Page 52 of A Good Mother
Back then, to her wide eyes it was a colourful labyrinth of rooms, the lounge painted in deep purply hues with patterned throws that might have come from Peru; the sunny yellow kitchen with jars of spices on the shelves, something delicious baking in the oven and crayon drawings, notes and reminders stuck to the fridge under magnets said, ‘a family lives here’; the posh dining room with the polished mahogany table, walls stencilled with leaves and flowers weaving around the room, like the forest had crept indoors.
Gina often attributed her love of interiors to the inspiration provided by Robin, who they’d often find wearing paint-splattered jeans, a roller in one hand, a dripping tin of something colourful in the other. Through grown-up eyes Gina saw a ‘family’ held together by a magnet – Robin, who’d hid behind smoke and mirrors, preventing those on the outside, seeing in. Now she’d seen the sadness behind Cris’s eyes, the fragility inside Willow and the true face of the vicar. And now the colours had faded, on the crayon drawings and the yellow kitchen chimney breast. The butterfly wallpaper along the stairway was dull and tatty and there was never anything baking in the oven. The whole house felt cold, empty, soulless.
Looking around the room, Gina spied the pile of ‘angel books’ as Willow called them, written by Lorna Byrne, whose words she took as gospel. Gina believed too, and sometimes recited a paragraph or two that described their technicolour robes and gave their angel names.
Willow had always believed in angels; said they spoke to her in her dreams and listened when she asked for help. And it was one of these angels that told Willow to let all the birds out of the cage at the pet shop in town. What a day that had been!
Gina nudged Willow. ‘Do you remember when you talked me into liberating the budgies in Mr Murphy’s pet shop? You said an angel told you they should all be free, and it was cruel to keep birds locked in a cage. I was so scared and prayed that my angel would tell your angel it was a bad idea.’
For a moment Willow didn’t react, then, joy of joys, Gina saw a smile appear on her lips and her eyelids opened. When she turned, her wide, olive-green eyes shone with that mischief of long ago.
‘I remember. Bird poo everywhere. Flapping and tweeting and lots and lots of poo.’ Willow rolled onto her side, and Gina mimicked the action so their faces met, nose almost touching nose.
Willow’s barely used voice was raspy. ‘And Mr Murphy shouting at us, with a big blob on his head, saying he was ringing our parents.’
Gina could feel her eyes awash with tears but didn’t swipe them away. She was holding on tight to Willow’s hand, not wanting to break the rare moment of connection. ‘Do you remember how fast we ran out of the shop and through town, and for days we thought we’d be in the paper, or on wanted posters in the library, and onCrimewatch.We watched it on telly that week, waiting for our faces to appear on the screen.’
‘I think that’s the naughtiest thing I’ve ever done but it was fun…’ Willow’s expression changed. Lines appeared on her forehead and merriment transformed to concern.
Please don’t go, thought Gina,please stay a while, talk to me, come back to us, Willow.And like a miracle, a prayer answered, she did.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
‘Why are you crying?’Willow kept hold of Gina’s hand and with her free one, wiped away the tears.
‘Because I miss you so much and I need you to come back to us. We love you, Willow. You know that, don’t you? Please don’t forget.’ Gina held in the sob, forbade her voice to betray the pain and the desire to scream and beg Willow to hold on to the moment, not to retreat to wherever it was she went when she closed her eyes or stared into nothingness.
‘Of course, I know. Doyouknow that I love you, too? Because I do, always and forever.’ Willow stroked Gina’s face, her touch gentle.
Gina nodded. ‘I do, always and forever.’ Compelled by some inner voice, Gina planted seeds that might grow while Willow slept, because she would, eventually. ‘And your mum loves you so much. She’s your angel here on earth and never leaves you. She misses you too. We all do.’
And then Willow’s hand became still, her eyes held Gina with a look of such honesty, that when her words came so pure and to the point, the message in them was clear to read and hear. ‘I love Mum. Will you tell her I know when she’s here, sitting in the chair, reading to me, or singing. Always close… but… I miss Maya. And that’s why I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to be with my Maya. I need to go to her. She’s waiting for me, so will you help me…?’
At first Gina wasn’t sure what she meant so asked. ‘Help you, how can I help you?’
When she replied, Willow’s voice was barely audible, and they could have been thirteen again, making secret plans for the future. ‘Help me decide, if it’s okay to go because Dad says it’s a sin, that I’m wicked for trying to go before. But God will understand why I want to go to him, because that’s where Maya is, with him in the arms of Jesus, isn’t she?’
The blood in Gina’s veins cooled, her stomach clenched, and the firm hand of dread gripped Gina’s heart, but she had to answer, keep the lines open now that Willow had reached out. ‘Of course, that’s where she is. And our mate Jesus will be keeping her safe because he loves the little children, and the birds and all the animals. Remember, we used to read all about it, and it says so in the words of our favourite song, so please don’t worry…’
‘No, I need to know that it’s true. That she’s okay, so I have to go too, to be with Maya. Don’t you see? But Dad won’t let me go. He says it’s evil, and so am I if I break a commandment because only God can decide when I go to him. That’s not fair, is it? She’s my little girl and I miss her, and I should decide when I go.’ A frown had creased Willow’s forehead, then it smoothed as her eyes widened with what looked like fear.
‘I’m scared, though. Scared of going to hell because that’s where Dad says I’ll end up, that I’ll burn, and the maggots will eat me, and then I won’t see Maya ever again.’
Willow’s voice had raised, her chest rose and fell, her breathing was laboured, and Gina imagined her poor broken heart going like the clappers. Her grip on Gina’s hand was so tight it hurt, her eyes boring holes, the olive irises now deep pools of emerald, agitation seeping into every word.
‘I’ve asked the angels over and over what I should do, but they won’t help, they won’t even answer. They look away and whisper amongst themselves and I can’t hear what they are saying. So you have to tell me, tell me what to do, how to get to Maya without going to hell because my head is a jumble sale, and I can’t sort it out.’
Gina swallowed, panic racing around in her brain desperately trying to find an answer, but what? Then it came, ‘Willow, listen to me.’
Willow stared, her lips silenced yet pursed, her hand-hold remained firm.
‘I don’t know how to find Maya, but Iwilldo my best to help you, okay? I promise, cross my heart.’ Gina did just that, tracing two lines onto her chest while in response, Willow gave a tiny nod.
‘And maybe the angels don’t know, either. Perhaps when they’re whispering they’re trying to find the answer so don’t give up on them just yet. We have to give them a chance.’
And even though she was making it up as she went along, stalling for time, Gina wanted it to be true. Her glimmer of hope was then tempered by deep sadness at Willow’s plea, washed away on a river of hate for the vicar, a two-faced hypocrite. The mere thought of his words tormenting Willow while she was asleep, wandering, or awake, was abhorrent and cruel.
Gina was convinced that the God they’d worshipped at Sunday school, to whom they’d made Brownie-Guide promises and wedding day vows wouldn’t want this tragic lost soul to be scared. He was there for comfort in the darkest days, a light that shone and led you home, so she had to erase from Willow’s mind any thoughts planted by Eddie the Fake before she drifted off again.
