Day Five

It was a scene Alfie had wished he had been able to create when his children were younger. His neighbour’s children looked not just content in their home but downright comfortable. Not like Elliot who always seemed keen to get away and not at all like his daughter Beth who had left the family home even before she was able to look after herself properly and certainly nowhere near the way Nathan made it clear about the way he felt about his home.

What more could he have done, he wondered. There were only so many hours in the day and only so much a man could do to take on responsibility for the happiness of others. Lucy had done her best too, he could admit now. He had often been so angry when he was left on his own with the children while she looked after other people’s problems.

He had worked himself up into such a lather remembering his own family that he hadn’t noticed the baby had been watching him intently. When he looked back at the family, slowly from face to face so he could take in the smallest hint of discontent, his eyes finally made contact with baby’s.  Alfie gulped and raised a shaky smile then gave a little wiggle of his fingers in a greeting. The baby squealed with delight and held his chubby arms out to Alfie as if wanting a cuddle. The mother suddenly shifted in her chair to keep him from falling.

“What is he looking at?” asked the girl, turning around but looking straight through Alfie. “There’s no one there, Eli,” she laughed.

There were two other boys, neither no more than seven years old who also tried to see what the baby had seen. But the youngest girl squinted at him as if she could almost see him but not quite clearly enough to be convinced he was really there. Alfie didn’t dare move. He was a ghost after all and didn’t want to frighten the children and make them cry. All the children went back to their dinners while their parents drank coffee and chatted to each other. There was no rush to leave the table, no sign of argument. The wife smiled at her husband and children, not ignored them with a grim line of determination on her lips.

Alfie licked his lips as he thought of the coffee. He would have liked to have a soothing mug with these patient adults if he still had a stomach. As nice mug with a bit of sugar and just enough cream to turn the coffee from black to the colour of chocolate. He would have liked to watch the cream cloud in his mug and maybe he wouldn’t bother to stir so he could enjoy the uneven texture of the smooth cream and bitter coffee.

There was a spare chair at the table so Alfie sat down and pretended he was drinking coffee. It was the next best thing to actually being able to drink it.

“If we could manage to put another £20 away each week, we will have enough for the new boiler,” the man said.

“It’s such a shame we can’t get credit,” his wife said sadly, taking another sip of her coffee.

Oh please don’t let this turn into an argument Alfie pleaded silently. Please don’t wreck the conversation with shame and regret.

“I think we need to keep our chins up,” the husband answered.

Alfie wished he had said something like this more often. If it had been Lucy who started on with the old “it’s a shame”, he would have countered with his own lists of unfulfilled wants.

“Yes, sorry,” the wife laughed. “I forget sometimes.” She pulled her blouse up to the baby could reach her. Alfie looked away.

“Me too,” the husband admitted. “It’s hard to be positive all the time but if we remind each other, we can do it together.” He reached for his wife’s hand.

The children chattered, oblivious to their parents. The baby continued to regard him curiously every now and then as he suckled, pushing away from his mother to get a better view.

As if a silent signal had been given, the children began stacking their plates and taking the placemats to the kitchen. The father stood, began scraping scraps onto a single plate and then stacked the cutlery on top of the other plates. The mother kissed the baby’s fingers and rocked him gently as the other children excused themselves. She hummed quietly while her husband started the washing up.

A familiar twinge of guilt surged though Alfie. If it had been his household, he would not have done the washing up. He would have left the table and the mess for Lucy to clean. After all, it was her job.

“I’m just going to get Gabe in the bath,” she called out to the kitchen.

“OK,” the husband called back as she pulled her shirt down and stood. There was a smile on her face as she did it as if she enjoyed looking after little Gabe. He was quite sure everything Lucy had done was done in resentment.

Alfie didn’t want to sit at the table by himself so after a few minutes of wondering what to do with himself, he decided to go upstairs to watch Gabe have his bath. Following the young mother up the stairs reminded him of the girl that brought his meals. The mum was a little on the skinny side, perhaps from all the breastfeeding, but she looked strong and moved with sureness. She turned right at the top of the stairs, flicked the light on. The landing led to four rooms altogether, three bedrooms and a large bathroom. Alfie could see the boys had one of the rooms and the girls the other. They looked like they were doing homework so he decided to let them get on with it. He was curious about the baby.

