Page 86 of Sincerely Yours, Anna Sherwood

My stomach drops.

I didn’t think they were that bad. Were they? Unless I’ve forgotten something truly awful I wrote about Lloyd, or Arrowmile … Unless Mum’s seen something else. Maybe there’s something horrible on my phone that she saw, or they’ve kicked me off the internship after all, or –

‘Is this …’ She swallows, hard. ‘Is that really what you think I did? Chose my ambition over you and your dad? Stomped all over you?’

Oh.

Oh. That.

I stare at her, not sure what to say except, ‘You did.’

Mum stares at me. A few tears fall onto her cheeks.

I carry on, my voice steady. It’s all fact. It’s been fact for years; this is one thing, today, I don’t need to get emotional over.

‘We were always secondary to you. To your life. The glamorous businesswoman and self-declared “She-EO”. You left us because we couldn’t compete with your career and your ambition. You chose to go out there and be Kathryn Jones, instead of my mum.’ I shrug, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable by how upset she looks. ‘I remember you used to skip out on school things with me because you had more important things to do at work. Even when you were at home, you weren’t reallytheremost of the time. After you left … Well, you’d left. You were gone. It’s not like you came back, is it?’

Mum flinches. After a moment, she shuffles to the armchair furthest from me. When she sinks into it, she looks small. Frail. So … not like Mum.

‘Dad says he knew when he married you, he couldn’t compete with your ambition. That he used to admire it about you, until it eclipsed everything. I obviously couldn’t compete with it, either.’

‘Oh, darling – no, that’s not …’

‘It is. It’s fine.’

It’s not fine. It’s never been fine. But it’s the truth, and I can’t change it. I’m not trying to.

Mum shakes her head, hunching forward to press her hands over her face. She smudges her makeup when she drags them away.

‘Me and your dad had other problems. Mainly mine, I’ll be the first to admit that, but there were other things … It wasn’t the only factor in our divorce. I knew I couldn’t look after you, but he was so angry with me – much like you are now, I suppose – that he suggested I stay away until I decided I was “settled” enough to be part of your life. It wasn’t fair on you, we agreed, if I kept flitting in and out, or not showing up. I … Anna, I wasn’t ready to be a mum when I had you. I thought I was, but – when it came to it … I had awful post-partum depression, you know. I turned into this husk. Your dad had to take care of both of us, for a long while. When I started to get better, it felt like I’d lost this huge part of myself. Work was the only thing I could cling to that made me feel like my old self. I – I suppose I threw myself into it a little too far, is all.’

I stare at Mum. At her pale face and smeared makeup, the tears flowing down her cheeks and her trembling hands. At this strange, aching creature I’ve never seen before.

And I whisper, ‘I didn’t know you were depressed.’

She looks startled. ‘Didn’t your dad mention it?’

‘I – I mean … He said you had a rough time, after you had me.’

The corner of Mum’s mouth twitches. ‘Hehad a rough time. I was like a ghost. It wiped out a wholechunk of my life. I think, by the time I was better – it’s like you said, I let work eclipse everything else. Your father and I agreed I’d let you both have some space – some stability – and I don’t think I ever felt ready to come back into your life. I thought it would only be for a couple of months, but every time – I put it off.After this merger’s finished, I’d think.After I’ve got through this probation period, or,Once this deadline’s out of the way. There was always something.’

She draws a shaky breath, and gives me a watery smile. When her eyes meet mine, it’s a vice around my lungs, wrapping them in barbed wire and drawing a sharp gasp out of me, prickling tears into the corners of my eyes.

‘The plain and simple truth is that I was scared. I didn’t know how to be a mum. I loved your dad, and it hurt me that I’d lost him. I didn’t want to hurt you both more by coming back if I ended up leaving again.’

‘But …’ I pause, taking a breath to steady myself. ‘But you did come back. On my birthday, three years ago. You showed up suddenly wanting to be involved, pretending like you’d never left, like everything was fine.’

She turns her hands palm-up on her knees and looks down at them, lost. ‘I miscalculated my approach,and I apologize for that. I always wanted to be part of your life, Anna, I just didn’t know how to be. I realized that if I kept putting it off and staying away, I might never know you. I didn’t want that. And I’m – I’m sorry, that I never stopped to consider if you might want to know me. You were old enough –areold enough – to make that decision. I should have let you.’

I’m speechless.

All I can do is keep staring at her, turning her words over and over and over in my mind. Slotting my own memories and opinions of Mum through this new filter she’s just given me, trying to make sense of it all.

She looks at me, nervous, waiting for me to say something.

All I can come up with is –

‘I didn’t realize you were so human.’

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