Free Everything and Nothing by Araminta Hall Page A

had fallen asleep on her shoulder and she could feel the sweat from his head seeping into her shirt.
    ‘Are you going to do anything about her?’ asked the doctor.
    ‘I’m afraid she has these tantrums. There’s not much you can do.’
    She could see the doctor abandoning them to their fate. ‘The best I can suggest for now is that you start limiting his bottles. Stop offering him food. Then, when he gets hungry, give him some things he’d like. Biscuits are good, or chocolate cereal. The important thing is to get him eating, we’ll worry about the nutritional side later.’ He was having to shout now to be heard.
    Ruth stood up. She had received the same advice from her very understanding GP, but she couldn’t take good advice even when it was given freely and without prejudice. Her limitations were stifling. She lugged Hal over to his buggy and strapped him in, then went to Betty and pulled her up by the arm, dragging her across the floor. It took all her energy to stop herself from smacking her daughter across the face.
    ‘That sounds sensible. I’ll get right on to it.’
    Dr Hackett was open-mouthed and Ruth presumed he had never seen a family like hers.
    ‘Come back and see me in a month,’ he said, recovering his composure. ‘Verity will make you an appointment.’
    ‘Yes, fantastic.’ Ruth was manoeuvring herself out of the door, one hand pushing the buggy and one dragging the hysterical Betty. ‘And I’m so sorry about this.’
    ‘Perhaps you’d be best advised to leave her with your amazing nanny next time,’ said Dr Hackett as she shut the door.
    Ruth didn’t bother to speak to the gleaming Verity as she left. Betty was by now screaming for a Brat. Ruth bent down next to her daughter and hissed, ‘You are not getting a Brat. I told you to behave and you didn’t. We are going home.’
    Betty wailed harder. ‘I hate you, Mummy. I hate you.’
    White specks danced in front of Ruth’s eyes and she was painfully aware of her own heartbeat. I hate you too, she wanted to scream at her daughter, as she’d once seen a mother say to her child in the playground. Big red buses roared past her and glass shop doors swished to and fro as customers ebbed and flowed. People bustled past, tutting at the woman unable to control her children on the pavement. A thin man with a massive placard reading ‘Golf Sale’ brushed past her and she caught the pity in his eyes. The ground vibrated beneath her feet, sound coming at her from above, below and the side. She was acutely aware of herself as if on a map, a tiny speck on a rabbit warren of grey streets. She could imagine all the boilers burning in all the houses, all the wheels of all the cars turning relentlessly on the tarmac, all the voices shouting to be heard, all the babies crying, all the bins that needed emptying, all the lives that had to be lived. Ruth stepped into the road and stuck out her hand, willing a taxi to stop.
    By the time they reached their house, Ruth felt as if her shoulders were locked tight. Betty had quietened to a whimper and Hal was still asleep in his buggy. They made it through their front door in one piece, which was, Ruth felt, as much as you could say about their day.
    Agatha was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a magazine and she looked shocked to see them. ‘I thought you were going to feed the ducks,’ she said. ‘I was just on my way out.’ Ruth looked at the clock, it was ten past one. She probably hadn’t used up more than fifteen minutes of her hour’s appointment.
    ‘Could you put on a DVD for Betty,’ she said, slumping at the table. She wanted a cup of coffee but found she couldn’t move. Agatha had been reading a story about a well-known TV presenter’s stalker nightmare. It seemed refreshingly tame to Ruth.
    Agatha bustled back into the kitchen. ‘She says she’s hungry. Haven’t you had any lunch?’ Ruth shook her head. ‘I’ll make her some cheese on toast. Do you want