Her Perfect Family(89)

‘What?’

‘Kissing me on the forehead.’

‘You really felt that? In the coma?’

‘I did. I just remembered that I really did. And one day—’ She lets out a huff, still smiling. ‘I decided to swim back to you.’

‘Swim?’ She’s completely lost me now.

‘Oh, never mind. It’s complicated, but – that kiss. It’s definitely why I came back. Why I woke up.’

I’m utterly confused but also incredibly happy to see her like this.

To imagine that she did hear me, or at least sense me near her some of the time. All those long days in that cubicle. This mother who messed up; who got it so very wrong but who has always loved her with every ounce of my being. And then I watch Gemma pass the kiss to her own daughter’s forehead.

‘Can I really do this, Mum?’ She’s now holding Sophie in her arms, gazing at her child, her expression and her tone changing. More intense.

She doesn’t mean today. She means all of it. Gemma’s signed up for teacher training – school-based so I can help with Sophie. It will be tough. We all know that. But when I think of what she’s achieved already . . .

‘Of course you can.’ We’ve had the talk. About motherhood. All the mistakes I made. ‘Just love her,’ I add. ‘No secrets. And you’ll be just fine.’

Gemma smiles again. She takes a deep breath and turns finally to check her own reflection.

‘And you’re sure it’s not too pink?’ She is tilting her head and pulling at the neckline of her dress as Sophie tries again for the pendant. It’s the dress we chose together for her graduation – in that other life. That parallel universe.

I take in the whole picture properly through the mirror. Gemma, my Gemma – so brave and beautiful with her blade and her baby and who to me, I swear, has never looked so lovely. This feeling more powerful than breathing – in this moment pounding all the dark scenes into dust.

‘No.’ I clear my throat. ‘It’s definitely not too pink.’





AUTHOR’S NOTE

It feels strange to admit it here, but this was a book I initially didn’t want to write.

The opening scene in the cathedral came to me a few months after my elder son’s glorious and very happy graduation. I was quite shaken – also cross with my brain for coming up with the dark images so soon after the contrast of our happy, happy family day.

I remember telling my husband – well, I’m definitely not going to write that up.

But my process has always been a strange one. My stories often feel as if they come through me rather than from me. Yes, yes, I know how ridiculous (and heaven forbid – pretentious) that sounds. I do promise that I realise deep down it’s all me but maybe it’s because I was a reporter for decades. Maybe my brain likes to work that way – to see these fictional stories and characters as real in the same way my news stories were real so that I can still feel in this new landscape (of make-believe) that I’m trying to do justice to real experiences. And real emotions.

Whatever the case, this story and this dark idea just wouldn’t go away, however much I resisted it. In the end it felt as if Gemma and her family stubbornly camped out in my writing room, arms crossed and expressions determined – whispering more and more of the story until I gave in. It was only at the point I realised this was a mother-daughter story, that it was actually a thriller with love at its core, that I felt more comfortable with it.

I can only hope that you like how the story turned out all these years after the opening scene flashed into my brain. Thank you so much for reading Her Perfect Family. If you’ve enjoyed the novel, I’d hugely appreciate a review on Amazon. They really do help other readers to discover my books.

I also love to hear from readers so feel free to get in touch. You can find my website at www.teresadriscoll.com and also say hello on Twitter @TeresaDriscoll or via my Facebook author page, www.facebook.com/teresadriscollauthor, and at Instagram too @tkdriscoll_author.

Warm wishes to you all,

Teresa





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


This is my fifth thriller – and my seventh published novel – and I learn that nothing changes. Trust me, it takes a village to make a book.

So huge thanks go to all those who have so generously played a part in helping to shape this story and send it out into the world – to my fabulous publisher Thomas & Mercer, my patient editors Jack Butler and Jane Snelgrove and my wonderful agent Madeleine Milburn and her team.

I also need to thank, as always, my gorgeous family who are so supportive, especially (with wine and chocolate!) when I hit the inevitable wobble.

And finally my heartfelt thanks go to you, my lovely readers. My stories are now translated into twenty languages and your wonderful messages from across the globe really do mean the world.

I pinch myself daily. To be doing this job – my dream since primary school – is such a privilege.