Dot (Araminta Hall)

thing to admit.’ Mavis swapped Rose into her other arm and coaxed her other breast into the baby’s mouth. Dot thought she was sucking with an impressive urgency, her tiny hands fluttering round her face. It seemed obvious that Mavis belonged to her now and the thought made Dot feel small and sad. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve fucked up, Dot. Or at least, that’s what I was thinking. Now I look at Rose and think it was all for the best.’
    ‘I still don’t see how you went from maths lessons to sex.’
    Mavis reddened. ‘It was after that beginning of upper-sixth disco last year, you know, when he drove us home.’
    ‘Oh my God, I knew it. I must have asked you about that night, like, fifty times.’ It was the first moment of indignation that Dot had felt, but within it she realised that she didn’t care that Mavis had slept with Clive, only that she hadn’t felt able to tell her.
    ‘I know. I’m so sorry, Dot. But it wasn’t exactly nice. In fact, it was horrid. We went to the common and had sex in the back of his car and it wasn’t loving or even caring, it was just fucking, that’s all. I even knew he didn’t like me that much – he’d probably had a row with Debbie or something. When he dropped me back home I felt so low and shitty, so bloody angry with myself that I put it to the back of my mind and tried to forget it had ever happened.’
    ‘Until you missed your period.’
    ‘Yeah, exactly.’
    Dot put her hand over her friend’s. ‘I still wish you’d told me.’
    ‘I know, so do I.’
    They both watched Rose suck and then Dot half laughed. ‘Debbie’s gonna freak.’
    Mavis pulled her hand away at this and when Dot looked at her, Mavis’s eyes were sparkling and cold. ‘No way, Dot. You can’t say anything.’
    Dot’s mind wrapped itself around what Mavis had just said and it felt soft and spongy. ‘You are going to tell Clive, aren’t you?’
    ‘No fucking way. Absolutely not. He’s a wanker, I don’t want him anywhere near Rose.’
    The world did its flip again, which Dot was almost getting used to. Everything was moving slowly; something important was happening, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. She saw Mavis’s face change and her arm tighten around Rose until it seemed as if a mist had invaded the room.
    ‘Dot,’ Mavis was saying, ‘Dot, what’s wrong?’
    Dot put her hand to her cheek, which felt warm and wet; she wondered if she was bleeding but when she looked at her fingers they were simply wet and then she knew she was crying. A knowledge that she didn’t understand flapped inside her like a trapped bird. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Finally she said the first words that formed: ‘Give Rose my name, Mave, but please don’t give her my life.’
    Mavis drew back at this. ‘What d’you mean?’
    She heard her voice, high-pitched and catchy. ‘I’ve spent all my life wondering who my father is. You know that. It’s crap. It’s probably why I didn’t notice you were pregnant. I can’t … I can’t …’ Dot clutched at Mavis’s sheets to stop herself from falling. ‘I feel like I can’t move on without knowing who he is. It feels like I’m only half here sometimes.’
    Mavis reached out to her with her one free arm. ‘Oh my God, Dot, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.’
    The world was returning slowly to its usual focus. ‘It’s OK. But you have to tell Clive.’
    Mavis nodded, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Why don’t you ask your mum?’
    The door opened and the nurse from before came bustling in, followed by Mavis’s mum.
    ‘We’re going to move you to the ward now,’ she said. ‘How’s the feeding going?’
    ‘It hurts,’ said Mavis, ‘but well, I think.’
    ‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Dot?’ Sandra Loveridge was saying, pride beaming out of her face as if she was a sun. ‘And Mavis was so good, so calm. Has she told you?’ Dot nodded, not trusting herself to speak. ‘It’s so sweet of you to have come so early,’ she said. ‘Did you get the bus? Gerry could always drive you home. He’s got to pick up some clothes for Mavis.’
    ‘Oh no, thanks, Sandra. My mum drove me actually.’
    ‘Your mother?’ Sandra stopped fussing over the baby at this and her face softened. ‘How is she, your mother?’
    The day was weird enough to allow this question. ‘She’s, um, she’s fine, thanks.’
    Sandra smiled. ‘Give her my love, will you? Say thank you to her for driving you