‘I’m sorry, Mum. Truly sorry. I wish I’d known. I have so many questions.’
Pam swallowed and spoke as if she wanted the questions dealt with as quickly as possible. ‘Three months. A boy; we named him Owen. I never fell pregnant again.’
Tears burst through Cherry’s defences. ‘Owen.’ A baby brother called Owen. ‘Did they tell you why it happened?’ She rubbed her eyes with her cuff.
Pam shook her head. ‘They mentioned stress. They also said I got very lucky having you at all.’
‘I’m so sorry. That’s not helpful advice at all.’
‘No, no, it isn’t, but I accepted it because I had you. I took the word lucky and focused on that.’
‘That makes sense. But all this time, you’ve known exactly what I went through. Why did you never tell me? It might have helped us both feel less alone. Helped me feel less like it was my fault.’
Pam held her cup in both hands. Her face held an expression of sadness that provoked the hope of honesty. ‘Some things are too difficult to talk about, even years later. I’ve never thought it was your fault, only that there were certain things you could have prioritised to help yourself fulfil your dreams.’
A sharp tang of laughter burst from Cherry. ‘Thatisblaming me.’
‘It isn’t meant to. There are things I could have done, too.’ Pam smoothed the handle of the cup. ‘Like asking your dad to stop working all the hours, stop smoking in the house, stop drinking so much as it caused me stress. But I didn’t.So, all I ever wanted was for you not to make the same mistakes I did.’
Cherry studied the glowing woman in the photograph. How had that happy lady, excited for the future, become this troubled, complicated person sitting before her now?
‘By never telling me why you were so critical of my lifestyle?’
‘Was I?’ Pam seemed genuinely puzzled.
‘Yes. Cherry lifted her fingers into air quotes. ‘“Travelling around the world playing poker is no way to carry a baby to term.” Criticising my choice in men.’
‘Well, how many pregnant women play poker for a living? And Dale was wrong for you. Take it from someone who married a man who liked a drink. I loved your dad dearly, but his bad habits ruined us. Sean, though,I like him.’
Cherry took a long blink, recovering from the words that scalded. ‘That’s nice, Mum. I like him too. I love him, and I need him. You know, I thought it was all going to be fine, then you did that reading with the death card and you said that I had to leave some things behind me. Some dreams.’
‘That can mean so many things, Cherry. I want you to go into the future with your eyes open.’
‘Eyes open to the empty road ahead? The empty nest? I have dreams, Mum. Sean has dreams. And when I don’t think you believe in me, it makes it so hard to let someone else put their faith in me.’
‘Oh, Cherry.’ Pam adopted a soothing tone, but Cherry heard the patronising undercurrent. ‘You know that my saying you’re worth something won’t solve things if you don’t believe it yourself.’
‘I get that, but it would be the start I need. You’re mymum. If anyone is meant to believe in me, it’s you. Do you know how crushing it is to think that your own mother thinks you’re wasted potential? No potential?’
The light in Pam’s eyes darkened. ‘I don’t think that at all. But we don’t all get our own cheerleading squad. It’s not something I heard a lot from my mother, you know? Nobody said “I love you” to their children when I was growing up.’
‘Okay, fine, but did she tell you to let your dreams die? Did she watch you lose four babies and tell you to accept? Mum, I had four miscarriages. Four! Did you ever think that might be an ever-so-slightly insensitive way of helping me cope?’
Pam rose from the banquette, started tidying away the biscuits and mugs. ‘I’ve only ever dealt with life in the best way I could. I know everyone is more open these days, talking about their feelings and sharing everything, but that isn’t me, Cherry.’
Cherry rubbed the scratchy fabric of the seat. It was hard to be emotionally open when you hadn’t had a role model since you were thirteen. ‘Allow me, Mum. I love you. And I’m sorry you went through that and that it’s taken until I’m thirty-seven to find out about it.’
Silence. Even the neighbour had stopped singing. Pam looked at the table and at Cherry, her eyes glassy. Those three words might have flicked a switch in her. Cherry waited. Her mum fumbled with the mugs before letting her hands rest on the counter surface.
‘I’m sorry, too, darling. But I’m just… Oh, it was your dad who was good at all this stuff.’
‘But he’s not here, Mum. He’s been gone for over twenty years. It’s only us now.’ Cherry stood to meet her mother.
‘What is it you need from me, Cherry?’
‘I don’t know. To know that you have my back. The doctors said it wasn’t my fault, but I feel like you think it was. These things happen, right? To good people who didn’t do anything wrong. And some people have lots of miscarriages and go on to have babies.’
Pam nodded. ‘Yes, that’s true. Please, don’t listen to me; listen to the doctors. I come from a different time where everyone blamed women and nobody talked to counsellors like they do now.’
