Chapter 13
FLORENCE
He’s gone home. I’m sitting on the sofa staring at my whiteboard and our ideas. Anxiety is nibbling away at me. We can’t fail again.
My phone starts to vibrate. I see that it’s Mum FaceTiming me. It’s late. I glance at the clock. It’s nearly ten. I hope she’s okay.
‘Hello,’ she coos, giving me a little wave. She’s sitting in her kitchen. Behind her, I can see the constellation of photos of Dad hung on the wall. For a few seconds, I zone out of what Mum is saying and gaze at his face.
She clears her throat, which jolts me back into the present.
‘Are you okay, Mum? You don’t normally call this late.’
She smiles. ‘I wanted to check you’re feeling all right, Florence.’
I blink several times with surprise. ‘Me? I’m fine. Why do you say that?’
With a hand on her chest, she says, ‘You’ve been a little short for a while and I’m worried about you.’
I’ve not been snappy. ‘Mum, I’m fine.’
After touching her earring, she fiddles with the neckline of her top. ‘I wondered whether you needed to talk.’
‘About what?’
There’s a pause. ‘Missing your dad? Or what you went through last year – perhaps?’
My heart aches. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Are you sure? Because in the café you looked stressed and you were a bit abrupt with me. I know you say you’re fine, but these things can come back months later and the other day I noticed it was the one year—’
I don’t let her finish. ‘It’s okay, Mum. I am fine. Honest.’
She smiles. ‘You would tell me if you were struggling.’
My eyes have become watery. I blink like mad. ‘Yes.’
‘Are you happy, Florence?’ Her words echo inside of me. I remain silent. ‘Remember, you can always go back and speak to your counsellor.’
I shake my head. ‘Mum, I’m fine.’
‘Before I go, Steve has managed to get a discount on a wonderful all-inclusive to Tenerife and…’
I wish she’d stop mentioning this. She hardly knows Steve. He could turn out to be a psycho, a nutter or an axe-wielding murderer in Speedos. If anything happened out there, I wouldn’t be there to protect her. ‘Mum, you can’t rush off to Tenerife with a chap you hardly know.’
‘But I…’
I grip my phone with both hands. ‘Mum, if anything went wrong out there, I couldn’t rescue you.’
‘Yes, you’re right. Anyway, I’d better go. I must finish some ironing.’
After I hang up the phone, I catch sight of my little candle.
The one that I lit to mark the anniversary of my miscarriage last year.
Days after catching Ben cheating on me, I discovered I was pregnant.
Ben didn’t want anything to do with the baby or me.
He’d moved on with Margo. I decided to keep our child and, with Laura’s help, planned my new life as a single mother. At fifteen weeks, I had a miscarriage.
I reflect on the past year, which at times has felt so dark and painful, but I have somehow got through it.
If it wasn’t for the woman counsellor I spoke to, I’m not sure where I would be.
She had a whiteboard in her office, and I would always find myself staring at her colourful doodles and mind maps.
Something she used to say to me echoes in my mind – ‘You need to find happiness again, Florence.’ At the time, the thought of being happy made my neck and shoulders stiffen.
How could I be happy after something so terrible?
Mum’s voice lingers in my mind – ‘Are you happy, Florence?’
Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I felt happy. Sometimes in the café, I do catch myself being snappy. Maybe Mum had a point?
My whiteboard reclaims my focus and reminds me of the failed second test. I hope Clark and I pass tomorrow evening but what if we don’t?
Mum’s voice follows – ‘You’ve been a little short for a while now. Are you happy?’
That could be our last conversation. My heart lurches.
If we fail and die tomorrow, Mum will be left with that memory and no explanation. My chest tightens.
No, that’s not happening. I shove the thought to the darkest depths of my mind.
Pushing myself off the sofa, I grab a cloth and scrub the board harder than I need to. No more planning and no more doubt.
Clark and I will pass. We must.