56
CHELSEA, 1993
One summer’s night, towards the middle of June, I heard my sister begin to moo.
There was no other word for it.
She sounded entirely like a cow.
This went on for some time. She was in the spare bedroom, which had been readied for her. Clemency and I were ushered away from the door of the room and ordered to stay in our own rooms until we were told we could come back.
The mooing continued for many hours.
And then, at around ten minutes past midnight, there was the sound of a baby crying.
And yes. It was you.
Serenity Love Lamb. Daughter of Lucy Amanda Lamb （14） and David Sebastian Thomsen （41）。
I didn’t get to see you until later that day and I must confess that I quite liked the look of you. You had a face like a baby seal. And you stared at me unblinkingly in a way that made me feel seen. I had not felt seen for a long time. I let you hold my finger in your little hand and it was strangely nice. I’d always thought I hated babies, but maybe I didn’t, after all.
And then, a few days later, you were taken away from my sister and moved to David and Birdie’s room. My sister was brought upstairs and put back in the room she shared with Clemency. At night I could hear you crying downstairs and I could hear my sister crying next door. She was brought downstairs during the day to pump breast milk into a medieval-looking contraption which was then poured into medieval-looking milk bottles and then told to go back to her room.
And so everything changed again: the lines between the thems and the usses shifted a few degrees and my sister was once more one of us and it was this final act of cruelty that brought us back together.
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Lucy steps towards him.
Her brother.
Her big brother.
She can see it now.
She stares deep into his eyes and says, ‘Where’ve you been, Henry? Where’ve you been?’
‘Oh, you know, here and there.’
A wave of fury starts to engulf her. All these years she has been alone. All these years she has had no one. And here is Henry, tall and fresh-faced and handsome and glib.
She punches him in the chest with two furled fists.
‘You left her!’ she cries. ‘You left her! You left the baby behind!’
He grabs hold of her hands and he says, ‘No! You left! It was you! I was the one who stayed. The only one who stayed! I mean, you ask where I’ve been. Where on earth have you been?’
‘I’ve been …’ she begins, and then she lets her fists unfurl and her arms drop. ‘I’ve been in hell.’
They fall silent for a moment. Then Lucy steps back and calls Marco to her. ‘Marco,’ she says. ‘This is Henry. He’s your uncle. Henry, this is my son. Marco. And this is Stella, my daughter.’
Marco looks from his mother to Henry and back again. ‘I don’t understand. What does this have to do with the baby?’
‘Henry was—’ she begins. She sighs and starts again. ‘There was a baby. She lived here with us all when we were children. We had to leave her here because … well, because we had to. And Henry is here, like me, to see the baby, now that she’s grown up.’
Henry clears his throat and says, ‘Um.’
Lucy turns to look at him.
‘I’ve met her already,’ he says. ‘I’ve met Serenity. She was here. At the house.’
Lucy gasps softly. ‘Oh my God. Is she OK?’