.
‘No wonder you were unhappy, you were all wet …’ She cleans Mabel’s bottom according to instructions, and fastens on a new nappy. ‘There you go, that’s better.’
She yawns. It’s not even 7 a.m. yet – this could be a long day, she thinks. She dresses Mabel in a clean sleepsuit and carries her up to the loft room, wedging her between pillows in the middle of the bed while she has a quick wash in the en suite shower room. She puts yesterday’s clothes on, then picks up her phone, expecting to see a stream of anxious messages from Amber. But to her surprise, there are only two, and neither of them is particularly anxious. The last one was sent at 11.45 p.m.
‘Must be having a good time,’ says Ruby. ‘I expect Daddy got her pissed.’ Mabel laughs, as if she understands. Ruby lies next to her on the mattress and together they look up through the window of the sloping roof, staring at the sunrise – streaks of pink and mauve fading to grey-blue. How can it not even be properly light yet?
The morning passes slowly. After breakfast, Ruby makes up a new batch of feeds and puts them in the fridge. She still can’t remember giving one to Mabel last night, nor washing the bottle, and it really bothers her.
She knows she’s a scatterbrain – it’s what her mother calls her. The trouble is, she finds the minutiae of life boring and prefers to think about other, more interesting, more important things. Like what career she’s going to have, or whether she and Lewis are going to stay together, or the effects of climate change. Although it’s true that she constantly forgets, misplaces or completely loses things (travel pass, purse, gloves, umbrellas, people’s birthdays, dental appointments, even her precious bike), she always realises it at some point. She’s spent half her life retracing her steps. But she’s never lost a chunk of memory entirely, not even when she’s been really drunk. It’s very, very weird. Almost like her brain malfunctioned last night.
She won’t mention it to Amber, or to her mother, and she probably won’t tell Lewis either. She can hear his voice right now: ‘Oh Rubes, what are you like?’ There’s no point reinforcing the stereotyped view they all have of her.
Maybe she needs to go to the doctor … Can you get early-onset Alzheimer’s in your twenties?
Just need to get organised, she tells herself as she tidies Mabel’s extensive collection of toys, hoovers the sitting room and even mops the kitchen floor. She gathers up the clean, dry washing and makes a pile of ironing – actually doing the ironing would be too out of character and would arouse suspicion, so she stops there.
For most of this time Mabel bounces happily in her chair, although she’s frightened by the sound of the vacuum cleaner. By the time Ruby’s given her a mid-morning snack and changed two nappies in quick succession following an untimely poo, it’s too late to go to the park. Besides, the sky has clouded over and it looks miserable out there.
‘Let’s do some reading instead,’ Ruby says, reaching for a baby board book called On the Farm. She sits on the carpet with Mabel in her lap and makes animal noises and silly gestures, most of which Mabel finds very entertaining. Gratifyingly, she is giggling her little head off when Amber and George walk in.
‘Aww, look at her!’ says Amber, rushing forward and scooping Mabel up in her arms. ‘I’ve so missed you. Have you had a lovely time with Auntie Ruby? Have you been a good girl?’
‘She’s been perfect,’ says Ruby, lying more for her own sake than Mabel’s. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but she didn’t seem to miss you at all. Maybe when she first woke up, but other than that …’
‘What time did she sleep until?’
‘Six o’clock.’ It’s a guess, but Ruby tries to make it sound definite.
‘Wow! She must have had a bad night.’
‘No, not really.’