Page 67 of Good Bad Girl

It’s already too late, Clio thinks, but she sits back down in the chair next to her mother’s bed. If they are going to talk, then there are things Clio wants to know.

“Why did you tell the police that you killed the care home manager?” she asks.

“I’m dying, Clio. I don’t want to waste whatever time I have left talking about her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That I’m dying, or sorry for asking the question? Death is a mystery, isn’t it? We’re all dying from the moment we are born, it is only a question of when. Did you know that two people die every second in the world? Over one hundred people die every minute. Over six thousand every hour, one hundred and fifty thousand every day, five million every month, sixty million deaths every year. And that’s only humans. That’s a lot of death and dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I think we both know that I am,” Edith says. “I’m sorry you’re having to go through this alone—like so many other things—but you’re strong. You’re the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known, Clio. And I’m proud of you for that and for so many other things. I know I didn’t say it very often, even when I should have, but I do love you. I hope you know that.”

Clio wonders what drugs her mother is on because she doesn’t sound at all like herself.

“If you love me, then why did you change your will?” Clio asks.

“So that you’d find her.”

“Who?”

“Ladybug. Your daughter.”

“I knew it. She’s not my daughter, she’s just a con artist. They both are.”

“What do you meanboth?”

The machine Edith is hooked up to starts to beep a little faster.

“It doesn’t matter,” Clio says. “Take it easy, Mum. Maybe just rest—”

“Sheisyour daughter.”

If her mother is going to insist on talking about this again, there is something Clio would like to know. “Do you remember this?” she asks, showing Edith the silver ladybug ring Frankie gave her.

“Of course. I had three of them made when your daughter was born. One for you, one for me, and one for her, which I put on a little chain until she would be old enough to wear it. I didn’t know you kept yours.”

“I didn’t. But I’ve seen two of them today.”

“Two? Where?”

“A woman gave this one to me earlier. It looks so much like the original.”

“I think itisthe original. I had them made especially, therewereonly three. I’m so sorry Clio. I have so many regrets and—”

“And I’m top of the list. I know, you wrote it in your notebook and I found it, remember?”

Edith shakes her head. “My biggest regret isn’tyou, it’s about you. That’s what that line in my notebook meant. My biggest regret of my life is that I wasn’t a better mother to you. I wish I had known how to love you the way you deserved to be loved, and how to fix what got broken because of me. My biggest regret is lettingyoudown.” Clio doesn’t know what to say, but when Edith reaches for her hand she holds it. “Don’t make the same mistakes as me and don’t leave it too late to learn how to be happy. It’s not who we are, it’s who we think we are that holds us back in life and stops us from being who we could be.”

The machine beeps again. Clio stares at it but Edith only looks at her.

Clio starts to stand. “I really think I should find a doctor—”

“I’m dying, Clio. There is nothing any doctor can do for me now, and I don’t want to spend my final moments with a stranger. I got almost everything wrong with you, at least let me do a good job of saying goodbye.”

Clio starts to cry, she feels like a little girl again. “Mum, I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes you do. In here,” Edith says, placing her hand over her heart. She wipes away Clio’s tears, just like she did when she was a child, then holds her daughter’s hand once more.

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