Minnow
Well now, Miss Vera Andrews, began the manager, pushing aside a folder full of papers and peering at the woman before him. She appeared indifferent, her eyes dull and all former spark gone, staring vaguely at something behind his head. She blinked listlessly, slow as a tortoise burrowing into hibernation, and sighed with distant resignation.
Vera, love, are you all right? frowned Frederick Smith. Vera Vera! he called, snapping his fingers in front of her face.
Veronica startled, blinked, and furrowed her brow. Shed missed everything Hed said something documents were there too Shed slept through it all
This happened to her a lot these days. Thats why Veronica didnt drive anymore, afraid that she would drift off into that viscous, slack state at a traffic light and cause a jam. Were she asked to describe it, shed say she felt like blancmange, viscous and sweet, like the dessert at her nursery thick with cornstarch, semi-translucent, stained with a pinkish hue. Why pink, she couldnt say the image just stuck.
It was warm in that blancmange, soothing, everything sounded muffled, like when shed covered her head with a pillow to avoid hearing her mum calling her to breakfast as a child.
Vera! Veronica, come on now, youll be late for nursery! her mothers voice would ring out, musical and insistent. Veronica would only press the pillow tighter and squeeze her eyes shut, desperate to finish her dream.
Now, as Frederick Smith postured and gestured, all from some remote shore, Veronica was closing and opening her eyes again. He flickered in and out behind her lashes, appearing and disappearing in dreamlike intervals. Then nausea crept up; she lurched to her feet and hurried out to the corridor, not even pausing to apologise.
Frederick scratched the thinning patch atop his scalp the very same one his wife would stroke gently each morning with soft, warm hands, whispering sweet nonsense and coaxing him to stay home, then giving an impish shrug and heading to make breakfast. Amelia Sweet Amelia Frederick still loved her terribly, as sharp and strong as ever. Rubbish, this idea that love fades to habit. You lot just dont know how to cook it properly! Frederick would joke to friends. A well-roasted love is a delicacy not everyones got the right recipe!
Hed noticed that, without hair, ones head was colder he bought a woolly hat and started wearing it even when the air was just ten degrees, whereas before hed have laughed at men in such flimsy beanies. Not now. Im getting old he mused, pulling the hat closer over his large, round pate.
Veronica returned pale, worn down, and slumped in the chair.
Sorry, Mr Smith, she managed a wry smile. Probably food poisoning. Had sushi with my husband yesterday
She spread her hands, a plaintive smile flickering.
Ah, yes, right Well, Vera, youll be flying to Leeds, have a look at everything on site, you know your goals and tasks, and on your return there will be a notice about your promotion. Im sure the department will thrive under your lead! What do you say? Youve hardly said a word
Veronica shrugged again. Leeds, objectives, department She only wanted to sleep. Its anaemia, she thought suddenly and clutched at that notion as if it were a lifeline. Anaemia, thats what this is. Ill get some iron or some vitamins, and everything will go back to normal.
Yes, of course, I agree, she nodded, undoing the top button of her blouse. Mind if I take off my jacket? Its awfully warm.
Frederick nodded, although he was shivering himself, feet tapping beneath the desk to wake up frozen toes. But she felt warm probably from the good news.
Splendid. Go home for tonight. Angelina will buy your ticket tomorrow, the hotels confirmed. Vera! he chided as she shuffled out, Your jacket! And the documents. And, remember, the door opens outwards health and safety, you know.
Veronica shot the door a resentful look, fetched her coat and blue folder, nodded and smiled.
Vera, forgive me, Frederick stopped her again. Heres a phone number. Reception. Please book an appointment with Mrs Tabitha Westgate. Specifically her. My aunt, Doris Nicholls, works there.
Why? Veronica blinked.
Routine check-up, he said, gnawing his lip. Theyll tell you which specialists to see. Youve got a week before your flight.
I can go to my own surgery! Veronica sniffed.
