Baby Be Mine

He’d hate me even more than he already does.
    ‘MUUUMMMMMYYY!’ Barney cries out on the monitor so I hurry out of the studio and go to his room. I put my hand on his chest, hoping to settle him, but instead I find that he’s unusually hot. He continues to cry, unsettled, as I press my hand to his forehead – again too hot. Worriedly I lift him out of his cot and put the lights on low, then go to the cupboard to retrieve his medicine. I administer some infant paracetamol and strip off his clothes, trying to cool him down. He stops crying, but continues to whimper and rub at his eyes and ears. Could this be an ear infection? I peer into his ear cavity, but can see nothing. I wonder if Mum would know. I spoke to her this morning, but what’s the time in France now? They’re ahead of us so it should be their morning. I call her, full of hope, but she doesn’t answer the home phone and the mobile goes straight through to voicemail. I feel like crying because right now all I want is my mummy.
    I eventually bring Barney into bed with me at about four o’clock in the morning, after hours of going back and forth to his bedroom like a yo-yo. As soon as it’s light, I take him downstairs and hunt out Lena’s home number. I want to call Johnny’s doctor, but I don’t know if he’s aware of Barney’s existence and I’m not sure how to handle it. It’s exhausting, this – people not knowing. I know it’s going to be hard when it all comes out, but in a sense there should be some relief in the truth.
    ‘Hi, Lena, it’s Meg. I’m sorry to wake you,’ I say when she answers.
    ‘Are you okay?’
    ‘Barney isn’t well.’
    ‘Oh no, what’s wrong with him?’
    ‘He has a high temperature and has been unsettled all night. I think it may be an ear infection. I wanted to call Johnny’s doctor, but I didn’t know if he knew . . .’
    ‘He does. Let me get you the number.’
    ‘It’s okay, I have it here. Is it still Dr Navigo?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘I’ll call him now,’ I tell her.
    ‘I’ll come straight in,’ she replies.
    ‘Don’t worry, go back to bed.’
    She doesn’t, of course. In fact, she arrives before the doctor does. I’m sitting on the sofa, cradling a teary Barney in my arms and watching children’s TV.
    ‘You look tired.’ She touches my arm. ‘Did you get hold of Dr Navigo?’ she asks sympathetically.
    I nod. ‘He’ll be here within the hour, he said.’
    ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea.’ She doesn’t wait for me to reply before going to the kitchen.
    The doctor comes and confirms my suspicions. He’s professional and discreet, and doesn’t mention Barney’s relationship to Johnny. He writes out a prescription for antibiotics, which Lena promptly takes from me, and informs me that I should continue to dose him up with constant pain relief. Lena has already set off to the chemist by the time he leaves.
    Barney doesn’t improve that day, and he’s even more unsettled that night. I finally get through to my parents, but feel worse than I already did when my mum demands to know what Johnny is doing having a jaunty little holiday when his new family is in town. I start to feel angry about his absence, but the next morning my anger turns to fear when I discover a blotchy red rash all over Barney’s body. Dr Navigo comes again and on examination he diagnoses a reaction to the antibiotics. He writes out a new prescription.
    With no Lena here, I strap Barney into the Panamera and take him with me to the chemist. It’s an overcast day, but the air is deceptively muggy. I feel prickly and uncomfortable in my jeans and jumper and my eyes are stinging from lack of sleep. To my dismay, Barney starts to doze off on the way there and is far from happy when I have to get him out of his car seat to go into the chemist. His cries turn into full-on wails as I stand in the queue, struggling to hold him in my arms. I don’t want to wait until we get home to give him a dose of medicine, in case he falls asleep again; but he refuses to comply so eventually I have to force it into his mouth, and I’m at my wit’s end by the time that’s done. He’s still whimpering even as he nods off, but the moment he does, I pull over onto the side of the road and burst into tears.
    My mum is right. What the hell is Johnny doing, buggering off to Big Sur when we’ve just arrived? I hate him! And I hate his fucking girlfriend! Even their fucking swearing is rubbing off on me.
    Christian . .