Dear Mother: A gripping and emotional story that will make you sob your heart out

by Angela Marsons

  ‘Do you remember some of the stuff we used to talk about out here?’ Nikki asked.

  Alex nodded. ‘We’d discuss our evening out, the music, the food, the atmosphere. Sometimes you’d tell me the events of your day.’

  ‘Sometimes you’d tell me about something you were working on. An idea for a story or a character that you wanted to write about. Your eyes would light up with excitement as though you’d suddenly uncovered a secret, hidden world,’ Nikki added, wistfully.

  Alex looked away. Of all the things Nikki had done during their time together, the most beautiful had been to reawaken in her a dream that had been murdered when she was eight years old.

  One of her most vivid childhood memories played in her head as though she was watching it on stage.

  ‘Did you get me some?’ Alex had asked, hopefully, as Catherine placed her school bag beside the bed. She inspected the outside to see if the shape gave her any clues.

  Catherine shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Alex, I couldn’t get any today. Mrs Gibson didn’t leave the classroom for a minute. I tried to sneak one out but she just wouldn’t go away.’

  Alex was distraught. She’d just used the last page that Catherine had got for her yesterday.

  ‘Ooooh, Aleeeeex,’ Catherine called from behind her.

  Alex turned to see her oldest sister waving two brand-new exercise books in the air.

  Alex chuckled and lunged for the books, but Catherine dodged expertly out of her way and Alex landed face down on the bed.

  ‘You’re not having them,’ Catherine sang, as she climbed on to the top bunk.

  ‘Give them to me,’ Alex cried, scaling the ladder. Catherine jumped over the other side, landing with bended knees.

  ‘Catch me and you can have them,’ Catherine teased, heading back towards her own bed.

  Alex climbed back down the ladder, puffing with laughter. ‘Please, Catherine, give them to me,’ she begged, realising that her own chasing skills were far outweighed by those of her sister.

  ‘No pain, no gain,’ Catherine cried, her eyes alight with amusement.

  Alex forced her face into a solemn expression. ‘Okay, have it your own way. I’m not going to play this stupid game any longer,’ she said, pouting. She headed for the door but at the last second changed direction and took Catherine by surprise. They fell on to the bed, hysterical with laughter as they fought over the exercise books being held aloft by Catherine. Alex reached and reached but couldn’t quite grasp the treasure.

  A plan formed in Alex’s mind. She pinned Catherine’s legs to the bed and tore her shoes from her feet.

  ‘No, no,’ Catherine protested as she realised what Alex was planning to do, but it was too late. Soon her socks were resting in a pile on the floor. Alex pinned Catherine’s ankles down and drew shapes on her soles.

  Catherine’s laughter became manic. She threw the books at Alex but her sister was having too much fun. She tickled and tickled until Catherine forced her legs free and turned on her. She pinned her younger sister on the bed and tickled her sides until Alex cried with the pain in her stomach from laughter.

  They collapsed in a heap, exhausted and still giggling. Once she’d recovered, Alex leaned over and kissed Catherine on the cheek. ‘Thanks,’ she said, before bounding off the side of the bed and retrieving the exercise books from the floor.

  She returned to her position of kneeling at the lower bunk and began sharpening her pencils. Now she’d got more paper she could carry on with the ideas that had been plaguing her all day at school. Incey, her character, had just met the fairies at the bottom of the garden. They were living in plant pots and sleeping in the flowers, sliding down the stems into the soil if they heard anyone coming.

  ‘How many of those have you filled?’ Catherine asked, lying on the bed, facing in her direction.

  Alex shrugged. It didn’t matter. They were all in her bottom drawer. She reached in and pulled them all out. She counted them. Twelve exercise books filled with Incey’s tales and adventures.

  ‘Is it ever going to be finished?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Alex said, absently, concentrating on her story. She hoped not. She could live in Incey’s world for ever.