Theres a months wait there. Thisll be quicker. And its an order.
Frederick stood, opened the door, nodding into the dim, carpeted corridor. Veronica obediently left.
Leeds is looking less and less likely Frederick scratched his head, rang his wife, shuffled to the window to discuss the weekend plans, their daughters A-Levels, the summer holidays. Amelia clattered pans on her end.
Her husband awaited Veronica by the car park barrier. Hed asked her more than once to get him a parking pass so he could fetch her right from the office tower door, but Veronica always forgot. Then the security chief changed Veronica wasnt chummy with the new man, and he refused the pass.
What kept you?! I was about to send in the lifeboat! Victor joked, scooping up his wife as she shuffled daintily over the frosted tarmac. Sleet jingled down, skipping off the icy road, scattering over the grass.
Boss called me. Ive got a trip to Leeds, she clung to his arm. Work trip.
When? Victors face fell. He loathed it when Veronica travelled, always fretted for her, as if she were a child going to summer camp alone.
She shrugged, having missed every detail.
Next week, I think, but I have to do a medical first.
What? Victor goggled.
Just the usual, check-up. Im forty-three, Vic Time for it
She said time with such finality Victor broke out in a chill. Time for what? Medicine? A grave plot?
Well, if its time, its time, he said at last.
Veronica did look washed out lately, a pallor strange on her, no appetite, picking at sushi last night as if under duress. Work had run her ragged, now this business trip
Leeds Itll be freezing up there. She needs a proper coat a long one, down to the ground, let her show off.
What? She snapped out of her daze. Coat?
Victor hadnt realised he was thinking out loud. He nodded.
Its cold, Yorkshire and all! he explained.
No, Ill roast in it. Its always warm, everywhere is stifling. Turn the heater down, please.
Victor stared at his chilly wife, but obediently reduced the flow of hot air from the spotless vent.
Im not going in a coat, she insisted, and immediately dozed off. She slept so much these days: right after supper, weekends sprawled on the couch
Dad, is mum ill? their son, Paul, finally blurted out the other day.
Nah, just worn out. She never took hols this year it builds up. Leave her let her rest, Victor chastised Paul for rustling crisp packets.
Veronica slept, smiling and sighing softly in her dreams. She dreamt of lavender fields in Kent, rolling hills, the sea crashing at the foot of chalk cliffs, deep blue as if painted with spilt colour. She dreamt of sunlight swimming with her, Veronica, playing among the waves, glinting off the scales of tiny fish. She would squint and laugh, while Victor and Paul waited on the shore, calling and waving, but she didnt want to go to them. Veronica had her own world here, serene and carefree. She had a secret, and no longing to leave it
Well, its menopause hot flashes, mood swings, pallor her friend Thea began ticking off symptoms. You really ought to go to the doctor. Theyve pills for everything these days theyll sort you out. Or youll sleep through life youll miss your Leeds stop at this rate!
Thea giggled quietly, mouth barely open and stretching into a hesitant smile. Thea believed real laughter improper without perfect Hollywood teeth.
Well, menopause then, thought Veronica. Mum had it early too. Its nothing. Ive got a son, works going well, I can focus on my career Its awkward the mood swings, up and down like a rollercoaster, but they say it passes quickly. Got to hold on!
After two days, Veronica finally rang the number Frederick had given her, repeating Westgate, Tabitha West-gate in her head before dialling.
Hello! rasped a womans smoky, well-worn voice down the line. Reception!
Veronica started and hung up immediately. That voice reminded her of an aunt living somewhere in Yorkshire or maybe Newcastle Aunt Polly, one of those formidable types, always knowing best what to do. Polly had bullied Veronica with advice after Pauls birth: called every day always during the boys naps phone trilling through the flat, startling Veronica out of a doze to dash for the receiver.
