by Shona Widdry
warm bath she had been thinking about all day. As she neared the house a frown appeared on her forehead for in the drive was her father’s car.
Pushing the front door open she called out, “I’m home.” Dumping her bag on the hall chair she heard Susan call,
“Hello.”
She found her mother standing in the middle of the conservatory with a golf club in her hand and a golf ball in front of her on the carpet. She was practising her putting shot. “Where’s Dad?” Cindy asked.
Looking up Susan frowned at the interruption. “He’s gone in a taxi to town.” She was dismissive, her mind absorbed on the golf club.
Cindy felt a wave of disappointment. “He promised to meet me from school!”
Susan continued practising her shot. “I’m sure he didn’t forget on purpose.”
Cindy shrugged her shoulders then noticed the array of new golf clubs stacked against one of the cane chairs. Propped up next to them was a new red and white leather golf bag. “Very nice, whose are they?”
Susan hesitated for a moment and then with a wide smile she beamed, “Mine!”
“I thought you already had a set?”
“I have, but well …” She shrugged. Seeing the flicker of a frown appear on Cindy’s forehead as she stood staring at the clubs, Susan realised that Cindy was mentally adding up their cost, no doubt comparing them to the price of that car she was constantly nagging for. Guilt trapped her into saying that she would be selling her old clubs and, attempting to further pacify Cindy, she added, “I am sure you will get the car … eventually.”
“Perhaps!” Cindy whispered as she turned away, unable to conceal the irritation she felt. She was conscious of a surge of jealousy against her mother as Susan started proudly placing the clubs one by one back into the golf bag.
“We can’t always get what we want when we want it,” Susan went on. When she saw the sulky expression in Cindy’s eyes she wished she had not uttered the words, but felt obliged to continue. “Try not to let disappointment cloud the day.”
“It’s all right for you,” Cindy’s voice was uncharacteristically harsh as she pointed to the clubs. “You always get what you want.”
“Well, Cindy, I am his wife.” There was a gentle note of reproach in Susan’s tone.
Cindy felt the impulse to go across to Susan and put her arms round her shoulders and murmur how nice the clubs were, but she stubbornly rejected it. “I am sorry if I sound ungrateful, but I am the laughing stock of the sixth form at the moment.”
Susan heard the small catch in her daughter’s voice and suddenly realised that Cindy was vulnerable, and understood how deep was her disappointment over the car. She gave an inward smile, knowing that Grant would not let her down. “Oh, come on.” She placed her arm round Cindy’s shoulder. “You know you always get what you want from your father, just be patient.”
“Do I indeed?” Cindy muttered and pulled away from Susan‘s embrace. She removed the clasp from her hair and allowed it to flow reassuringly round her face. Agitatedly she ran her fingers through the long locks. “So I have to be patient?” There was an edge to her voice that made Susan stare at her, for it was seldom that Cindy answered back in such a way.
“There’s no need to be rude,” Susan chided.
“I’m not being rude,” Cindy replied tartly without meeting Susan‘s eyes. The build up of disappointment regarding the car now mingled with what she thought was her mother’s lack of understanding and complacency got the better of her. “I’m going to my room. I’ll leave you with your new clubs.”
Susan chose not to answer. But Cindy could not resist adding, “You have no idea how upset I am with Dad.”
“I am sure you are,” Susan said, “And he doesn’t deserve that from you.” Then, wishing to close the subject she said. “If you’ve nothing better to do then go and set the table for dinner. It’s your father’s favourite – grilled sirloin steak.”
The remark infuriated Cindy. “Of course, his repayment!” She took off her school blazer, slung it over her shoulder and made to leave the conservatory.
“And what exactly is that remark supposed to mean?” Susan‘s patience snapped.
“Well, Dad never does things for nothing does he mother?” Cindy’s voice was not more than a whisper. “A favourite dinner for new golf clubs, not a bad return. I wonder what my payment for a car would have to be?” Cindy stopped herself going further but the unexpected edge in her tone made Susan look up. “Well it’s time you understood, young lady, that you’ve got to earn things in this life!”
