Chapter Text
1978
The first person Mycroft told was Mrs. Berry. “Mummy’s pregnant again,” he announced between slices of apple. He loved it when Mrs. Berry made Eve’s pudding because he got to help by eating any of the apple slices that weren’t quite thin enough. Sometimes, if he were good, he got to stir the sponge.
“Did she tell you that?” asked Mrs. Berry as her knife lifted perfect spirals of peel from the apple.
“No, I dedu’ded, Dee – duusd it,” Mycroft said. He stuck his tongue where his missing front tooth belonged to see if there was any sign of a new one.
Mrs. Berry handed him another slice of apple. “Eat that one for me, Myc, there’s a love. Would you like a baby brother or sister?”
Mycroft considered carefully. Mrs. Berry was usually the only one who asked him about feelings. Mummy taught him math and logic. Daddy taught him about bodies – how they work and what they look like when they don’t work. Mrs. Berry talked about feelings like they were as important as math or biology. She also told him to be careful who he told his deductions to. But he was allowed to tell her anything.
“I think I would like a baby brother,” he decided. “I hate when Mummy is sad and when she miscarries, she is sad.” He was proud he got through that sentence with no lisp. It took a lot of concentration but lisping made people think he was STUPID. “I could teach a little brother to deduce and we could play games. I would still be the smartest, though.”
“How do you know about miscarriages, Myc?” asked Mrs. Berry.
“Daddy told me when I asked him about Mummy’s symptoms. He said to be careful who I talk to about it, though. Most adults think children shouldn’t know anything.”
“You do know that a baby brother wouldn’t be able to play with you for a long time, don’t you? Here, this is the last piece of apple. I don’t need it.” She put down the knife and stood to get the bowl to start the sponge. She pressed her hand to her abdomen as she stood.
“Of course, I’m not STUPID. He would be like a puppy or a kitten. Except his eyes would be open when he’s born. Daddy told me. I like to play with the barn kittens when we go to the country. Do you think I could have a puppy?”
“A puppy wouldn’t be happy in this flat, Myc dear. They need lots of space to run and play outside. And I’m allergic to dogs so I would have to move out.”
Mycroft looked up in alarm. He jumped up and threw his arms around Mrs. Berry. “You can’t leave, Mrs. Berry. I don’t want a puppy if you would have to leave. Stay here, pleathe.”
Mrs. Berry bent down and hugged him. “Of course, I’m staying. I love you, Myc. I didn’t mean to scare you. Maybe you can get a puppy to share with Mr. and Mrs. Findley. You could play with it when you stay in the country.”
Mycroft sighed. “Maybe. Can I help stir the sponge?”
Mrs. Berry chuckled. “Of course you can. Let’s get it started.”
The next day, Daddy took Mycroft to the country house for a month. There were puppies and kittens and lambs. Daddy showed Mycroft how to do an autopsy on a lamb that died. They found out its heart and its lungs weren’t connected right. His front teeth came in so he didn’t have to worry about lisping. He had so much to tell Mrs. Berry and Mummy when they got back to the flat.
The day before they went back to the flat, Daddy told Mycroft that Mummy was going to have a baby. Mycroft tried to pretend he was surprised, but Daddy could tell that he deduced it. He explained that Mummy was going to stay in bed most of the time until the baby was born to give the baby a better chance. “You will have to help, Mycroft. Mummy’s tired and bored, so you can help keep her entertained by doing math games, but only when she’s not sleepy, alright?”
“I promise, Daddy.”
When they got back to the flat, Daddy asked Mycroft to go check on Mrs. Berry while Daddy checked on Mummy. Mycroft ran to the kitchen for a big hug from Mrs. Berry.
“Myc, look at you,” she cried. “I think you’ve grown. And new teeth! I baked some biscuits for you. Have one and tell me about it. Did you have fun?”
Mycroft settled in to eat biscuits and tell Mrs. Berry everything. But he was distracted by the changes in Mrs. Berry. Adults didn’t change much. Children grew but adults just stayed the same, mostly. Daddy came in after about half an hour. “Mummy’s sleeping,” he told Mycroft. “You can see her when she wakes up. Yum, biscuits. Thank you, Mrs. Berry.” He sat at the table with Mycroft and reached for a biscuit.