Did you express? Polly would demand, her voice rattling with a bronchial cough. Get every last drop or youll be in trouble, get those cabbage leaves ready, love they wont save you otherwise! Did you hear, Veronica?! Hows Pauls stool? Tell me about his stool, Im asking!
Shed shout, cough, shout more, offer advice, grumble, then hang up.
I know shes your relative, Victor finally burst out once. But why on earth is she phoning every day? Youve never even met her she wouldnt know you if you passed on the street!
Veronica could only shrug. Who could say? But mum held that Pauline was a baby-rearing expert, so insisted Veronica listen.
And, truth be told, at twenty-three, Veronica was still only a girl herself, studying part-time, making stews, with no income. Victor was studying too, working nights, with only a meagre wage, but Aunt Polly sent money direct to their card. Help? Yes but
Veronica remembered the last call, after which Polly never phoned again.
Victor had picked up. Listened to her lecture about bottle-feeding, grunted vague answers about rashes and weaning, and fielded questions about Veronicas diet (You lot eat such rubbish nowadays!), the nursery search (Its vital!), and whether little Paul wore nappies (Or are you a sensible mum whos gone without?). On and on. Finally, when Polly asked about Pauls stool, Victor replied his stool was fine wooden, thirty-five years old, and about to be married soon. Polly, half-coughing, went silent, apologised in a thin voice and hung up. Never called again.
Ive found a side job, Vera, dont worry! Victor said. She nodded, trusting him completely, sure all would be well. And once Paul was older, shed get something too a home job, computer-based. Theyd manage, even without Aunt Polly!
Now Paul was grown nearly old enough for marriage himself. And Veronica respected in her field, a talented team lead, climbing her career ladder. Her bosses were pleased; her colleagues respected her, work with her was a pleasure. It was her time now.
But she disliked the phrase climbing the career ladder. She wasnt a slave moving stones merely living, working at something she loved. She thought climbing sounded exhausting, like her mother-in-laws stories from her years at the factory Id get home and flop on the bed.
But Veronica never flopped. Sure, she got tired, but would shower as soon as she arrived home, and soon be herself again cheerful, ready to cook something unusual, help with Pauls homework, and almost never cross. She hadnt worked herself into disgust. Just lucky, perhaps. And now a rightful promotion. Whispers and hints had foreshadowed it; she simply felt ready for the managers post. It thrilled her, all except this wretched weakness
Hello! Say something, for goodness sake! barked the receptionist.
I I need an appointment to see Veronica checked her note. Westgate.
Tabitha Westgate? Tomorrow at nine, weve spots. Name? barked the receiver.
Westgate
Not the doctor! YOUR name, love! the receiver sounded almost offended.
Porter, Veronica exhaled. Veronica Andrews.
Another Porter! Gill, hear that? fifth today! the receiver softened, chuckled. Tomorrow at nine, minnow, love. Bring your ID. Well register you and youll see the doctor. Due date, then? Whats your due date?
But Veronica had hung up already. What due date? Thea thought it was menopause!
Downstairs at the womens clinic, it was crowded and noisy. Several rivers of queues trailed towards glassed-in windows, behind which sat three plump, rosy, curly-headed women, scribbling notes, bustling in the cramped aisles among shelves, searching cards.
Off upstairs with you, minnow! To your own doctor first, minnow chorused the pleasant voices, nodding, smiling, beckoning the next minnow in the endless stream.
Veronica sighed. Frederick Smith what a character! What was she doing here? Maybe she could see the GP. Maybe an ECG, blood test, but surely it was too late for this clinic!
Porter! Whos Porter? as if sensing Veronicas urge to slip away, a voice called from the window.
Its me! Me! several voices sang out.
Tis Veronica I need going to see Tabitha Westgate, the voice clarified.
Thats me, Veronica confessed without enthusiasm.
Well dont dawdle, minnow! Your slots at nine come along!
She was swept towards the window, handed over her ID, then told to head to the third floor.
