The Girl Who Cried Wolf(35)

‘I have watched over you for many years, and see the way you are all too willing to let negative influences in. It is almost as though you are drawn to self-destructive emotion.’

I frown crossly as he continues. ‘You’ve had countless opportunity to live at a higher level, and yet you always bury your head in the sand with your silly outlets.’

I look at his irritatingly serene expression, my features so scrunched up in annoyance that my face turns pink.

‘Anna, you look displeased. Can you not agree that for all your mother was desperately unhappy, her sacrifices blessed you with many fortuitous options? She took your father’s temper away from you and Isabel. You were safe and loved, attended the best schools, dance classes, birthday parties … so why were you such an unsatisfied little thing?’

I think for a moment and tell him, ‘I can remember being happy. Before Izzy was born and I was still little, my mother and I spent a lot of time together and I’m sure I was happy.’

I close my eyes and consciously allow him to share a memory of my mother and I visiting a beautiful estate in Buckingham. The rambling old manor had housed noble families and entertained visiting kings and queens from as far back as the grandiose Tudor Courtiers. I loved her telling me stories of King Henry as he had slept in a certain room while guards stood by the heavy panelled doors of his chambers. She told me he wanted sons as heirs to his throne, and how wicked he was to his queens when they delivered only baby girls. There were various artefacts from each era and I had breathed excitedly over every display cabinet, my eyes wide as she told me intriguing stories of people that sounded to me more like fairy tale characters.

A ruthless king beheading his queen, young princes locked in towers, and armies fighting for titles and power. She told me of a beautiful Scottish princess, born into great power and becoming Queen at just six days old, and showed me her portrait as a young woman fighting to keep her country from the grasp of men. I remember my mother’s face in great detail, how beautiful and animated it was as she spoke of how women had to be brave.

Bending down. I watched her avidly as she held onto my shoulders and told me to listen. ‘Never let someone rule over you, Anna. You must always be brave and strong. Stand up for yourself and what you believe in.’

I nodded furiously, thinking she was just like the beautiful queens and princesses of her stories.

My memory is so vivid I am taken away on the strength of its recollection. I am holding my mother’s hand as we walk happily towards the car. She is singing to me a nursery rhyme and I skip along enjoying the sun on my face.

As she fastens her seatbelt, I see she is heavily pregnant, and find I am an observer once more, no longer a participant of the pretty scene before me. We sing all the way along the winding roads until I stop abruptly and tell her I need ice cream.

‘Darling, we don’t have time for ice cream. I told your father we would be back in the house by four and it is almost quarter past five. I have to prepare dinner.’

I recognise the scrunched up face of disappointment, and even I see myself as spoilt when my bottom lip begins to tremble.

‘Oh. All right, Anna. I’ll stop at the next village and see if we can find some.’ She laughs as my face transforms into a cheerful grin and pats her tummy. ‘Perhaps your little brother or sister would like some too.’

Before we reach the village, Lillian sees an ice cream van with a small queue in the car park of a country pub. ‘Perfect,’ she says, and pulls in quickly, telling me to wait in the car as she pulls alongside it.

I must have forgotten what happens next but as she returns with two ice cream cones, my mother’s smiling face turns to confusion as her eyes fall upon a man and a much younger brunette kissing and laughing together at a table in the beer garden. She stands still for only a moment then runs to the car, dropping her dessert on the ground, and almost throwing mine at me. As she hastily pulls on her seat belt and starts the engine I see myself ask her, ‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ Then my little worried face turns to look to see my father running towards us as she screeches away.

Despite my mother’s attempts at reassurance, I sit quietly for the journey, as children do when they sense something is wrong. She detours from Elm Tree to my grandparents’ house and leaves me there crying and begging to go home with her.

‘I have to go to the shops for more ice cream, darling,’ she tells me, but I do not want more ice cream and her lie is too transparent for my sharp senses. ‘Be good for Grandma and I will be back soon.’

I am ushered into the living room while my Grandma runs after her as she heads back to the car. ‘Lilly, whatever is wrong, dear? You shouldn’t be so worked up, the baby is due in a few weeks. Come in and have a cool drink. I’m worried about you.’

My mother just pulls away and says, ‘It is true. I have seen it with my own eyes today. So much for a new baby and a new beginning, I am such a hypocrite telling Anna to be brave and strong when I can’t even walk away from a man who treats me this way. Why do I give him this power?’ She sounds bewildered, as if this is happening to somebody else and is beyond her comprehension. My grandma reaches for her once more, but Lillian pulls away the way I have seen myself do to her.

‘I will leave this time, Mother. I have been hiding some money. I will get things for the baby and Anna’s clothes, then I will be back. I am going to take them as far away from him as I can.’ She suddenly smiles and I find myself crying at the hope in her beautiful face. ‘I can do this – for them. I won’t be afraid of him any more.’