“Would you like pickled onions or chutney, Nell?” her mother asked.
Neither. I’d like Mattie. The woman you see on the screen there, that’s her. The woman I love. “Chutney, please.”
Mattie’s report segued into scenes at a medical facility.
“Do put the salad cream down on the table. Your father will be most disappointed if you drop it.”
“I’m listening to this.” Nell ignored her mother’s disapproving tut, her eyes fixated on the screen.
“Doctor Zabu Bruneau is an obstetrician with one of the aid charities working alongside Turkish medics at the field hospital set up in the car park of the now abandoned building. Many of the pregnant women she and the team have treated are suffering from trauma and hardship.”
Zabu, as in Mattie’s friend-with-benefits? It was an unusual name. How many doctors shared that name and worked for a disaster relief charity?
“Naturally, our patients are stressed and worried about the effect it’ll have on their pregnancy. Getting a check-up and being able to see their unborn child on an ultrasound scan is reassuring.” The name Dr Zabu Bruneau appeared in a caption at the bottom of the screen as she talked. Itwasher.
The camera returned to Mattie. “While we were filming, a woman arrived at the clinic, three weeks before her due date. Elif lost her own mother in the earthquake. After a four-hour labour, she gave birth to her son. It was, Elif said, her first sign of hope.”
Nell watched as the new mother presented her son to the camera. Tears lined the woman’s pallid cheeks. She begged for help for her city, fearing the world she had brought him into. Nell saw the fear clear in Elif’s eyes, though there was wonder and love there too, as she gazed at her baby and clung to Dr Bruneau’s hand.
Zabu and Mattie were in Turkey together, two career-minded women with a shared history. If Mattie was in need of comfort, Dr Bruneau would be there for her.
Something smashed. A woman, quietly sobbing. And then Nell’s name being called, over and over. She snapped out of her trance. Her hands were empty. She looked down. She was standing in a pool of yellow salad cream and broken glass. “Sorry.”
“Really, Nell. I did warn you to be careful,” her mother said, her annoyance obvious as she went to the sink and wrung out a cloth. “Use this. I’ll have to see if there’s another bottle of salad cream in the pantry.”
Nell fell to her knees. She should clean up the mess.
Caroline put her hand on Nell’s shoulder. “What’s up with you?” her sister asked. “I haven’t seen you cry in years.”
Nell looked up at the TV. Mattie was still on screen but Nell couldn’t hear her. Mother must have turned the volume down.
Caroline followed her gaze. “Dreadful business. Those poor people. Is that what’s upset you?”
Nell shook her head. She slumped back onto her heels and stared at Mattie. Caroline disappeared briefly and then returned to the kitchen.
“I’ve convinced Mother that she needs to take a breather in the living room while you and I clean up this mess,” she said, ripping pieces of kitchen towel paper off a roll. “So if it isn’t the news that’s upset you, what has?”
Nell closed her eyes. Once she uttered the words, she couldn’t erase them. But her mouth opened anyway. “It’s her.”
Confusion crossed Caroline’s face.
“Her.” Nell jabbed a finger at the TV. “The journalist.”
“What about her?”
“She’s...she’s my...” Nell hesitated. How should she describe Mattie? Lover, girlfriend, partner? “I’m in love with her.”
Caroline chuckled, then her laughter died. “Oh, dear god. You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Nell bowed her head. She couldn’t bear to see if there was distaste or revulsion on her sister’s face. Caroline was the most liberal of all of her family. If she was disgusted, then there’d be no hope of understanding from any of the others.
Caroline dropped to her knees beside Nell. “Here.” She handed Nell some kitchen towel.
Nell took it and started to wipe up the mess. Caroline snapped on a pair of their mother’s pink rubber gloves and scooped up shards of glass. “I have to admit to being surprised. I didn’t know you were that way inclined. You hid it well.”
“I hid it from myself for a long while.” Nell dumped the sodden tissue into a rubbish bag that Caroline had placed between them.
“Is it a knee-jerk reaction because of,” Caroline scrubbed at the grout between the tiles, “Gavin?”
