Souvenir
– I’m thirsty!
A little girl with wild hair in a funny pink swimsuit with frills runs up to the neighbouring sun lounger, and Vera winces.
She likes children, but only from a distance. Adorable, lovely, but best kept at arms length! Then everything is in order. You can smile at chubby cheeks and carry on with your day, refusing yourself the chance to imagine what could have been, if only…
With a sigh, Vera tosses her book onto her lounger and shuts her eyes.
Unbearable! How much longer will these memories haunt her? And now, this little bell-like voice rings beside her, pestering her mum for water, biscuits, sweetsnon-stop.
A thought that has been poking at the edge of Vera’s consciousness takes shape. She blinks her eyes open in surprise. This little girl has been skipping around for several minutes and hasnt once called the woman rummaging through her beach bag for treats mum.
– Your nose is all blue. Are you cold?
The womaneasy to miss at first glance, shes so unremarkabledrapes a towel around the girls shoulders, but the little one wriggles free and dances in circles, flinging sand everywhere.
– Oh, Im so sorry!
Fine white sand showers over Veras lounger, onto her lap, and over the book she no longer cares for.
Scooping the girl up, the woman frowns and issues an order,
– Molly! Apologise, now! That isnt how we behave!
The little girl furrows her brow in perfect imitation, nodding very solemnly,
– Sorry…
– Off you go now. But stay where I can see you! she sets the girl down, pats the frill-covered bottom, and shuffles her off to join the other kids chasing the childrens club leader. Then she shifts her attention to Vera. I truly am sorry! Shes such a livewire. Please, let me help clean that up?
Vera waves away the offer.
– Oh, dont worry about it! Sand gets everywhere, anyway. A few more grains wont make a difference, will they? She shifts on her lounger, settling in. But she cant resist. May I ask you something?
– Of course! The woman perches on her own sun lounger and sets about gathering up some toys scattered nearby.
It seems they arrived at the beach long before Vera, and the little girl had plenty of time to play before the childrens entertainer rounded them all up, as usual.
Vera tries to avoid the beach at that hour. That much shrieking and squealing gets to her. But it rained all morning, and with nothing else to do, she decided to catch the scant afternoon sunlight for once, considering her holiday is nearly over, her suitcase already half-packed. Only the souvenirs for her parents and work colleagues are left to go in before she returns to another grey London autumn, which her mum, ringing this morning, says is in full swing.
– The countrysides so peaceful, Vee! I made mushroom soup yesterday. Dad loved it. So many mushrooms this year! Come back soon. We miss you…
They always miss her. No matter what, or how hard things get, Vera knows she has a home. A place for comfort, help, or even a gentle ticking off if she needs it. Thats happened, too.
The thought of home soothes her, as always, and she asks calmly,
– Why doesnt your daughter call you mum? Forgive me if its a nosy questionI was just curious.
The woman, whos stopped tidying and placed her hands in her lap, gives the faintest, briefest smile, as though saying everything is far from simple.
A plain, black swimsuit, hair twisted into a basic knot with a few streaks of grey, andunexpectedlya costly gold bracelet on her wrist. Vera, overseeing a jewellery firm, recognises its value instantly.
– Dont apologise. Its not a strange question, and Ill answer. But if I may ask firstdo you have children?
Vera admires how quickly her new acquaintance transforms. From being a mum awkwardly peeling a banana and negotiating with a restless child, shes now a composed, assured woman, gently taking the reins, making it clear that questions are welcomebut answers, thats her choice.
– No. I dont have children.
She meets honesty with honesty; curiosity should be a two-way street.
– Neither do I not by blood, anyway. Molly is my late husbands daughter. Now, shes mine, too. Were still getting used to each otherits only been a short while. But I think were getting there.
– Vera, she reaches out to shake hands, businesslike, like an equal.
– Harriet.
The handshake is perfectly measured; assertive, but not overbearingexactly what Vera was expecting.
– First names, then? Vera arches a brow with a hint of amusement.
– Please. Its easier.
A brief, confident nod againHarriet clearly has had plenty of practice with this sort of direct talk.
– How long have you been together? Vera nods toward the playground, where the little ones are dancing in a line.
