Knowing I was at work and wouldn’t be back home for a few hours triggered a minor anxiety attack. Trish had a few when Andrew first disappeared, but this was entirely out of the blue. Thankfully it hasn’t happened since and we have had a spare cut that the neighbour kindly keeps for us in an emergency.
‘It’s more for my benefit, Joe,’ I remember stating at the time, ‘in the event of an emergency.’
I need peace of mind. I’m starting to worry about her again as her behaviour is all over the place. Erratic is just one word I could use to describe her emotions, as they swerve between tears of despair, then move towards anger and hatred. Every day appears to be a new day of emotional turmoil.
Trish doesn’t really see it from my point of view. However, I wonder at times, is she hiding something from me? What does she know that I don’t?
Has Trish known all along what happened that day?
I am scared to confront her because I am convinced that she is on the brink of a breakdown.
Four
Andrew and Patricia Mullner – Then
Sunday, 9 September 2001
I couldn’t believe how quickly the last three years had flown by. It barely felt like five minutes since I’d brought Andrew home from the hospital. That little bundle of joy who made our family complete was continuously changing at that young age.
Where had all that time gone?
‘Happy third birthday, Andrew,’ I said; he never took any notice of me while he was mastering the art of climbing all over the sofa. ‘My little man, you are three today, are you going to open your presents from Mummy and Daddy?’
Andrew ran around the living room floor in circles, his speech was coming along nicely, but it should have done since he had become the only person I spoke to all day.
Some days I regretted encouraging Thomas to become a taxi driver. The pay was great as it supported all of us, but I rarely saw him that often as the night shifts took their toll on him. When he was home during the day, he just slept most of the time while I did all the hard work looking after Andrew. I hated him for not being around more, but I had my precious son to myself. It helped me to strengthen that bond with Andrew.
I knew Thomas struggled to bond with Andrew and blamed himself for not being there during the birth. It wasn’t helped by him working all those long hours at night, then sleeping during the day. He was missing out on so much vital development time with Andrew. But we needed the money.
‘You’ll spend more time with him as he grows up,’ I assured him. ‘He will love you as his daddy. You said a little boy was all that you wanted to carry on your family name. You knew it would make your dad proud. You’ll get your turn.’
I wished Andrew would stop running around the carpet and pay more attention to the presents I had spent all morning wrapping.
Thomas and I had both written some lovely comments in Andrew’s birthday card too, not that he could read it, but we kept all his sentimental things in a keepsake box for when he was older. I thought he would probably be embarrassed about it, but he’d understand how important it was when he grew up and had children of his own. I hadn’t realised that time was so precious until I had Andrew.
I couldn’t imagine myself as a grandmother. I would be some evil old witch that no one wanted to bother with. Left in an old-people’s home to rot. I didn’t really want that.
‘Mummy,’ Andrew had said in a cute voice. ‘Running, Mummy.’
‘I know you are, my boy,’ I replied. I looked at his face and saw that he was growing more handsome each day, as his facial features became more prominent. I felt so lucky to have him. ‘Mummy can see you playing, my little man. Let’s open your presents together, shall we?’
Andrew didn’t even acknowledge the pile of presents on the sofa, but instead was continuing to have fun running around the circle patterns on the carpet. His birthday the year before, he had loved pulling at the wrapping paper and playing with the empty boxes, but I’m sure on this birthday he found some enjoyment from the toys inside. We had bought him a new train set that made realistic sounds, and a set of battery-operated drums so he could make some noises to entertain himself.
And he probably pissed off the neighbours.
I had tried to look after Andrew and continue my midwife training, but when depression took hold of me after Andrew’s birth, I couldn’t connect with him. All I’d ever wanted was a family, a child of my own, yet here it all was in front of me, and I still wasn’t happy. I reassured Thomas that it was not postnatal depression because I loved Andrew, I knew that I loved him, but I couldn’t describe it other than that I had a sense of loss about it. Something was missing.
‘Maybe because all the attention is not focused on you being pregnant anymore,’ Thomas had suggested. Of course, I went mad at him for suggesting I needed such attention from other people. I hate attention; it’s not like he doesn’t know that. I would love nothing more than to be one of those people who walks around unnoticed.
‘Don’t be so bloody foolish,’ I’d replied, ‘you know how much I hate being fussed over.’
That period of my life has passed now. I spent the first year never leaving the house if I could help it. I just wanted to stay indoors and be safe with Andrew. Every time I walked the streets, even if it was only to go to the local shop, I felt everyone was staring at me. They doubt my abilities as a mother, I used to think. The paranoia was terrible. Motherhood was all new to me, and almost every mother in the village who came and looked at my baby would try telling me how to do something. Whether it was the way I dressed him, the teething issues, how to make his milk correctly; I couldn’t get their interfering ways off my mind.
‘Andrew, look over here. Come to Mummy.’ I called him over as I held the first present in my hands. I can remember him directing his attention to the wrapping paper as I rustled it to make some noise. ‘What have I got for you, Mummy’s little man?’
‘Mummy,’ he replied, walking now in my direction. ‘Is it mine?’
‘That’s right,’ I responded with a warming smile. ‘These are all for you. Why don’t you come to Mummy and sit over here with me? Let’s see what you have got for your birthday?’
Together we sat on the floor and unwrapped the presents together. He had some new clothes, the train set, the drums, a handful of small picture books, but I wrapped my arms around him to give him the biggest hug. That feeling of happiness overcame me, it brought a tear to my eye.
‘I love you so much.’
Andrew didn’t acknowledge it with words but he leaned up to give me a kiss on the cheek. He squinted his little eyes and returned my smile with laughter of his own. Now that I understood this mother and son bond, I had a purpose in my life.
‘Come and give Mummy another hug?’ I asked, but Andrew ran off, wanting me to chase him from one end of the room to the other. ‘I’m coming to get you, come to Mummy?’
The presents were scattered all over the living room floor. For a few minutes, I played with Andrew, but I was unable to stop him from running around the carpet. I wanted to get it changed or cover the large circles that he loved to run around with a rug. I was concerned that he would fall over and hurt himself. Andrew seemed to bruise really hard.