Page 64 of Unwell
When Ginny’s eyes caught the colour, something shifted. Just a flicker. She lifted the doll slowly before clutching it to her chest. Her hand patted its little bottom in a steady rhythm.
I swallowed the sickness in my throat.
“Good girl,” I whispered.
Before leaving, I reached into my bag and pulled out the bottle of aftershave. Robert’s scent. Elijah’s scent. I sprayed it lightly into the air, the sharp peppery spice visible against the sunlight.
Ginny’s shoulders eased and her head tilted as though listening to a voice only she could hear.
I closed the door behind me, leaving her rocking with her doll.
FORTY
NANCY
August 1985
As the years passed, Wellard hadn’t changed. I’d fulfilled my end of my bargain, letting Marney rut into me whenever he pleased for continued access to Ginny long after I’d quit my job. The halls still smelled of the same damp plaster and disinfectant as I walked through the low-security wing. In most hospitals, the technological advancements were helping to elongate lives. Not at Wellard. They just provided new ways to allow the doctors to test the horrors that human bodies could endure.
I went straight to her private room. One small luxury I convinced Marney to give her. Sucking hiscock, knowing very well where it had been, made me hate myself. But it had protected Ginny for a decade.
The creak of the rocking chair greeted me where Ginny couldn’t. I’d got used to that over the years. Pale strands of golden hair brushed her shoulders where it had grown long again, thinner now than when we first met. I missed her humming and the way she used to smile at me. The glint in her eye and the tender touch of her lips. Now she just rocked. And stared.
The doll was in her lap. Ragged now after years of patting. Its seams were splitting and the button eyes lolled loose. I’d tried to replace it once, but she stopped rocking until I returned it. Ginny patted its little bottom in time with the chair’s squeak, as always.
A pitiful picture. But what other option did we have? Larry paid the price to cover up Robert’s demise, but there was no hiding what Ginny did to the baby. Staying her murderous hand was the only course of action open to us.
I settled beside her, talking softly. ‘I brought you something new for your board.’
I paused, waiting for the response that couldn’t come. Old habits die hard.
Rifling through my bag, I found the photograph. Two pretty blonde girls stared back, ribbons in their hair. Pink. Always pink. I pinned it up among the others, the board nearly full now with their smiling faces. My daughters. The sole purpose I have to exist. Motherhood brought me everything I dreamt it would. Mornings brushing their hair and dressing them inadorable outfits, singing them to sleep. The way their little hands fitted just so in mine, and clinged to me with utter trust.
‘Their hair is just like yours,’ I murmured.
Ginny’s eyes didn’t move.
Grabbing a brush, I teased her hair until I got all the knots out. The orderlies so rarely bothered. The hair slipped between my fingers as I braided it before tying it off with a soft pink ribbon.
Then I leaned in closer, tugging at the fabric of her dress as if neatening it. My eyes lingered on the two faint circles where the cloth darkened.
‘Nearly time,’ I whispered. ‘Good girl. You’ve done so well for me.’
From the locked cabinet, I fetched the spray bottle. The aftershave misted into the air, wrapping around her like a hug. For the first time in months, her eyes focused, and a smile touched her lips.
I crouched in front of her, gathering her limp hands in mine. ‘Do you see him, Ginny? Your Elijah? I’ll always bring him back to you.Always.’
Her gaze was glassy, but I kept going. My voice low.
‘As long as you keephersafe for me. This is thelast timeanyone will put a baby into you, I promise.’ I knelt in front of her pregnant body and eyed it with reverence and jealousy. Despite being a broken, murderous girl, she made the perfect madonna. ‘You know it has to be this way, don’t you, sweetheart? I deserve to be a mom. I just needed my good girl to carry for me.’
My hand slid to her swollen belly, fingers splayingover the tight swell. I waited with my breath held until my baby moved. A tiny foot pushed back against my palm.
I laughed, delight climbing my veins. My smile spread wide. Deliriously so. My third little ray of sunshine. Ginny gave them life, and I gave them love.
‘Not long now, my darling,’ I whispered, rocking with her as the chair creaked. ‘And you can come home with mommy and your sisters. They’re so excited to meet you…’
The doll sagged in Ginny’s lap and the ribbon gleamed bright against her hair. I left the radio on to fill the silence where Ginny’s voice used to be.
