Anthony

Sun split the cloudless sky like the eye of a great giant, peering down on Lena as she made her way, slowly but surely, from the car to the front door. The cute sandstone cottage glowed in the late spring afternoon, the flowers were riotous, and the air had that soft edge that said warmer days were coming, but it felt like a picture. This day could not exist, not like this. Not here.

Andrew, her husband, held her elbow gently as her mother guided her up the short steps and into the cool gloom of the hallway with brittle cheer,

"Right, there, isn't it nice to be home?" She chirped and took two steps back, "I'll make some tea."

"Thanks, Charlotte," Andrew said and took his jacket off before clapping his hands, "ok, darling, lets get you comfortable."

She followed him like a puppy on a string, watching as he stepped on the reddish brown stain on the living room carpet without flinching before she herself skirted it. Nothing was out of place. The ornaments gleamed in the morning light, the coffee table was clean and free of dust, and the radio played channel 4 quietly in the corner as a plug-in by the TV hissed and released a puff of freesia scented mist, the floral notes mingling with the coppery smell wafting up from the carpet.

"Tom and Alannah are going to come over and bring the little ones at the weekend," her mother called from the kitchen as she dug in the cupboards, "since its Easter soon. They've got the cutest little easter chick costume for Kenzie since she'll be one on-"

The clattering stopped as the world held its breath. The skin around Andrews eyes tightened.

"That's cute," Lena said and blinked at the TV, her face serene, her hands fisted in her loose skirt, the knuckles bone white. Andrews shoulders lowered a little,

"Yeah, it's really sweet..." He said, nodding spasmodically, his leg bouncing rapidly, "it's not a little tail on the back and matching socks."

The clock on the mantle ticked insistently, the seconds piling up like petals.

"That is sweet," Lena said, "I'll get the big camera out so we can take a proper picture for them." Her hands shook as she reached up to take the cup of tea, letting the sting of the hot liquid wipe everything away as Andrew and her mother chatted about the change in the weather and hopes for a warm summer and the radio blared and the dishwasher rumbled from the kitchen.

"I was thinking we could go to that timeshare again this year," Andrew said as he bit into a donut, jam oozing out like fresh blood onto his chin and sugar sticky fingers, "the one in Barcelona," he said through a mouthful of gummy dough and crimson paste, "it was so nice. What do you think-"

"I'm tired," Lena said and stood, the skin on her belly prickling and tightening with revulsion, "I... I'm going to bed."

Charlottes lips pursed into a thin line for a moment,

"Of course, darling, it was a long drive, get some sleep... we'll wake you for dinner," she said smoothly, but their voices started again, hushed this time when Lena left the room. Their bedroom door was open, the bed already made. Inviting and clean... but her eyes slid to the door beside theirs. The closed one, and her fingers brushed the handle for a moment as she passed.

The weather held through the weeks, not breaking but becoming warmer and more humid until the afternoons and mornings seemed divorced from each other. The fresh, sharp spring air of dawn was slowly smothered until in the peak of the day the jackets and long sleeves that kept the chill at bay on the commute were stifling prisons by lunch. Lena wiped her brow and paused, her back and legs aching as she crouched by the messy play table to help the Thomson triplets to make Mother's Day cards, her mouth dry, her skin crawling with every smear of glitter,

"Lena, you want me to take over, now?" Carly called, "you must be sick of looking at glitter glue."

"Comes with the territory," Lena choked out with a brittle smile as her eyes sought anywhere else to look; the nursery day room was chaos. It always was; children knew nothing but appetite and emotion. Want, need, push, pull. Scream. Why did they all scream, "my lunch is in five," she added, "you can take over then."

"No problem," Carly said and hovered, her smile fixed as she hesitated for a moment. Sophie Morton chose that moment to throw her own tub of glitter on the floor,

"I don't want pink," she screamed, her voice taking on that nails on chalkboard quality that only a three year old with an agenda can produce. Lena widened her eyes at the triplets,

"Not pink then," she whispered and they giggled together while the world seemed to pulse around her. That throbbing didn't pass as she walked through the nursery halls, her eyes fixed on the painted doors rather than the miniature world around her; those pint sized chairs and dainty jackets had claws and teeth. She felt them snapping at her heels until she entered the buttery yellow staff room and pulled out a plastic chair.

Ham sandwich, bottle of orange juice, chocolate oat bar, and a packet of pickled onion crisps; the template for every work lunch. A shadow of every lunch she had ever had in this place, more or less. Lena followed the rules, kept the flow just like everyone else seemed to do; she peeled the sandiwch apart and put the crisps on it, flattened it down with a satisfying crunch and bit into it without hesitation, but it tasted like ash. Her mouth was so dry,

"Lena! You're back, how are you?" Jackie seemed to come from nowhere, bubbling with energy and life,

"Fine," Lena said, covering her mouth, "the toddlers are wild today."

As Michael and Sarah came in, rubbing their faces, Jackie shifted to the side,

"We can switch if you like, I'm in the baby room today. Again," Jackie said and laughed, "little terrors have been screaming half the day, waking each other up, I'm drowning in nappies and formula-"

"Jackie," Sarah said sharply, then plastered on a smile, "can you help me, I think the bathroom door is jammed again."

"Uh... sure," Jackie said and looked at Michael as he stared down his sausage roll and can of coke like they owed him money. Without any other offers of help, Jackie followed Sarah with a quizzical expression. Lena worked her way through the other half of the sandwich in silence, her eyes fixed on the door,

"That bloody door needs looking at," Jackie chirped when they reappeared, "it's a death trap. I swear someone will get stuck in there overnight one of these days," she announced to the room and snatched up her own lunch before sitting two seats away, "so... any good plans this weekend, Lena? You and Andrew going out for dinner or something?" She asked, her eyes skirting the edges of Lena's face,

"No. My sisters coming over with the bairns," Lena said, chewing mechanically as she watched the strange mask that everyone seemed to wear slip over Jackie's face, "Easter."

