by Penny Parkes
For those weren’t the words that her six-year-old brain had heard.
‘You’re not enough.’
The only legacy from her father that would last a lifetime.
Chapter 54
Chipping Norton, 2019
It seemed both urgent and vital to Anna that Callie understood that her mother’s mistakes were not her own, and yet somehow, even as she busied herself making an ice pack for Callie’s swollen eye, she struggled to find the words.
Maybe it really was the last taboo? To accuse someone – someone she barely knew – of being a lousy mother. A dangerous mother, really, if you considered that passivity could be its own form of cruel abuse.
Standing by and watching – saying nothing, doing nothing. The choice not to act, to intervene as your child suffered in any scenario surely equally damaging to the bond of trust as any physical blow.
And God knows, Anna could empathise.
‘How did you even know where to find me, Cal? You never answer your phone. And I’ve been calling—’
‘I know you have,’ Callie said sheepishly. ‘But I was really pissed off when you left and I didn’t want to say anything I might regret.’
‘But how did you—?’
Callie reached across and took Anna’s phone, tapping at the screen until a map was visible, complete with two pulsing blue dots on the outskirts of Chipping Norton. ‘I might have installed an app. You know, Find My Friends?’ She looked up at Anna apologetically, flinching as even the small movement caused her pain.
‘Try this,’ Anna said, passing Callie a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a soft linen tea-towel the colour of bluebells as she tried to process what she’d just heard. All those ‘coincidental’ meetings in Bath suddenly made a lot more sense. And yet, she didn’t have it in her to be angry, only relieved that Callie had had the foresight to plan for a rainy day. ‘And when this one melts there’s a Mr Bump ice pack poised and ready,’ Anna said, mustering what she hoped was a reassuring smile, gratified by the relief on Callie’s face that a bollocking wasn’t incoming.
‘Not to mention Savlon, arnica, and more sticking plasters than Boots,’ Kate said, still rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. ‘Having kids is obviously a hazardous occupation.’ She held up the boxes. ‘Do you want Barbie, Peppa Pig or Minions? Ooh and ginger biscuits.’ She ripped open the package with enthusiasm.
She hovered slightly nervously, not yet introduced, yet feeling as though she knew Callie already. Anna’s description of her had been so spot on, so insightful. ‘I’m Kate by the way.’
Callie nodded. ‘I figured. The posh one. From Oxford.’
Kate frowned and looked to Anna for guidance.
‘My friend from Oxford, yeah,’ Anna said, pulling up a chair beside Callie and repositioning the ice pack to cover most of the bruising. ‘But don’t call her that.’
‘Posh?’ Callie sulked. ‘Why, is that an insult now?’
‘It is the way you’re saying it,’ Kate bit back, unable, it seemed, to restrain herself.
Callie chewed her lip, staring down at her fingernails, bitten to the quick. ‘Yeah, must have been awful for you, growing up in Oxford with your mum and dad still together, studying and getting all the support you needed… Bet you’re one of those families that love fancy-dress parties too.’
Anna looked from one to the other, trying to work out why they seemed so determined to wind each other up. Both so important to her – in different ways, of course – she had simply assumed they would get along.
‘When I was about seventeen,’ Anna began, seemingly apropos of nothing, ‘my social worker Jackie told me a story. They had to do some professional development or something and they were given a case study. Alcoholic mother, neglected kids, absent father. Debt. Adultery. Nothing new or especially shocking, just another heartbreaking story of kids not being looked after, or feeling safe or even being fed properly. And so they all discussed it and agreed that the children should be taken away from the family home. For their own good. And then the examiner told them that the case study was based on Princess Margaret.’ She shrugged, slightly gratified to have elicited a shocked response from both Kate and Callie. ‘Privilege and wealth don’t always make for happy families or protect vulnerable kids is all I’m saying.’
There was an awkward pause.
‘Sorry,’ Callie said, looking up at Kate for the first time. ‘Jealousy is an ugly thing.’
