Page 36 of The Holiday Cottage

“How I spend my money is my business.”

“When it’s your money that’s true, but not when it’smymoney.” She shook as she said the words. It had taken her years to learn to say no to her mother, and even though she did it, it never felt easy. It left her insides feeling twisted and tense. “My money is definitely my business.”

“You patronizing little—”

“Mum! There are other people in this ward, trying to rest.” She’d discovered early in life that it wasn’t possible to die of embarrassment, but that didn’t mean she didn’t occasionally wish it to happen.

“Stop calling me Mum! You don’t get it, do you?” Her mother was pale and hollow eyed. Blood had dried on her hair and the strands clumped together, matted and tangled.

It would have been unsettling and scary, except Imogen had seen her mother in a similar state before.

“I d-do get it. You’re feeling really bad and you’re taking it out on me.” She tried to sound firm and in control, but all the confidence, all the joy, everything she’d ever made of herself and achieved was sucked from her in her mother’s presence. She was a little girl again, feeling completely alone. “And I understand that you don’t want people knowing you’re old enough to have a daughter my age, but—”

“That’s not it. For a supposedly smart girl, you’re very stupid. The reason I don’t want you calling me Mum is because I don’t want to be your mum.”

Imogen flinched. “I—”

“Ineverwanted to be your mum, and now that you’re an adult I don’t have to pretend anymore, so go and live out your happy family fantasy somewhere else.Do you hear me?”

“I h-hear you.” Everyone was hearing her. Her mother had finally made a public announcement that she didn’t want Imogen. That she’d never wanted Imogen. She’d said it before, but never in public and never when she was sober.

Imogen stood there feeling vulnerable and exposed, the last of her protection ripped to shreds like wrapping paper on Christmas morning. She tried to summon up some of the strength and determination that had kept her going through tough times, but there was nothing there.

And now her mother was glaring at her, as if she was expecting Imogen to do something, or say something.

“Mum—Tina—”

“Just go. I don’t even know why you’re here. You’re like a barnacle! I can’t get rid of you.”

Imogen tried to formulate a reply, but she couldn’t. Whywasshe here? There had been many times over the years when she’d asked herself that question and today was another one.

They’d had bad exchanges before, plenty of them, but never quite like this. Never as brutal, and never in public.

And there was no point in pointing out her mother’s inconsistencies. No point in reminding her that she regularly called Imogen when she wanted something or was feeling vulnerable. That she might not want Imogen, but she definitely seemed to want what Imogen could provide.

She was shaking and her chest felt tight. She was conscious of the three other people in the ward who were probably listening to every word. She might as well have painted a sign on herself. Unlovable. She tried hard to detach from the emotion, but it was too big. It filled every corner of her.

And then something, the part of her that was an adult, not a frightened child, flickered to life.

“I’m here because they called me. Because I’m your only family.” And that should mean something, shouldn’t it? However messy, however tangled and imperfect, it should mean something. She’d always hoped that eventually her mother would realize that not everyone walked away. That Imogen reallywasfamily and that she wasn’t ever going to walk away.

“Family? No. What you are,” her mother said slowly, “is the worst thing that ever happened to me. If I could change one thing in my life, it wouldn’t be meeting Terry, or the drink or any of that. It would be you. Because it all started with you. You ruined everything. I lost my own family because of you. Because of you, they wanted nothing to do with me. They kicked me out. And every time I see you, I think of how my life might have looked if you hadn’t been in it. I think of the life I might have had, and how much better it would have been. I could have gone to college. Got a good job. But instead I had you. Why do you think I didn’t have any more kids? Because when you make the biggest mistake of your life, you don’t do the same thing again.”

Imogen couldn’t catch her breath. There was no oxygen in the air; either that or her lungs had forgotten how to work. Her head spun and her vision was blurry. Dizziness? Tears? She had no idea.

Intellectually, she knew that what her mother was saying was ridiculous. Of course it wasn’t her fault. Plenty of people had babies and still went to college. Or made the most of other options. Night school. Online courses. There were so many opportunities. The world was full of them. You just had to grab them and go for it, and that was something her mother had never done. For Tina it was easier to blame Imogen than face the fact that she lacked the motivation. And whatever her family had done, however they had failed her, her mother could have chosen to do it differently. She could have chosen to be all the family she and Imogen would ever need. The situation could have brought them closer. They could have been a tight, unshakable unit. Instead, Tina had done exactly the same to Imogen as her parents had done to her. She’d rejected her daughter.

“You don’t mean it.” Imogen hated the fact that her voice wasn’t steady. “It’s the drink talking.”

“I do mean it.” Her mother’s expression was blank, and she looked at Imogen as if she was a stranger. “You ruined my life.”

That simply stated fact hurt more deeply than anything that had come before. It didn’t matter that it was unjust. It didn’t matter that Imogen could hardly be held responsible for her own appearance in the world.

“Do you know what, Mum?” The words burst from her, “You could have ruinedmylife, too, but I wasn’t going to let that happen. Ichosenot to let that happen. Because there is such a thing as individual responsibility. There are many things in this world we can’t control, but you can still make choices. But you choose to blame me for everything instead of taking responsibility for your own bad decisions.”

Her mother stared at her for a moment and then turned her head away.

Imogen stood there, frozen. She couldn’t believe she’d said those words. She shouldn’t have exploded like that. Already she felt terrible about it, but she felt even more terrible about the words her mother had said to her.

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