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"I was frustrated. You wouldn't let me do anything. I only wanted to go into town, or go to a friend's house, but you always wanted me to stay with you, know what I was doing"
Sharice steals a glance at her grandmother's face. It's stony, no expression. Well, at least she's not angry anymore. Zoe's in the kitchen with a coffee: she had left them alone to talk.
"And, there's another thing. You- never talk- about her. Mum. Whenever I try and bring her up, you close off. I'm worried that- I've only got one photo of her as an adult, and whenever I try and think about her, she gets further and further away." Fighting back the ever-threatening tears, and struggling against the lump in her throat, "I think I'm forgetting her."
Kaye looks Sharice in the eye for the first time. Since her husband died, she has struggled to feel anything except all-encompassing grief. They were a team for nearly fifty years, dealing with everything life threw at them together. And now he was gone, and she was sat here all alone, without a hand to hold, no one to show her how she should deal with this.
They had always been reluctant to talk about Abby. Part grief – their daughter had been murdered, an impossible thing to come to terms with, part guilt – maybe if they hadn't lost touch, they could have kept Abby and Sharice safe, and part fear. Fear that if Sharice began to idolise her, she may end up like her mother and that nature could win out. But she could see now that Sharice was desperate to know.
"I didn't know that you wanted to talk about her."
"Well I did! She was my mother, and I barely have any memories of her! How is that right?"
"You should have said something, Sharice"
"I tried, Nan! But every time I tried to bring her up, you'd just brush it away. I just wanted- something. A photo, or a memory, something apart from what I know happened. Apart from- you know."
Kaye stands up and goes slowly over to sofa where Sharice sits. She reaches out to hold her hand, but Sharice pulls it away. She perseveres: "OK. You want- right." She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.
"When she was little, she was always so full of energy, like you were. In fact, you reminded me of her so much. She would find something to be happy about in every situation, if we were in church, she'd be giggling at the old ladies in the rows in front, or she'd be singing to herself on the way to school. I couldn't understand how she could be so effortlessly cheerful all the time: whenever I was feeling low, I could look at her chatting away to herself, and nothing would seem quite so important anymore. How could anyone possibly have been unhappy with her around?"
Looking over at her granddaughter, saddened to see tears falling freely down her cheeks, she puts an arm around her waist. This time, Sharice doesn't pull away, but snuggles into her chest.
Zoe, listening in from the kitchen, smiled to herself. She could recognise this joy in the Abby she had known. It had been faded, worn down with years of threats and abuse, but it shone through in moments when she had been relaxed; evenings with her and Sharice; and once when she had returned a favour; and it lit her up from the inside.
She stands and looks into the living room. She is torn between relief that Kaye and Sharice are making amends, and jealousy. She knows it's stupid, but the mother in Zoe, that had lain dormant for quite some time now, almost resents Kaye for taking her place. Tears threaten to fall from her own eyes. She blinks hard, shakes her head and walks back into the kitchen.
Sorry, this chapter is based mostly on Kaye and Sharice, but I wanted to have a bit about their relationship as well... next chapter is all Zoe, promise!