Hope stood beside her mother in the kitchen later that day. Her brothers were outside playing, and every time she heard them laugh or shout to one another, she felt the tug to join them like a pain in her chest.
‘How was school today?’ her mother asked.
She smiled. ‘It was good.’
‘Did you learn anything interesting?’
Hope nodded. She found everything interesting, but she knew she had to be careful about how much she said. ‘I don’t want to stop going to school,’ she whispered, telling her mother what was on her mind. ‘It’s not fair that we have to be in here in this hot kitchen, getting dinner ready, and the boys do whatever they want. Why can’t we choose what we do, too?’
Her mother sighed, before setting down the knife she’d been using to chop vegetables and turning to Hope. ‘It might not be fair, but it’s a woman’s job.’
‘But why? Why is it a woman’s job? Who says so?’
This time her mother just shook her head. ‘Hope, you ask too many questions. The world is just the way the world is. There’s only so long your father is going to let you go to school. He won’t let me decide for you for much longer.’
She bit down on her lip to stop from saying anything that might upset her mother, even though she wanted to ask why it was that her father made all the decisions for the house.
‘I wish things could be different for you, Hope. But it’s not an easy road being a woman. Sometimes we just have to accept the life we’ve been given.’ Her mother looked out of the window, as if she were in her own little world, and when Hope saw her brush at her eyes, she reached for her hand, holding it tightly in her own. She didn’t know what was wrong; all she knew was that her mother was sad and she wanted to help make the tears go away.
‘Did you wish for a different life, Maman?’ she whispered.
She watched her mother’s throat move as she swallowed, and when she finally looked back down at her, her tears were gone. But she knew her mother had wished for more one day, she’d told her so. Her mother had once lived in England and often spoke English at home to Hope, even naming her after one of her favourite English names, although Hope knew her father had wished for a traditional French name for his eldest daughter.
‘Questions like that only lead to disappointment,’ her mother said. ‘Now hurry along and finish those vegetables, and then you can go and play with your brothers for a little bit. I know you want to be out there climbing trees.’
Hope didn’t need to be told twice, and she quickly chopped and peeled until they were done. But as she was untying her apron, her mother dropped a kiss onto the top of her head.
‘You’re a good girl, Hope,’ she murmured. ‘I’m so very proud of you.’
Hope looked up at her mother, and it was only then she noticed a bruise colouring the side of her neck. She quicklylooked away, but as she ran outside, she couldn’t stop thinking about how tightly her father had held her mother’s wrist that morning, and she hoped this new bruise had nothing to do with her mother saying she could go to school.
6
PRESENT DAY
Mia sat across from her boss, glancing out of the window at the grey clouds billowing through the sky. Her boss was on a phone call and made another apologetic gesture, but Mia didn’t mind. It gave her longer to figure out what she was going to say, because now that she was sitting in her boss’s office, she was feeling distinctly tongue-tied.
‘Mia! So sorry. How can I help?’
The woman seated across from her was friendly, her smile genuine as she leaned forward in her seat. Mia had liked Tabitha from the moment they’d met, but she realised then that they barely knew anything about each other. But when her eyes fell on the photograph on her boss’s desk, she knew it was time to change that.
‘You have a beautiful family,’ Mia said.
That lit up Tabitha’s face. ‘They’re older now. That picture was taken five years ago, so they’re more gangly teens than round-faced kids, but they’re great company.’ Tabitha turned back to her. ‘You don’t have children, do you? I’m trying to remember, but—’Mia took a breath. ‘We’d always planned to, but my…’ She paused and fought for the right words, notwanting to stumble now.Just keep it simple. ‘My fiancé actually passed away five years ago. He was involved in an accident.’
Tabitha’s face fell in a way that immediately made Mia want to overcompensate and tell her that everything was fine, that it was a long time ago now. But she didn’t. Not today. She knew that if she wanted to move forward, she needed to accept that look and move past it.
‘I’m sorry,’ her boss said.
‘Thank you,’ Mia said.Be brave, be brave, be brave. ‘I still miss him every day, but the reason you don’t know is because I’ve fought for that anonymity ever since the accident. At the time, I found it was easier for people not to know, and to be honest, it still is.’
‘I understand.’ Tabitha leaned back in her seat and studied Mia. ‘But I have a feeling you didn’t come here today to talk about your personal life.’
Mia grinned, loving how straight to the point she was. It had also been easier than she’d expected to be honest about her past, and it was refreshing, if nothing else. ‘When you hired me, you very kindly overlooked my limited portfolio of published writing and offered me the job anyway. Something I’ll always be grateful for.’
Tabitha shrugged, either because she couldn’t remember, or because she didn’t think it important. Perhaps it was a combination of both. ‘I must have been impressed by your samples if I hired you, but continue anyway.’
‘What I didn’t tell you at the time was that I had an extensive portfolio of published photography,’ she said. ‘Until Ethan passed away, I’d spent my adult life travelling the world and making a name for myself as a photographer, but when I started here, I was looking for a change.’
