The Last Anniversary

She grinds the floss against her gums. Her eyes are huge, dry, stinging orbs, like an alien’s.

It was seventy-three years ago today that her great-grandmother Alice Munro decided to step free of her life. Veronika’s theory about Aunt Connie killing the Munros is manifestly wrong. It was Alice. She knew she couldn’t be a good mother to her baby so she took herself out of the picture. The only difference is that she decided to take her husband with her, whereas Grace is leaving Callum with a nice ready-made family.

Although he’s sure to be upset at first. He may even grieve. She thinks of Aunt Connie’s funeral. There was a moment when she happened to glance over and see Aunt Rose staring at the coffin with such naked anguish that Grace had to look away. Her pain seemed intensely private. It is unbearable to think of Callum suffering like that, to imagine the familiar features of his face distorted and ugly with grief.

But oh God, she has no choice. It will be such a relief to just stop, for good. And in the end he’ll be so much happier with Sophie. It will only take a year or two. It’s best for him and for Jake. No pain, no gain.

Callum’s eyelids twitch as he suddenly senses her presence. ‘Bloody hell!’ He is instantly wide awake and sitting up, rubbing at his eyes. ‘What’s the matter? What are you doing there?’

‘Flossing,’ answers Grace.

Gublet McDublet ticked off the last thing on his LIST OF THINGS TO DO BEFORE I GO TO THE MOON. He was feeling very happy about going to the moon. He was VERY happy. He was so happy it made him cry. Of course, he could always change his mind at the last minute. Nobody was making him go to the moon. He could change his mind right up until just before he strapped himself into the spaceship.

48

Afterwards, Sophie will always remember the Anniversary Night starting like a sedately moving merry-go-round, with smiling faces and shimmering lights and pretty music, and then gradually, imperceptibly, getting faster and faster until finally it was whirling wildly out of control, a mad, streaky blur of colour and half-glimpses of frantic mouths, which was when she decided she’d like to get off now please because she was feeling sick.

It’s six p.m. and Sophie is dressed up in her Fairy Floss Fairy outfit trying to decide whether she looks gorgeous or ludicrous, when her mother rings.

‘I think I might be too old for my fairy outfit,’ she says, still looking at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror, and waits comfortably for Gretel’s soothing cries of protest.

‘Well of course you’re too old for it!’ cries her mother, and Sophie’s eyes meet her own in the mirror with surprise. ‘Why don’t you take off that silly outfit and put on that stunning new green dress you got last week and come to the opera with us? Dad and I will pick you up at the station. You can stay the night. You don’t want to be making that terrible long trip back late at night in the cold.’

Months before, Sophie had agreed to go to see Cosi fan Tutte with her parents, but it isn’t one of her favourite operas and when it turned out to be on the same night as the Anniversary celebrations she’d asked her mother to see if she could give away her ticket. Apparently Pam from Pilates had been delighted to accept.

‘I thought Pam from Pilates took my ticket.’

‘Well, yes, she did, but I could just tell her it fell through and you wanted to come after all. We’d rather have you than Pam. Pam, schmam, I say!’

There is definitely something going on here.

‘Well, thanks, Mum, but I don’t think I can pull out now at the last minute. It would be a bit rude. Grandma Enigma is already so upset about Margie not being there.’

‘Oh, well we don’t want to hurt Grandma Enigma’s feelings. Is that what you call her now? Grandma Enigma! How lovely. I guess you feel like she’s your grandmother now. They must be making you feel like you’re part of the family. That’s lovely.’

‘Actually, mostly I just call her Enigma. That was a slip of the tongue really.’

‘Of course, you missed out on so much, not having grandparents. So it’s lovely that you think of her that way.’

‘Well, I don’t really think of her that way. And I never missed out on one single thing in life.’

‘You did miss out on having a big family. No cousins or aunties or anything. And every Christmas you used to ask Santa Claus for a little sister or brother. I felt so mean for not giving you one. I still feel guilty about that. That’s why I think it’s lovely the way the Scribbly Gum family has adopted you. When we were there the other week and Margie just dropped in for a cup of tea, I thought, how lovely for Sophie! I admit I did feel a bit embarrassed when she asked you about your sore throat from the night before and I didn’t even know you’d had one! As I said to her, I obviously would have brought some butter menthols for you if I’d known. She probably thought I was a shocking mother. I hope you haven’t ever told her about how we used to smoke around you, have you? She’ll get Social Services onto us! Not that she’d do that. She seems like a lovely person.’

‘You’ve used the word “lovely” about forty times now, Mum. I think it means you don’t think they’re lovely at all.’

‘Oh, well, listen to Freud here! You’re onto me. I’m wildly jealous of your new family.’

‘I wouldn’t call them my new family, exactly.’

‘Oh, I’m only teasing you, darling! I’ll see you Tuesday for our manicures. You can still fit me in on Tuesday? I don’t mind if you’ve got something on with Margie or Aunt Rose or Grandma Enigma or anything.’

‘Of course I wouldn’t miss Tuesday.’

‘And I’m sure you look absolutely adorable in your dear little Fairy Floss dress.’

Sophie hangs up the phone and goes back to stare at herself in the mirror, tugging irritably at her neckline. She looks like a complete twit. Mutton dressed up as a Fairy Floss Fairy.

She needs to do something about her mother, who is obviously feeling neglected and actually sounded quite snide just then; but really, it’s hardly fair of Mum–how many daughters in their thirties talk to their mothers on the phone every single day? How many daughters join their mothers for fortnightly manicures, monthly facials and cut-and-colours every six weeks? Her mother is spoiled, that’s the problem! Of course, Sophie is also spoiled. They’ve spoiled each other. ‘You should be thankful you’ve only got a small family,’ Claire was always telling Sophie. ‘You’ve never had to endure emotional blackmail from your mother. Mothers specialise in it. I spend half my life feeling guilty.’