– Nearly six months now. Since my husband died. Mollyshes my souvenir, so to speak, leftover from someone I loved deeply and who betrayed me.
– Molly?
– It was short for Maryellen. Unusual names are all the fashion now, arent they? People hunt for something unique, hoping itll give their child an extraordinary destiny, too.
– Well, in your case, it seems to have worked.
– Oh, yes! Harriet laughs, but there’s no humour in it. All too well.
– Will you tell me? Vera surprises herself with the question, then quickly adds, Im not usually this nosy. Sorry.
– I can tell. Harriet grins. But Ill tell you if you share your own story. Im curious why youre here, alone.
– Deal. Vera nods. Ive no close friends, really. No one to confide in like thisnot counting my parents, and you cant tell them everything. Do you still have family?
– No, Vera. Not for years. Im alone now. I had a husband. My closest person, who thought we were enough for each other. We had our own little world, everyone else shut out. Or so I thought. Always together, sharing an office, travelling for business, building our dream, hoping someday to hand it all to our children. We built so much…
Harriet grabs a water bottle, takes a long gulp, and laughs rawly.
– Oh, how we built. And how we tore it down…
– Why?
– Because I couldnt have children. That happens, you know, Vera. Your most cherished wish can evaporate when the doctor, leafing through notes, tells you quietly youll never be a mother. Never, no matter what miracles happen. Your husband sits beside you, holds your hand, then insists on more tests, more hope… You go round in circles for years. You tell yourself love is enoughhis support, his tenderness. Then suddenly: that, too, disappears. He finds everything he wants at once: you, and a child he secretly made with another woman, growing up as he held your hand…
– Thats so painful…
– Its beyond painful, Vera. Its terrifying! When I found outby chance, as wives always do, thinking theyre loved just for being themselvesthere was a fire inside me. Im a solicitor, and a good one, just like him. We fought it out, trying to wreck everything completely if we couldnt save what wed built. We destroyed with relish, completely blind to the obvious: neither of us needed this. We were just trying not to drown. He knew the woman who bore his child could never be me, and I knew I was losing everything Id had. And I dont mean material things. No! I was losing myself. Coming home each night, working on files until sunrise, afraid to sleep, afraid even to touch the bed we used to share, hands clasped even in sleep… Five minutes nap on the sofa, then back to the grind, knowing Id already lost…
Harriet trails off, watching Molly dance round the playground.
– And then? Vera prompts gently.
– Then it all collapsed. I discovered he was addictedjust as she was. Addicted in a way that you choose, despite knowing itll ruin you. They didnt careabout themselves or the child. Just did whatever they wanted. When I heard shed died, I was terrified. Not for himI was far too angry. I knew hed ignore any help from me. He was too stubborn to admit a mistake. I was scared for the child…
– And what did you do?
– I went back. Persuaded him to let me adopt Molly. It was a desperate rushtime was short, and I knew I had to act fast. Colleagues helpedeveryone knew, everyone saw, but they minded their own business until I asked. Thats what saved us. Turned out we weren’t divorced yet…so now, Molly is legally my daughter.
– And your husband?
– Hes gone, Harriet returns Veras gaze, unwavering. They found him in his car by the house, two days after Molly was mine. I suppose he thought, with the child finally settled, he was free to do as he pleased.
– He…
– Yes. Youve guessed right. I doubt it was accidentalhe knew exactly what he was doing.
– You think it was deliberate?
– I dont want to think about it. He left no note. But there, in the car, was Mollys stuffed bunny. The one she never let go of, the one he gave her when she was little. We turned the house upside down looking for it that morning. I never imagined itd be the last thing he saw…
Harriet falls silent, closes her eyes for a moment, then asks:
– Do you want to know why I did it?
– Yes. I really do. Why take on someone elses child?
– Well, now she is my child. But youre right, she wasn’t then. At some point, I realised shed be broken and discarded just like meno one considering what she felt. That would be unbearable… Because, like me, shed never understand why… Shes only a child. She doesnt deserve the pain caused by adults messes…
– Thats… Vera searches for a word, unable to find it. Admirable.
