Because I wanted to teach, but I might have found it a bit of a challenge when I was struggling to speak,you insensitive cow.Fuming inside, Laura braced herself to walk back into the bedroom, then stopped, and baulked, as she realised Sherry was poking around in her wardrobe. ‘M-M-Mu …’ she started, and then paused and forced the word out. ‘Mum! What are youdoing?’
Her back towards her, her mother didn’t answer for a second. Then, ‘Why have you kept this?’ she asked, her face drained of all colour as she turned around.
Laura’s stomach tightened, her gaze going from her mother’s shocked expression to the photograph she held in her hand, one of the few precious photographs she had, which she’d printed and also scaled down for her locket. She found the physical photo of him brought him closer somehow.
Stand up to her.Her heart boomed. There was no reason she shouldn’t have a photograph. He’d gone, leaving nothing but the memory of him, but he’d existed. Existed still. Laura could see him in the eyes of the children who miraculously came into her life; she could hear his melodic laugh when they laughed. Destroying photographs of him couldn’t eradicate him. ‘There’s no harm in keeping it,’ she said, notching her chin up, trying to look braver than she felt.
Sherry’s mouth dropped open, and then her expression darkened. ‘Youknowhow painful the memories are for me,’ she hissed, her voice hoarse with disbelief. ‘How hard I’ve worked to protect you. Burying myowngrief in the process.’ She slapped the flat of her hand against her chest, as if she were capable of feeling.
Laura felt anger well up like corrosive acid inside her. ‘Are you sure it’s me you’ve been protecting?’ she asked, finally finding the courage to challenge her. She had nothing to back up her challenge with, nothing but fleeting images that floated tauntingly away before she could catch them. She’d heard him sobbing. Shehad. In her dreams and her waking nightmares, shestillheard him sobbing. Sometimes, as she walked the fine line between sleep and wakefulness, she heard him calling plaintively, ‘Mummy,Mummy!’ – a tiny child alone and frightened in the night.
Her mother and Grant had been arguing. Abouther. It came to her with blinding clarity. She’d heardthem.High-pitched screaming, a male voice growling, glass breaking, doors slamming, the patio doors. Hehadbeen crying! It hadn’t been the imaginings of her bloodysubconscious.
‘Do you want to rake this all up again?’ Her mother snatched her back to the present. ‘Have people digging into your past?’
Your past.Laura’s blood pumped.
‘Reporters raking it all over, pointing fingers at his grieving family? Asking you questions you’ll stutter and stumble over answering?’
Fear pierced Laura’s heart like an icicle. Knowing she would be incapable of making the word ‘no’ spill from her mouth, she shook her head hard. She didn’t want that. She couldn’t have it. Not now. She wanted her mother to leave her alone. For everyone to leave her alone. All she wanted to do was to care for the little boy who’d come into her life. She couldn’t let him down. She had to keep him safe.
‘For God’s sake, Laura.’ Sherry fixed her with a reproachful glare. ‘Hasn’t this family been through enough?’
‘It’s painful for me too!’ Laura cried as her mother swept past her to the landing. ‘Mmmuch more p-p-painful …’ Her voice trailed to a whisper as she heard Sherry descending the stairs, muttering, ‘Selfish,selfishgirl,’ as she went.
She’d found her house keys then. Fifteen minutes later, Laura watched from the landing, hatred burning inside her, as her mother strode to the front door, heaving her luggage along with her. Her heart stalled when Steve opened it from the outside just as Sherry reached it. She’d guessed he would have to meet her mother at some point, but she’d hoped it would be under circumstances that wouldn’t require her to explain away her mother’s interference in her life.
‘Evening,’ Steve said, looking Sherry over, bemused, as she bustled past.
She didn’t answer him. Didn’t even so much as acknowledge him, marching onwards instead towards the waiting taxi she’d called.
Steve watched her go, then closed the door with a shake of his head and turned his puzzled gaze to Laura.
‘Mymmmother,’ she enlightened him. ‘We had a row and, um …’ The words catching in her throat, she stopped, turned her gaze to the ceiling and blinked hard.
‘Hey, hey.’ Seeing she was upset, Steve bounded up the stairs. ‘It wasn’t that bad, surely?’ he said, pulling her into his arms.
Strong arms. Tanned and toned from working largely outdoors. Protective arms. He was a good man. A fundamentally nice man, if a little too trusting. Laura relaxed into him, rested her head on his shoulder and allowed herself to feel safe, just for a second. She wished she could stay in his embrace forever, but it was impossible. Her mother would make sure it was. She shook herself mentally. It would be different this time. She would stop her. She had to. She couldn’t lose him. Shewouldn’tlose Ollie.
‘It was,’ she said, easing away from him. ‘She can be a bit … dictatorial sometimes.’ With no way to tell him why she was so distraught, she improvised. ‘It drives me mad.’
‘I’m sure she’s just trying to look out for you.’ Steve followed her to the bedroom.
Control me, Laura thought.
‘My mum was always telling me I should do this and do that,’ Steve went on good-humouredly. ‘Course, I thought I knew better. Turns out she was right, more often than not.’
He’d obviously had a normal child/parent relationship. He’d certainly loved his father. She envied him that. He wouldn’t be quite so charitable about Sherry if he knew why Laura could never feel that way about her.
‘She’ll be back,’ he said reassuringly.
‘I’m sure she will,’ Laura muttered, and set about looking for the photograph her mother had discarded somewhere. She didn’t want Steve seeing it.
‘You sure you’re all right?’ he asked as she plucked the discarded clothes Sherry had brought her from the bed, hoping the photograph was underneath. It wasn’t there.
‘Yes, fine, honestly.’ Scouring the floor around her, she gave him a distracted smile. ‘She just rubs me up the wrong way sometimes, that’s all.’
‘Yep, my mother did that, too.’ Steve sighed. ‘She meant well, though.’
