‘I shouldn’t be allowed near children. That’s a bit rich coming from you. You’ve already driven away the father of your child by being so bloody needy and moody and angry all the time. Now you cling to your daughter as though she’s some kind of possession, not a child in her own right, because she’s all you’ve got left, because you’ve pushed everyone else away. Don’t you dare lecture me about who’s deserving of being a parent and who’s not.’
Audrey senses Jess’s eyes dart towards her but cannot meet her daughter’s gaze. She feels the heat of disloyalty in her cheeks, silently curses Lily for having betrayed confidences about Jess’s broken relationship that Audrey had shared in the belief they would never find their way back.
There is a moment’s silence during which an entire spectrum of possibilities plays out in Audrey’s head: scenes of apology and explanation, tears and reconciliation, of the broken pieces of her family being glued back together so that the joins are barely visible.
‘Don’t ever try something like this again, Mum. I will not have Mia exposed to this shit. If you ever pull another stunt like this, I will never let you see Mia again. I mean it. Do you understand?’
Behind the force of Jess’s fury, something catches Audrey’s eye and she glances into the garden.
Standing on the edge of the lawn, looking down into the kitchen, their jaws slack, eyes wide with confusion, stand Mia and Phoebe hand in hand.
Audrey is aware of Jess and Lily following her gaze. Then time seems to speed up, as if someone has pressed a fast-forward button and everything that follows is a blur.
She watches as Jess runs into the garden, scoops Mia into her arms, rushes back through the kitchen and up the stairs without another word, the front door slamming behind her. She watches Lily retrieve Phoebe, hears her daughter’s words only foggily – I’d better get her home. I’ll call you later. I know you were just trying to help but you can’t help someone that unhinged. She’s completely deranged. She feels the soft brush of Lily’s lips on her cheek, feels her face pulling itself into a smile as Phoebe hugs her and whispers goodbye.
And then she is standing in the kitchen, alone, silence throbbing in her ears. She looks out of the patio doors and it is as if the garden is still wearing an imprint of the day’s events, as if she can still see two little girls holding hands, laughing, playing, dancing, while the sun glints against their hair.
She does not know how long she stands there, staring into that empty space, but it is only as her eyes begin to tire that she wipes her fingers across her face and discovers the tears streaking her cheeks.
Chapter 19
Audrey
Audrey pulled the duvet tight around her shoulders, wishing she could erase the memory of Jess’s hatred. For twelve years, every time she had been tempted to plan another family reunion, she had remembered the wrath with which Jess had issued her warning: If you ever pull another stunt like this, I will never let you see Mia again. I mean it.
Her memory wound back to the day she had run across Barnsbury Square, past police cars and curious neighbours, into the sitting room to find shock and grief printed indelibly on Jess’s face, to discover that her husband was dead and that it had been her eleven-year-old-daughter who had found him. She remembered how, throughout that bewildering afternoon – Lily’s arrival home, the questions from the police, the explanations of a procedure over which Audrey had no control – a single thought had gone round and round in her mind: Nothing bad shall ever happen to my children again.
Audrey’s head felt heavy with the knowledge of her own failure. She had not been able to protect them, then or now.
She pulled the duvet up to her chin as she remembered the day nearly seven months ago when she’d been given her original diagnosis. Ever since, only one thing had been guaranteed to send panic pulsing through her veins: the thought of leaving Lily and Jess behind. It was not life Audrey was terrified of losing but her family.
Nothing bad shall ever happen to my children again.
Audrey opened her eyes, sat up in bed, turned on the bedside light and blinked into its glow.
She wouldn’t tell them. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t tell any of them about the new prognosis or how little time she had left. She would spare them the sound of the clock ticking loudly in their ears for the next few months.
Reaching for the pillows on the empty side of the bed, she put them behind her head and leaned back. She thought again about the day her granddaughters had played together in her garden, how brief their enjoyment had been yet how deep, how satisfying. And then she pictured again – as she had so many times before – the scene of her funeral: Lily and Jess standing on opposite sides of the grave, avoiding one another, the atmosphere thick with animosity. Her granddaughters eyeing each other warily, wanting to speak but knowing it was forbidden.
As the first dawn light began to creep around the edge of the curtains, Audrey pulled her dressing gown around her narrow shoulders and, pushing aside the memory of the last time she had attempted to reconcile her family, began to think of all the ways in which she might bring them back together before it was too late.
Part Four
May
Chapter 20
Audrey
Audrey glanced up at the naked man in front of her, heat pinching her cheeks.
He was young, tall, muscular, his skin the colour of caramel, with a sheen that made you want to reach out and stroke it. There was no readable expression on his face, nothing to indicate what he was thinking. His eyes were raised, staring up at the skylight through which the sun was streaming, bathing him in a celestial glow.
Audrey shrugged off the cardigan draped over her shoulders and prepared to begin.
Picking up her pencil, she made the first tentative strokes on the paper in front of her, just the lightest impression of an outline. Around the room, gathered in a semicircle, seven other life-drawing students stood at their easels. And walking behind them, offering advice and encouragement, was their tutor, Virginia.
Audrey stared at the hesitant sketch marks she’d made. She needed to be bolder, more decisive – Virginia had been telling her so for the past two weeks since she’d started the class. Follow the shapes you see, not the shapes you think you see. Teach your brain to unthink what it knows about the way an arm hangs from the shoulders, the way a head emerges from a neck, the way a ribcage narrows into the waist. Discard your preconceptions about the human body and think purely in terms of shape, form and lines.
Audrey leaned back on her stool, surveying her work in progress. No amount of self-delusion could persuade her that she had a natural talent for this, but that wasn’t the point.
Glancing sideways, Audrey looked at Mia’s drawing: it was in a different league. It wasn’t just a case of grandparental pride. You could hear it in Virginia’s approbation every time she walked around the class appraising their efforts.
Looking at Mia’s work, Audrey reassured herself that she’d made the right decision. She didn’t like deceiving Jess but Mia had been so passionate, so persuasive. And it had seemed such a small thing to ask: just the loan of the course fees for a weekly Saturday morning class at the Royal College of Art. Mum wouldn’t lend me the money even if she could afford it, you know she wouldn’t. She thinks even the smallest distraction from studying is a disaster. But I won’t let it affect my coursework, I promise. I just really want to do it, Granny. And I promise I’ll pay you back. I’ll get a holiday job and pay back every penny, I swear.