Page 38 of Christmas at the Movies

Sarah’s hand shook as she took a sip of water. ‘No!’ She didn’t want James to know what a bad mother she was.

‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Sarah,’ said Pam. ‘We have a lot of books about anxiety in our non-fiction section, if you’d like me to show you.’

‘I’m fine,’ she insisted. ‘Just tired.’

Pull yourself together, thought Sarah. If people thought she was losing her mind, they might take Nick and Holly away from her.

The library was closing, so Sarah checked out some picture books for Holly – including one about sheep – and stowed them under the pram.

‘Look after yourself, Sarah,’ said Pam, handing her back the library card. She smiled at Holly. ‘And be sure to help your mummy.’

As soon as they got home, Nick began to fuss so Sarah fed him.

Then, holding him over her shoulder, she hung damp Babygros and school uniforms on the rickety wooden clothes airer, while Holly sang to herself and crawled around the floor, pretending to be a sheep.

When the washing was all hung, she put Nick in his baby bouncer and started on dinner.

As she chopped vegetables for pasta sauce, the sharp blade flashed. Suddenly, a terrible thought popped into her head. What if the knife flew out of her hand and stabbed one of the children?

Sarah set down the knife, trying unsuccessfully to banish the intrusive thought.

‘I’m hungry,’ whined Holly.

Nick started to grizzle in the bouncer.

The witching hour had begun.

Sarah quickly sautéed the vegetables, dumped in a tin of chopped tomatoes and sprinkled in some seasoning. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

‘Let’s read my new book.’ Holly came over holding the book about sheep.

‘I can’t right now. Mummy needs to finish making dinner.’ She gave the bubbling tomato sauce a stir. ‘Why don’t you do some colouring.’

‘No!’ shouted Holly. She threw the book on the ground.

‘Pick that up,’ said Sarah.

Holly threw herself on the ground and beat her fists against the floor, howling. People had said to expect a bit of regression once the baby arrived. This was a full-on toddler tantrum – and Sarah simply couldn’t cope with it. Not on less than two hours of sleep.

‘Stop that right now!’ shouted Sarah. ‘You are not a baby, you’re a big girl. Didn’t you hear what Pam said about being Mummy’s helper.’

Nick began to wail too. Taking him out of the bouncer, she saw that poo was seeping up the back of his nappy, staining his Babygro.

Sarah wearily took him upstairs to change his nappy. She stripped off his stained onesie and cleaned him off. The soft spot on his nearly bald head pulsed as he squirmed on the changing mat. It was a terrifying reminder of her baby’s fragility.

What if I accidentally drop him?

She couldn’t get the image out of her head.

It was suspiciously quiet downstairs. ‘Are you OK down there, Holly?’ she called, as she wrestled Nick into clean clothes.

‘I’m being a good girl, Mummy,’ Holly called back.

The smell of sauce wafted up the stairs. Sarah’s stomach rumbled again.

‘Listen, little guy …’ She tickled the baby’s tummy. ‘Can I finish making dinner before you kick off again?’

He stared up at her with big blue eyes, as if searching her face for clues. Sometimes Sarah got the uncanny feeling that he could sense her mood.

Sarah carried him downstairs and into the kitchen. Her eyes widened in alarm as she saw that Holly had pushed a chair over to the stove. She was holding a wooden spoon and leaning dangerously over the boiling pot.

‘Look, Mama,’ she said, grinning. ‘I’m helping make dinner.’

‘No!’ shouted Sarah.

Holding Nick with one arm, she crossed the kitchen in two bounds and scooped Holly up, yanking her away from the heat. As she did so, her elbow knocked over the pot, spilling sauce all over the floor and wall.

Holly began to wail and that set Nick off too.

‘Are you OK?’ asked Sarah frantically. ‘Did the sauce burn you?’

Once she’d checked Holly over, Sarah sank to the floor in relief, clutching both of her babies close.

That was how James found them – all three of them sobbing, the floor covered in red sauce like a blood-splattered murder scene.

‘Oh, my God.’ He stared at the carnage in alarm. ‘What happened here?’

‘Daddy!’ cried Holly, running over to him and throwing her arms around his legs. ‘I was just trying to help Mummy!’

‘Pam phoned me and said she was worried about you,’ James said, taking Nick off Sarah. ‘So I asked Roger to cover for me tonight.’

Sarah went into the living room and lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts spiralled out of control. I’m a bad mother. Holly and Nick are going to be taken away from me.

