During the course of my childhood many a person was to remark how observant I could be, which proved most pertinent of course when considering my eventual occupation.  I can particularly recall an occasion during my first term of my first year at my first school when mother was kept behind after lessons in order to discuss worrying aspects of my behaviour with the headmistress.

‘He's always observing things,’ said Ms Root who stood six foot tall and who more than dwarfed both mother and me combined. 

Mother had sighed and nodded knowingly and given me one of those looks that I had already learnt to avoid.

‘Especially the answers before the maths test,’ scolded Ms Root glaring fearfully down at both us from on high.

But I do digress, I tend to do, as all of this was to happen a long time ahead and for now it was my very first day of being alive and to be honest I was keen to make the most of it.  There we were, mother and I, amidst a ward of elated young mothers and their newborn who were each in turn visited regularly throughout the day by proud fathers, fussing grandparents and reluctant brothers and sisters.  Happily I observed the laughter and delight around me as presents and flowers were delivered and the phrase “sixteen pounds eleven” produced sympathetic gasps from around the whole ward and also I noticed how, and more frequently than you would expect, tears of joy could be seen rolling down the cheeks of the proud visiting fathers as they tentatively cradled their newborn in their arms. 

Yet amidst all of this happiness I could not help noticing that mother and I remained very much own our own and nothing, simply nothing at all, could lift her evident sense of disappointment.  Dutifully I tried to keep quiet and unobtrusive, apart from when feeling hungry of course, and enjoyed instead the happiness the other newborn brought to their families.  But what was sadly evident to me right from the very start was that my own Dad or Pa, I wasn't sure what I would call him yet, had not visited and was not expected to either.

‘Is he working?’ asked a contented new mother in the bed besides my mother.

‘Working.  Him?’ scoffed mother as she rolled her eyes upwards before tutting repetitively.  ‘More likely forgotten.’

‘Forgotten,’ repeated the woman in the bed two along from mother before rolling her eyes and tutting in sympathy.

‘Probably,’ sighed mother.  ‘He tends to.’

‘But,’ coughed the woman in the next bed after that who seemed to be quite astonished about my father's neglectful attitude.  ‘Surely not, forgotten!’

‘Like all the men of the family,’ nodded mother managing to cast a disparaging look in my direction as she rolled her eyes upwards and tutted again.  ‘That's why I wanted a girl.’

‘Oh I can see,’ nodded the woman in the next bed further along as she cuddled her daughter closer before tutting at the woman in the bed at the very end of the row.

It was not long before the whole ward was a mass of rolling eyes and astonished tutting as the discussion about my absent father mushroomed into a feast of unfounded gossip and lies.  Indeed I was later to discover that none of what mother, let alone the others, had said was actually true; for you see my father had become involved in an extraordinary predicament that had truly prevented him from attending my birth (and to be fair it should be also noted that mother's level of communication with father had deteriorated so badly in the months preceding my birth that she had not got around to informing him that she was actually pregnant in the first place).  Quite frankly it was all too much, I could not take anymore more of this criticism of my own father, especially when he was not even there to defend himself and anyway it was really none of these strangers' business in the first place.  Whatever the circumstances I naturally knew how to put an end to such malicious rumour… 

Some time later when order was eventually restored to the ward mother swiftly resumed her resting (and as I was quickly learning this was something at which she was particularly adept).  For my part I was once more intrigued to observe the comings and goings of everybody else in the ward around me.  You see every now and then mothers-to-imminently-be would be wheeled away, some screeching loudly and some gasping at gas whilst others managed to do both at the same time, only to return several hours later looking considerably more relaxed and more importantly lovingly clutching their newborn in their arms.  And it was from observing such activity that I deduced that this is how we come into this world and in that experience of newborn nakedness every one of us is for a fraction of a moment the same. 

Yet for me, only a few hours after coming into this world, I began to feel that I was somehow different from the rest of the newborn in the ward and this was not solely due to mother continuing to ignore me as a result of her disappointment.  In some way I sensed there was something unusual about me, something that would take me years to discover and to this day never truly comprehend; but what I did know at this moment for sure was that being different also made me feel a little sad. 

As my first day progressed I noticed how the light from the world beyond the ward gradually began to fade and somehow this seemed to match my sombre mood.  Fortunately it was at this point that Nurse Lovely returned to the ward and instantly I felt her brighten everywhere and everything with the warmth of her smile as she pulled the blinds shut and wished everyone a good night's sleep. 

After a few long minutes Nurse Lovely made her way towards us not that mother noticed at all as she had been asleep for quite some time.

‘Are you still awake?’ cooed Nurse Lovely.

‘Certainly am,’ I attempted to chuckle aloud but simply dribbled happily instead.

‘Sshh now,’ said Nurse Lovely reaching across to the bedside cabinet for a tissue.

