university.’
Clare nodded, her eyes fixed firmly on Tam’s face. Yes, she remembered Tam telling her something like that, along with the fact that Clare’s mother wanted her to get in touch. Clare hadn’t even considered it—Mum hadn’t been in contact for years after she’d left, and Clare wasn’t going to rekindle the relationship now.
Grimacing, she recalled how devastated she’d been on her sixteenth birthday when Mum failed to ring. Despite the years of silence, Clare had been convinced Mum would call—she’d always said turning sixteen was a major milestone, and she couldn’t wait to celebrate with her daughter. Clare’s friends had tried to persuade her to go out, but she’d made an excuse to linger by the phone.
The phone had stayed silent, and Clare had lain on her bed for hours, staring glumly at the ceiling. Finally, Tam had knocked on the door with a piece of her legendary chocolate cake and a glass of juice .
‘There’s more of that downstairs, along with some presents from Dad and me. Why don’t you come on down and we can celebrate your sixteenth together?’ She’d smiled and reached out to touch Clare’s shoulder, but Clare had shrugged her off, wrapping her arms around her knees.
‘I’m busy,’ she’d mumbled, not even making the effort to look occupied. Tam would get the hint.
But something must have been wrong with Tam’s radar, because she didn’t leave the room. Instead, she’d sat down beside Clare on the bed. Clare had shifted, not wanting anyone to see the hurt and anger on her face.
‘Love, I know you were hoping your mother would get in touch, and I’m sorry you haven’t heard from her. I’m sure she’s thinking about you and she’ll call when she can. In the meantime, your father and I are all set to celebrate with you.’ She’d leaned over and stroked Clare’s hair, and Clare had jerked away.
‘I don’t want you or Dad. I want Mum!’ The words burst from her in a shout, and as soon as she’d said them, she realised it was her mother she was angry with, not Tam. But it was too late; they were out.
Without saying more, Tam had got up and walked away. She’d closed the door softly behind her, and Clare had felt even worse than before. And when she’d crept downstairs and noticed the huge chocolate cake Tam had decorated for her, along with the elaborately wrapped gifts that clearly weren’t the work of her father, guilt squeezed her gut like a vice.
‘Your mum wasn’t sure how to reach you now,’ Tam continued, ‘so she contacted us here. She’s accepted a job in London, at King’s College working in the fundraising office. She still wants to see you . . . or at least get in touch.’ Tam’s voice was soft and gentle, as if she knew how each word was twisting Clare’s insides.
‘I’d rather not,’ Clare said firmly. ‘My mother’s involvement in my life is behind me. She wanted out, and I want to keep it that way.’ London or not, proximity didn’t mean they were any closer to reconnecting.
Tam reached across the table and took Clare’s hand. ‘It’s not always that easy to separate the past from the present,’ she said. ‘And sometimes it’s better not to. You and your mum could still have a relationship if you gave her a chance.’
Clare raised her eyebrows at Tam’s words. A relationship? As if! People didn’t change that easily, and if Mum had been able to choose a new life over her daughter once, she’d ditch her again, if need be. And what was Tam on about, claiming it was better not to separate the past from the present? When the past included a mother who abandoned you, Clare didn’t doubt for a second she was better off keeping those memories high up on a shelf, gathering as much dust as they possibly could. The only way to look was forward—in life and relationships.
A dart of sadness hit as she pictured Edward’s dark eyes, an expression of tenderness on his face as he typed this morning’s message. Was
Clare nodded, her eyes fixed firmly on Tam’s face. Yes, she remembered Tam telling her something like that, along with the fact that Clare’s mother wanted her to get in touch. Clare hadn’t even considered it—Mum hadn’t been in contact for years after she’d left, and Clare wasn’t going to rekindle the relationship now.
Grimacing, she recalled how devastated she’d been on her sixteenth birthday when Mum failed to ring. Despite the years of silence, Clare had been convinced Mum would call—she’d always said turning sixteen was a major milestone, and she couldn’t wait to celebrate with her daughter. Clare’s friends had tried to persuade her to go out, but she’d made an excuse to linger by the phone.
The phone had stayed silent, and Clare had lain on her bed for hours, staring glumly at the ceiling. Finally, Tam had knocked on the door with a piece of her legendary chocolate cake and a glass of juice .
‘There’s more of that downstairs, along with some presents from Dad and me. Why don’t you come on down and we can celebrate your sixteenth together?’ She’d smiled and reached out to touch Clare’s shoulder, but Clare had shrugged her off, wrapping her arms around her knees.
‘I’m busy,’ she’d mumbled, not even making the effort to look occupied. Tam would get the hint.
But something must have been wrong with Tam’s radar, because she didn’t leave the room. Instead, she’d sat down beside Clare on the bed. Clare had shifted, not wanting anyone to see the hurt and anger on her face.
‘Love, I know you were hoping your mother would get in touch, and I’m sorry you haven’t heard from her. I’m sure she’s thinking about you and she’ll call when she can. In the meantime, your father and I are all set to celebrate with you.’ She’d leaned over and stroked Clare’s hair, and Clare had jerked away.
‘I don’t want you or Dad. I want Mum!’ The words burst from her in a shout, and as soon as she’d said them, she realised it was her mother she was angry with, not Tam. But it was too late; they were out.
Without saying more, Tam had got up and walked away. She’d closed the door softly behind her, and Clare had felt even worse than before. And when she’d crept downstairs and noticed the huge chocolate cake Tam had decorated for her, along with the elaborately wrapped gifts that clearly weren’t the work of her father, guilt squeezed her gut like a vice.
‘Your mum wasn’t sure how to reach you now,’ Tam continued, ‘so she contacted us here. She’s accepted a job in London, at King’s College working in the fundraising office. She still wants to see you . . . or at least get in touch.’ Tam’s voice was soft and gentle, as if she knew how each word was twisting Clare’s insides.
‘I’d rather not,’ Clare said firmly. ‘My mother’s involvement in my life is behind me. She wanted out, and I want to keep it that way.’ London or not, proximity didn’t mean they were any closer to reconnecting.
Tam reached across the table and took Clare’s hand. ‘It’s not always that easy to separate the past from the present,’ she said. ‘And sometimes it’s better not to. You and your mum could still have a relationship if you gave her a chance.’
Clare raised her eyebrows at Tam’s words. A relationship? As if! People didn’t change that easily, and if Mum had been able to choose a new life over her daughter once, she’d ditch her again, if need be. And what was Tam on about, claiming it was better not to separate the past from the present? When the past included a mother who abandoned you, Clare didn’t doubt for a second she was better off keeping those memories high up on a shelf, gathering as much dust as they possibly could. The only way to look was forward—in life and relationships.
A dart of sadness hit as she pictured Edward’s dark eyes, an expression of tenderness on his face as he typed this morning’s message. Was
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