“Daddy, is Mrs. Berry sick?” asked Mycroft. Mrs. Berry and Daddy both looked at him, puzzled. “Why do you ask?” Mrs. Berry wanted to know.
“Usually grown-ups don’t change much. But you’re different since we left.”
“Different how?” asked Daddy. “What symptoms do you see?”
“Mrs. Berry’s lost weight, but her abdomen is swollen. She keeps putting her hand on it like it hurts, and she’s gone to the loo twice since we’ve been home.”
Daddy looked carefully at Mrs. Berry. “Are you feeling all right?”
Mrs. Berry tossed her head, “I’m fine, really, Dr. Holmes. Just been a touch gassy lately, I think. And it’s natural I’m losing weight when I’m only cooking for Mrs. Holmes. Now that I have you two to cook for, it’ll soon be back, I’m sure.”
“Just the same, Mrs. Berry, I’ll feel better if you let me get you checked out. I’ll run you over to the surgery tomorrow.”
Buzz Buzz. “Mummy’s awake, Mycroft. Let’s go see her and let Mrs. Berry have some peace and quiet.”
Mycroft and Mummy were working on a cipher when Daddy came home the next day. He came in and sat on the end of the bed with a groan. He rubbed his face with his hands. “What’s wrong?” asked Mummy, sharply.
“You were right, Mycroft,” replied Daddy. “Mrs. Berry’s sick. She’s in hospital.”
“In hospital, Daddy? Not in her room? But you can make her well, right?”
Daddy’s mouth turned down at the corners, his eyes squeezed shut, and he wrapped his arms around himself. Mummy put her arms around Mycroft and held him tight. Slowly, Daddy opened his eyes and looked at Mycroft. “I don’t know,” he said. “They’re operating tomorrow. Maybe, if it’s not too far gone. If we do save her, it’s because you noticed, Mycroft. She wouldn’t have gone to the doctor yet if it weren’t for you.”
“But what is it, Daddy? What do they have to operate for?”
“It’s cancer. Of the ovaries, we think. Do you remember the ovaries?”
Mycroft suddenly felt cold all over and his stomach felt sick. Cancer was bad. Daddy was the best doctor in the world but sometimes his patients died and it was often cancer.
“Can I go see her, Daddy?” He needed to see her. Just this morning she laughed when they were making breakfast and snuck him extra toast. How could she be in hospital?
“I’m sorry, Mycroft. Children under 12 aren’t allowed to visit. Now, let’s get you in the bath and let Mummy rest. Aunt Mary and her cook are coming tomorrow to help out.”
The next five weeks were horrid. Mrs. Berry didn’t come home. Mummy stayed in bed. Her abdomen got big and she was sleepy and grumpy. Aunt Mary was STUPID. Her cook didn’t allow boys in the kitchen. No one asked Mycroft about his feelings or fed him apples or had much time for him at all. Mummy and Daddy were sad and worried. And he never got to see Mrs. Berry. Mycroft passed the time reading all of Daddy’s medical textbooks. The ones on cancer were scary. He wondered if Mrs. Berry’s hair was falling out. He wondered if she hurt a lot. He wondered if she missed him.
Finally, one day, Daddy woke him up in the middle of the night. “Get dressed, Mycroft. I’m taking you to hospital to see Mrs. Berry.”
Mycroft hurried as fast as he could. “I thought it wasn’t allowed, Daddy?”
“It’s not. But I know the night nurse. Mrs. Berry needs to see you and you need to see her.”
Mycroft was dressed, but Daddy didn’t take him out of his room right away. “Mycroft, she looks really different than the last time you saw her. You need to know that.”
“Is her hair gone, Daddy? Like it talks about in your medical books?”
Daddy half chuckled, half sighed. “I should have known you would get into those. Yes, her hair is gone, she has lost a lot of weight, and she looks…. very ill. But it’s still her. Don’t be afraid to talk to her or hug her but be really gentle. We’ll have to be quiet going in so we don’t get caught or you won’t get to see her.”
