Page 21 of A Part of Me and You
She looks at me like I have read her mind, then tries to speak and her voice breaks when she does.
‘She thinks I don’t know the truth but I do know,’ she sniffles. ‘I heard her talking to Aunty Helen before we left and she said this would be our last holiday ever. Like, how am I meant to enjoy myself when I know it’s our last holiday ever? I am so mad! She must think I’m stupid but I just don’t know what to do. She could at least tell me instead of trying to pretend everything is okay when everything is just awful. I’m not a baby, I should know the truth!’
I put my arm around her and hold her close as her shoulders heave.
‘Cry all you want,’ I say to her. ‘Cry and get it all out if that’s what you came here to do.’
The rain mixes with my own tears as she sobs and gasps for breath in between sniffles and lets all her pain out. She grasps my coat as she cries and I squeeze her tight, wondering where on earth I have mustered up the courage to sit and empathize so much with someone I have never met, when I can barely hold a conversation with my own husband these days. I haven’t spoken to my closest friends like this in such a long time but I want to help her. I need to help her.
‘Do you want to come with me and Merlin and we’ll call your mum before you really do get sick out here?’ I ask her when she begins to settle. ‘I don’t have my phone with me but we can contact her or I can take you to her?’
She shakes her head.
‘I have my own phone here in my pocket,’ she says. ‘But thanks anyway. I can call her and make my way back. She’ll be so worried. I need to go back.’
‘Yes, that’s a good idea,’ I tell her.
‘Why do you care?’ she asks me. ‘How do you know what I am going through?’
‘Unfortunately, I know all too well,’ I explain. ‘I know you are feeling so many things right now but your mum is only doing her best for you.’
‘I didn’t want to come here.’
‘I’m sure she knows why she brought you,’ I say. ‘She will tell you everything in her own time, believe me. Imagine how hard this must be for her too. You need each other. You need to make this time special even though you are confused and angry right now. Your mum is still here and you need each other.’
She pauses, hesitant.
‘I should get back to her,’ she says, standing up, sobbing now. ‘I shouldn’t have stayed out so long. We were meant to go for dinner and she was wearing her new dress that she bought today and now I’ve ruined the whole evening.’
Her face crumples and I want to just take away all her pain and make everything alright for her, but I know I can’t. It’s not as simple as that, unfortunately.
‘Your mum will understand,’ I say to her. ‘Mums always do, believe me. Now, go and give her a big hug and tell her you are sorry for worrying her. You may not think it, but I know exactly how mad and frightened you are right now.’
‘You can’t possibly know,’ she asks. ‘No one does.’
‘I do,’ I explain, standing up to meet her, ‘I know because I was once a young girl like you and the same thing happened to me and I ran away from it all too, but I had to go back and face up to what was happening, no matter how horrible it was. My mum got very sick too, just like yours is now.’
‘She did?’ she says, and she lifts the umbrella and we stand beneath it together. ‘And did she get better or did she die in the end?’
I wish I could tell her different. I look out to the sea, then back at her and I take a deep breath.
‘I was sixteen when she died,’ I explain to this beautiful, inquisitive child. ‘Her name was Rosie and she died after a short illness and I only wish that I got to have one last holiday with her, just like you are doing now.’
The little girl’s eyes widen.
‘Rosie? That’s my name,’ she says and for the first time, she smiles slightly. ‘I’m Rosie too. How weird is that?’
For some reason I am not surprised that she shares a name with my dear mother. I have a feeling that we were meant to meet this evening, young Rose, me and Merlin.
‘How did you – how did you cope without her?’ she asks me and I take a deep breath because I honestly don’t know.
‘It’s hard,’ I tell her, not wanting to frighten her more but not wanting to shield her from the inevitable, heart-wrenching truth. ‘We can talk about it more if you are around for a while, that’s if your mum allows you and if you want to?’
‘Really?’ she squints back at me through the rain. I can feel her relax a little.
‘Really,’ I say to her. ‘I know exactly what it feels like to have so much anger inside and that blinding fear of not knowing where to turn. You can talk to me anytime.’
‘I don’t mean to be angry with her,’ says Rosie. ‘But she’s treating me like a baby and not telling me what everyone else already knows.’