It was then that Nurse Lovely noticed how the surface of the bedside cabinet besides us was unlike all of the others in the ward in that it was utterly devoid of the usual combination of cards and flowers and balloons.  Instead there was nothing but a plain box of tissues, an empty vase and an advanced driver's test certificate neatly mounted and framed in wood, (by the way I have learnt over the years since that mother tends to take this certificate wherever she goes, it gives her a sense of achievement you see, and I guess some kind of comfort on this day she felt so very disappointed.) 

Momentarily Nurse Lovely gazed at the test certificate before wiping my face clean and then without further ado she quickly gathered up an array of white tulips and golden chrysanthemum's from the various bedside cabinets around the room and in an instance arranged them afresh in the vase beside the advanced driver's test certificate framed in wood.  Nurse Lovely looked at me and cooed and I in return attempted to wink back only to discover that I had not quite developed the required co-ordination and merely dribbled all over my chin once more. 

‘Sweet dreams, little one,’ she whispered as she kissed me upon the forehead and I in a state of contentment snuggled into my cot. 

Quickly I fell asleep and did not even notice Nurse Lovely dimming the lights before she left the ward for the night.  All was quiet and still now and nothing stirred anywhere not even the proverbial mouse (although you would truly hope that they didn't actually have any in a hospital, wouldn't you?). 

But it was then that I sensed that there was in fact something stirring and as I partially opened my eyes I discovered that it was my very own mother.  There she was slowly pushing herself upright and carefully climbing out of the bed quite unaware that I was observing her.  Even though I wanted to cry out I dared not say a word even when she grasped the flowers that had been so kindly provided by Nurse Lovely and stuffed them roughly into the top drawer of the bedside cabinet. 
 
Briefly mother admired the framed test certificate and then without further ado cast a determined look across the ward towards a row of sleeping mothers and newborn who were each surrounded by an assortment of flowers and cards and balloons.  And then suddenly and without a word she whisked me up from the bed and in an instant she was shuffling across to the far side of the ward.  Once again I wanted to cry out in the hope that Nurse Lovely would intervene, but there was something about the look in mother's eye that was telling me to keep quiet and what was happening was really for the best.

‘It's for the best,’ whispered mother as she lay me down again.  

                 xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I have to admit that the strain of being born and the general excitement of my first day had left me feeling much more exhausted than I had realised and so I managed to sleep soundly through the dark hours of the night (how very much I wish I could experience such blissful slumber these days).  Consequently as I awoke from the deepest of sleeps I was utterly unaware of what had or was about to happen. 

I snuggled into mother who caressed me gently with her soft fingertips before carefully picking me up with both her gentle hands.  It was a new morning and I was feeling good.  I looked at mother and smiled.  Mother looked at me and smiled too.  I blinked and looked again, a little surprised you see at not having seen her smile before, but yes in her eyes and lips and cheeks and even her hair she was still smiling the sweetest of smiles.

And then she screamed out loud.

‘It's a boy,’ she squealed and screamed once more.

Oh, I sadly thought to myself, we're right back to where we had started from and just when everything seemed to have been settling down at last.

‘It's a boy,’ she screeched again and this time a nurse that wasn't Nurse Lovely entered the room.

‘What's the matter dear?’ snapped the nurse who clearly wasn't lovely and looked as if she needed a good night's sleep before coming on duty.

‘It's a boy,’ she screamed louder as she held me out for all to see.

I must say that I felt more than a little embarrassed by the whole situation, not least because I was in a complete state of undress and the eyes of the whole ward were upon me now.

‘Yes I can see it is a boy,’ sneered the nurse.

‘But I gave birth to a girl,’ shrieked the woman who was clearly not my mother. 
‘I'm not its mother.’

‘No you’re not its mother,’ agreed the nurse as she read the woman who was not my mother's records.  ‘You gave birth to a girl.’

‘So where is my daughter?’ angrily mumbled a little man who had hitherto been crumpled asleep in the chair beside a bedside cabinet covered in flowers and cards and balloons.

During this commotion I managed to sneak a look across to the other side of the room where I observed a tiny woman, who I sort of recognised, cradling a newborn in her arms.  It was then that I noticed the familiar sight of the framed test certificate, the plain box of tissues and the empty vase upon the bedside cabinet beside her and I knew for certain that she was my real mother.  Yet however much the crumpled man and his wife continued to cry foul it was quite evident that my real mother was not going to own up as she continued to cradle the newborn girl and rest quietly in exactly the way she had been instructed to do.

Fortunately however it was Nurse Lovely who, on the verge of going off duty, calmly resolved the situation with a disarming smile as if nothing had happened at all.

‘I would recognise you anywhere,’ she chuckled picking me up into her warm and comforting arms.  ‘My little special.  Now let's take you back to where you belong.’

Mother did not smile when I was placed back into her arms and to be honest I did not expect her to.  At once she turned away from me, her head slowly shaking from side to side, and within seconds began to sleep.  However in the circumstances I did not complain because having been reunited with my real mother I have to admit that I now felt a little more complete.

           Chapter 3
In Which I Meet Dr Carlos Marcos

‘There must have been a mistake,’ were the words I overheard Nurse Lovely whisper anxiously to a colleague when she returned to duty later that day. 

