MANDY HAGER
Page 2 of 4
Reaching the point
‘To the best of my knowledge, no one’s managed to escape it yet.’ I try to keep just the right amount of lightness in my voice.
‘Very funny, Mum. Ha ha ha.’ The little crease that forms between her eyes when she’s annoyed will one day etch into a permanent ugly line, but now isn’t the time to warn her.
‘Sorry.’ I reach over and stroke lush copper hair away from her forehead. Eddie’s hair. Who’d have thought his would fade so early to that pot-scrub grey? ‘Why’re you asking?’
A flush swarms up her neck and rims her eyes with red. ‘I heard Megan Dougherty’s mother tell Sarah’s mum.’
‘Fat-arsed bitch.’ It’s out before I realise it, and feel ashamed as Rach rises to one elbow to stare at me in surprise. ‘Come here,’ I say, and pull her over so her head rests on my chest. I stroke her, just as I did to soothe her baby tears. And I try to breathe on evenly, so she won’t guess that even this one small, loving gesture is racked with pain. ‘Megan Dougherty’s mother should learn to keep her mouth shut when she doesn’t know the truth.’
‘Buh waffish struth?’ Her jaw digs into my breastbone as she mumbles.
‘Honey, the truth is . . . ’ I can feel her tense, and then she lifts her head until our noses almost touch. ‘The truth is that I just don’t know. But when I do, you and Mattie and Dad will be the first to hear. Only don’t hold your breath – if I have my way I’ll be around long enough to shove a few more million lectures down your throat. So, Aun-drey-ya Dougherty had better take a running jump!’
I dig Rach in the ribs and am relieved to see her squirm and smile. She kisses me so carefully on the cheek. ‘I love you, Mum.’
‘I love you too, sweet.’ If she spots the tears that well up in my eyes I’ll lose this round. ‘Now go and make your foul-mouthed mum a cuppa, eh?’
I dunno now – was that right? I keep on thinking about when we were kids and how, if I cried, Mum and Dad would tell me not to be such a wuss. And how they made me promise to look after you, ’cause you were smallest. And how they said I’d go to Hell if I ever told a lie.
God will reward you, they declared, if you are good.
Well, I’ve been good – yeah, well at least I’ve tried. Only now I’ve lied to Rach. And I won’t be here for you. And I cry, Sis. Sob in sheer self-pity, as the clock slow-tumbles through the night.
And then there’s Eddie.
Remember when I met him? How you questioned whether he was ‘good enough’ for me? And how I laughed at you, so confident. So he’s a plumber, right? So what? You dig for fossils, he digs for drains. Just because he deals in shit, doesn’t mean that it defines him. Hell, any man who hooks a wad of tampons from my shitty drain and still can meet my eye and even ask me all about that precious ammonite beside the loo . . . now, there’s a man I can love!
Good enough. Those words still make me cringe. You know him, Sis. You’ve seen the way he’s lived his life. Honest. Caring. With a brain that ticks away and bubbles on behind the silent stare.
I wish you’d seen dear Eddie’s face the first time he held little Mattie in his arms. This tiny baby cushioned up against his dark-tanned ball of muscle as Eddie wept in gratitude and shock. He loves those kids, for sure he does. I know he’ll be there for them when I’m not.
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