Where are you off to?! someone called after her. Take the lift! Dont go jostling things! advised a kindly matron, nodding toward the far end.
Thank you, Porter said, heading toward the lift. She was exhausted, not hungry the breakfast Victor made with cheese and tomatoes had seemed rubbery to her nose that morning.
On the third floor all benches were full. Women, young and old, thin and curvy, at various stages of pregnancy or just in for a checkup, sat quietly, all inside their own thoughts. Some read, some listened to music, others meditated, eyes closed, gently stroking their bellies.
Veronica perched on the edge of a seat. Shed have stood she wasnt fragile but her legs failed her. The air seemed stifling, and the sweetish smell of canvas from the cleaning lady mopping floors with her makeshift mop filled the corridor.
Why must they mop when the crowd is largest? Veronica thought sluggishly, and as if in reply, the mop-lady said:
Sorry, ladies. Move your legs a bit, will you? Saw my grandson off to school this morning and he chucked porridge all over the kitchen everywhere! She flung her arms wide in illustration. His mum, shes here, having the baby Dads up north! So Im late sorry, loves!
She swished the mop about. The women lifted their feet in unison. Someone exited Westgates office, a new patient entered.
At the far end a rotund, sturdy woman arrived looking like a toadstool in her white coat, its waist cinched in sloppy gathers, her feet in clogs shuffling, leaving stripes on the wet lino.
Everyone nodded to her, whispered. As long as Aunt Doris the midwife was here, all was well.
Aha, thought Veronica, thats Fredericks aunt
Roman? Again?! Still here! Doris rustled to a shrinking girl. What for? We just discharged you and your lovely baby girl! Back again already? Aiming to fill a summer regiment of girls, are you?
The girl shrugged. Veronica observed her not really a girl, she had crows feet, but so petite. Veronica always envied such types; they seemed agelessly pretty.
Oh well! Doris relented. Time for another, then. My grandsons growing fast Ill offer him as a groom someday. A cracking lad! she grinned, pressed her thumb for emphasis. Those Romans! Three girls, now after a fourth. The oldest is beautiful dances ballet! she beamed, disappearing into the office.
The women stirred and whispered.
Clearly, Doris was much beloved.
Maybe shell help me too, thought Veronica, texting her husband that she was waiting in the queue. Everyones called minnow here, and all I want is sleep, she added.
Then sleep, minnow. Nap as long as you need. Kisses, love.
Veronica smiled Victor was a good one.
As she basked in her husbands words, people hushed, gazing toward the lift doors. Veronica looked too.
A tall, broad-shouldered woman in a coat thrown over her dressing gown shuffled painfully toward the office, biting her fist. She clutched at walls, groaning, pausing. A grey, shrinking old fellow trotted behind, swinging a string bag with a loaf and milk jug poking out. He peered at the other women, whispering:
Were in labour were in labour
Dad, will you stop, please! the woman snapped, doubled over. Go fetch Doris, now!
Her voice, powerful and clear, echoed down the corridor.
He scurried into the office, mumbling In labour in labour
Why come here? Why not straight to A&E? the cleaner wondered.
Ahhh the woman gritted her teeth. Not without Auntie Doris. I can’t, not this time. Even if its on the floor, itll be with her. Ahhh!
She wept so pitiably that Veronicas heart squeezed.
Sit, love, seasoned patients fussed. Wait, no! Youd squash the babys head! Better
Oh for goodness sake, move your bread! Doris burst from the office. Martha! Dont be afraid, love!
Not without you, cant again Martha groaned, shaking her head.
Without me? But Im right here! Come on, darling, lay down, lets go. You came, you did right. And your boys here too. Alls well! The midwife smoothed Marthas belly; meanwhile, Tabitha Westgate also in white with ostentatious amber-and-silver earrings watched sternly from the doorway.
A circus, she pronounced. Sir! Please stay outside. And Doris, Id like you back at your post!
