Not My Daughter

‘No, not today,’ I say, the words feeling important and necessary, a promise I am making not just to Alice, but to myself. ‘But soon.’

Amazingly, I am feeling optimistic, for the first time in what feels like forever. The sun is shining, and Alice has a friend. For once the future doesn’t feel as if it is yawning in front of me, dark and terrible. A few weeks ago, Matt and I started therapy again, and we are stronger than ever. Finally there is a break in the clouds of our lives, and for a few moments I allow myself to enjoy the sunshine, to breathe, to be.

Then, that night, Alice has a grand mal seizure, and everything changes again.

Thirty-Four

Anna

The soil is dark and rich as I plunge my hands into it, turning over the earth to plant the tiny seed. It is late May, and Will and I are working on his uncle’s allotment; his cancer returned and it’s unlikely he’ll be able to work it, at least this year.

It’s been good for us, working together, growing things. We’ve cleared away all the winter’s debris and have planned raised beds of onions and lettuce, as well as a new chicken coop and six lovely little chicks, fat and yellow. It’s a fresh start, something I think we both needed, especially me, after all the sorrow of the winter.

Five months on from Alice’s diagnosis, and I have begun to learn to let go. It’s been a slow process, a painful separation of myself, and yet I know it’s been necessary. It’s been five years since I last saw Alice, and I’ve finally stopped looking for her.

Will, despite or perhaps because of his initial concern, has been unwaveringly supportive. I make meals for Matt and Milly once a week or so, and every so often I send her a text, just to let her know I am thinking of her, without any pressure or expectation.

After five years, I’ve finally relinquished the expectation that I am somehow owed something from Milly. And while Alice is never far from my thoughts, she doesn’t dominate them.

‘Tea break?’ Will suggests, and I straighten, easing the crick in my lower back. We’ve been working for several hours, and the plot is taking shape. All around us people are busy on their own strips of land, raking, hoeing and planting. The world feels lush and brimming with possibility, with new growth and fresh starts.

‘Sounds good.’

We troop into the little shed, where we’ve now spent so many happy hours. Will lights the propane stove while I fill the kettle at the outdoor tap.

‘I’ll make it,’ he says, taking the kettle from me when I return. I shrug and sit down, grateful to have a bit of a rest.

It’s a lovely, sunny day, and I tilt my head to catch the light from the open door, my eyes drifting closed as I listen to the drone of bumblebees, someone calling in the distance.

‘Here you go.’ Will sounds a bit hesitant, even nervous, as I open my eyes and see a tin mug of tea in front of my face.

‘Thanks.’ I take a sip while Will watches me.

‘You looked as if you’d fallen asleep.’

‘I almost had.’ He’s still watching me, and I let out a little laugh. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing.’ Abashed, he looks away. I glance down at my mug, and I start at the sight of something floating in the hot liquid. Something bright and glittering.

‘Will…’

‘What?’ He looks entirely too innocent, and I laugh incredulously, unsure even now. Carefully, wincing a bit because the tea is hot, I fish the ring out of the mug – because it is a ring, a diamond ring.

When I look up, Will is kneeling down in front of me. ‘Anna, I love you so much. Will you marry me?’

I laugh again, still incredulous, and so joyful. ‘Yes… yes, of course I will.’

He slides the ring onto my finger and then I grab his hands and pull him to his feet, as he kisses me. ‘Shall we set a date?’ he asks.

‘Already?’ I laugh. I still can barely credit the ring sparkling on my finger.

‘The sooner the better, as far as I am concerned.’ He gives a playful grimace. ‘Neither of us are getting any younger, I am reluctant to admit.’

‘True.’ A sudden, terrible thought jolts through me, and Will sees it in my face.

‘Anna, what is it?’