all? ’ Her embarrassment is morphing quickly into fury.
Helen pauses, her teacup midway between her lap and her lips. Then she lets out a small sigh, a sound like a gust of wind passing through the branches of the trees outside.
Dora stares at her mother. ‘Mum? I’m having a baby. Did you hear me?’
Finally Helen turns to look at her daughter. ‘I heard you, Dora.’
‘And?’
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘Well, I’m no expert in these matters, Mum, but “congratulations”, I believe, is still the usual response.’ Dora can no longer keep the anger from her voice. She isn’t used to speaking so bluntly with her mother; in the past she has always been keen to avoid confrontation, to play the peacemaker. But this is too much.
‘Congratulations then,’ says Helen, but Dora notices she still cannot meet her eye.
She shakes her head in amazement. ‘You just can’t be happy for me, can you?’
Helen remains silent.
‘I don’t know why I bothered to come. I hoped things might be different. I hoped we might be able to put everything behind us. I thought my news . . .’ she trails off. ‘But I was wrong, wasn’t I? Nothing’s changed.’
Helen keeps her face turned to the garden. It feels like a dismissal and Dora wears it like a physical slap to her cheek. The blood rushes to her face. She slams her teacup onto the table between them and stands quickly. And then, unexpectedly, a rush of words comes.
‘You know something, Mum,’ she says as she moves towards the doorway, ‘I had almost convinced myself that I was wrong; that I had imagined it all these years. I told myself that deep down you really did still love me but that you just couldn’t show it any more, not after what happened.’ She lets out a bitter laugh. ‘I felt sorry for you. I figured you were . . . too . . . too damaged to show me how you feel. But I see now I was wrong.’ She shakes her head and gives a bitter little laugh. ‘God, was I wrong. The truth is that now that I carry the blame for what happened on that one day we can never go back. You’ll never forgive me, will you? Years later and you can still barely bring yourself to look at me.’
The room falls silent and finally, Helen’s head turns to meet Dora’s. Even from her distance she can see the flecks of golden-amber glinting in the depths of her mother’s green eyes.
‘I . . . I . . . I want . . . I’m trying . . .’ Helen stammers and then falls silent. She gives a defeated shrug of her shoulders and turns back to the garden once more.
‘ “ I . . . I ” what? What is it, Mum? What can’t you say to me? Why are you still punishing me like this? What is wrong with you? Why can’t you talk to me?’ She is at the door. She waits, tearful and wild-eyed, hoping that her mother will tell her she is wrong, that she will stand and pull her into her arms and murmur comforting words in her ear; but her mother’s shoulders remain twisted away from her and her gaze resolutely fixed on the swaying trees outside.
Dora stares a moment longer as another wave of anger floods through her body, then she turns and stalks out of the room. It takes all of her self-control not to slam the door on her way out.
CASSIE
Fourteen Years Earlier
It was bad news. Cassie knew it the moment Dora sprinted into her bedroom, tripping in her baggy pink pyjamas and bursting with her first burning question of the morning.
‘What’s a happy accident, Cassie?’ She threw herself shivering onto the end of the bed and shoved her feet under the duvet.
‘Where did you hear that?’ Cassie asked, pulled from a warm haze of sleep by Dora’s words and the shock of ice-cube toes against her skin.
‘Mum. On the phone last night to Violet,’ Dora explained. ‘Most accidents end in tears, right? That’s what Dad always says, anyway.’
‘Yeah,’ Cassie agreed. Grazed knees, broken limbs, smashed crockery, and crashed cars – she couldn’t think of one accident that
Helen pauses, her teacup midway between her lap and her lips. Then she lets out a small sigh, a sound like a gust of wind passing through the branches of the trees outside.
Dora stares at her mother. ‘Mum? I’m having a baby. Did you hear me?’
Finally Helen turns to look at her daughter. ‘I heard you, Dora.’
‘And?’
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘Well, I’m no expert in these matters, Mum, but “congratulations”, I believe, is still the usual response.’ Dora can no longer keep the anger from her voice. She isn’t used to speaking so bluntly with her mother; in the past she has always been keen to avoid confrontation, to play the peacemaker. But this is too much.
‘Congratulations then,’ says Helen, but Dora notices she still cannot meet her eye.
She shakes her head in amazement. ‘You just can’t be happy for me, can you?’
Helen remains silent.
‘I don’t know why I bothered to come. I hoped things might be different. I hoped we might be able to put everything behind us. I thought my news . . .’ she trails off. ‘But I was wrong, wasn’t I? Nothing’s changed.’
Helen keeps her face turned to the garden. It feels like a dismissal and Dora wears it like a physical slap to her cheek. The blood rushes to her face. She slams her teacup onto the table between them and stands quickly. And then, unexpectedly, a rush of words comes.
‘You know something, Mum,’ she says as she moves towards the doorway, ‘I had almost convinced myself that I was wrong; that I had imagined it all these years. I told myself that deep down you really did still love me but that you just couldn’t show it any more, not after what happened.’ She lets out a bitter laugh. ‘I felt sorry for you. I figured you were . . . too . . . too damaged to show me how you feel. But I see now I was wrong.’ She shakes her head and gives a bitter little laugh. ‘God, was I wrong. The truth is that now that I carry the blame for what happened on that one day we can never go back. You’ll never forgive me, will you? Years later and you can still barely bring yourself to look at me.’
The room falls silent and finally, Helen’s head turns to meet Dora’s. Even from her distance she can see the flecks of golden-amber glinting in the depths of her mother’s green eyes.
‘I . . . I . . . I want . . . I’m trying . . .’ Helen stammers and then falls silent. She gives a defeated shrug of her shoulders and turns back to the garden once more.
‘ “ I . . . I ” what? What is it, Mum? What can’t you say to me? Why are you still punishing me like this? What is wrong with you? Why can’t you talk to me?’ She is at the door. She waits, tearful and wild-eyed, hoping that her mother will tell her she is wrong, that she will stand and pull her into her arms and murmur comforting words in her ear; but her mother’s shoulders remain twisted away from her and her gaze resolutely fixed on the swaying trees outside.
Dora stares a moment longer as another wave of anger floods through her body, then she turns and stalks out of the room. It takes all of her self-control not to slam the door on her way out.
CASSIE
Fourteen Years Earlier
It was bad news. Cassie knew it the moment Dora sprinted into her bedroom, tripping in her baggy pink pyjamas and bursting with her first burning question of the morning.
‘What’s a happy accident, Cassie?’ She threw herself shivering onto the end of the bed and shoved her feet under the duvet.
‘Where did you hear that?’ Cassie asked, pulled from a warm haze of sleep by Dora’s words and the shock of ice-cube toes against her skin.
‘Mum. On the phone last night to Violet,’ Dora explained. ‘Most accidents end in tears, right? That’s what Dad always says, anyway.’
‘Yeah,’ Cassie agreed. Grazed knees, broken limbs, smashed crockery, and crashed cars – she couldn’t think of one accident that
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