She was dimly aware of James making Holly’s dinner, then taking both children upstairs for a bath. Once he’d put them to bed, he came downstairs and cleaned the kitchen. When he finally joined her in the living room, Sarah braced herself for what he was about to say.

‘James, I—’

He held up his hand. ‘We’ll talk later.’

He made her cheesy scrambled eggs, buttered toast and a cup of tea. She was ravenous and devoured it quickly, so James made her another round of toast. It tasted so good.

While she was eating, he ran her a bath with lavender-scented bubbles. After a long soak, she changed into the pyjamas he’d left warming on the radiator and felt almost human again.

She went into their bedroom, where Nick was sleeping in his Moses basket. She gazed at her son and silently promised him that she’d do better.

‘Come here,’ said James, throwing back the covers and inviting her into bed.

She got in and curled up next to him.

James stroked her hair. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t realise how much you were struggling.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t want anyone to know.

I was ashamed.’ If James hadn’t come home early tonight, she might have been able to clean everything up before he got back.

But it was no use pretending any more. ‘I can’t stop worrying.

About the baby. About everything. These terrible thoughts are going round and round my head. I feel like I’m going mad.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

‘You’re so busy with the cinema. I didn’t want to burden you.’

James squeezed her hand. ‘You and the kids are more important than the cinema.’

‘I’m a terrible mother, James. Nick hates me. And you probably hate me too, now that you’ve seen what a mess I am.’

‘I could never hate you,’ promised James. ‘But I am worried about you.’

‘I’m scared, James,’ Sarah whispered.

He put his arm around her and hugged her tight. ‘You’re going to be OK,’ he said, stroking her damp hair. ‘We’ll get through this together. I promise.’

Six weeks later, Geraldine arrived with an overnight case.

‘There’s plenty of breast milk in the freezer,’ said Sarah. ‘The GP’s number is by the phone in the kitchen. Remember to make sure Holly goes to the toilet before bed. She gets three stories at bedtime, but will try to get to you to read more. Nick needs to sleep on his back—’

‘Go,’ said Geraldine, shooing her out of the door. ‘Or you’ll miss your train.’

Sarah and James were going to London for the night.

They were staying in Pari’s new house in Notting Hill while she was away in Los Angeles, visiting one of her clients on set.

Her agency was thriving. She had a staff of ten and represented several up-and-coming stars.

One of her actors had landed a main part in a superhero franchise, earning her an enormous commission and making her the hottest agent in town.

Pari had recently taken on an agent to represent screenwriters. ‘When you finish your screenplay, we can represent you,’ she’d told Sarah.

At the moment, the only stories Sarah was telling were of the bedtime variety.

Once on the train, Sarah checked her bag to make sure she’d packed her medication.

James had taken her to the GP the day after her meltdown and the doctor had diagnosed post-partum anxiety.

Apparently, it was more common among women, such as Sarah, who had experienced miscarriages and traumatic births.

The medication had already helped enormously, but so had the army of friends James had rallied to provide support.

Ian had brought them casseroles for dinner.

Pari and Meg called every day to see how Sarah was doing.

Roger agreed to do extra shifts at the cinema to ease the burden on James.

And Nora and Simon had come over to babysit so Sarah could nap.

‘It feels so weird,’ said Sarah. ‘To be out and about without any little ones in tow.’

‘I’m glad to have you all to myself,’ said James, taking her hand.

Sarah rested her head on her husband’s shoulder and dozed for most of the journey, waking up just as they were pulling into Paddington.

‘I still can’t believe Pari lives in such a posh house,’ said Sarah when they arrived at the house Pari had nicknamed the ‘Pink Palace’. As a stand-up comedian, Pari had been so broke that she used to steal tea bags and toilet paper from the BBC.

They found a bottle of champagne chilling on the kitchen counter and a note from Pari.

Make yourselves at home – and have fun! xxx

James removed the foil and popped the cork. He poured two glasses.

Sarah took a sip, relishing the taste of the fizzy wine. She didn’t need to worry about her milk for two whole days.

‘Here’s to your health.’ said James, touching his glass to hers.

Sarah took a big gulp of her champagne. She had never been so grateful to have her health back. ‘Thanks for making me go to the doctor,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I was such a basket case.’

James set his glass down and pulled her close. ‘You never need to apologise for being ill, Sarah,’ he said. ‘For better, for worse, in sickness and in health – that’s what we promised each other on our wedding day.’