A simple explanation for sure but undoubtedly one that was not good enough for the powers that be.  You see within the hour mother and I found ourselves relocated to a small dimly lit room where we were no longer surrounded by the unquestioning happiness of fellow newborn and their joyful parents, the dazzling colours of fresh cut flowers or even the gleeful sound of greetings cards that bleeped Rock A Bye Baby each and every time they were opened (although to be honest that was a definite benefit).  Instead there we were on our own together with nothing else apart from a bedside cabinet upon which was an empty vase, a box of tissues and a advanced driver's test certificate framed in wood.  Oh and of course there was Dr Carlos Marcos, who stood in silence in the corner of the room, his bearded chin resting firmly upon the fingertips of both hands, acutely observing the two of us for a period of time that was longer than I could manage to stay awake.

Indeed it seemed like I had been asleep for hours (although of course at that age you tend to get a little confused until those Circadian body rhythms properly kick into place), but when I eventually opened my eyes I could see that Dr Carlos Marcos was still standing there observing us with an unwavering intensity.

It must be said that Dr Carlos Marcos was very different from the rest of the doctors in the hospital and it wasn't just that he was wearing a suit that smelt of something sharp and stale and certainly not like the freshness of Nurse Lovely.  No, he was different in that he was a psychologist and I quickly deduced that from the particular manner in which he introduced himself to mother and I.

‘Hello, I am Dr Carlos Marcos the resident psychologist,’ he explained simply.  ‘Now Mrs Bont, what have you decided to call the young master Bont?’

At first mother, who tends to shyness when meeting with strangers, did not reply.

‘Mrs Bont,’ repeated Dr Carlos Marcos nodding his head most deliberately from mother across towards myself laying in a cot on the far side of the room.  ‘Your boy, a name?’ 

‘Bont,’ mother replied quietly without even bothering to look at me.

‘Yes, but what have you decided to call young master Bont?’ asked Dr Carlos Marcos repeating his nodding movements from mother to son.

‘Bont,’ mother replied again but this time more decisively.

‘And a first name?’ asked Dr Carlos Marcos encouragingly.

‘Undecided,’ replied mother somewhat indecisively.

‘Ah I see,’ said Dr Carlos Marcos as he rested his chin more firmly upon the fingertips of both hands.  ‘It would be a good thing for you to decide upon a name.  It helps the bonding between mother and child you see.’

‘Oh,’ said mother yawning before adding quickly.  ‘Felicity.’
 
‘Felicity,’ coughed Dr Carlos Marcos as his bearded chin dropped through his fingertips in surprise.  ‘But that's a girl's name.’

‘I know,’ said mother calmly.  ‘I didn't want a boy.’

‘Ah, I had heard you were disappointed with the outcome of the birth,’ nodded Dr Carlos Marcos having quickly regained his composure.

‘I still am,’ mother confirmed.

Dr Carlos Marcos did not answer immediately but paused for a moment as some complex psychological diagnosis rattled through his complicated psychologist's brain.  Dr Carlos Marcos you see had years of training under his belt and knew exactly the right questions to ask to get to the very core of issues such as these.
 
‘So,’ ventured Dr Carlos Marcos.  ‘Tell me why you don't like the male of our species?’

‘Time wasting filth,’ mother snapped with a vehemence that clearly startled Dr Carlos Marcos from head to toe.

‘All boys and men?’ he asked hesitantly as he stepped imperceptibly back towards the doorway.

‘It's not just any boys or men,’ mother explained with a frustrated anger that I had not previously witnessed in all of my young life.  ‘It is just the male line of the Bont family.’

‘Ah I see,’ replied Dr Carlos Marcos reassured a little that mother's issues did not include his good self yet not quite enough to stop him shuffling ever closer to the exit.  ‘And try to elucidate why that is so Mrs Bont.’

‘They are good for nothing idlers and dreamers through every generation,’ she explained calmly though her eyes quite clearly stared with a deep-rooted disgust.  ‘They are wasters and chancers and should be locked away until they no longer exist.’

‘Ah so what exactly does Mr Bont do?’ asked Dr Carlos Marcos as his hands disappeared behind his back and grappled ineffectively at the door handle (try it yourself and you'll find it's not easy turning a doorknob backwards at the best of times let alone when you're in a state of considerable fear).

‘A peddler of dreams that distort truth and reality wherever he treads,’ mother screeched angrily.

‘I meant his profession,’ continued Dr Carlos Marcos who suddenly smiled a smile of utmost relief as the door opened and in an instant he fled down the corridor before even waiting for an answer to his question (undoubtedly all you psychologists out there will be outraged by the unprofessional conduct of Dr Carlos Marcos at this juncture and I can only wholeheartedly agree).

I looked up at mother hoping she would continue her explanation, eager as I was to hear more about my father and the questionable profession in which he was employed, but mother was calm now and ready to rest and I guessed that I would have to wait for another time to properly understand the real truth about my parentage.