Read Online Secrets My Mother Kept by Kath Hardy - Free Book Online

rectangular grey rug in the middle of the floor which, even though it was quite threadbare and worn, made the room feel warmer. Today, as it was winter, wet washing was hung around the room to dry. Margaret’s spoon dropped onto the table suddenly and it was as though she didn’t have the energy to pick it back up. Mum stood up and carried her over to the settee – it was too cold for her to go upstairs. She tucked a coat over her, and put a shovel full of coal on the fire.
    I was lonely without Margaret to play with. We were only eighteen months apart in age and had always been very close, but now that she was ill I began to be a more solitary child. I had always enjoyed reading, and would find books around the house – often unreturned remnants of my siblings’ library visits. The whole family were now blacklisted, so although Margaret and I were sometimes taken to the library, we could never join or take books out.
    I don’t ever remember learning to read; I just seemed to be able to do it one day. I do know that I was reading quite well before I started school so must only have been about four or five. Books were very important in my life. There were plenty around the house, even though many of them were for adults.
    When Margaret was first ill she wasn’t yet able to read, so that became my job. Over the years I became adept at reading and sharing books with her. I wasn’t scared or nervous when I read aloud to Margaret in the little bedroom she now shared with Josie. It was really quite cosy in there. Josie had stuck lots of posters of Elvis Presley on the walls and she kept the room tidy. Mum sometimes even lit a little fire in the fireplace on the coldest days if we had enough coal. We read the Katy books, Little Women and Jo’s Boys ; we devoured quantities of Enid Blyton and cried over Black Beauty . We explored some old poetry books that we found, and I sang the words to old songs and tunes that we half remembered. I would like to pretend that I did all of this because I was such a kind sister, but that wasn’t the truth. I did it because I was tormented with jealousy. Margaret was the centre of attention. She was tiny, vulnerable and listless and so my Mum, Aunty and all of my sisters did their best to cheer her up. This meant that she got special little treats, one of which was a box of chocolate kittens each individually wrapped, which I coveted. I longed to be ‘special’ and wished many times that it was me that was ill, but I hid my feelings from everyone. The best way for me to get the attention I craved was to be the kind big sister. So I was.
    Margaret was ill for several years. Over that time she had periods when she seemed to get better for a while, and things would be almost back to normal. We would play out in the garden again and get up to our usual mischief, but then she would suddenly go back downhill and slip back into a state of decline. Her body took on the appearance of an undernourished waif and Aunty would joke, ‘Don’t stand behind the lamppost or we won’t see you.’
    We started calling her ‘Maggie Aggie Baggy Pants’ and that name stuck with her until adulthood.
    When you live with someone and see them every day you aren’t always aware of their decline but looking back at photos it is clear that she was shrinking away. The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with her and I suppose these days she may have been diagnosed with an eating disorder or a more general ‘failure to thrive’. The causes and symptoms were varied and sometimes vague, but for Margaret I believe it was a kind of saddening.

10
    A Family Christmas
    It would soon be Christmas. The preparations were always very exciting. Mum would buy us some little ‘make your own’ Christmas cards which we would spend hours colouring and spreading with glue and glitter. We would make one each for everyone in the family, taking great care with each of them and carefully writing: ‘To . . . Merry Christmas from