“I thought those X-Men were mutants, not superheroes. Isn’t that what you said last time we spoke about them?”
“It’s complicated,” says Elsa, even though it isn’t really, if one has read enough quality literature.
“So what kind of superpower does this Jean Grey have, then?”
“Telepathy.”
“Good superpower.”
“Insane.” Elsa nods in agreement.
She decides not to point out that Jean Grey can also do telekinesis, because she doesn’t want to make things more complicated than necessary for Mum right now. She is pregnant, after all.
So instead, Elsa pulls the rubber seal on the door. Peers down into the gap. She is incredibly tired, as tired as an almost-eight-year-old gets after staying up all night feeling angry. Elsa’s mum never had a mum of her own, because Granny was always somewhere else, to help someone else. Elsa has never thought of Granny in that way.
“Are you angry with me because Granny was so much with me and never with you?” she asks carefully.
Mum shakes her head so quickly and vehemently that Elsa immediately understands whatever she’s about to say will be a lie.
“No, my darling, darling girl. Never. Never!”
Elsa nods and looks down again into the gap in the door.
“I’m angry with her. For not telling the truth.”
“Everyone has secrets, darling.”
“Are you angry with me because Granny and I had secrets?” She thinks about the secret language, which they always spoke so Mum wouldn’t understand. She thinks about the Land-of-Almost-Awake, and wonders if Granny ever took Mum there.
“Never angry . . .” whispers Mum, and reaches across the seat before she adds, in a whisper: “Jealous.”
The feeling of guilt hits Elsa like cold water when you’re least expecting it.
“So that’s what Granny meant,” she states.
“What did she say?” Mum asks.
Elsa snorts.
“She said I’d hate her if I found out who she was before I was born. That’s what she meant. That I’d find out that she was a crappy mum who left her own child—”
Mum turns to her with eyes so shiny that Elsa can see her own reflection in them.
“She didn’t leave me. You mustn’t hate your granny, darling.”
And when Elsa doesn’t answer, Mum puts her hand against Elsa’s cheek and whispers, “All daughters are angry with their mothers about something. But she was a good grandmother, Elsa. She was the most fantastic grandmother anyone could imagine.”
Elsa defiantly pulls at the rubber seal.
“But she left you by yourself. All those times she went off, she left you on your own, didn’t she?”
“I had your grandfather when I was small.”
“Yeah, until he died!”
“When he died I had the neighbors.”
“What neighbors?” Elsa wants to know.
The car behind beeps its horn. Mum makes an apologetic gesture at the back window and Kia rolls forward.
“Britt-Marie,” says Mum at last.
Elsa stops fiddling with the rubber seal in the door.
“What do you mean, Britt-Marie?”
“She took care of me.”
Elsa’s eyebrows sink into a scowling V-shape.
“So why is she such a nightmare to you now, then?”
“Don’t say that, Elsa.”
“But she is!”
Mum sighs through her nose.
“Britt-Marie wasn’t always like that. She’s just . . . lonely.”
“She’s got Kent!”
Mum blinks so slowly that her eyes are closed.
“There are many ways of being alone, darling.”
Elsa goes back to fiddling with the rubber seal on the door.
“She’s still an idiot.”
“People can turn into idiots if they’re alone for long enough,” agrees Mum.
The car behind them beeps its horn again.
“Is that why Granny isn’t in any of the old photos at home?” asks Elsa.
“What?”
“Granny isn’t in any of the photos from before I was born. When I was small I thought it was because she was a vampire, because they can’t be seen in photos, and they can smoke as much as they want without getting a sore throat. But she wasn’t a vampire, was she? She was just never at home.”