The old man scurried after the trolley, his milk bottle clanking down the corridor.
I am at my post, Tabitha. You can sit in the office alone just fine. All right, Martha off we go! Doris pressed Marthas hand firmly.
She the cleaner began.
She, corrected Veronica.
Thats what I said had three babies, all lost. Poor love, such sorrow! Daddy up north. She hardly dared sneeze this time. The cleaner seized her pail and stalked off.
A hush fell. Someone began praying quietly. None heard Marthas cries in the birthing suite or saw Doriss deft hands cradle her new son.
Precipitous labour, theyd call it later. Less than an hour and a blue baby boy arrived. Neonatologists fussed; Martha waited on word was he alive?
In the square, Marthas father ashen, shaking slumped on a bench and wept. Hed kept strong when walking his daughter in, but now sobbed so hard his heart ached. Martha had suffered much, had wanted this child desperately, tried and lost three. Her husband Clive, always silent, held sorrow inside, sometimes sank to drinking. Now what? How was everything?
He rocked and snuffled.
Thats it! Doris rushed out. Youve got a grandson! Three-point-two kilos. Keep praying first days crucial!
Panting, she sank beside him.
What? he shrank further into his collar.
Marthas delivered. Big lad. Come on, chin up! Go ring her father I cant get through! she laughed.
He hurried off, darting glances at the hospitals windows, blessing them, bowing.
Doris watched, then shuffled back to the womens clinic wing.
The friendly women at reception nodded.
Doris, coffee? one called.
Love to, girls, but not now. Im needed.
She took the stairs, hoping to avoid being seen by patients, ducked into the supplies cupboard, and slumped onto a battered old wheeled chair.
Worn out, she thought. God, so tired. Should call Iain, check hes taken his tablets. Hell scold, tell me to retire. Not now, not yet. Tabithas good, but so harsh. Girls are all fragile, strung out, cant let them go She sighed in relief. Thank God, Marthas boy survived. Victory!
She smiled at herself in the reflection, fixed her hair, then bounded back into the corridor.
Everyone had gone home; Tabitha had seen them all, given instructions, sent them away.
Only Veronica, slouched by a fake palm, snored gently in the corner.
Hey there! Doris swept up a palm frond. Hey, child, what are you still doing here? Weve even got juniper twigs ready for you, and you never appeared…
Veronica jolted and frowned. What was she doing here?
Im here for an appointment. Frederick Smith sent me to you, she explained as she emerged.
Bulkeley? Doris adjusted her coat. You mean Smith?
Yes, my manager, Frederick…
Ah! Why do you confuse me so? Bulkeley Come in! Why didnt the doctor see you?
She left. Ive been waiting, Veronica admitted, as if a schoolgirl.
Whats up, then? Doris motioned her into the office.
Oh, well… everything. Everything seems wrong, you know? Maybe some pills my mood keeps changing and I feel hot.
Mood, you say? Doris nodded as she washed her hands and pulled on gloves. Tell me more.
I used to be always so upbeat and cheerful, Veronica warmed to her theme. Now I cry for no reason. Like yesterday, when I found my old teddy bear his arm was off, and I sewed it back on in tears while my son mocked me… Silly, isnt it?
Doris muttered a vague response. Teddy bears and arms… It had been a while since shed met someone quite so peculiar.
Forty-three, you said? the midwife eyed the tissue being nervously crushed in Veronicas hands.
Yes, and my mum had this early, too, Veronica volunteered.
Never mind your mum. Come here, Doris beckoned her to the window. Today were discharging twins: she carried them heavy, so heavy, but alls well now. And you, if youre a good girl, well send you home in eight months with a bundle. Eh? How about that?
Doris patted Veronicas shoulders.
Why would you discharge me? You misunderstand. Ive got Leeds and a promotion. My sons at uni, I want a holiday Im old!
No spring chicken, lass, Doris agreed, but compared to me, youre fresh as a daisy. So, planning a termination, are you?