‘No need to apologise,’ Kate said, her cheeks colouring slightly. ‘By any measure, I’ve been incredibly fortunate. But you know, it wasn’t until I met this one that I ever felt right in my own skin. I was always a bit of a weirdo – more interested in books than gossip.’
Callie’s face broke into a smile, making her wince as her swollen eye screamed in protest. ‘Seems perfectly normal to me.’ She paused, a sideways glance at Anna. ‘She has that effect on everyone maybe? ’Cause I was feeling pretty low when she moved in downstairs.’
‘Well, when she’s not being a veritable tonic, she’s a right pain in the arse, I tell you.’ Kate pulled up a chair and leaned forward. ‘Have you ever seen the mess she can make getting one simple meal in the oven? Talk about making a mountain out of a moussaka.’
And so Anna sat back, knowing that was her cue to let these two women – these incredibly special women – find their common ground. And if it had to be at the expense of her catering skills or her dating apathy, then so be it.
Her eyes travelled as though magnetically drawn to the box file on the kitchen counter, dumped there hurriedly as they’d handled Callie’s unexpected arrival. She breathed out slowly, calming her racing heart. The letters would have to wait. After a decade forgotten on a shelf somewhere, what was another few hours until everyone else was asleep? She needed the time and the space to give them her undivided attention. To possibly do justice to her mother’s inner thoughts and feelings about walking away from her only child.
Kate and Callie were here, right in front of her, flesh and blood, and they deserved her focus right now. The three of them together, in this carefully curated family home, so bizarre as to be unsettling.
‘Is this your way of saying that you don’t want me to cook supper?’ she said when they had eventually tired of ragging her foibles and quirks.
‘I’ll cook,’ Callie said. ‘If you don’t mind spaghetti?’
‘Spaghetti always works,’ Kate said. ‘I’m beyond starving.’ This despite the now empty packet of ginger biscuits on the table.
‘Cool.’ Callie offered a smile, an olive branch of sorts, her gaze falling on the travel bands on each of Kate’s wrists. ‘Oh!’ she said involuntarily, as the penny dropped. ‘Can I ask, is it weird eating for two? Or is it a lovely excuse to just pig out?’
‘Jesus, Callie. A little tact,’ Anna leapt in. Sure, Kate had piled on the pounds on their all-inclusive honeymoon, but it was hardly endearing to have it so blithely pointed out.
Kate stilled for a second before turning her attention squarely to her best friend in the whole world. ‘About that, actually…’ She reached into her handbag and slipped a small black and white picture across the table towards Anna. A small black and white printout in fact.
‘But,’ Anna managed, looking down at the incontrovertible proof in her hands and at the quietly serene expression of hope on Kate’s face. ‘Are you—?’
Kate nodded. ‘Twelve weeks yesterday. I’ve been dying to tell you, but stuff kept happening. The wedding and life and then last night it didn’t seem quite— Well, it wasn’t the way I’d envisaged sharing the news.’
‘Fuck,’ breathed Callie. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve blown your cover.’ She looked simply mortified and Anna allowed the briefest of irritations to pass. Sure, in an ideal world this would have been a momentous announcement for the two of them to share, but sharing seemed to be the key word here. Not just with Duncan, now. But with this little soul who would no doubt change the landscape of their friendship for ever.
&nb
sp; She’d thought about this moment, almost as soon as Kate had showed her the neat solitaire diamond on her left hand. But not for one second had she expected to feel this wave of anticipation and inclusion. Was it possible that there was more room in her life, in her heart, than she’d allowed herself to believe? The arbitrary boundaries suddenly seemed so foolish and narrow-minded.
Anna swallowed hard and leapt to her feet, pulling Kate into an enormous hug. ‘I’m just so freaking over the moon for you. And you’re feeling okay? Not too pukey and all that?’
Suddenly Kate’s green, nauseated face in the car earlier that day made a lot more sense.
‘Pukey, chubby, teary, sleepy – it’s like an alternative universe of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in my body right now. But honestly, Pod – I’m truly happy.’ She laid her hand on the tiniest swell of her normally taut stomach.
