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Authors: Tina Seskis
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listen to Caroline’s music through her bedroom wall, she always played it so loud, particularly when Emily was trying to do her homework. She sat down at her desk again and studied the equation. She'd just worked out that the chips were 50p (finding the price of the fish would be easy now) when she heard her father’s car in the driveway. She called downstairs brightly as she came out of her bedroom.
“Hi Dad! How was the conference?”
She paused on the landing, looking down into the open plan living room, with its new leather corner suite and sheepskin rug, as he stood there inert, shiny briefcase under his arm, desolation in his eyes. Then she came slowly down the two half-flights of stairs and put her arms around her father, as he buried his head against her shoulder, like she was the parent and he was the child.
“Oh Emily, what a pathetic father I’ve been to you girls. Seeing Caroline in that place is just...” Andrew stopped as his voice broke, and after all these years and years the release finally came.
Caroline looked hostilely at her mother, who sat at the end of the hospital bed in the institutionally-cheerful room, with its yellow painted walls and drab washed out pictures and vile green-checked curtains. A single vase of unopened daffodils stood nakedly on the formica table in the corner, beneath the window and next to the chair on which, in Caroline’s opinion, Frances should have been sat and not on her bed. She was surprised at the strength of her anger. Over the past months her diminishing weight had seemed to diminish her senses too, and all the effort of planning her calorie intake had until now deviated her thoughts away from more dangerous areas where painful feelings lurked – feelings like resentment of her mother, derision of her father, hatred of her sister. It was easier to decide whether to have a quarter or a half an orange for breakfast than choose to wish her mother or sister dead first. And now here was Frances snivelling on the end of her bed about how sorry she was, how she’d let her down, about how much she loved her, and Caroline knew she was LYING.
Caroline felt tired within her own skin. She wanted the whole world to just fuck off and leave her on her own private island of meal planning and calorie counting, a place where for the first time ever she felt safe and in control. She didn’t want to have to face her mother here in this revolting room. She’d spent so many years, tried so many strategies, yearned for Frances to focus on her instead of Emily, to accept her, to love her. And now that she, Caroline, had finally given up on the whole thing Frances was suddenly sniffing around, trying to be some ridiculous maternal saviour.
“I’m so sorry, my darling, I really had no idea.”
“You have no idea about anything to do with me,” said Caroline.
“I’m going to try harder, you’ll see, we’ll get you out of here, we’ll get you better.”
“Wouldn’t you rather let me just waste away? Then you’d only have Emily to worry about. Isn’t that what you want?”
Frances thought then of the dreadful day Caroline had entered the world, unexpected, alien, and how at the very moment of new life she had wished her youngest daughter dead. The memory had been buried for so long that Caroline’s question invaded Frances’s brain, hot and bright like a nuclear bomb, and jerked the whole horrible saga back to the surface. Caroline saw the expression on her mother’s face and understood unequivocally that the answer was yes.
Frances felt denial, then shame, and then an overwhelming relief that at last she had shared her secret. The fact that it was with Caroline of all people didn’t actually matter. The poisonous choking ball of hate in her heart was expelled into the room, as if physically, allowing the love to flood in. They looked at each other, Frances with love at last, Caroline with desperation. And then Frances fell into her daughter’s bony arms
“Hi Dad! How was the conference?”
She paused on the landing, looking down into the open plan living room, with its new leather corner suite and sheepskin rug, as he stood there inert, shiny briefcase under his arm, desolation in his eyes. Then she came slowly down the two half-flights of stairs and put her arms around her father, as he buried his head against her shoulder, like she was the parent and he was the child.
“Oh Emily, what a pathetic father I’ve been to you girls. Seeing Caroline in that place is just...” Andrew stopped as his voice broke, and after all these years and years the release finally came.
Caroline looked hostilely at her mother, who sat at the end of the hospital bed in the institutionally-cheerful room, with its yellow painted walls and drab washed out pictures and vile green-checked curtains. A single vase of unopened daffodils stood nakedly on the formica table in the corner, beneath the window and next to the chair on which, in Caroline’s opinion, Frances should have been sat and not on her bed. She was surprised at the strength of her anger. Over the past months her diminishing weight had seemed to diminish her senses too, and all the effort of planning her calorie intake had until now deviated her thoughts away from more dangerous areas where painful feelings lurked – feelings like resentment of her mother, derision of her father, hatred of her sister. It was easier to decide whether to have a quarter or a half an orange for breakfast than choose to wish her mother or sister dead first. And now here was Frances snivelling on the end of her bed about how sorry she was, how she’d let her down, about how much she loved her, and Caroline knew she was LYING.
Caroline felt tired within her own skin. She wanted the whole world to just fuck off and leave her on her own private island of meal planning and calorie counting, a place where for the first time ever she felt safe and in control. She didn’t want to have to face her mother here in this revolting room. She’d spent so many years, tried so many strategies, yearned for Frances to focus on her instead of Emily, to accept her, to love her. And now that she, Caroline, had finally given up on the whole thing Frances was suddenly sniffing around, trying to be some ridiculous maternal saviour.
“I’m so sorry, my darling, I really had no idea.”
“You have no idea about anything to do with me,” said Caroline.
“I’m going to try harder, you’ll see, we’ll get you out of here, we’ll get you better.”
“Wouldn’t you rather let me just waste away? Then you’d only have Emily to worry about. Isn’t that what you want?”
Frances thought then of the dreadful day Caroline had entered the world, unexpected, alien, and how at the very moment of new life she had wished her youngest daughter dead. The memory had been buried for so long that Caroline’s question invaded Frances’s brain, hot and bright like a nuclear bomb, and jerked the whole horrible saga back to the surface. Caroline saw the expression on her mother’s face and understood unequivocally that the answer was yes.
Frances felt denial, then shame, and then an overwhelming relief that at last she had shared her secret. The fact that it was with Caroline of all people didn’t actually matter. The poisonous choking ball of hate in her heart was expelled into the room, as if physically, allowing the love to flood in. They looked at each other, Frances with love at last, Caroline with desperation. And then Frances fell into her daughter’s bony arms
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