‘You always say that.’
‘Do I?’ It was official: she was turning into her mother. God help them all!
Her daughter nodded and flattened her legs.
‘How was cheerleading squad? What did you learn?’
‘Not much.’
‘I see.’ Harper was at the odd in-between age; neither child nor teen. Her joy seemed to fluctuate, displaying wild excitement for the most mundane of chores to suddenly sighing as if she carried the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders. Today, it appeared, her daughter erred towards the latter. Remy understood. Being ten was an age that had stuck in her mind for a million reasons, and Harper was right: it was a lot.
This was your chance! Your one bloody chance! And you’ve blown it! It makes no sense, like being offered a raffle ticket where the prize is the best thing you can possibly imagine and not taking it!
This was one of the only times she had heard her dad lose his temper, raise his voice. She remembered how it had felt, wanting to crawl inside her skin and hide, wanting to run out of the front door and go far, far away. It had changed her, shaped her, that and the attack, both guiding her along a path that led to home. The place she wanted to stay, the place she felt safe. Somewhere to step inside and close the front door, somewhere warm, while doing herutmost to be the very best daughter she could be for her mum and dad. Trying every day to make amends for ‘letting them down’, for not taking her shot.
‘What’s up, pup?’
‘Nothing.’ Her daughter stared at her blanket, toying with a loose thread.
‘Well, I know yousaynothing, but it feels like something. You don’t seem happy right now, and you’re certainly not chatty and you asked Dad to get you tampons.’ At this, Harper let her gaze flick upwards towards her mother’s face. ‘You’ve got your panty liners at the back of your knicker drawer for when you need them. Tampons have to wait a bit. You can talk to me about anything, anytime. And I know youknowwhat to expect, but is there something you want to tell me? Have you started your periods, Harps? Or feel like you might be? Or are you just feeling a bit ...’ She pulled a face.
‘I haven’t got my period.’ Harper slunk down and flipped over on to her side, head on the pillow, her face away from her.
Remy couldn’t help the relief that swept over her. A reprieve, a while longer for her little girl to be a little girl, without the encumbrance of bleeding, the hormone surges, the slow creep of womanhood that would bring her so much but rob her of so much too. The emotional roller coaster and all that went with vaulting this line from little girl to little girl who menstruated. The fine seam of blood that ran from grandmother to mother and daughter, a slow trickle that left their bodies and changed their lives and made possible some of the greatest things and some of the less favourable. Babies, maturity, discomfort, and more nights coiled around a hot water bottle with Mount Vesuvius on her chin than she cared to remember. Aware of how adulthood and motherhood had been delivered to her within the space of a year; the assault, marriage to Jamie, giving birth, divorce ... A neat parcel of awakening that had taken her years to properly unwrap. Not for her the gentlerealisation through experience of all that existed in the grown-up world. No, hers had been a baptism of fire! One minute she was dancing in the car to ‘Geno’, wondering about kissing boys, and the next she was in the delivery suite, pushing a baby from her body while the bloke she’d met only months before smoked, paced and planned a night out with his mates. It had been ghastly, and to think of it now saddened her as much as it ever had. The one good thing was that it made her yearn for no more than the quiet, violence-free, love-filled life that she now enjoyed.
‘I’m kinda glad you haven’t got your period, little one.’ She toyed with the fine ends of her daughter’s hair.
Maybe Harper would be lucky, lucky like her Auntie Ashleigh, who barely noticed the change in her cycle; the loss and upheaval, in her case, minimal. They had started their periods on the same day, aged thirteen, speech day at St. Jude’s. They had laughed at the fact, as they sat in their pyjamas on the sofa, hot chocolate in their mugs, hot water bottles on their tums. Their dad strangely conspicuous by his absence; ‘Women’s business,’ she’d heard her mum whisper before ushering him up the stairs. A unifying and lovely thing after a day that had confirmed how remote she felt from her sister and her life. Funny she should think of it now.
‘So did you ...’ She trod carefully, aware of the fragility of Harper’s mood. ‘Did you want the tampons for some other reason?’ She was struggling to think what that reason might be – an art project?Unlikely.
‘No-wah!’ Harper banged her little fists on to the mattress.
‘Okay. Okay, love. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on, because I’m your mum and I love you and that’s my job. So, I’m going to stay right here until you let me in on the inside story with the tampons and tell me what the McFly is going on!’
She saw her child’s shoulders shudder with laughter, and it felt good, to know she could still break through the ice of a low mood with no more than a joke, a cookie, or a cuddle.
‘Please look at me. I like seeing your little face.’
Harper twisted around until she was facing her mother. Her mid-brown curls spread out on the pillow. Remy smiled at how beautiful this human was, this little person that she and Midge had made in haste, knowing it was right, certain it was what they wanted; to start their family. A sister for Sophie.
‘Casey and Ella didn’t let me sit with them. They were on the bench, and when I went over to get changed near them, they moved.’
Grrrr ...Remy felt the growl of angry mummy tiger in her gut and knew she had to tread carefully, suppressing any possible rage she might feel towards a couple of young children,becausethey were young children. Not wanting to pour fuel on to a fire that might be no more than a flicker of flame, all doused, smothered and extinguished with love and a friendship bracelet by tomorrow. It happened this way sometimes when girls hung out. Not for the first time she felt a rush of love for Tony, the very best friend they could have asked for. He was all of the fun and none of the meanness. It was a reminder to call him soon. It had been a while.
‘That can’t have felt very nice.’
‘It didn’t.’ Harper’s bottom lip wobbled.
‘Are you sure they did that, or were they distracted, mucking about ...’
‘No, they did that, Mum. They were whispering too.’
‘Urgh, whispering’s the worst! It makes you crazy, thinking of all the things they might be whispering about.’
‘It did.’
Remy reached out and ran her palm over her daughter’s head.
