Spoilers for the first two books in the Dollanganger Saga, Flowers in the Attic and Petals on the Wind. In the second book, the short scene where Cathy and Jory accidently run into Corrine at the post office, makes me wonder what it might have been like for Corrine. Actually, a lot of scenes make me wonder about her point of view.
Anyways, V.C. Andrews owns all these wonderfully twisted characters, and I own nothing, sadly.
If there had ever been an uncomfortable moment in Corrine's life, the moment she was facing now had to top them all. It was an accident they both were standing in the post office together, one she had hoped never to face. However she'd gotten wind of Catherine coming to live here, and she had suspected some kind of run in like this to be inevitable.
Already it had happened with Carrie… though unlike her youngest daughter, now dead like her twin brother had been for all these years, Catherine did not even turn to acknowledge her. She'd known it was to be that way, her oldest daughter always had a talent of being so able to see through people and their good intentions to find their flaws, and she knew very well, Catherine cared very little about her now.
However her eyes were drawn by the person who had accompanied Cathy into the post office. A handsome little boy with creamy skin, blue-black curls, and dark blue eyes. She'd been aware that Catherine had married a man, the man she danced with at all those performances she took Bart to watch with her. She'd been unable to stay away, she'd wanted to witness the success of one of her children, so fitting it would be Cathy to have found it, even after everything.
The boy was prowling around with a graceful style that was utterly at ease, as if he believed there was no wrong in the world at all. She realized she had been staring at the boy, her grandson, for far too long, because dark blue eyes caught her gaze, and she felt panic rise up inside her.
Then he smiled at her, a happy smile that only innocent children could have. "Hello" he said, the greeting polite "You're pretty - like my mommy." She was surprised by what he said, but it must be very obvious even to a small child how alike she and Cathy looked. To anyone it was obvious they were mother and daughter… but they held no regard for the other and were acting like they were strangers. So that was what people believed.
She watched him step closer to her, and reach to touch the fur coat she wore, his small fingers feeling the fluffy tufts. "My mommy's got a fur coat" he informed her "My mommy is a dancer. Do you dance?" He asked, giving her a curious look.
Corrine let out a sigh, praying God see her and forgive all her sins, and grant her some strength. She knew Cathy was watching her while she waited for whatever she'd come into the post office for. She could almost hear the vicious thoughts running through her daughter's head now, if it were possible for such a thing to happen. "No" she answered "I'm not a dancer" she felt tears prick, and was angered by her emotions betrayal.
She'd been living with her regrets for so long, it was a wonder she'd not succumbed to madness of some kind. She'd suffered night terrors for some time, before her children escaped the attic she'd held them prisoner in for so long, and after they'd gotten out.
The night of Cory's death was when all the regrets truly began. She remembered it so clearly, like she could relive it over and over a million times. Her youngest baby so sick and frail looking. She had been no fool, she knew what the attic had done to her twins, and she also had known Cathy replaced her as their mother. She'd become just a pretty stranger, bearing gifts, she'd been unable to stomach it, and had turned to ignoring them.
She'd slapped Cathy that night for her attitude, and she'd never hit her daughter before. Something inside her had hoped perhaps she'd remember that she was her mother, and Cathy should love her. She had been a fool then, because Catherine had been so bold and so bitter, her soul blackened with her years of imprisonment, because she had slapped her right back.
"My mommy can teach you how" Catherine's son told her, looking bright and happy about that. The very thought was absurd in all the ways. She could not dance, it was not a skill she ever had possessed, even in her youth.
"I'm too old to learn" she said, hoping it would close conversation with the boy.
"No, you're not" he said, continuing on, unaware she was trying to escape from him. He reached for her hand, and as soon as she realized it, she backed away from him slightly, and glanced at Catherine. She was watching closely, a strange look of twisted satisfaction at Corrine's pain, and a bitterness still noticeable. She had probably been bitter her whole life.
"Do you have a little boy I can play with?" He questioned. Oh the things children say! He said it as if he hoped she did, so she would feel better. He'd taken notice of the tears in her eyes.
"No" she whispered. She once did, but she'd lost claim to them all. They weren't hers anymore. All of Catherine's letters she'd received over the years… she'd made that very clear. "I don't have any children" she said.
That seemed to break the spell over Catherine, watching closely. "Some women don't deserve to have children" she said, her voice cold like someone removed her heart. She paid for a roll of stamps, and dropped them in her purse. "Some women like you, Mrs. Winslow, would rather have money than the bother of children who might get in the way of good times. Time itself will let you know if you made the right decision."
She'd always suspected Catherine hated her, that bitter absence of love was formed during all the years she was suffering and missing out on what she should have had. Proof was before her now, any salvation Corrine might have once longed and dreamed for, in a world of Utopia, was only that. A dream.
She turned her back and shivered, unable to help herself. She strode with as much purpose as she could from the post office to her limousine, awaiting her to drive her back to Foxworth Hall. Back to the manor that had so many ghosts.
The night of Cory's death, Cathy had damned her to hell and raged she would get revenge if Cory did not survive and come back to the attic. She'd hardly worried about it then, for what could a frail, fifteen year old girl locked in an attic do to her? She'd hated herself then, for bringing them to Foxworth Hall, for lacing the doughnuts they had unselfishly given to hungry Cory.
She rode off like royalty, doing all she could to keep her composure. She hadn't been afraid of Cathy and her screams about revenge then. However now with her moving here so suddenly, Corrine was very aware she was not a frail girl anymore. She was a stubborn woman now, one who was intelligent and cunning, and had lived her life for one promise she'd screamed long ago.
Riding away smoothly in the car, she shuddered in fear, hateful blue eyes of a fifteen year old girl appearing in her mind. She was afraid of the woman Catherine was now, and all she could do, all she would do, if time presented her with the perfect moment.