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be the wisest move right now. She tried not to look directly at her reflection. In her mind she was youthful, but the mirror mocked her attempts at self-deception.
Turning away, she dressed as quickly as her body would allow and walked down to the kitchen. She was disappointed to find no signs of Popeye. She was ridiculously fond of the cat, and not entirely because he expected very little of her.
She’d always been an early riser and she began the day with strong coffee. The sun was shining, so she carried her cup to the small marble-topped table she’d had shipped from Italy. The moment she stepped outside, her mood lifted.
It promised to be a perfect day, the air filled with the scent of flowers and a sweet chorus of birdsong.
This moment with her coffee was a brief respite before what she knew would be a difficult weekend. She excelled at some things, but parenting wasn’t one of them. She’d been forty when she’d married, and Liza had been born nine months later. Of all the adventures Kathleen had faced, nothing had frightened her more than the thought of being a mother and having someone emotionally dependent on her.
She didn’t fit the template that many used to measure parental performance. She’d missed almost every sports day, had never attended a ballet class and had treated parent teacher conferences as optional. She had read to her daughter, although she’d always favored travel books over fiction. She’d wanted her to understand how big the world was, and she took some credit for the fact that Liza had achieved top grades in geography. But it was also true that the first time Liza had put two words together it had been to say “Mummy gone.”
Kathleen had always struggled to balance her own needs with society’s expectations.
And now she found herself in that position again. Someone of her advanced years wasn’t supposed to have a sense of adventure.
What was she supposed to do? Sell her home and move into residential accommodation to please her daughter? Protect herself and not move from her chair until her heart gave up?
In the sixties she’d smoked marijuana and danced to rock and roll.
When had she become so careful?
She finished her coffee and bent down to tug up a weed growing between the paving slabs. The garden was her pride and joy, but keeping it tidy was an endless task. She could pay someone, but she didn’t like having strangers in her home. She wanted to be able to drink her morning coffee in her nightdress.
The sun was already hot and she lifted her face and soaked up its warmth. Sunshine always made her want to travel.
“Mum?” Liza’s voice came from the kitchen door. “You’re awake early. You couldn’t sleep?”
“I slept perfectly.” Kathleen decided not to mention the headache. “You?”
“Yes.”
Kathleen could see that was a lie. There were dark shadows under her daughter’s eyes and she looked exhausted. Poor Liza. She’d always been so serious, weighed down by her sense of responsibility and devoted to keeping everyone’s lives on what she considered to be a safe track.
Kathleen had occasionally lamented the fact that her daughter seemed not to have inherited even a sliver of her own adventurous spirit. When Liza was six years old, Kathleen had wondered if it was healthy for a child to be so biddable. She’d half hoped to see at least a tiny hint of rebellion in the teenage years, but Liza had remained steady and reliable, an adult before her time, vaguely reproachful of her mother’s slightly unconventional antics. She hadn’t died her hair pink, drunk herself into a stupor or, to the best of Kathleen’s knowledge, kissed an unsuitable boy. It seemed to her mother that Liza lived a life regrettably lacking in daring.
But there was no doubt that she was caring and selfless. More selfless than Kathleen had been.
Kathleen had told herself that by pursuing her own passions she was setting an example to her child but if anything her experiences had caused her daughter to become more careful not less.
And here she was causing her anxiety yet again.
Liza put her coffee down on the table. “You removed the bandage.”
“It was annoying me. And the wound will heal better exposed to the air.” Kathleen pressed her fingertips to her head. “They had to shave some of my hair. I look like something from a horror movie.”
Liza shook her head. “You look good. You always do.”
Kathleen felt guilty for wishing she could have had a few more moments alone with her coffee and the birds.
Her daughter had dropped everything to drive here through hideous Friday traffic. No mother could have a more attentive daughter.
“How are the girls doing?”
“I don’t know. It’s too early to call them. They never emerge until midmorning. It’s not the easiest age. I assume they’re alive, or I would have heard something.” Liza sat down opposite her mother and lifted her face to the sun. She was wearing navy linen trousers with a tailored white shirt, an outfit that would have taken her from the classroom to a parent-teacher conference. Her shoes had a small heel and her hair hung smooth and sleek to her shoulders. Everything about Liza was safe and controlled from her attitude to her dress to the way she lived her life.
“You worry too much about them. Things have a way of turning out fine if you leave them.”
“I prefer to take a more hands-on approach than you.” Liza colored. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