  Catherine changed out of her school clothes and headed for the door. She hesitated and turned back. ‘Don’t forget to put those books back in the drawer.’

  ‘Okay,’ Alex said, waving away her sister’s words. She just wanted to be on her own to write stories about the fairies and the elves that lived under the shed. For the next two hours Alex was transported to another world, away from her own, where children had fun and laughed all the time. Incey’s mummy took care of her and hugged her and helped her with her homework. Incey’s mummy read her stories at bedtime and kissed her goodnight.

  ‘Alex, tea,’ her mum shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

  Alex rushed to write down the last few lines of the story in her head. The beginning of Incey’s next adventure. She scribbled quickly, misspelling many words in her haste to get them on paper.

  ‘Alex, I’ll come and get you in a minute,’ her mum shouted again.

  Alex could hear the anger in her voice and jumped to her feet. She launched herself down the stairs and landed beside Beth. She viewed the plate disinterestedly. Cheese sandwiches, again.

  Her mother passed behind her and slapped her around the head, hard.

  ‘Next time you’ll come first fucking time I tell you.’

  She left the room and they all ate silently for a minute. Catherine reached across and rubbed her head. Alex looked at her, determined not to cry. Catherine blew air into her cheeks and forced her eyeballs into the corners, making her laugh. They took it in turns to pull faces. Alex started to chuckle but Beth looked worriedly at the door and told them both to shush.

  ‘Oh my God,’ their mum called from upstairs. ‘Quickly, run outside. It’s only fucking snowing.’

  They looked at each other in wonder. It was the beginning of May. They all headed for the door at the same time and jostled each other to get through first.

  Alex was the first to make it outside into the back garden, below their shared bedroom. She looked up in wonder. It was, indeed, snowing: tiny white pieces of exercise book.

  On the balcony with Nikki, Alex swallowed, hard.

  ‘Where did you go just then?’ Nikki asked, gently.

  ‘Nowhere important,’ Alex said, without meeting her gaze.

  ‘Then why have you started to cry?’

  Alex rubbed at her cheek, surprised to find it wet.

  This situation was beginning to feel far too familiar for her liking. It was surprising how easily they had slipped into their previous roles, the roles they’d had before it all went wrong.

  ‘Listen Nikki—’

  ‘I know it’s over, Alex. I’m seeing someone else, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t still be a friend when you need one.’

  Alex focused on the cigarette that was glowing brightly in the breeze. The fact that Nikki had moved on stung her. She wanted to ask if it was serious but it wasn’t her business. She’d lost count of the girls she’d had sex with in the six months since they’d split up, but she had not yet been ‘seeing someone’.

  Alex finished the hot chocolate and rose to her feet. ‘I’ll just call a taxi and—’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Who on earth is going to look after you when you get back?’

  ‘Don’t you mean who is going to stop me drinking when I get back?’ Alex asked, knowingly.

  Nikki shrugged. ‘If the cap fits… ’

  Alex protested. ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. I’ll go straight to bed and off to sleep in no time.’

  Nikki put her finger to her chin in a mock pose. ‘Hmmm… my sources tell me that you’ve tried that one already on Jay and he fell for it.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake. Is there anything that Jay didn’t tell you?’

  Nikki thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think so. But even if he hadn’t, I know you well en
ough to hazard a guess at the type of tricks you’ll pull.’

  Alex chuckled. ‘For God’s sake, you make me sound evil.’

  ‘As I said before, if the cap—’

  ‘All right, don’t get clever. I can see that I’m not going to win this one so I’ll kip on the sofa…’

  ‘You take the bed. You need the sleep more than I do.’

  Alex shook her head vehemently.

  Nikki held up her hand with finality. ‘Alex, for once do as you’re bloody well told and go to bed.’

  ‘Ooh, I like it when you get all masterful.’

  Their joined laughter turned to embarrassment and unease as they both realised how that had sounded. It was too much like past times.