In the master bedroom, the mother busied herself with taking little Gabe’s clothes off on the changing stand. He had seen Lucy do it a thousand times. She would put her hand on their children’s bellies so they wouldn’t roll off and crack their eggshell skulls on the hard floor (oh how Lucy could terrify Alfie with tales of negligent parents). The changing stand had everything within reach and Lucy had been absolutely militant about keeping it well stacked: nappies, lotion, fresh clothes, powder were all within easy reach.

Then to Alfie’s disbelieving eyes, the mother left the baby unattended on the changing stand and went to the bathroom to turn on the taps. Little Gabe kicked his chubby feet and tried to put his toes in his mouth. He heard the splash of the water in the bathroom and willed the mother to hurry back. If the baby rolled off, Alfie wouldn’t be able to catch him. The thought of the sound of the baby’s head cracking on the floor filled him with near hysteria. Gabe was rolling his legs side to side. Alfie was beside himself. What was taking her so long?

Not really knowing what else to do, Alfie came to stand next to the baby who was rocking a little further over each time. Stupid woman!! Didn’t she know her own baby was capable of turning over? Gabe was chortling at Alfie, rocking ever closer to falling and the mother was messing about in the bathroom. Alfie did the only thing he could think of to make the mother rush back. He pulled what he hoped was the scariest face he could muster.

For a second, Gabe did not react and then it was like someone had flicked a switch. There was a deep but unsteady intake of air as if he had been winded and little Gabe began to wail as if he had seen a demented demon under his bed. But he stopped rocking and his mother ran back into the room.

“What’s the matter?” she shouted in alarm. There were the thumps of someone coming up the stairs and patter of lighter footsteps on the landing. When Alfie turned, the entire family was in the room.

“What happened? Did he get stung?” asked the father. The mother was looking the child all over, searching for whatever had stung him.

“I-I can’t see anything!” The mother was on the verge of tears herself.

Gabe continued to stare straight at Alfie and carried on screaming.

“I’ve never heard any of the babies cry like that before.” The father was rubbing his wife’s back and trying to soothe the baby at the same time. The other children were hopping around as if frightened too and worse, the dog had returned and was growling at him and adding the general commotion. A second breath from Gabe, a split second of peace, and them the screaming continued. Gabe’s piercing cries were sending everyone into meltdown. The mother was near hysteria, the children were dancing in circles covering their ears, the father was tearing at his hair with his free hand and the dog, returning from wherever he had run off to, began to howl.

Figuring he had caused enough upset, Alphie slinked away from the scene.  He slipped through the portal and looked up at the silhouettes in the upstairs window. Yes, he had a caused a bit of commotion but he had saved the child from falling. Far from feeling bad for the upset, for the first time in a very long time, Alfie actually felt very good about himself. How would everyone have reacted if baby Gabe had fallen to the floor and split his head open? How would they have paid for a new boiler and see to the needs of a severely injured child?

Yes, in a long lifetime, Alfie had done many stupid things he wished he had not done but preventing a child from certain injury was something he could be proud of. He looked up again at the upstairs window. Baby Gabe could still be heard screaming.

Suddenly, a terrible thought entered Alfie’s head: what if he had mentally traumatised the child? No one knew where or how psychosis started but maybe people snapped because they had seen something that scared them. Maybe the child would never stop screaming.

The thought of causing mental anguish to Gabe made Alfie launch himself back through the portal, up the stairs and back into the bedroom. The dog lunged at him but Alfie paid no mind. Little Gabe was now on the bed, still screaming in terror. Alfie took a very deep breath and looked over the mother’s shoulder. Little Gabe saw him and at once stilled. Alfie gave him a little wiggle of his fingers and the baby sighed deeply and smiled back. Then he looked away from Alfie and turned to his family. Two big sisters, two big brother and two parents took a collective sigh of relief.

“What on earth was that about?” asked the father.

“I’m not sure but something spooked him,” the mother said with a shudder. “Okay, little man,” she said to Gabe, “Let’s get you into a nice bath, into clean jammies and to bed!” The other children took it as a signal to go back to their rooms.

“Crisis averted,” said the father.

“Did you see the way he just suddenly calmed down?” asked the mother. “I wonder what he had seen?”

“Well the important thing, is that he’s OK now. I really don’t think I could have dealt with another crisis.”

“As you keep saying: the most important thing is that we keep our chins up,” she smiled.

And it wasn’t just a smile that pretended everything was fine, it was a smile that came from deep within in her. It was the kind of smile Alfie could have done with seeing a little more often in his lifetime.