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For the most part, Belinda’s able to ignore it during the day.
She’s got the long hours at the hospital through the night, and then at home there’s Poppy to think about, endless chores around the house to manage, family and friends to appease, all before she can finally crawl into bed and try to sleep. That’s when she can’t escape it: the unease. The feeling of something not quite right, like she’s forgotten something, like there’s something she’s missing just on her periphery, if only she could grasp it.
It unsettles her, no matter how many times she tries to tell herself she’s being ridiculous. She finds herself tossing and turning, getting increasingly frustrated with herself, but still unable to shake the creeping dread hanging over her.
She tries to tell herself that it’s only natural. That it’s just an adjustment, finally being back on Earth, back to her own life, after her brief travels with the Doctor. Sometimes she turns to say something, expecting to see him next to her, and it’s disorienting, having to remind herself that he’s gone. The house feels too big with just her and Poppy, but that’s silly—it’s always been just them two.
The worst are the moments she catches herself looking at Poppy like a stranger. It’s not always, not even often, but sometimes… just sometimes, she’ll catch sight of her daughter out of the corner of her eye, and she doesn’t recognise her. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, a split-second thought of no, this is wrong, and it scares her. It terrifies her.
But then Poppy will smile at her, sweet and darling, and Belinda forgets. All those uneasy thoughts, all those doubts, fall away, and Belinda’s feet come firmly back to the ground, anchoring her in place. Travelling with the Doctor through time and space, seeing all those amazing-incredible-terrifying things, it’s just thrown her off a bit, that’s all. She’s relieved to finally be back home with her daughter.
And if she spends night after sleepless night feeling sick with dread, well. She’s sure it’ll pass.
*
At work, some of the nurses put together a little send off for Nadia in pediatrics before she goes on maternity. Belinda arranges a few extra hours of childcare with her mum so that she can attend, even though all she really wants to do is go home and cuddle up on the sofa with Poppy with some trashy telly in the background.
It isn’t a fancy affair, but there’s cake and a card going around to be signed, and Nadia is all but glowing. Belinda manages to smile and give the usual congratulations and well-wishes, even remembering to show interest in the due date and the gender.
“We haven’t told the family,” Nadia confesses to her, giddy. “Want it to be a surprise, you know. But it’s a girl! Antony’s pleased as punch, of course. He’s always wanted a girl, and we’ve already got the two boys.”
From her other side, one of the older nurses, Mary, scoffs. “My girls were always easier than the boys,” she says. “Less fuss. You’ve got a girl, haven’t you, Belinda?”
Belinda has to blink a few times, feeling far away. “Uh, yes,” she manages. “That’s right. Just the one. Poppy.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a mum!” Nadia exclaims. “I can’t believe you never mentioned!”
Belinda shrugs helplessly. “Just never came up, I suppose,” she says faintly, knowing even as she does that it’s not quite right. She’s really regretting agreeing to come to this thing, now. She thinks maybe she’s coming down with something. Looking at Nadia, all happy and smiling and so very pregnant, Belinda feels ill and dizzy. She hopes she didn’t catch some sort of space-cold from her time away. That pit in her stomach is coming back.
“My girls both came early,” Mary is saying. Belinda has to struggle to pay attention. “But my boys took their time.”
Nadia makes a considering noise. “My boys were a few weeks early, but that’s twins for you. I hope this one sticks to her due date, either way. How was it with yours?”
It takes a moment for Belinda to realise the question’s meant for her. She opens her mouth automatically to answer, but the words don’t come. Panic starts clogging her throat. Why can’t she answer?
Poppy’s birthday is the end of May, Belinda knows. Of course she knows. She thinks back to when she’d been pregnant, when Poppy had been born, but—she can’t. She tries to remember, but there’s nothing to remember. Not a gap in her memory, not even a half-remembered detail, just nothing. Belinda can’t picture herself pregnant. Can’t think of what Poppy looked like as a newborn. It’s all missing, out of reach.
Belinda stands up suddenly from the table. Nadia and Mary both startle, but Belinda only vaguely apologises as she stumbles away, barely able to keep her feet under her. She staggers towards the bathroom, breath coming out in funny little gasps that hurt her chest. Inside, thankfully alone, she falls against the sink and grips the sides with white knuckles. Distantly, she notices the way her hands are shaking.
She pulls out her phone, not even sure what she’s looking for. She wants to call her mum, maybe, and beg her to make everything alright again. Or maybe she just wants to call a cab to take her home, since she’s in no state to drive. Whatever she’s looking for, it doesn’t matter, because the first thing she sees is a new message from her mum. It’s a picture of Poppy, asleep in her cot, in her little pink jammies. It’s a sight Belinda has seen countless times, but it feels so strange and unfamiliar.
Who is that? a traitorous voice whispers, and, horrified, Belinda drops her phone.
Fumbling, she turns on the tap so that she can splash water on her face. It’s only then that she notices the tears, making her cheeks hot and sticky. She scrubs at them with more force than necessary, leaving her skin red and stinging, hoping it’ll bring her back to Earth.
She meets her own eyes resolutely in the mirror.
Poppy, she thinks to herself, stern. It’s only Poppy, my daughter. She’s always been my daughter.
She shakes her head sharply. What a strange thing to think.
*
Her mum hesitates to leave when Belinda finally makes it home. She tuts over the bags under Belinda’s eyes, offers to stick around for another hour or two to let her sleep, but Belinda waves it all away.
“I’m fine, Amma,” she assures. “Work’s just been busy, but I've got a few days off now. I’ll be back to normal as soon as I get a full night’s sleep.”
Reluctantly, her mother relents, dropping a kiss on Poppy's head and pulling Belinda into a tight hug. She clings to her more than usual, which is strange, but she doesn't say anything. And if Belinda squeezes her back just as tight, it's only because she's missed her so much while she's been away.
With her mother finally gone, Belinda turns to her daughter. “Right then, Pops,” she says. “What should we do today, hey?”
Later, when Poppy's down for a nap and Belinda's stalled as much as she can with tidying up the toys and sorting the laundry, she lays gingerly on her bed, not even bothering to peel back the covers. She clutches a pillow to her chest and pretends that it's the detergent bothering her eyes, making them sting.
It'll get easier, she tells herself. It has to. Even if she doesn't know what ‘it’ is.
It's another sleepless night.