“Don’t patronise me mother.” Cindy was allowing her temper to win, she had almost lost control for the first time in her life. “I have more than paid for everything I’ve got.”
Susan stared at her, shocked by the change in her daughter. “Anyone would think you were badly done to. But you have everything you could want. Much more than most girls of your age. Don’t be so ungrateful.”
Cindy saw the anger in her mother’s eyes and shook her head furiously. “Mother, give it a rest. I’ve paid for it all.” Then Cindy closed her eyes and bit her lip, annoyed with herself for allowing the situation to get out of control.
Susan watched her daughter closely. There was something very odd about how Cindy was acting. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded.
In the silence that followed, Cindy balanced her scales of justice. She had often wondered if there would be a right time to take the key and open her forbidden box of memories, thus allowing her dark hidden secrets to be exposed to the light. She had always sworn that she would never utter those experiences out loud, only Father Patrick and Pandora knew exactly what had happened, but Father Patrick had recently proved that he was not the right receptacle for her confidences and she had a deep need to share them with someone else.
Perhaps the horrors of the past should be re-awakened. The memory that lurked in the shadows of her consciousness had to be addressed, brought out, otherwise she would slowly go mad. Mad like Olive. As she obviously wasn’t going to get the car, what had she got to lose? Only her peace of mind.
And now I have the life I have created, also, this inner sorrow that I cannot expunge – this guilt of the futility of an action that I could have easily prevented. And the terrible shame I feel for doing it to my parents. I know it sounds so contradictory!
I could kick myself for not being stronger – exposing the sin so I did not feel as guilty and I condemn myself repeatedly for that. My love of the animals that look at me with soft pleading eyes and the sheer joy – yes – sheer joy of an operation successfully performed somewhat makes up for the deep feeling of waste and self loathing within.
Why such self loathing?
It is a powerful statement to make, as it implies so much that is negative, and yet, so much that is true. It all comes from memories of what was and what I have now allowed myself to become.
Does it all make sense?
S.W.
If You Summon a Storm
Posted June 30th, 2013
“If you summon a storm, be very sure of your own roof” or so the saying goes.
What that fails to point out is the large amount of debris scattered everywhere when the storm hits. I sit here with the book in front of me, I read the carefully constructed words, I recognise a lot of the phraseology and I now wonder if relating this story was the best thing for me to do? Why is my life filled with so many doubts? Was I really that cunning?
Lifted from the start of chapter 13 – here is the immediate aftermath of the accusation.
With tears streaming down her face and her heart thumping in her chest, Cindy stumbled across the landing into her bedroom and threw herself on the bed next to a disturbed Pandora.
The stricken expression on Susan‘s face would, Cindy knew, be imprinted on her memory forever. She started to shiver uncontrollably and felt Pandora’s warm body press into hers, as though the cat understood her distress. She put her hand across her face f
eeling where Susan had slapped it.
Words, so many words that could not be retracted. Horrible words for horrible deeds. Her father. What on earth had she done to him? What had she said, and why? Her mind resembled a jigsaw with only half the pieces present – but where they really missing or had she just ignored them? Until they all fitted together and made some cohesive picture she would never be a complete person. She needed help. So many of her thoughts had been kept hidden that sometimes it was difficult to know the real from the fantasy.
Her allegation had been received like a French kiss at a family reunion. But how had she expected her mother to react? Would there have ever been a right time to tell her? Yet why shatter their comfortable life? Why ruin her mother’s life?
But it is all too late. The story has been told and I have to live with the way it was portrayed. Yes, it is accurate, there is nothing in there that does not belong but sometimes seeing it all in black and white brings another dimension to it all. At times, I wish I had said something different or maybe done something different.
As I write this, I have just lit a cigarette and as the smoke rises I read that chapter again. I can still feel that whole horrendous episode and the word betrayal immediately comes in to my mind.
But in the end who betrayed who?
S.W.
Is it in the eyes?
Posted July 16th, 2013
How do you know when someone is lying? What gives the game away? An inconsistency, or not looking you in the