I want to say more, to tell her that I understand. But I’m not sure what to say. To be honest, I’m not sure I can empathise, I’ve never felt like that with Bill. Never. He always understands me. It must be so hard to live that way, always trying to make yourself more palatable. The most vital parts of you, always taken with a degree of misunderstanding. And then me, the one woman she thinks can understand her, misunderstanding. Lost for words.
‘You can always talk to me. The women have to stick together.’
I say, squeezing her hand, and then quickly getting up to make the tea, hoping it was enough. She’s a nice girl, she’s just different. I want to move things on, but I’m not sure how. I look out the window and see Peggy stroking the cats, and I feel my heart melt.
‘Isn’t Peggy as good as gold? Such a dote.’
As I turn with the teapot, I see Anna rolling her eyes. I pretend not to have noticed.
‘Did you ever want a child?’
She has a real talent for catching me off guard. She must hate me for wanting to spend time with Peggy. She must want to tell me that I need to grow up, to remember that Peggy isn’t mine. I don’t see the point in lying to her.
‘I always wanted a child. Always.’
I pull my eyes away from Peggy and go back to the table. She seems surprised by my frankness. Well, if she’s going to be startling, I’ll join her.
‘Why haven’t you had any so?’
She should know better than to ask that. But there is something refreshing about the way she just speaks her mind. It makes me feel like I could do the same. I take a deep breath.
‘It just never worked out.’
Such a short sentence to sum up so many long years of disappointment. And while such a short sentence betrays everything I’ve been through, I find it is all I can manage. And she surprises me once more.
‘It could definitely happen yet.’
By the look on her face, she really means it. And I find myself relaxing with her again, because I didn’t expect to reveal so much of myself to her, so readily. Maybe she isn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe she’s refreshing, in a way that I need.
‘Would you want a few of your own?’
I ask, realising that with Anna, I have no idea what is coming next. She laughs.
‘I’d be scared to.’
Afraid of the most natural thing in the world. Isn’t it funny? She goes on.
‘Oh, it’s all of it. The men. The birthing. Our mammy died having Peggy, you know? It can just happen so fast.’
‘God rest her.’
I try not to let my face fall. Opening the window to let some fresh air in, we can hear Peggy talking to the cats. I would never have guessed. The mere mention of her mother brings a gloss to Anna’s eyes. I suppose we’ve both said something very personal now. It evens us out.
Then, something catches me: didn’t Bill say that their mother died only recently? That was the reason he gave for leaving Miltown, wasn’t it?
‘Typical, that you’d give anything for a child, and I’m afraid to have one.’
She says, and I laugh, because I only half heard her and I’m not sure what else to do. Poor Peggy, did she never know her mother at all?
‘Aren’t we hard to please?’
Peggy comes back in saying that one of the cats scrawled her. When I look at her arm, there is nothing there, but still I take her in my lap and give her the attention she wants. Anna and I go on talking about quieter things for a while, and Peggy stays in my lap, her fidgeting hands slowing down. It’s lovely, everything feels so soft. Maybe it’s something to do with letting things out. The clock in the hall strikes. The lads will be back up from the farm any minute.
‘Will you go and find Bill and Tom for me?’
I whisper to Peggy. She yawns and looks at Anna, who nods. And so she gets down and goes out the door for them. I didn’t realise she was dozing. To have never known her mother and father. What does that do to a child? When my own mother died, I felt like I had lost a limb. Perhaps Peggy hasn’t lost a limb, perhaps she was born without one.
Anna
