After several unsuccessful attempts to feed Evie, to the exasperated stares of some of the patients in the waiting room, Mel gave up, close to tears. Hurriedly, she got to her feet, pressing Evie to her shoulder. She’d already tried rocking her, changing her, pushing her around in her stroller, waving the few toys they had in the surgery at her, walking around with her, but still Evie wailed as if she were being murdered.

Growing more and more fraught, Melissa almost had a heart attack when her phone rang, hurriedly grabbing it from her coat pocket. Seeing it was Mark, she hit answer and snapped into it, ‘What? I’m here!’

‘I thought I’d just check,’ Mark said. ‘Make sure you made it okay.’

‘It’s a trip to the doctor’s, Mark, not an Antarctic expedition. I do not need checking up on.’

‘Right.’ Mark paused. ‘Is that Evie crying?’

Mel was tempted to end the call. Who the hell did he think it was? ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘I’m trying to feed her.’

Mark paused, infuriatingly. If he could hear Evie crying, why didn’t he just go? ‘I take it Jade isn’t with you then?’ he asked cautiously.

‘No. I don’t need a babysitter either, Mark.’ Mel felt her hackles rising. ‘I’m an adult. I’m quite capable of driving myself to the doctors.’ She felt tears welling afresh, even as she said it. She did need a babysitter, for Evie. Clearly. But she was her mother. Why couldn’t she seem to do anything right for her?

‘You drove there?’ Now Mark sounded disbelieving.

Pulling the phone away from her ear, Mel stared at it and then ended the call. Why didn’t he trust her? Why did he keep watching her, as if waiting for her to fall? Was she falling? Had she only imagined she’d been happy and content such a short while ago? That Evie had? Her family?

Was it possible she was going mad? That she’d been the only one not to notice it, until now? Cold fear constricted her stomach, icy fingers tugging at her heart, at her mind. In this room full of people, she suddenly felt utterly alone.

‘What is it, sweetheart?’ she whispered, pressing her face to the top of Evie’s soft, downy head, breathing in the smell that was supposed to bind mother and baby together forever. Yet Evie didn’t want her. It was as if she could see, through her innocent child’s eyes, that her mummy wasn’t who she was supposed to be.

Mel wasn’t aware of the fat tears sliding down her cheeks, the anguished sob escaping her throat. She didn’t hear her name being called, until Dr Meadows spoke right next to her, slid an arm around her shoulders and steered her gently towards one of the nurses’ rooms.

---

Watching a nurse cooing to Evie, who was now gurgling happily, having drained a bottle of formula feed, Mel waited for Dr Meadows to finish going through her notes. She almost hadn’t come – but for Mark’s insistence, she wouldn’t have. She was glad she had now. Dr Meadows had been kindness itself, somewhat restoring Mel’s faith. Despite a growing queue of ever more disgruntled patients to see, he’d taken time out to make sure she was looked after, and, more importantly, that Evie was. He’d waited until she was composed and then fetched her personally back to his office, thus allowing her to avoid the hushed whispers and sympathetic glances in the waiting room. Mel really didn’t need those.

He’d listened while she’d garbled an apology, and waited while she explained that she had no idea why she was feeling this way, that things had been good in her life and that this feeling hadn’t crept up on her so much as hit her like a bombshell.

He’d asked her to explain how she was feeling. After a brief hesitation, Mel had, summarising symptoms she knew only too well: lack of energy, exhaustion, sleeping too much, too little, loss of appetite. She was irritable, easily agitated, apathetic in turns. Each admission tightened the knot of fear inside her. She had problems concentrating and making decisions. Mel ticked all the boxes for the bleak depression she’d thought she’d escaped. The scariest box of all was the feeling that she was unable to look after her own baby. That she might even harm her own baby.

‘And you’re struggling with feelings of guilt?’ Dr Meadows asked astutely, turning towards her. His eyes were full of compassion, with no sign of the judgement Mel had been so worried about. She felt guilty all over again for not seeking help sooner.

Drawing in a long breath, she nodded.

‘Feelings of hopelessness and self-blame? Thoughts of suicide or self-harm?’ he probed gently. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs Cain,’ he added quickly, when Mel dropped her gaze.

Again, Mel nodded. She’d tried not to allow her mind to drift down that path in the dark hours, tried so hard, but seeing the hurt in Mark’s eyes, the confusion, yet perversely feeling compelled to hurt him more because of it, she had started to believe he would be better off without her. Knowing that he’d felt the need to talk to someone else, a female someone else, only compounded those feelings. Mel guessed Mark would never really understand how devastated she’d been, realising he hadn’t been able to talk to her.

Dr Meadows leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled thoughtfully under his chin. ‘I know you’ve struggled with these symptoms on a previous occasion, Melissa. The road to recovery isn’t an easy one, is it?’

‘No.’ Mel agreed wholeheartedly with that. The road she’d travelled had been a long and tortuous one, full of mountains to climb and potholes to trip her up.

‘Half the battle is admitting it, of course,’ he went on. ‘People can be judgemental. It’s human nature, I’m afraid.’ He paused and sighed. ‘Don’t judge yourself through their eyes. That’s the important thing to remember. Postnatal depression is common. If only mental health issues weren’t still thought of as a stigma, I’m sure many women would admit to feeling like you do.’

Would they, Mel wondered. Weren’t new mothers their own harshest judges?

‘We have the technology, we can fix it,’ he joked, winking.

Mel relaxed a little, which was obviously what he’d intended. If only it were that easy, though. ‘A brain transplant, you mean? Perfect.’ She smiled back. It felt good to do that. When did she lose her smile?

‘A short course of antidepressants initially, I think,’ he said. ‘Counselling possibly, if you feel the need to talk. It might help. Is your husband supportive, Mrs Cain?’

‘Yes,’ Mel answered hesitantly. ‘But… he’s been down this road before too.’ She let it hang.

He nodded. ‘If you don’t mind my suggesting, I think you’ll find he’d like to be. He arrived enquiring after you while you were with the nurse. He’s waiting for you.

---

Watching Mark’s expression change as he walked across to his child, Melissa felt joy tinged with unbearable, palpable pain. It felt as if her heart might tear apart inside her. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t Mark’s fault. It was her. Her problem. Her stupid, dysfunctional brain.

And now, where once he had been free to walk away, he would feel obliged to stay, because his love for Evie and Poppy was unequivocal. But could he really cope with this? Again?

‘Hey, little miracle,’ he said, taking Evie carefully into his arms and gazing wondrously down at her, as if he couldn’t quite believe her. Mel swallowed a tight lump in her throat.

‘She’s beautiful,’ the nurse said, sighing audibly as Mark bent to place a soft kiss on Evie’s forehead.

Mark smiled, the kind of warm, adoring smile fathers reserve for their children. ‘Like her mother,’ he said throatily, turning to face Mel.

Seeing the love in his eyes, peppered with crushing anxiety, Mel caught a sob in her throat. She had to get better. For Mark’s sake, for her children’s sake, she had to get well.