The Secrets We Left Behind by Susan Elliot Wright Read Free Book Online Page B

Duncan’s dad had bought her one on the birth of each child. I poured the coffee and pushed it
towards her, together with the sugar bowl. She added a spoonful of sugar and stirred it round several times before tapping the teaspoon twice on the side of the cup and placing it neatly in the
saucer. She looked thoughtful.
    Toby shifted in his seat and screwed his face up but didn’t open his eyes. We both looked at him and waited, but then his face relaxed and he made a few sucking motions before drifting
back to sleep.
    ‘You know, dear, I sometimes think motherhood is the best and worst thing that can happen to a woman.’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘Life is so very short, even when you reach a great age, such as I have.’ Her hand was shaky as she raised her cup to her carefully painted lips and took a sip of coffee. I waited
for her to continue, but she seemed to drift for a moment, as though some unexpected memory had slid into her mind.
    ‘Estelle, what did you mean?’
    Her eyes focused on me again. ‘I’m sorry, darling?’
    ‘About motherhood being the worst thing that can happen to a woman.’
    ‘Oh, yes, well. I just meant that it’s all so temporary, you see; the joy of it. One minute, you’re a brand-new mother with your brand-new baby that you grew inside you –
you’re the centre of one another’s worlds, and you know you will do anything for your child. It’s the most complete and perfect type of love. And then the next minute . .
.’
    She had that faraway look again. I’d seen photographs of Estelle as a young mother, and then as an older mum after she had Duncan. She’d always been a good-looking woman, not pretty,
exactly, but handsome. And in all the pictures, whether she was posing in a studio, perfectly groomed and wearing a hat and gloves while holding a freshly washed and combed child on her lap, or
whether she was on a beach in an old skirt and with her hair tied back while the kids built sandcastles, she positively glowed with love and pride as she looked at her children.
A complete and
perfect love.
The thought triggered a memory of the exact moment I’d realised how important Hannah was to me. I’d been giving her a bottle and she had her hand curled around my
little finger; I looked into those cornflower-blue eyes and I suddenly knew that, if I had to, I would kill with my bare hands to protect her.
    ‘Your children have your love and devotion for ever, you see, until you die. But you only have theirs for a limited time. Now, I don’t mean that they stop caring about you, but
I’ve learned this, and so must you.’ She looked over her glasses at me almost sternly. ‘Once your children have their own children, the balance alters. And it’s only right
and proper that it should.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ I knew she was right, but I wasn’t ready to acknowledge it yet, not really. ‘But Hannah still asks for my advice.’
    Estelle smiled and shook her head. ‘There, you see? That’s what I mean about it being the best and worst. Heavens, I still worry about my children and two of them are grandparents!
But although they look after me,’ she rested her dry, cool hand on my arm, ‘you all do; you’re all so very good to me – they don’t ask for my opinion or advice any
more; if something goes wrong, instead of asking me what they should do about it, they hide it from me so I shan’t worry.’ She tutted and took another sip of her coffee, and a little of
it ran down her chin but she didn’t notice.
    ‘But that’s because we love you. Of course we don’t want you to worry.’ But she was right; we kept things from her that maybe we shouldn’t.
    ‘Of course, dear, I know
why
it happens – it’s the natural order of things. But that’s what I mean about the balance altering. When they’re young, we care
for our children, we protect them and we pass our wisdom on to them; in return, they adore us and look up to us; we are the very centre of their