Veronica clutched her belly, shook her head.
Then what? Dont want to be an elderly mother?
Yes. I mean, wheres the sense in a baby now? When shes twenty, her motherll be ancient. All her friends mums will be young, Ill…
She? So you want a girl? Listen, every kind passes through here rich and poor, happy, not-so-happy, with careers and plans, and yet it happens at the wrong time. Everyone works it out their own way. Do so yourself. Heres your bloodwork form, get a scan as well. I wont tell Frederick anything. Everything looks fine morning sickness due soon! Off home you go sleep on it. Decide later…
When Veronica left, Tabitha returned, peering at the last patients file.
Elderly mother? She needed more bloods done! Heaven knows what shell deliver! she fumed, flinging down the chart. Best not to bear at all.
Doris shook her head.
Tabby, shes not your sister. This lass will have what fate holds. Lets have a cuppa. So much good in the world, stop the doom-mongering!
Tabithas nephew had been born with severe defects when she was forty, which still stung…
Doris and Tabitha left for their break ten minutes to catch their breath. Then back at it. Always more contradictions, so many against the odds falling pregnant at the wrong time, despite hope or prohibition. Too much chance to guarantee things will go well; too much for a womans heart to contain.
Who else but us, Tabby? Head and hands in the game the rests for heaven to decide. Why dont you come for peaches after work Iain got a cracking case in yesterday!
Tabitha nodded. Yes, time to cheer up. Just autumn blues, thats all
Veronica, sniffling, asked Victor to fetch her home.
So, what did the doctor say? Vitamins?
Veronica only stared.
What do I buy, then? Why the silence?
He was getting tetchy, uncertain how to help.
Im not going to Leeds, Veronica said. The morning sickness will start soon, its hopeless.
But sickness, at your age I mean, at our age, what brings it on?
Same as always.
Victor hiccuped, pulled off the road, turned on the hazard lights, got out to pace and wring his hands.
Vic, arent you happy? she called, like a child with a stray puppy.
I I dont know, Vee, he slumped to her window. Of course, well feed it. But what if Im a rubbish dad, cant take him to football? Or what if he likes rugby I hate rugby! Paul didnt, but this one So, er, whens your due date? Not thinking straight at all
They parked up by a little café, debating who it would be, what theyd do, recalling Pauls childhood.
Veronica never went to Leeds, nor became a department head it all became irrelevant. This pregnancy, the birth of Tamsin, her early years Veronica experienced everything deeply. With Paul, time had moved fast; with Tamsin, she wanted to savour every moment, not rush, just bask in the babys world. Only then, perhaps, did Veronica fathom motherhood and she didnt regret it. For eight months, she was a cherished minnow, wrapped in Aunt Doriss care and Victors devotion, and then discharged baby in arms, a miracle. Truly, a miracle, hard even to comprehend.
The boss huffed, but finally relented. Veronica was a good person, a fine manager and worker but mostly, now, a woman, and so she should be. When she returned, everything at work would have changed, shed start lower again. Her choice, but also her loss. Frederick spoke with her honestly, but she only shrugged. So be it.
Thea never understood her friends choices prams and nappies and sleepless nights! Veronica was such an interesting woman, and now what?
Veronica stopped calling Thea. The friendship faded.
Paul, on hearing the news, smirked, groaned about babysitting, but soon doted on Tamsin spoiling and fussing, giving presents, teaching her to draw and sculpt.
Good thing you had her! he said, nodding at his little sister. Now Ill have someone to complain about you lot to. Shes small now; in five years, shell have her own opinions!
Not had, birthed. Shes not a puppy, said Veronica. And dont think shell side with you she tells me everything! But youre right its good. At least Im not the only woman in the house. Someone to discuss novels with, watch telly, share a cry
Victor rolled his eyes; Paul groaned; Tamsin beamed. Lucky she came to this family! Just imagine what luck!