‘Can I be a surrogate aunt? Or something?’ Anna’s voice trembled with the hope and vulnerability of the suggestion.
‘Godmother, aunt – take your pick. But promise me you’ll be involved. I need you. I’m genuinely thinking that old saying about it taking a village might be right on the money.’ She paused, glanced briefly at Callie, who was now ostentatiously rummaging in the larder, trying to give them some privacy and space. ‘And obviously wherever you’re living’ – she gave Anna a hard look – ‘I just want this little bean to really know you. As a part of the family.’
More Tetris blocks dropping into place in Anna’s mind: the rush for the bigger house in Oxford, the offer of a tenancy for her. Even Kate’s renewed interest in Anna’s job choices and prospects. Was this like a kind of nesting – getting not only her own proverbial house in order, but that of her family too? Certainly, Kate hadn’t held back on weighing in with Alex and Love-Island-Leah’s break-up.
‘You’re going to be an amazing mum,’ Anna said, meaning every word. ‘Simply because you will love this little bean more than anything or anyone. Even Duncan. Even me.’ She smiled. ‘And I can’t wait to watch you juggle all the squeamish bits.’
Kate shook her head and flung a napkin at her. ‘Not just me. Duncan. And my mum. And you. It’s the only way forward.’ She paused. ‘I guess I’ve seen too much about what happens when all the parenting eggs are in one basket.’
‘So now I’m a cautionary tale?’ Anna shook her head, still smiling, but unable to deny the smart of pain at how on point Kate’s assessment had been.
‘More of an inspirational one, to be honest. But yes, being your friend has rather focused my mind on the kind of parent I want to be.’ She paused. ‘What you said the other night, about your mum being fallible, you know, just a person doing her best? Well, I get that. And actually, I think it’s great if you truly feel that way. But I can’t get past the thought that, once you’re a parent, your words, your actions – well, they just carry so much more weight, don’t they? The ability to inspire, just as much as the capacity to wound.’
Callie laid a bunch of cutlery down on the table beside them, and instinctively nodded at Kate’s words. ‘Valid point. Harsh words from a parent have serious longevity. Exhibit Number One.’ She held up her hand.
Anna breathed out slowly, her mind filled with discarded comments from her youth: some uttered in anger, some with no thought at all, yet all of them filed away and still undermining her self-esteem by stealth.
As Callie dished up three huge bowls of carbonara, Anna sat back and listened as they talked. About books, about Callie’s study plans.
‘I’m going to Oxford too,’ she said with such conviction that Anna had no reason to doubt that this gutsy girl would make it happen. Somehow. ‘I want to be a writer. Like Anna.’
‘Don’t say it,’ Anna cautioned her friend, Kate already taking a breath to drop her in it.
Kate grinned. ‘Now why would you think I would judge? I mean, it’s only been a decade.’ She stuck out her tongue. ‘Some people might have rustled up a few chapters… But you know, writing is tricky.’
Callie frowned. ‘But she’s written tons. Not just those journals but all those thousands of emails. I mean, there’s practically enough material for War and Peace in there alone.’
Anna stilled, eyes wide, shocked into silence by Callie’s casual confession. It wasn’t so much the invasion of privacy as the realisation of how many emails might have accrued. How many half-formed thoughts and truncated loops of introspection and self-analysis.
Callie looked at Kate for guidance as the silence lengthened. ‘Should I not have said?’
Kate gave her a supportive smile. ‘More likely, you should not have read.’
They both turned to look at Anna, waiting for a response, but somehow there was only one question she wanted to ask.
‘Well,’ she said to Callie after a moment. ‘You’ve read them. Were they any good?’
Kate shook her head, laughing. ‘Oh my God, some things never change. Do you know, Callie, when we were students, Anna would be so obsessive that she would go and sit down with her professors and analyse every single dropped grade or percentage point. One by one.’ She twirled her finger against her forehead.
‘Well, I’m giving up on being a perfectionist,’ Anna countered. ‘Too exhausting; too limiting.’
