Where the Memories Lie
By: Sibel Hodge
Normal for me that week was trying to get out of the house on time in the mornings. I’d been expressly forbidden by Anna to walk her to the bus stop now she was twelve. I’d tried to tell her that I wasn’t really walking her to the bus stop at all, that I was just meeting Nadia there so we could walk the dogs together, but she wasn’t having it. I knew that Anna could quite easily go down our path, out of the gates, and walk two hundred metres to the bus stop without anything happening to her, but it didn’t stop me worrying.
Luckily, Anna hadn’t turned into the usual pre-pubescent, difficult monster yet, despite being twelve years old and nearly at the end of her second year of secondary school. And we still had a very close and loving relationship. When we were at home she still followed me everywhere most of the time, as if she could never bear to be that far away from me. She even followed me to the toilet sometimes, chatting on about stuff ! I jokingly called her my little Klingon.
Maybe I was too overprotective, but I’m a mother: it’s my job. Plus, Anna nearly didn’t arrive in the world. After six miscarriages, it was Sibel Hodge touch and go whether she’d make it to full term. She was my little miracle baby, and you don’t go taking miracles for granted. You appreciate them every day. Take that extra effort to make sure nothing happens to them.
Our house was set back from the road, with a big front garden and a tiny rear one. I didn’t mind having all the space at the front as it was completely private from prying eyes with the seven-foot-tall laurel hedges. Plus, the views at the back were amazing, looking out onto the woods behind that led onto sprawling hills of green Dorset countryside.
I unlatched one of the six-foot wooden gates and pushed it open. Poppy, our crazy golden retriever, escaped out first, dribbling with excitement at the prospect of a walk. I headed the short distance up the road, past the Kings’ Arms pub towards the bus stop on the opposite side. Anna was chatting with a few of the other village kids already waiting for the bus to drive them the nine miles to their school in Dorchester. No Nadia or Charlotte yet, which was strange. My sister-in-law Nadia was an organised control freak who was always on time. Some might even call her anal. For once, I’d beaten her. Go, Olivia!
I carried on walking, scanning the road, looking for them.
Hopefully Charlotte wasn’t sick again. She’d had some kind of virus a few months ago that she couldn’t seem to shake, and she always looked tired lately. Mind you, she was studying really hard for her GCSEs. All twelve of them. Yes, twelve! I thought they worked the kids much too hard these days. Charlotte barely had any spare time with the amount of homework she’d been given in the last few years.
And then I saw them both, hurrying towards me as the school bus pulled up at the kerb. I waved. Charlotte waved back, her fine long hair fanning out over her shoulders as she ran towards us.
She looked pale still, with dark rings under her eyes.
2
Where the Memories Lie The other kids and Anna climbed aboard. I wanted to kiss her goodbye but even though she’s still a model child and not a terrible, hormonal teenager, I know public displays of affection are definitely ‘uncool’.
I settled for a wave instead. ‘Have a good day.’
‘Hi, Aunty Olivia. Bye, Aunty Olivia.’ Charlotte rushed past and swung herself aboard.
With a whooshing sound the bus doors closed and they were off.
I turned in Nadia’s direction and waited for her to catch up with her chocolate brown Labrador, Minstrel. She looked wrong.
Usually, she’s immaculately turned out. She doesn’t even go to the corner shop without her full makeup on and her wavy blonde hair perfectly straightened and hanging down her back like a sheet of smooth, shimmering metal. This morning, her hair was pulled on top of her head in a messy bun. She wore old tracksuit bottoms that she normally wouldn’t be seen out dead in. Her face was as pale as Charlotte’s. Her eyes puffy and red. She had a lump of mascara caked in the corner of one of them.
Poppy tugged on the lead as they got closer, and then the dogs were involved in full-on sniffs and licks of fur.
‘Are you OK?’ I put a hand on Nadia’s arm. ‘Aren’t you feeling well, either?’