Just Like a Woman by Madeleine Clark Read Free Book Online Page B

tried to convince herself.
    ‘I can’t. Mother wouldn’t like it.’ Her stomach turned at the thought of it and she swallowed to keep control. ‘She really wouldn’t like it.’ She added in a whisper.
    ‘As she seems to tolerate you coming here, why not say I’ve only got an evening appointment one week? And as I’m so busy, have suggested you need to book in for a double appointment? How does that sound?’
    ‘I don’t know. I don’t think she’d like that. Not a double session. She doesn’t really like me coming here at all. It’s only because of Dr. Short. He persuaded her to let me come. The only time I’ve been out at night is for an office party. And Dr. Short had to come round and tell her.’
    ‘What about that, then? An office party?’
    ‘I don’t think that’ll work again. She wasn’t very happy about it, and Dr. Short had to come round and persuade her to let me go. It wasn’t a very good evening either. No one talked to me all night.’
    ‘We won’t worry about that now. You can tell me all about that at another session. And once you’ve been out once, you will be able to tell her the truth.’
    Sarah sighed again at Stephanie’s naivety.
    An unfamiliar sensation of butterflies danced in Sarah’s stomach accompaning her journey home. She caught sight of herself in her rear view mirror and immediately the butterflies crash landed in panic. Her mother would know something was wrong as soon as she saw her face. She had to think, think of an excuse, a plan, something to tell her. Stephanie had no idea what she had suggested; how dangerous this was for her. Her chest thumped as she thought about it and her breathing became harder. Pulling the car on to the curb, she stopped, ignoring the horn blowing as another vehicle overtook her.
    The voice started its tale.
    Arriving back home, she walks up the drive swinging her handbag and before she gets to the shiny white front door, it opens and her mother stands there, her starched white apron tied about her waist, she greets her with a warm smile.
    ‘Had a good day? You look like you have, darling.’
    ‘Oh, mum, you’ll never guess what!’ She calls to her, smiling all over her face.
    ‘Come on, let’s have a cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it, if you like. I even managed to get to the shop for some crumpets. We’ll have a proper tea in the lounge.’ Sarah leans forward to kiss her mum on the cheek and she smells of warm chocolate biscuits. They put their arms around each other and walk into the sparkling clean house.
    What would it be like to have a mother like that; a mother who cared about her; who thought about her; worried about her. A mother who loved her? She let the film flow on,
    Sitting at the kitchen table she tells her mother about Robert, laughing about how she would decide which name to call him, what to wear on her date, where to go. Her mother sits and listens to her without interruption, without comment, without criticism, while she pours her a cup of tea.
    Fifteen minutes later the scenes started to fade as reality returned, she looked in the mirror; reflecting back at her she could see there was nothing left to fear in her face; her chest now still, her breathing normal. Maybe Stephanie’s idea would work. The office party would give her more time and an excuse for a new dress, but she would have to involve Dr. Short.
    She drove home.
    Reaching the front door, her mother wrenched it open, the mouth already forming words.
    ‘Tell me, tell me.’ She whined.
    Sarah looked beyond her into the hall of newspapers stacked high against the wall, boxes of books and assorted containers battling for space, stuffed bin bags, some tied securely, while others revealed their innards, littering the floor. Her mother had perfected the art of filling a black bin bag to its optimum level, without overfilling it, so it didn’t topple over. Paint peeled from the walls which her mother refused to let her paint. Her mother