  ‘Well… Goodnight, then,’ Alex said, weaving towards the bedroom door. Despite the food and rest, her legs still felt wobbly.

  ‘Goodnight, Alex, sleep well,’ Nikki said, turning towards the window.

  Alex had the urge to take Nikki in her arms and hold her close. For a moment she wanted to feel Nikki’s body against her own. She wanted to nestle her face in the warm confines of her reassuring closeness. The realisation that Nikki was seeing someone else surged through her. That place in Nikki’s life had been taken and didn’t belong to her any more. The knowledge hurt her. She turned and closed the bedroom door.

  The room had barely changed. The photos of them together on holiday had been removed and watercolour prints hung in their place. The scent of lavender still permeated the air. Clutches of church candles littered the room. Nikki had always been entranced by the romance of candlelight.

  Alex threw off her clothes and snuggled into the bed that she had shared with Nikki for two years. She lay on Nikki’s side but then changed the thought. They were both Nikki’s sides. The whole bed was hers now. Hers and whoever she chose to share it with. Alex didn’t like that thought any better.

  The familiarity of the room and the comfort of the bed pulled at her eyelids. She fell into a deep sleep, fighting the memories of their nights together.

  The ship had well and truly sailed on that one.

  Alex woke at five thirty with a start. The nightmares had been vicious and insistent. They were based on fact but distorted in her mind. She shook herself awake despite the hour. She didn’t want to return. For a while, in her dream, she had been that powerless little girl again.

  Memories of the previous night assaulted her. The events in the club were blurred but she remembered clearly from the moment she’d seen Nikki’s face peering down at her within the toilet cubicle. She recalled the mixture of feelings she’d experienced being back in her old home and suddenly she wanted to return to the safety of her bedsit.

  She stood and dressed quickly. The effects of the previous night had worn off and she felt solid and whole again.

  She opened the door to the living room quietly, not wishing to disturb Nikki, who would insist that she return to bed and get more sleep.

  She tiptoed into the room and slipped on her boots, leaving the zips undone and headed for the door. As her hand met with the door handle, she felt overcome with curiosity about the spare bedroom. She hesitated for a few moments, unsure as to whether it was wise to satisfy the urge to look. Her hand moved away from the door handle and she padded quietly past Nikki, asleep on the sofa, towards the room.

  She opened the door quietly and stepped inside. She closed the door behind her and reached for the light switch. She was stunned at what she saw.

  The corner desk, crafted from mahogany, stood in the same position, with the second-hand computer and printer on top. The pile of lined notepads remained neatly stacked to the side of the printer. The pencils she’d used stood proudly in the desk tidy that Nikki had made for her from an old jam jar. The embroidery above her desk still hung there. It was a picture of an owl wearing a mortarboard holding an oversize book open in front of him. The wording below read ‘I believe in you’. Every stitch had been sewn by Nikki.

  The desk, computer and printer had all been gifts from Nikki. Nikki had made it possible for her to live her dream, or at least take a stab at it. Nikki had been the one driving her forward, insisting that she had a talent that she should nurture and develop. It was Nikki who had cried with joy when Alex had won a short story competition in a local newspaper.

  Alex felt the tears sting her eyes. She had spent the happiest moments of her life in here creating stories and characters and living within her own fantasy dream world. The art of turning words into pictures had consumed her for days and nights and all the time Nikki had supplied her with coffee and encouragement. She had handwritten hundreds of pages of paper until her hand cramped up with pain.

  Alex backed out of the room, the bittersweet memories too much for her to endure. She covered her mouth as she darted across the room and out of the front door. Once outside the tears came. They rolled from her eyes freely and she made no attempt to stop them.

  She glanced up at the window, behind which Nikki lay sleeping.

  ‘Why, oh why, did you demand something from me that I just didn’t have to give?’

  Seven

  Catherine

  Catherine couldn’t help the swell of pride as she looked around her new office. Not only was it on the highest floor of the building, but it was situated on the east corner, affording her a view of the river and the morning sun. Her desk was formed of polished French mahogany and was wide enough to land small aircraft.

