What Goes Around: - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,30

is, than organising the million and one things that you have to, when death comes in.

But I’m not.

I’m not an adult lying there ignoring a child who’s just lost her father. She’s supposed to be her sister for God’s sake.

Half sister.

There is such a difference.

‘Can I see it?’ Gloria asks, when it’s clear Eleanor’s not going to make an attempt with the present. Gloria takes over and she is lovely with Charlotte. She opens the parcel and pulls out the little baby suit and socks and there’s a little headband too. Gloria tells Charlotte how lovely it all is and how she can’t wait to see the baby in it.

‘She’s so cute!’ Charlotte peers over into the cot. ‘Mum look, she’s so tiny.’ I walk over to the cot and the baby is adorable, she’s all snuggled up and I feel Gloria’s eyes on me, sort of waiting for my reaction.

She’s beautiful.

Smaller than Charlotte was but sort of the same and she’s got her grandad’s chin. She’s absolutely and completely beautiful.

‘She’s adorable.’ I feel tears at the back of my nose and I feel it go red. I want to pick her up and hold her; I want him to have lived to have seen her.

Emotion rushes in as I gaze at her, she really is the most adorable baby.

But she’s not Noel’s.

‘What’s her name?’ Charlotte asks and Gloria casts an anxious look towards Eleanor before she answers.

‘We haven’t quite decided yet.’ The baby’s wriggling about and her arms are stretching as she slowly wakes up.

‘Would you like to hold her, Charlotte?’ Gloria offers.

I really am grateful that Gloria is there. I never thought I would say that but she sort of takes over with Charlotte and answers her endless questions. I am so glad of the reprieve, so glad to sit and not speak – to be Eleanor for just a few moments. ‘Is that okay with you, Lucy?’ I don’t even know what Gloria said and I drag my mind to the conversation, try to remember what I’ve missed. ‘If Charlotte helps me change her nappy and gives her a cuddle?’ It’s the first time Gloria has ever spoken to me. Actually, that’s wrong, it’s the second. The last time was long before Charlotte was born, after the Thames boat trip that Luke brought up - we’d all gotten off the boat and were standing on the pier and it was clear Gloria’s husband was coming home with me. There was a row and then a fight between him and Luke broke out, fists and everything. For a moment I thought Gloria might even hit me, but of course, Gloria’s too bloody dignified for that. ‘I got the best years of him.’ They are the only words she’s ever uttered to me. She came right up to my face and said it again. ‘I got the best years of him.’ Then Luke walked off with her.

We haven’t spoken since.

‘I can watch Charlotte if you like,’ Gloria offers. Maybe she sees that I’m struggling, or maybe she is too. Maybe it’s killing her to be in the same room as me and so I’m politely dismissed. ‘If you want to go and get a coffee or something?’

I don't want a coffee – I’m putting on weight. I had two at Ricky’s this morning and Mum and Jess keep insisting that I eat. Instead, I wander outside maternity, trying to avoid going near Accident and Emergency, but as I walk, I see a sign for the mortuary. I wonder if he's in there, I don't know where he is. I'm still waiting for the coroner to get back to me.

I’m still wondering if everybody's going to find out.

I feel like marching over there and storming in. I feel like hauling him out of a fridge and demanding to know how he could do this to me.

How could he leave me like this?

Jess says I should keep a journal.

She says it’s the only thing that helped after her brother died.

She even bought me one to get me started.

I opened the page and tried to write something, but I didn’t know what to put.

I don’t know what to do.

I just want to go home.

But first I have to go back and face Gloria.

‘Gloria said I could feed her!’ Charlotte is sitting holding the baby and she’s all excited, her face is shining and, for once, it’s not from tears. Gloria is hovering over her as Charlotte gives the baby her bottle. Every

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