When the reality of what I’d done hit me, I’d almost had a nervous breakdown with the guilt. Mum and Dad had no idea what was wrong with me, and I couldn’t tell them. How could I confess that I was responsible for someone’s death? I’d been a mess, couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t go to school, then one day Mum persuaded me to go shopping and in one of the stores I saw a canvas of a Buddha sitting cross-legged on the ground, hands in his lap. The background was shades of orange and the figurein brown. Written beside the Buddha were the words, ‘Peace comes from understanding and accepting that which is’.
It was as if the painting spoke to me, that the words were just for me. I stared at it, taking in the message, letting it sink into my soul. I had been a child, only seven, I hadn’t realised the consequences of my actions. I hadn’t meant any harm. I don’t know how long I stared at the painting, letting the words heal me, but Mum must have noticed because she said, ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Would you like it for your room?’ I’d nodded, wordlessly. So she bought the painting, I carried it all the way home and that evening Dad hung it on my bedroom wall. That was when I started to forgive myself and heal. I brought it with me when me and Nick moved into this house, and he put it on the wall so that I could look at it whenever I wanted to.
As I sip my drink I mull over the events of yesterday. What, in the law of averages, was the chance that the husband of the woman whose death I caused would marry my mum? It was so far-fetched it seemed like something you would read in a book. Twenty-five years have passed and we’ve never bumped into them, probably never would have if Mum hadn’t joined the Agatha Christie Facebook group. And to think it was me and Nick who had encouraged her.
I knew that she had become friendly with one of the members of the group, but I didn’t realise how friendly. I’d popped in to have a cup of tea and chat with her and had been surprised to see her all dressed up, and wearing makeup.
‘Are you going out?’ I asked, and she confessed that she was meeting someone for lunch, George from the online Agatha Christie group.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea, Mum?’ I asked. ‘You don’t really know this man.’
‘I do.’ Her cheeks reddened and she fidgeted with her necklace. ‘We’ve been talking on FaceTime a lot. He’s really nice and we get on well. He’s a widower, his wife died years ago.’
I was amazed to hear that she’d actually been video-calling him. And by the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes she was quite taken with him.
Part of me was pleased for her. It had been years since Dad had died and I hated to see Mum alone and sad, but another part of me couldn’t help worrying. You hear such tales about meeting people on the Internet. What if this George had picked up on how lonely and vulnerable Mum was and planned to exploit her?
‘I think I should come with you,’ I said to my shame. I was acting like an overprotective parent!
‘You will not!’ she retorted emphatically. ‘I’m not a child, And I’m not stupid either. I’m meeting George in a public place and we’re having lunch together. Then we’re both going back to our respective homes.’ Her voice had softened. ‘Look, I understand your concern and it’s great that you care so much about me, but I promise I will be fine.’
I swallowed down my fears and nodded. ‘Of course you will. Take no notice of me. I hope it goes really well for you.’
‘Thank you, dear.’ She buttoned up her coat. ‘I’ll pop around when I’m back and let you know, shall I?’
‘Yes, please.’
I hugged her and left. But all afternoon I’d worried and was so relieved when I got a text from her to say that she was on the train home and that George was just as lovely in person as he was online. She promised to call around later, after dinner, and tell us all about it.
She arrived in time to say goodnight to the children, tuck them up in bed and read them a bedtime story. Then she sat down with me and Nick and, with sparkling eyes, told us that sheand George had hit it off right away and were planning on seeing each other again.
‘He lives in Gloucester, and he has a butcher’s shop there. He’s driving over on Sunday and we’re going out for the day,’ she told us.
I wanted to ask her if he was driving home afterwards or staying the night, but I managed to stop myself. Talk about role-reversal. Instead I told her I hoped she had a super day and we’d be delighted to meet George when she was ready.
When Mum left, Nick remarked that he hadn’t seen her so happy for a long time. I was still worried.
‘I hope this George doesn’t break her heart,’ I said, and Nick pulled me in for a hug, kissed me, and told me that Mum could look after herself and to stop fretting.
A dog barks in the distance, pulling me temporarily out of my thoughts. I stand up and walk into the kitchen, putting my cup in the dishwasher. I’d expected to dislike George, but as soon as I met him I could see that he adored Mum. And they both deserved a second chance at love. George’s wife had died years before, and he had moved over to Gloucester to live by his sister Sheila, who had helped him take care of the children.
‘That’s so tragic. How did she die?’ I asked when Mum told me, but she said that she didn’t know. ‘He doesn’t like to talk about it. He says that there’s no point in dwelling on the past.’
I thought that was good advice. That’s what I should do. Going over and over the past had made me ill. I had to leave it behind and move forward.
Then, a couple of months ago, Mum had a mini stroke. It was a worrying time for us all but luckily she was treated quickly, given medication and told to get on with her life. I was shakento think that I’d almost lost my mum. So was George, and he instantly proposed. Mum accepted and I was so pleased for her.
I didn’t expect them to marry so quickly, but as they both said, there isn’t time to waste at their age. I had almost lost Mum and wanted her to be safe and happy. I was relieved to think that she’d now have George to look after her.
How could I know that by bringing George into our lives, Mum was dragging up a past I desperately wanted to forget?
I don’t think I can cope with this, being in such close contact with the family whose lives I tore apart. I want to unburden myself, apologise. Explain. I’m terrified of the reaction if I do, though, and worried about how I’m going to cope with the guilt if I don’t. It almost destroyed me once and I don’t want that to happen again.
11
LIZZIE
I’m tired but it’s almost seven, too late to go back to bed, so I doze on the sofa until Grace comes bouncing in. ‘I went into your room, Mummy, and you weren’t there.’