  The space to the left of her desk was occupied by two leather sofas and a drinks cabinet.

  She had fashioned the walls with prints of her favourite paintings.

  Luxury came at a price, she thought, remembering her meeting with Mr Leigh Senior the previous day. Although the conversation had seemed innocuous, Catherine had caught the underlying meaning in every word he’d spoken.

  ‘Is the office comfortable enough for you?’

  Because you’ll be spending most of your life here.

  ‘Have personnel contacted you about the salary increase?’

  I’m reminding you that we’re paying you a lot of money to deliver.

  ‘We’re sure we made the right decision in asking you to head the project.’

  There were others who would have killed a close relative to get this position.

  ‘You’ve chosen a very different artistic theme to Jonathan Adkins.’

  The office belonged to someone else before and it can do again.

  And so far he had not been wrong about the amount of time she’d spend in the office. She’d moved in on Monday and in the four days since had not switched the lights off before eight o clock.

  Not that the atmosphere at home was anything to rush back for. By the time she got in, the girls were in bed and Tim was working in the study. So far this week she’d spent the rest of her evenings alone in the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine.

  After the ultimatum Catherine had been in shock at the severity of his feelings. She was stunned that he thought that she needed to speak to a therapist to deal with feelings that she didn’t have. The hurt had come later.

  When she was with Tim she sensed that he had withdrawn from her completely. She still saw him and the girls each morning and he was polite and courteous to her, but she didn’t want that. She felt like a casual acquaintance with whom he was being forced to communicate.

  His face, so animated when he was talking to the girls, could harden within a second when she asked him a question. Seeing that change in his face cooled her blood. He’d said that he still loved her but how could he look at her with such distance in his eyes?

  She sighed and checked the clock. ‘Lisa, I’m going out. I’ll be back in an hour or so,’ she said, via the intercom. The appointment was for four thirty but she would have to return to work afterwards.

  As she exited the underground car park, Catherine wondered at what point she would pass Tim’s test. Would she be required to make up stories about her non-existent feelings about her mother to satisfy his concern?
Or would simply attending the appointment suffice?

  The office was located in a Georgian building in a residential area of Much Wenlock. The street was quiet and fashionable, littered with luxurious cars. Catherine resented the fact that her hard-earned money was contributing to this phoney doctor’s lifestyle.

  Catherine didn’t class psychotherapists as doctors. She classed them as people who charged extortionate sums of money to listen. Something the Samaritans did for free.

  The office into which she walked was nothing like Catherine had expected. It was decorated in warm pastel colours with simple watercolour prints on the wall. Her appraising eye noted that they were all signed by the same artist but he wasn’t one she had ever heard of.

  She approached an empty desk that housed a switched-off computer and an A4 diary. The door that led off the reception area was slightly ajar. Not sure what to do, Catherine coughed loudly.

  The door opened wider and a woman Catherine guessed to be in her early fifties appeared. Her hair was completely white and spectacles hung around her neck. She was dressed smartly in a chocolate-brown trouser suit. She offered her hand with a smile.

  ‘Emily Dunn. Please call me Emily,’ she instructed, moving to the other side of the desk. As she opened the diary Catherine noted that names were entered in almost all of the spaces and that her name was in green.

  ‘You’re busy,’ Catherine said, nodding towards the diary as the doctor closed it.

  ‘Those names may be fictional, placed there just to reassure you that I’m good at what I do.’ She smiled disarmingly. ‘Of course, that joke was inappropriate if you’re suffering from some type of paranoia.’ She put on her glasses and peered at Catherine closely. ‘You’re not, are you?’

  Catherine shook her head. ‘Why am I listed in green ink?’

  The doctor smiled. ‘Because you’re new,’ she said as she indicated for Catherine to follow her through to the inner sanctum. She motioned towards two leather chairs that faced each other across a coffee table.