They sat at the kitchen table, only the clink of cutlery between them. Grace sat at the head of the table, 'Little House in the Big Woods' by Laura Ingalls Wilder opened at roughly half way and splayed out to the side of her supper plate.

Connie pushed the prongs of her fork into a slice of tomato, watching as the juice and seeds bled out onto the stark white of the plate. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as Rita pushed a slice of cold meat from one side of her plate to the other.

Their previous conversation had been cut short when Grace had come downstairs expecting something to eat, and now, they sat, with Grace's head bobbed down, her mind in the tales of a little girl long ago, completely oblivious to the tension that stretched so thin across the kitchen table.

She prized the tomato from her fork and instead, chose to turn the fork onto its side so that she could slice it evenly down the middle, severing one side from the other before raising half to her lips.

The clatter of Rita's fork made her start and she looked up sharply. Rita was standing up, pushing her chair back so hard that the feet scraped the floor. She had her hand to her lips, struggling to hold back tears.

"Rita-"

She made to stand but Rita waved a hand at her in dismissal.

"I just want to be alone."

She whispered so quietly, her voice so strained that it was barely heard at all.

"What's wrong with her?"

Grace asked, eyes wide. She was sitting straight up in her seat, her fingers holding the book pages open.

"Oh..."

Connie set her fork back down on her plate, the tomato still just holding on to the prongs.

"I..."

She looked at Grace and drew in a breath. She knew very well how few times she had told Grace the truth...how she had always assumed that it would be better for her not to know...

But now she saw the haunted look behind her brown eyes, and she realised suddenly that perhaps she had been wrong.

She exhaled slowly and carefully.

"Rita and I had a little chat this afternoon."

She began, finding it difficult to look anywhere but at the shadow of her hands upon the table.

"What about?"

Grace asked quietly when her mother failed to continue.

"We're just trying to work around some problems."

She said slowly, and she watched as Grace's expression morphed into one of realisation.

"Are you going to break up?"

She asked. There was a wobble to her voice and her body stiffened as though she too were about to get up and leave. Connie smiled slightly, If only things were so black and white.

"I don't know."

She whispered.

Grace's eyes rounded all the more and she drew her hands in to her chest, forgetting her book, the pages of which fluttered closed with a sound like feathers falling.

"But WHY?!"

She caught her breath.

"Oh...Rita and I were speaking about the future. How she has always wanted to have children..."

She paused.

"And?"

"Well, I've got you. My child rearing days are long gone...I'm nearly 50-"

"Why does it matter how old you are?!"

Grace asked, her voice was becoming higher and breathier and her chin dimpled and wobbled as she clenched her jaw.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't, not really. I just..."

She drew up a hand to touch the very tips of her fingers against her lips.

"I haven't been the best mother..."

Grace drew up her shoulders and looked at her plate.

"I've always wanted a brother or a sister."

Her voice was barely there at all.

"Have you?!"

For some reason it had never occurred to her that a brother or sister might have been something that Grace had secretly longed for, and she couldn't help but wonder fleetingly whether if she had given her that, would things have played out differently?

"I don't want you and Rita to split up."

Grace whispered, tears glimmering against the black lashes.

"We won't split up sweetheart."

Connie murmured, but even as she said it she felt the guilt that came from promising something that she only wished were true.

"But how can you stay together if Rita wants to have a baby and you don't?"

"Well, I..."

"Won't she just want to be with somebody who wants a baby?"

"I..."

"How do two ladies have a baby?"

"Grace!"

She caught her breath and Grace pursed her lips.

"Sorry..."

"No, I don't mind you asking..."

It was all of the questions and in such quick succession that had startled her, and now, she found herself wondering about the answers, something which she had been trying not to do.

"There are several ways for two women to have children..."

She began with the easiest answer first, hoping that Grace would forget the others. Science and facts. Science she could do, science she could rely on.

"There's adoption,"

She continued.

"...though I understand that Rita would like to carry the child herself. There's artificial insemination, whereby the woman undergoes a series of treatments using a donor sperm to fertilise her egg...to create a baby. "

She glanced at Grace, she was listening intently. How grown up she had become...

"I've also heard of DNA stem cell treatments where DNA from both women is used so that both mothers are biologically related to the child."

She concluded, running her fingers across her bottom lip one last time before setting them into her lap and squeezing them between her legs, she hadn't realised how cold she was.

"So I really would be a big sister?"

"Oh I'm not sure if that particular treatment is even available yet..."

She saw the slump of Grace's shoulders and her gaze fell to the table. Connie found herself listening for any noise from upstairs, but she heard nothing, not even the creak of a floorboard or the bed.

"Mummy?"

Grace whispered after a pause.

"Yes sweetheart?"

"I'm scared about you and Rita splitting up."

Connie sucked in a long slow breath.

"I don't know what to do, Grace."

She said finally, looking across at her daughter who was frowning hard at the plate before her.

"Why can't you just have a baby?"

"Grace, it's not as simple as that. This is my life now, I've had you...and look what a mess I made of that!"

Grace looked up at her, her lips a pale line.

"Maybe you could get it right this time."

An ice cold splinter of something seemed to shoot its way straight through her skin, between of ribs and into her heart. She looked at Grace, her lips parted as though she were about to say something, though no words were in her head, just the sudden realisation that Grace knew very well what a terrible job she had done being her mother.

"Excuse me."

She whispered, standing up slowly.

She needed to think.

-.-

I've just realised that this is my most reviewed story...thank you to everyone who has reviewed it thus far! I hope this update warrants a few more ;) xxx