"Ah, that's grand," Jackie said, picking her wrap apart without looking at it, "I'm going for a hike. What about you Mikey?" She asked and Michael hunched his shoulders as if warding off a blow buy found a smile,

"Uh... Molly and I are going to the cinema," he said and immediately buried his face in his phone.

"... right, well, I better go back. Splitting lunch today, just me and Veronica in with the..." Jackie trailed off and Lena raised her brows,

"The babies?" She asks and watched the flush creep over her colleagues face,

"Yeah, God, sorry, I had a total brain fart there," Jackie said with a shrill laugh and backed out of the room like it was a lions den like it was how she always ended her lunch hour.

Well, half an hour in this case.

The Saturday afternoon sun was blazing, unusual for late March, but it warranted a barbecue in Andrew's books, and the children seemed to agree. Alannah's oldest children were tearing around the garden like their energy supply was boundless, the smoke from the barbecue was thick and sharp, and the overground pool was already thick with the floating decay of cut grass from their feet and legs. A thousand little corpses, strange strands of greenery, floated in on the freshly poured water as Lily and Evan scrambled up and down the ladder, playing a game that made sense only to them.

Lena's toes curled in the freshly shorn grass as they laughed and shrieked,

"Andrew told me you're thinking of going back to Barcelona this year," Alannah said, turning her body secretively as she covered Kenzie with a blanket to nurse, her eyes darting,

"Are we?" Lena asked mildly, and looked at the blanket, "is she still having stomach troubles?" She asked, her eyes stinging,

"No, she's fine..." Alannah murmured quietly, her eyes tracing the lines of Lena's face, "did Andrew show you the pictures of her costume?"

Lena nodded and tore her eyes away as the children tore out of the pool, heading for the gate where Charlotte and Bill, her parents, were coming in with bags of food,

"Granny, I can hold my breath for ten minutes!" Evan declared with the confidence of youth,

"Papa, Evan keep stealing my mermaid Barbie, tell him its not his. He's a boy, he has his own toys," Lily whined, clinging to her grandfathers arm like a mollusc. Lena stood and took the bags from her mother,

"Lena, honey, grab the beer and wine, yeah?" Andrew called, his brown curls already damp with sweat as he deposited burgers onto the barbecue with reverent ceremony.

"Oh yes," Charlotte said, her elegant face stretching into a smile, "I think a day like this calls for sangria, don't you," she added and took Lena's arm, hooking her own through the crook of her elbow. The smiles were infectious; they grew on her like mould. Like tumours

But the routine of pouring, mixing, chilling was so easy. She found herself sitting at the outdoor table with a greasy burger congealing on the plate in front of her and a glass of sangria staring her in the eye. No one looked at her; they weren't staring. Except they were in a way. Looking at each other and chatting over her head, but Lena could feel them paying attention to the uneaten burger and the ice slowly watering down the untouched wine. When the banal chatter became unbearable, she sipped the wine and took a bite of the burger, her stomach roiling. Smoked red meat and wine.

They felt heavy and oily in her stomach after months of health foods and green drinks, but the conversation around the table became less frenetic. Shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, laughs became more organic. Lena went to the bathroom discretely, locking the door before she turned the water on. Her manicured nails scraped the back of her throat, pushing and prodding as if seeking a switch. When she found it, her belly heaved and spasmed, and the small amount of meat and wine crawled back up her throat without much of a hurry, landing in a viscous glob on the porcelain before the flush washed it away in a torrent.

The hushed, dim hallway was cool, the sandstone that had weathered over a century keeping the heat out now as surely as it would keep it in during winter. The closed door stared at her, its worn brass handle winking in the dim light. Lena approached slowly, touching the handle once again. It remained as it always had been; smooth and cool to the touch. Utterly unremarkable, but when she pulled her hand back she checked her palm as if looking for burns and blisters.

"Lena?" Andrews voice cut through the silence, but she didn't turn. Didn't move.

"I want to go inside," she whispered, waiting for him to open the door.

"Everyone's wondering where you are, darling," he said smoothly, trying to lead her away, but her feet remained planted,

"Andrew-"

"your food is already cold, come one, don't be antisocial-"

"I want you to come with me-"

"and your mums nearly finished the wine-"

"Andrew!" Lena snapped and the silence came back, slamming down between them like a blade. He sighed and gave her a pleading look, his brow creasing,

"I wanted to call him Anthony," she said simply, her throat hot and tight. Andrew pulled his top lip between his teeth and nodded, his broad hands on his hips,

"I know." He said after a moment, the words hanging in the air like smoke, "So did I."

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Author's Note:

I wrote this piece partly as a result of taking part in a charity fundraiser for Sands, a baby loss charity that helps bereaved parents who have faced miscarriage, still birth, or the death of a baby. Their work includes providing support and counselling to parents, but they also support and fund research around pregnancy, miscarriage, and infant mortality with the overall goal of preventing these tragic losses.

During March I will be walking 100 kilometres to raise funds for this amazing charity, and if any one of you would be willing to support Sands by donating I would be immensely grateful.

If you yourself have dealt with the loss of a child or a pregnancy, please don't suffer in silence like Lena; talk to your loved ones, friends, or specialist services like Sands. You are not alone, even if it sometimes feels like you are.