Free The Bad Mother by Isabelle Grey

could.’
    ‘Why didn’t Erin stay longer? Did she really have to get home for her dogs?’
    Pamela’s heart bled for the pain in her daughter’s voice. She had begged Erin to stay on, to remain as long as she liked; but Erin had said that it was all too much, that she’d made a new life for herself, and returning to Felixham had turned her into a child again, expecting Averil to come in at any moment and disapprove of her. Pamela had understood perfectly. ‘Maybe we’ll all go out soon to visit her,’ she suggested.
    ‘Erin didn’t come back because she wanted to see me, did she? Not really. She only came because of a deathbed promise. And to see you,’ Tessa added.
    Pamela thought for a long while, hearing the echoes of Erin’s confession and tearful pleas for understanding all those years ago, of Averil’s harsh rejection of Erin’sstory, of her own horrified but frozen silence. When she glanced up she found Tessa watching her, a deep frown on her face. ‘I don’t think that’s true,’ said Pamela carefully. ‘But it was complicated. What happened was a catastrophe for her. And if anyone got it wrong, it was me.’
    ‘You mean you didn’t want me either.’
    Pamela felt her lips close tight in the familiar rictus of secrecy. She hated it, resented it, yet felt helpless to overcome it.
    ‘You didn’t, did you?’ asked Tessa, upset.
    ‘That’s not true!’ The words burst out and Pamela reached for Tessa’s hand, but Tessa whipped it away childishly behind her back. Pamela strove to explain: ‘Every time I held you in my arms, every time you hugged me or snuggled up to me, it was like a knife in my heart because of Erin.’
    ‘You used to push me away.’
    Pamela stood up. ‘You were hers. It wasn’t fair for me to have everything while she had nothing.’
    ‘But look at her!’ cried Tessa angrily. ‘She’s fine. She’s perfectly all right. She never wanted me anyway! Why didn’t you all just get rid of me, abandon me in a phone box or on the church steps?’
    Pamela took her yellow gloves from the basin and watched her hands shake as she smoothed them flat. ‘Let’s have a coffee,’ she said, herding Tessa out of the bathroom. ‘Go and sit in the lounge while I make it. I won’t be long.’
    To her relief, Tessa did as she was told. Pamela slipped into the kitchen, closing the door softly. She opened thefridge and poured a little orange juice into a glass, aware that the tremor in her hand was more pronounced. Reaching into a cupboard she drew out the bottle of gin she kept hidden behind the bags of flour and poured a handsome measure into the juice.
    By the time the kettle had boiled, the alcohol had done its job and she felt calm and empty. She made the coffee, put everything on a tray and took it through to where Tessa waited in the lounge.
    ‘No family is perfect,’ she said with a glassy smile as she handed her daughter a steaming mug. ‘Every parent makes mistakes, but we try to do our best.’

TEN
    Later in the week, Tessa returned from the farm shop laden with the staples of the organic cooked breakfasts she advertised on her website. Upset by the owner’s cheerful assumption that she’d surely be familiar with every detail of the contract to supply Sam’s brasserie, she was irritated to find Hugo in her basement kitchen helpfully checking a loose washer at the sink. His retirement had more or less coincided with Sam’s departure to London, when Hugo had possessed himself of a set of keys ‘just in case’, then striven to give Tessa the impression that, with time on his hands, it was a kindness to let him potter about and find odd jobs. Even though she knew he had plenty of more attractive occupations to keep him busy she played along, pretending to an exasperation she sometimes actually felt – as she did now.
    ‘Hi, Dad,’ she greeted him. The look of delight on his face puzzled her for a moment, until she realised it was in response to the word ‘Dad’.
    He