Free The Art of Forgetting by Julie McLaren

from the bushes and placing them carefully in the bowl. Tears prick Laura’s eyes again. What on earth does she think she is doing?
    “Hello, Mum,” says Laura, hating the false brightness in her voice and hoping her smile will not look equally fake. She receives no smile in return and changes her mind about giving her mother the hug that would have been so natural, so automatic, just a few months ago.
    “Ah, hello. I’ve been looking for you. I’m doing this all by myself. Go and get another bowl or we’ll never be ready.”
    Laura knows better than to question or challenge, she has learned that the hard way. But deflection sometimes works so she fishes around in her bag and produces an envelope.
    “Here, this is for you, Mum. Lily made it for you.”
    Laura holds out the envelope. Inside, there is a picture and Laura can visualise it clearly although Mum has yet to take the envelope, let alone open it. Lily has drawn her family – Laura, Patrick, Ricky and herself – but the figure in the centre is her grandmother. Laura thinks it is recognisably her, but all the drawings are carefully labelled to avoid doubt. There is a bright sun shining in one corner and each person is sporting a wide smile. Birds fly over their heads and multicoloured flowers peek through the green grass. To add to the effect, Lily has made a border of stickers and sequins, some of which have adhered better than others. It is a delightful picture, made with care and love, and Laura knows her mother will like it as much as she does. She has always doted on Lily.
    She appears to be torn between taking the envelope and continuing her task, but Laura sees this as an opportunity and opens the envelope for her.
    “Look,” she says, holding out the picture. “It’s us. There’s you in the middle, and this is ...”
    She stops, as Mum takes the picture and looks at it. For a few seconds this seems like a good sign, but not for long. She watches, frozen, as her mother tears it right down the middle and her happy, smiling self is rent in two. She drops the pieces on the grass.
    “Do you think I’ve got time for rubbish like this?” she says, her voice loud and harsh. “I’ve told you, we are going to be very late so go and get another bloody bowl before I lose my temper!”
    Laura feels the tears well up in her eyes and a sob catches in her throat. She feels like a child, castigated for something she didn’t do. Her head knows her mother can’t help her behaviour but her heart wants to rail at her. How dare she ruin Lily’s lovely picture? She spent ages making it and it was such a thoughtful act. “It will help Granny remember our names,” she’d said, with a wisdom beyond her years.
    Luckily, there are always staff around, keeping out a watchful eye for situations that may get out of control. That’s what they are paying such huge fees for, says Patrick whenever Laura remarks on how good they are. Now there is a hand on Laura’s shoulder and somebody is leading her away to a bench on the terrace, whilst somebody else talks to her mother. She sees that the two halves of Lily’s picture have been retrieved, but she doesn’t want them back. What could she say to Lily? Sorry, but Granny ripped it up?
    Suddenly it all becomes too much and she buries her head in her hands, sobs shaking her body. The effort of keeping this under control is hurting her chest and throat, but there is an arm around her shoulders.
    “It’s OK, don’t worry. It’s good to cry,” says the nurse, who has stuck by her however much Laura tried to insist she was fine. “Sometimes I go home and cry too, and it’s not even my mum who’s giving me a hard time. Lord knows what I’d be like if it was!”
    Slowly, Laura pulls herself together. The nurse is called Ruby, and she has that beautiful, rich melodic voice often found in women of African descent. She tells Laura about all the good things she has seen in Judy, how it is clear that she was – still is –