“I’ll be quiet, Daddy, I promise. Daddy, is she, is she going to die?”
“All lives end, Mycroft. We all die sometime. I’m afraid she’s going to die very soon. But she really wants to see you.”
Mycroft couldn’t help the tears that trickled down his cheeks. He knew he should be a brave boy, but it was hard. He wiped the tears off with the back of his hand, took a deep breath, and straightened his shoulders.
If it weren’t for the reason, sneaking into the hospital in the middle of the night would have been fun. Daddy used his key to take them in the back. He knew where to go to avoid the security guard. The hospital was mostly dark and quiet with a lot of strange smells and spots of bright lights.
When they got to Mrs. Berry’s room, they tiptoed in, but she was awake. The bed was tilted up so she was half sitting. It didn’t look like her at all, until Mycroft saw her eyes. They looked at him as lovingly as always. She smiled at him. “Myc, I’m so happy to see you.” Her voice was raspy – it didn’t sound like her at all. Only her eyes were the same. He crept close to her bed and just looked.
Mrs. Berry looked at Daddy. “Ta, Doctor Holmes. Can you lift him on the bed?”
Daddy lifted Mycroft up beside Mrs. Berry. She slowly put her arm around him and he gently laid his head on her shoulder. She was so bony. It wasn’t like a usual Mrs. Berry hug.
“I’m glad you came, Myc. I wanted to see you and to talk to you. You know I’m going to die, Mycroft?”
Slowly, he nodded his head.
“You’ll be sad, Mycroft, but I want you to know some things. I love you and taking care of you was the best part of my life. Don’t just be sad, but remember the fun we had and how much I love you.”
Mrs. Berry was the only one who ever just said, “I love you” right out loud. Mycroft whispered it back to her. “I love you, Mrs. Berry. I don’t want you to die.”
She smiled at him. “I don’t want to die, Myc, but we all die sometime. I’m glad that I knew you before I died. Promise me you’ll take care of your little brother or sister like I took care of you.”
“I will,” he whispered. Tears came back to his eyes again. He blinked furiously, but a couple of them escaped.
Mrs. Berry gave him a tiny squeeze. “A smart boy like you,…. you’ll be running this country some day. Just remember, ….not everyone’s as smart as you, ….but everyone ….matters.” Her voice was so low, Mycroft could hardly hear the words.
“I’ll remember, Mrs. Berry,” he whispered.
Daddy reached for him. “Mrs. Berry needs to rest, Mycroft. We should go.”
Mrs. Berry rasped, “Ta…..both.” As Daddy picked up Mycroft, she gave him one last smile and closed her eyes. Daddy held him tight. “It’s OK, Mycroft. She’s sleeping. See, you can see her chest rise and fall and hear her breath.” Daddy carried him out of the hospital – straight past the security guard but the guard didn’t say anything.
They were both quiet on the way home. As Daddy tucked Mycroft back into bed, Mycroft asked, “Is she really going to die… soon?”
“Yes,” Daddy said. “Probably in a couple days. We can’t do anything else. I’m so sorry, son. I wish…”
“But why, Daddy?” Suddenly Mycroft was angry, angry, angry. “It’s not fair. Why is she dying and not Aunt Mary’s mean cook?”
Daddy sighed. Suddenly he looked really old. “I don’t know Mycroft. All lives end. Why some sooner than others, I don’t know. I dedicated my life to stopping it when I can but we can’t always. All we can do is fight it and make our lives the best we can. You made her life better, Mycroft. We have to be happy about that.”
“I’ll never be happy again!”
“You will, Mycroft,” Daddy said gently. “The first few times you’re happy, you’ll feel guilty. But Mrs. Berry wouldn’t want you to be sad forever. She would want you to be happy but to remember her. Remember the good times.”
Mycroft turned over so his back was to Daddy. “You might be happy again but I won’t. Never, never, never.” His slow tears were soaking the pillow. Daddy didn’t say anything more, but he handed Mycroft a handkerchief and sat with him, rubbing his back gently until Mycroft cried himself to sleep.
After that, Mycroft never let anyone call him Myc.