Iris.

For weeks, Harry's ears had been throbbing. But Iris hadn't known. All Iris knew was hollow pain.

Until the day he came running up to her.

Iris was sitting quietly at the kitchen table unfolding and refolding a napkin.

'Mummy! Mummy!' he demanded, 'Maarrmmeeeey!'

Iris kept staring at the napkin.

Used to his cries being ignored, Harry grabbed her hand and pulled. 'Marmmeey!'

Iris let her arm be pulled but closed her eyes heavily.

Harry tugged at her arm and her eyes slowly reopened.

'What's wrong, Harry?' she mumbled, reaching out to ease his grip.

Gradually she turned to look at her son. She breathed in sharply. Her hand rushed to her mouth as she stifled a silent scream.

Shades of crimson coated Harry's stubby fingers and little puddles of deep maroon punctuated each smear.

Iris grabbed her little boy's hand and held it away from her, as if afraid to touch the red stain of his fingers. She took in the rivulets of blood that now trickled down the side of his cheek.

'Ow, Marmmeey. Owww!' Harry's cry was louder.

Iris had never coped well with the sight of blood. And this was the first time since that day three months ago and it triggered the familiar dread. She saw again her own hand bathed in blood. Futility flooded back bringing with them Ern's words.

'Yer bloody don't think! Lockin yer keys in the house is one thing, but then ta climb through the window and expect not ta fall. Yer bloody eight months pregnant woman! Yer deserve what yer got!'

And what had she got? Iris had wondered as she had gone into early labour with her second child.

The labour that went on for hours before the midwife made it to the house.

And the blood that ran from her, soaking the bed sheets.

That's when the panic had begun. She didn't remember this much blood with Harry. But there was nothing for it but to push and push when the time came. Finally, the rush of baby from her and the nothing moment when the pain ended, and time hung, suspended in stillness, the seconds on hold as she had waited in the blood and tiredness for her treasured newborn to be placed in her arms.

The nothing moment that stretched on and on.

Iris had finally opened her eyes then and reached for her baby. Next to her feet, in the clots and the blood and the mess, lay her perfect little girl with perfect little curls and cool motley skin. The midwife had rubbed the baby hard and muttered anxious words, but all Iris had heard was her own breathing.

No baby cries. No hearty well-done's from anyone. Only sniffling sad faces as Ern wrapped her heart in the soft pink blanket a neighbour had given her. Iris had watched Ern place the pink mound in a cardboard box on the kitchen table and then walk out of their house with it under his arm. Like a parcel. No funeral or carved stone or marked space set aside to forever love in memory.

A soft high-pitched cry now came from her mouth. She stood up and stepped back, still holding Harry's hand well in front of her. Her mewling became louder and stronger until finally she ended it with a scream for her husband. 'Ern! Ern!'

When nothing happened, she yelled again, 'ERN! Come quick!'

Finally, heavy footsteps came down the hall. 'What now Iris?' a tired voice droned.

'Ern! Harry's hurt! Harry's hurt! Help! Help!' Iris wailed.

Ern grabbed Harry's hand out of Iris' lock-like grip and looked closely.

'He's bleeding Ern! He's bleeding! Something terrible is wrong!' With her napkin, she wiped at Harry's blood on her arm.

'He's fine Iris. He's probably just cut hi'self.' Ern replied.

'No! No! it's bad. It's bad!' Iris wailed.

Ern probed Harry's scalp with stodgy strong fingers that made the boy pull away. He grabbed Harry in his arms and took him over to the kitchen sink. 'We'll get rid a' this blood and see what's really goin' on here.' He stuck Harry's head under the running tap.

Harry squirmed harder. 'Oww! Oww!'

'It's alright Iris. He's just opened the skin. But I tell yer, his ears are as red as blazes. I keep telling yer Iris, there's sa'um wrong with his ears. He keeps falling over and coughin' and whingin' like a flea bit dog. Yer gotta take him to the doc.'

Iris stared at him blankly, dabbing her tearing eyes with her bloodied napkin.

Ern sighed and handed Harry back to her. 'Come on, grab yer bag and we'll go now. And for god's sake Iris, wipe that blood off yer face. Yer look like yer cut yerself shavin'.'