‘So you don’t really want to know what I thought about your writing?’ Callie asked, a little confused by the back- and-forth banter. ‘I mean, am I in the shit for snooping or not?’
‘I think that depends on whether you’re prepared to offer fair literary criticism,’ Kate cut in, giving Anna a warning look. ‘Or, you know, therapy – depending on what horror show you’ve unearthed in my favourite person’s subconscious.’
‘Didn’t you just get married?’ Callie was still bemused. ‘Like, isn’t your husband your favourite person?’
‘God no.’ Kate shook her head. ‘But he is a very healthy second, and he will have to be grateful for that.’
Anna pressed her hand to her chest, suffused with a warm feeling she couldn’t quite name but utterly adored. It felt a little bit like acceptance.
Unconditionally.
She squeezed Kate’s hand and paused, wondered for a brief second whether it would ruin the mood to ask what else Callie had been looking at on her phone, wondering whether it actually mattered. Perhaps her slightly obsessive need for privacy was yet another habit she could learn to live without?
Especially if it led to moments like these.
And as the shadows lengthened and the evening mellowed, Anna tried to put her finger on why this felt so natural, so different, to any other supper party she’d attended since her undergraduate days. Impromptu or otherwise.
As Callie leapt up to get Kate another portion, the conversation carrying on between the table and the counter-top, she smiled. Three women listening, empathising, caring. There was no male voice at the table trying to advocate a solution; the debate itself was enough. Action was not necessarily required; it was enough to feel heard, to feel validated, to feel cared for.
And not for one moment did Anna feel as though any of them were destined to carry their individual burdens alone.
All this time, Anna had cleaved to the belief that choice was power.
That so long as she was the one calling the shots and setting the boundaries – choosing her destinations for adventure and flexibility – then she was winning.
Looking around this table tonight, in laughter and heartbreak and uncertainty, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had misread adult life entirely.
A little vulnerability, it seemed, went a very long way.
A little community, even further.
She bit her lip and dared to wonder if she was brave enough to commit.
Not just to Kate and her burgeoning family. Or to Callie and her thwarted educational aspirations. Or even one day to an insane ninja cat like Spook.
But to herself. And the promise of a settled and meaningful future.
She glanced again at the box file on the counter and co
nsidered whether Kate might be right about this, as about so many other things in Anna’s life. If she was truly stuck in a pattern of evasion, might these letters be the long-overdue catalyst for change?
‘This,’ Kate said, holding her PAW Patrol beaker of apple juice aloft as though it were finest Cristal, ‘is exactly what I needed. Thank you both – this evening – the company of fine minds and wonderful women – is everything the Seychelles couldn’t offer. Thank you. Truly. My hormonal little heart is full.’
And, as Anna raised her own glass, she found that watching Callie’s tired, sore face light up at the compliment meant more to her than she could possibly have foreseen.
‘To new beginnings,’ she said, and slowly took a sip.
Chapter 55
Chipping Norton, 2019
Anna checked that the bifold doors were locked for the third time, following the rooftops with her gaze, out beyond the cul-de-sac. Kate had been spot on in her assessment and it was somewhat galling to realise that Anna herself had fallen for the oldest trick in the book: it was so very easy to imagine that nothing bad could ever happen in a place like this. But where there were families and marriages and, well, people really, there would always be heartbreak. And the good stuff too, obviously. But it was easier to focus on the downside.
It was also a little sobering to accept that finding her own ‘perfect’ place to call home had very little to do with the bricks and mortar, or the view, or an abundance of chi-chi coffee shops where she could pretend to write. Because, if she was entirely honest, there was more pretence than productivity when it came to her grand ambition.
‘You still checking every door a thousand times before bed?’ Kate asked quietly, catching Anna unawares.
‘I thought you were asleep?’
‘Hungry,’ Kate said apologetically. ‘But seriously, do you want me to lock up with you so you know it’s done and you can relax?’ She deliberately looked away from the box file that was now open on the table. Its contents not yet fully revealed.
