so different.’
Edna laughed.
Janet looked offended. ‘But I’m not like her.’
‘You don’t know that just yet, and believe me, I should know. I’m not like my mother, thank goodness, in fact I’m probably more like my father. But I
am
a mother myself so I know a good one when I see one. I think I see the best of Charlotte in you. Isn’t it true you enjoy working at the hospital? You obviously do care for other people just as she does.’
Janet studied her hands as if seeing them for the first time and not being too sure why she had fingers. ‘I love my job. I think I love my mother although at times she seems indifferent, at others surprising – even shocking.’
Edna accepted that Charlotte’s serenity could be misconstrued as indifference so did not challenge the comment. Shocking was not quite such an easily accepted description, but she chose not to react. Janet was feeling fragile. It was best to take things slowly.
She said, ‘We all experience sad and terrible times in our lives. There’s no guarantee given out at the beginning that it’s going to be perfect right until the end. I’ve certainly had my share, that’s for sure.’
‘Ah yes, Colin.’
‘Not just Colin.’
Edna studied her children. She rarely talked about her firstborn, but she thought about him a lot. Would his absence help to heal Janet’s hurt? It had to be worth using it.
‘I had a child before I married Colin. I had to give him up.’
Janet stared at her dumbstruck. ‘I didn’t know … I mean … I know you two fell out just before that Christmas you came to stay with us.’ The details were vague. She’d been at an age when her own problems had seemed far more important than those of grown-ups.
‘It wasn’t Colin’s. I had a romance, a brief affair while he was away. But I was still the same person I was before and I am now, though older of course. And Colin loved me still. It was just one of those things that happened. I have to live with it, but it changes nothing. I’m still the same and so are you. People love us for what we are, not what we’ve done or had done to us.’
Janet blinked. Edna was no longer the person she’d thought she was. It was difficult to say anything.
The silence lingered. Both women pretended to watch the children who, in turn, watched the monkeys as they dashed over the green dome of the mock Indian temple, screeching, scrabbling and fighting amongst themselves for the scattered peanuts and orange peel.
Edna remained tight-lipped until she judged the moment was right to speak. ‘You’ve had a horrible experience, Janet, but you cannot allow it to ruin your life. You have to go on. People depend on you.’
Janet swallowed at the dryness in her throat. ‘I’ll never forget that voice.’
Edna stroked Janet’s hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Janet didn’t move, didn’t look at her. Her voice was soft. ‘You’ll do it. You’re strong, just like your mother.’
Janet shook her head away from Edna’s soothing fingers. ‘I am
not
like my mother!’
At first Edna looked taken aback, but rallied quickly. She shrugged. ‘Hopefully I’m not like mine.’
Perhaps because her feelings were in turmoil, Janet did not
want
to be soothed. She suddenly snapped, ‘I’m not a child. Please don’t treat me like one.’ She untangled herself from Edna’s sympathy and walked away.
Edna watched, aching because she knew how it was to feel confused, to bear disappointment and to wonder what to do next. Things would get better. She knew they would.
‘She’ll be all right,’ she said softly to herself.
There was no time to dwell on Janet’s plight. Pamela began to squall so loudly that all the monkeys retreated to the very top of their carved concrete home.
That was uncalled for, Janet said to herself. Edna’s been good to you. She stopped beneath a weeping willow. Feathery leaves threw delicate shadows across her face.
Edna had surprised her, and
Edna laughed.
Janet looked offended. ‘But I’m not like her.’
‘You don’t know that just yet, and believe me, I should know. I’m not like my mother, thank goodness, in fact I’m probably more like my father. But I
am
a mother myself so I know a good one when I see one. I think I see the best of Charlotte in you. Isn’t it true you enjoy working at the hospital? You obviously do care for other people just as she does.’
Janet studied her hands as if seeing them for the first time and not being too sure why she had fingers. ‘I love my job. I think I love my mother although at times she seems indifferent, at others surprising – even shocking.’
Edna accepted that Charlotte’s serenity could be misconstrued as indifference so did not challenge the comment. Shocking was not quite such an easily accepted description, but she chose not to react. Janet was feeling fragile. It was best to take things slowly.
She said, ‘We all experience sad and terrible times in our lives. There’s no guarantee given out at the beginning that it’s going to be perfect right until the end. I’ve certainly had my share, that’s for sure.’
‘Ah yes, Colin.’
‘Not just Colin.’
Edna studied her children. She rarely talked about her firstborn, but she thought about him a lot. Would his absence help to heal Janet’s hurt? It had to be worth using it.
‘I had a child before I married Colin. I had to give him up.’
Janet stared at her dumbstruck. ‘I didn’t know … I mean … I know you two fell out just before that Christmas you came to stay with us.’ The details were vague. She’d been at an age when her own problems had seemed far more important than those of grown-ups.
‘It wasn’t Colin’s. I had a romance, a brief affair while he was away. But I was still the same person I was before and I am now, though older of course. And Colin loved me still. It was just one of those things that happened. I have to live with it, but it changes nothing. I’m still the same and so are you. People love us for what we are, not what we’ve done or had done to us.’
Janet blinked. Edna was no longer the person she’d thought she was. It was difficult to say anything.
The silence lingered. Both women pretended to watch the children who, in turn, watched the monkeys as they dashed over the green dome of the mock Indian temple, screeching, scrabbling and fighting amongst themselves for the scattered peanuts and orange peel.
Edna remained tight-lipped until she judged the moment was right to speak. ‘You’ve had a horrible experience, Janet, but you cannot allow it to ruin your life. You have to go on. People depend on you.’
Janet swallowed at the dryness in her throat. ‘I’ll never forget that voice.’
Edna stroked Janet’s hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Janet didn’t move, didn’t look at her. Her voice was soft. ‘You’ll do it. You’re strong, just like your mother.’
Janet shook her head away from Edna’s soothing fingers. ‘I am
not
like my mother!’
At first Edna looked taken aback, but rallied quickly. She shrugged. ‘Hopefully I’m not like mine.’
Perhaps because her feelings were in turmoil, Janet did not
want
to be soothed. She suddenly snapped, ‘I’m not a child. Please don’t treat me like one.’ She untangled herself from Edna’s sympathy and walked away.
Edna watched, aching because she knew how it was to feel confused, to bear disappointment and to wonder what to do next. Things would get better. She knew they would.
‘She’ll be all right,’ she said softly to herself.
There was no time to dwell on Janet’s plight. Pamela began to squall so loudly that all the monkeys retreated to the very top of their carved concrete home.
That was uncalled for, Janet said to herself. Edna’s been good to you. She stopped beneath a weeping willow. Feathery leaves threw delicate shadows across her face.
Edna had surprised her, and
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