Emily wondered if she’d be a completely different person now if she’d had a happy childhood. If she’d be a carefree person now, like those two girls seemed to be. Or was there always an upper limit to each person’s personal happiness level, predetermined at birth? Nature or nurture; who knew which one was the most important?
‘The truth is, I don’t want to keep those things because it upsets me to look at them. They hold me back. It wasn’t a very happy childhood, that’s all,’ Emily said, looking down at the floor.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I won’t press you for details, but I’ll wait another while before I put your things out on sale – just in case you ever want them back.’
‘But you must deal with this sort of thing every day in the shop,’ she said.
‘Yes, of course we do. But mostly the donations come from people we’ve never met before. So Sylvia and I don’t know the stories attached to everything. A pair of shoes is just a pair of shoes to us. We have no idea if the owner simply got fed up with them, or if somebody died of a heart attack.’
‘I see what you mean, yes,’ she said.
A sort of uneasy silence descended between them. Dylan pulled his chair closer to Emily’s and looked at her intensely. She had beautiful eyes, he thought to himself. He was definitely falling in love with her. He hoped that she was falling in love with him too. But recently he’d been sure she would ask him to stay the night at her flat, and then she hadn’t. When they were kissing on the doorstep he was sure she was longing for him the way he was longing for her. But always, at the last minute, she would pull away from him and say goodnight and run up the stairs alone. He wouldn’t have minded if they were younger, but he felt that at their ages they should be able to talk about it. She’d told him she wasn’t religious, so that couldn’t be the reason she didn’t want to sleep with him. It must be a commitment thing, he decided – which was why he couldn’t help wondering if Emily was getting cold feet.
‘My mother never really wanted me; that’s it in a nutshell,’ Emily said then, amazing both Dylan and herself with her honesty.
‘What are you talking about? Of course she wanted you.’
‘You don’t know her, Dylan. She never wanted me. She said she never wanted a child. That she never had a career because of me.’
‘She didn’t mean that, surely?’ Dylan was incredulous. His mother doted on her own four children.
‘She did mean it, Dylan. She only ever worked in a sweet shop on the Crumlin Road for four years, but to listen to my mother sometimes you’d think she was the MD of Cadbury’s.’
‘I’m sure your mum was just having a bad day when she told you she never wanted you,’ he persisted.
‘She must have had a lot of bad days, then, for she said it more times than I care to remember. My birthdays were the worst. She said she nearly died having me, and that she would never get over the pain and embarrassment of that day. And that she should be getting the cake and the presents instead of me.’
‘Well, okay, I’m sure childbirth is no picnic. But it was hardly your fault, was it? I’m so sorry for bringing this up today.’
‘Don’t be. We were never close, not ever. There were no big scenes or anything, no massive fights. Just lack of interest on her part and eighteen years of sulking on mine – until I left home to go to university. And Dad wasn’t much better. He stayed out of the house, mostly. He’s very good at ducking out of the way when there’s any hint of a row brewing. I basically brought myself up. And now it’s over. I know they love me in their own way, and I love them, but as a family it just never worked.’
‘Okay. I see.’
‘And that’s why I don’t go home to Belfast any more. I didn’t go over at Christmas, by the way. Because somehow it’s worse at Christmas, when you know your family unit just doesn’t work . I sat in the
‘The truth is, I don’t want to keep those things because it upsets me to look at them. They hold me back. It wasn’t a very happy childhood, that’s all,’ Emily said, looking down at the floor.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I won’t press you for details, but I’ll wait another while before I put your things out on sale – just in case you ever want them back.’
‘But you must deal with this sort of thing every day in the shop,’ she said.
‘Yes, of course we do. But mostly the donations come from people we’ve never met before. So Sylvia and I don’t know the stories attached to everything. A pair of shoes is just a pair of shoes to us. We have no idea if the owner simply got fed up with them, or if somebody died of a heart attack.’
‘I see what you mean, yes,’ she said.
A sort of uneasy silence descended between them. Dylan pulled his chair closer to Emily’s and looked at her intensely. She had beautiful eyes, he thought to himself. He was definitely falling in love with her. He hoped that she was falling in love with him too. But recently he’d been sure she would ask him to stay the night at her flat, and then she hadn’t. When they were kissing on the doorstep he was sure she was longing for him the way he was longing for her. But always, at the last minute, she would pull away from him and say goodnight and run up the stairs alone. He wouldn’t have minded if they were younger, but he felt that at their ages they should be able to talk about it. She’d told him she wasn’t religious, so that couldn’t be the reason she didn’t want to sleep with him. It must be a commitment thing, he decided – which was why he couldn’t help wondering if Emily was getting cold feet.
‘My mother never really wanted me; that’s it in a nutshell,’ Emily said then, amazing both Dylan and herself with her honesty.
‘What are you talking about? Of course she wanted you.’
‘You don’t know her, Dylan. She never wanted me. She said she never wanted a child. That she never had a career because of me.’
‘She didn’t mean that, surely?’ Dylan was incredulous. His mother doted on her own four children.
‘She did mean it, Dylan. She only ever worked in a sweet shop on the Crumlin Road for four years, but to listen to my mother sometimes you’d think she was the MD of Cadbury’s.’
‘I’m sure your mum was just having a bad day when she told you she never wanted you,’ he persisted.
‘She must have had a lot of bad days, then, for she said it more times than I care to remember. My birthdays were the worst. She said she nearly died having me, and that she would never get over the pain and embarrassment of that day. And that she should be getting the cake and the presents instead of me.’
‘Well, okay, I’m sure childbirth is no picnic. But it was hardly your fault, was it? I’m so sorry for bringing this up today.’
‘Don’t be. We were never close, not ever. There were no big scenes or anything, no massive fights. Just lack of interest on her part and eighteen years of sulking on mine – until I left home to go to university. And Dad wasn’t much better. He stayed out of the house, mostly. He’s very good at ducking out of the way when there’s any hint of a row brewing. I basically brought myself up. And now it’s over. I know they love me in their own way, and I love them, but as a family it just never worked.’
‘Okay. I see.’
‘And that’s why I don’t go home to Belfast any more. I didn’t go over at Christmas, by the way. Because somehow it’s worse at Christmas, when you know your family unit just doesn’t work . I sat in the
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