Grace?’ she said, when I released her.
‘She’s with Lawrence.’ I hadn’t told her we’d broken up. Not yet. I wanted to save her from that. ‘Are you getting up? We could go for a walk in the grounds. It’s cold but bright.’
‘Yes. Yes, let’s do that.’ She swung her legs round, and a furry toy rabbit in a waistcoat fell to the floor.
I picked it up. ‘Mr Snookum,’ I said, placing a kiss on his head. ‘I haven’t seen you for years.’ I thought he was in my attic.
She took him from me, and began fiddling with his ears. ‘I gave him to you when you were little, remember?’
‘Yes,’ I said, raising a brow. ‘I didn’t realise you had him.’
She placed the love-worn rabbit on her pillow, and covered his small body with the duvet, so just his head poked out. Then she slipped her bare feet into canvas shoes.
‘Will you be warm enough? It’s been snowing.’
‘In summer?’
‘It’s winter, Mum. You’ll be cold.’
‘Of course I won’t,’ she said, standing and pulling on a long, thick cardigan that brushed against her ankles. ‘Let’s go,’ she said, and I followed her from the room, closing the door behind me.
We strolled around the grounds for about half an hour, our arms linked as we pointed out crocuses and snowdrops pushing their way through the cold earth. We talked about art – her favourite subject, and how different areas in the grounds would make beautiful paintings. Bare trees lined up against a pale sky in the distance with a hint of sunlight glowing around the branches, caught her attention. ‘I’ll paint those,’ she said.
‘I love you, Mum,’ I said, resting my head on her shoulder, wanting to capture the lucid moment – a second of clarity amongst her sea of confusion. I wanted to bottle it so I could drink it in whenever I felt down. I couldn’t bear that I was losing her, and battled down tears.
‘Love you more, Rachel,’ she said, as I brushed my cheek with the back of my hand. ‘You’re not crying, are you?’
‘No, no, of course not,’ I said, breathing deeply.
‘Is this because Lawrence left you?’
I shook my head. How did she know? We stopped and stared at each other for several moments, her blue eyes shimmering. She took hold of my wrist, her hand freezing. And there it was, that look. I was losing her again. ‘There are things you should know about the past, Rachel,’ she said. ‘Before I go.’
‘Where are you going, Mum?’
‘Laura.’ Margo was dashing across the grass towards us, a little breathless. ‘It’s time for your heart tablets, love.’
To my frustration, Mum released her grip on my arm. ‘I don’t want to take them. They’re poison,’ she said, as Margo took her arm and led her away.
Our conversation was over for the day.
February 2018
‘She said there are things I should know about my past,’ I said, as Angela and I sat next to each other on my sofa. I admit, I’d have preferred to be with Zoe, who I could rely on to pull me round and tell me I was daft to worry, but she was always so busy with work and her new romance with Connor – who was so cute she could eat him, apparently.
Angela’s eyes were fixed on mine. Her curiosity, or maybe the wine, made them sparkle. ‘What do you think she meant?’
I shrugged. ‘She gets confused,’ I said, stating the obvious.
‘I know, sweetie. It must be dreadful for you both.’ Angela leaned forward and filled our wine glasses for the third time, before handing me my glass. I wasn’t sure I wanted another. I certainly didn’t need a hangover tomorrow. But I took it anyway.
‘She isn’t herself at all,’ I said. Another obvious.
‘How much do you know about your past?’ she asked.
I shrugged again. ‘I was born in Ireland, County Sligo, but I can’t remember that far back. We moved to Suffolk when I was about four, I think.’
‘So, you’re Irish?’ she said, leaning forward, elbows on knees, as though the topic fascinated her.
‘Half Irish – although my father could have been Irish, I guess.’
‘You don’t know who he is?’
Angela had asked about my dad before, but I’d changed the subject. I hadn’t known her well enough at the time to discuss my personal life. She often pried into areas I wasn’t ready to share with her. In fact, she’d only lived next door a week when she brought round moussaka that I could pop into the oven, gas mark 5, and a bottle of wine. She’d seen Lawrence go out for the third time that week, and thought I’d be glad of the company. I’d invited her in, not wanting to hurt her feelings.
But despite her flaws, she’d become a good friend. A friend I relied on to look after Grace.
I shook my head. ‘I’ve asked my mother lots of times over the years who my father was, tried prodding her memory – but she’s always insisted he was a one-night stand, and she’d been too drunk to even remember his name.’
‘Do you know where in Sligo you lived as a child?’
I shook my head again.
‘Could you ask your grandparents?’
‘They died in a car accident before I was born. My mum was never close with them. And I have no other family.’
I tried to shake my mum’s comment from my head. I liked that my memories started in Suffolk, that they were such happy times spent with my mum. But now I felt my curiosity rise, drawn to Ireland – to Sligo.
‘You should find out more about your grandparents, at least. I’ve done a family tree, and it’s been fascinating discovering things I never knew.’
‘But they may not be relevant to what Mum said. I think I just need to talk to her next time I visit, wait for one of her more lucid moments, and ask her what she meant – before it’s too late.’
My mood was spiralling downwards, like a child on a helter-skelter. I needed to change the subject, and managed to pluck a smile from somewhere. ‘Anyway. Enough about me. How’s the dating going?’
‘Awful,’ she said, leaning back, and peering over her almost empty glass. She was drinking too fast – and I wasn’t far behind her. ‘I feel like a fool selling myself to strangers. And the bra and knickers stage scares me half to death.’
I laughed. ‘It’s not easy,’ I agreed. ‘Have you met anyone you like?’
She shrugged. ‘There was one bloke. But after a couple of dates he told me he was married. Separated, he insisted, but I couldn’t face being part of a love triangle. I’ve been there before.’
‘You have?’
‘Mmm.’ She nodded. ‘A long time ago.’
‘Was it serious?’ I said, clutching at the opportunity to find out more about her. For a person who was so inquisitive about my life, she’d given little away about her own.
She closed her eyes and sighed. ‘Anyway.’ Her eyes sprung open, and I knew the little insight into her past had ended. ‘There was another bloke I quite liked. He was a bit young though.’
I raised a brow. ‘How young exactly?’
‘Thirty