Mum.”
“But Bree won’t be with you.” Susan burst into tears.
Merle listened to her crying for half an hour, interspersing patient silence with assurances that everything was going to be all right and she would never leave her mother the same way Bree had abandoned her. She suppressed the resentment and irritation that rose within her when she uttered those promises. She’s sick , Merle told herself repeatedly as Susan wailed on. She needs someone to look after her, and I’m the eldest. Bree has her own family now—it’s up to me to bear this responsibility.
But even though she was sure the illness was controlling her mother’s outrageous accusations and demands, Merle couldn’t stop the odd wave of bitterness sweeping over her. It wasn’t her fault she was the eldest. What would have happened if she’d met Mr. Right before Bree? What would her mother have done if Merle had already been married, maybe pregnant, and then Bree had met Jake? There was no way Bree would have stayed in the UK out of guilt.
No, Merle knew she would probably have ended up having to look after a young baby and her mother at the same time. Of course many other women in the world had to look after ageing parents. Only usually it happened when the daughter was older, in her forties or fifties, with teenagers looking to leave home, not to a woman in her twenties, still single, still childless. It was all so unfair.
But then Susan started talking about how much she missed Merle’s father, and all the guilt came rushing back. Susan hated being single. Sometimes Merle thought her mother was more resentful at being left alone than she was upset at her father dying. Then she felt guilty again. It seemed there was no end to that emotion where your mother was concerned.
At some point Bree came into the room, and Merle was well aware her sister was casting her angry looks as she made her promises, but she took no notice. She didn’t bear Bree any resentment for escaping while she could, but she did get cross when Bree judged her for the way she lived her life.
Eventually she passed the phone over to Bree, who sat there and listened to her mother’s wails for a whole five minutes before standing up, hands on hips. “I’m sorry, Mum, I’m not going to listen to this,” she said, making Merle stare in shock. “I’ve got better things to do. You know I love you, and I’m sorry you miss me, but I’m enjoying my life here and you should be happy for me rather than berating me all the time. I’ll speak to you later.” She gave Merle the phone and walked out of the room.
Merle listened to her mother rant for another ten minutes before extricating herself from the conversation. She was sitting on the bed, staring at the phone in her hand, when Bree came back into the room.
Bree faced her, arms crossed, her face thunderous. “Why do you put up with her? She asks you to make all those stupid promises—things a parent should never ask of their children.”
“She misses you, and she’s not feeling well. She’s been having headaches again, and she’s still convinced the cancer hasn’t gone. She’s just vulnerable and fragile, that’s all.”
“That’s not all.” Bree shook with anger. “She’s manipulative and controlling and unreasonable. How dare she make you promise never to leave her? What about your own life? Doesn’t it enter her head you might like to travel or move away from England?”
“Bree, she’s no different from any other parent of that age group. They never travelled, and in their eyes, when they reach old age, they should be looked after by their children. It’s what happened when they were young and it’s very difficult for them to see any other way.”
“Bollocks. She knows she’s got it easy when you’re there to wait on her hand and foot. And she’s hardly old, Merle, she’s only forty-seven, for Christ’s sake. She’s young enough to meet another man, if she’d stop feeling sorry for
“But Bree won’t be with you.” Susan burst into tears.
Merle listened to her crying for half an hour, interspersing patient silence with assurances that everything was going to be all right and she would never leave her mother the same way Bree had abandoned her. She suppressed the resentment and irritation that rose within her when she uttered those promises. She’s sick , Merle told herself repeatedly as Susan wailed on. She needs someone to look after her, and I’m the eldest. Bree has her own family now—it’s up to me to bear this responsibility.
But even though she was sure the illness was controlling her mother’s outrageous accusations and demands, Merle couldn’t stop the odd wave of bitterness sweeping over her. It wasn’t her fault she was the eldest. What would have happened if she’d met Mr. Right before Bree? What would her mother have done if Merle had already been married, maybe pregnant, and then Bree had met Jake? There was no way Bree would have stayed in the UK out of guilt.
No, Merle knew she would probably have ended up having to look after a young baby and her mother at the same time. Of course many other women in the world had to look after ageing parents. Only usually it happened when the daughter was older, in her forties or fifties, with teenagers looking to leave home, not to a woman in her twenties, still single, still childless. It was all so unfair.
But then Susan started talking about how much she missed Merle’s father, and all the guilt came rushing back. Susan hated being single. Sometimes Merle thought her mother was more resentful at being left alone than she was upset at her father dying. Then she felt guilty again. It seemed there was no end to that emotion where your mother was concerned.
At some point Bree came into the room, and Merle was well aware her sister was casting her angry looks as she made her promises, but she took no notice. She didn’t bear Bree any resentment for escaping while she could, but she did get cross when Bree judged her for the way she lived her life.
Eventually she passed the phone over to Bree, who sat there and listened to her mother’s wails for a whole five minutes before standing up, hands on hips. “I’m sorry, Mum, I’m not going to listen to this,” she said, making Merle stare in shock. “I’ve got better things to do. You know I love you, and I’m sorry you miss me, but I’m enjoying my life here and you should be happy for me rather than berating me all the time. I’ll speak to you later.” She gave Merle the phone and walked out of the room.
Merle listened to her mother rant for another ten minutes before extricating herself from the conversation. She was sitting on the bed, staring at the phone in her hand, when Bree came back into the room.
Bree faced her, arms crossed, her face thunderous. “Why do you put up with her? She asks you to make all those stupid promises—things a parent should never ask of their children.”
“She misses you, and she’s not feeling well. She’s been having headaches again, and she’s still convinced the cancer hasn’t gone. She’s just vulnerable and fragile, that’s all.”
“That’s not all.” Bree shook with anger. “She’s manipulative and controlling and unreasonable. How dare she make you promise never to leave her? What about your own life? Doesn’t it enter her head you might like to travel or move away from England?”
“Bree, she’s no different from any other parent of that age group. They never travelled, and in their eyes, when they reach old age, they should be looked after by their children. It’s what happened when they were young and it’s very difficult for them to see any other way.”
“Bollocks. She knows she’s got it easy when you’re there to wait on her hand and foot. And she’s hardly old, Merle, she’s only forty-seven, for Christ’s sake. She’s young enough to meet another man, if she’d stop feeling sorry for
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