Harriet merely nods, whether in agreement or lost in her own thoughts, Vera cant tell.
– Now do you see why she doesnt call me mum? Harriet gestures to Molly, who is climbing the slide, looking back frequently to check shes being watched. She remembers her real mum. Remembers cuddlesand the times she was hit for being in the way. When her mother died, Mollys father was away on business. Four days alone, in the flat, with…
– Oh, my God…
– Yes, Vera. Its awful. We still see a child therapist. He suggested the change of sceneryto override the memories as much as possible. Thats why Im here. Handed all my urgent work over, whisked Molly away. And it does seem to be working…
Mollys laughter, clapping hands and twirling, lets Harriet relax a little.
– And you, Vera? What about you? Why alone?
– I ran out on my wedding.
– Really? Harriet looks at Vera, intrigued. Why?
– Full disclosure for full disclosure, Vera grins. I caught my fiancé with my best friend. In the fitting room, no less, at the bridal shop. Id lost weight and went to have the dress taken in. He popped along to help. Dont know why I agreedeven had my friend with me. While the fitter was busy stabbing me with pins, they… got to know each other rather too well.
Veras fingers chill at the memory, just as on the day she tore back the curtain and saw them. The staff had to prise her hands off the plush fabric, all while whispering and trying to give her tea. Vera felt no comfortif anything, she just got colder and colder under their pitying looks and muttering.
– Maybe ask her to take the dress off? Its expensive, you know. What a waste if its ruined.
– Leave it. Shes paid already.
– Still. Maybe shell want to return it. Whod we sell it to after?
Vera doesnt recall how she tore the dress off, threw it at the worried tailor, or dashed into the street, coat flapping open, causing a stir among passersby who caught a glimpse of lace lingerie meant for a very different occasion. Shed so hoped her fiancé would like it…
– Had you known each other long? Harriets voice brings Vera back.
– Yes. Nearly ten years. We met at university. I got pregnant in the third year, but we decided not to keep it… Vera shares the hurt thats never stopped gnawing at her. He wanted to wait. Said we were too young, didnt want to tie ourselves down with a shrieking baby…
Her hand traces unconsciously over her stomach. Harriets eyes widen.
– You…
– Yes. Im pregnant again. Havent made up my mind yet. Its his child…
– And yours.
Harriet simply states the fact, and Vera accepts it.
– Yes, mine too…
Thats all they say to each other. Molly runs over, breathlessly telling Harriet a stream of excitement, swinging her arms. She hurries her adoptive mother along toward dinner, and Vera simply nods goodbye to Harriets departing glance.
The next morning, they meet again at the airport check-in.
– Flying home?
– Flying home.
– Time to go back.
– Yes.
– Have you made your decision? Harriet finally asks, knowing Vera isnt one to dither when so much is at stake.
– Yes. Ive decided never again to let anyone else make my choices for me.
They partdifferent flightsbut as they queue, Molly glances back, breaks away, and scurries across the terminal to Vera.
– Molly! Where are you off to? Harriet calls, but seeing her aim, laughs, surprising both herself and the people around her with the sheer joy in her voice.
– Here! For you! A souvenir! Molly pushes a fluffy little toy into Veras handit could be a kitten or a puppy. Keep it! Youre lovely!
With that, she dashes back to Harriet.
And Vera, clutching the toy, mouths to Harriet,
– Thank you…
A few years on, at the very same hotel, the two women meet again.
– Hi there! Harriet plants a kiss on Mollys nose and sends her to the playground.
– Weve got an hour! Vera nods at the buggy where her son is sleeping. When he wakes up, therell be plenty of noise again.
– Teething?
– Two at once! Can you imagine? Thank goodness my mum came too. We take turns sleeping.
– Do you regret anything? Harriet studies Vera closely, but she just laughs, twirling a finger at her temple.
– Mad? Not for a second! Just cant wait until hes Mollys age.
– Whys that?
– Ill finally get to sleep! Vera grins. Now you tell mehow are you two getting on?
Harriet doesn’t get the chance to answer. Molly runs up, wraps her arms around Harriet, and whispers a request urgently.
– Alright! Harriet nods. Ice cream?
– And juice. But only one glassotherwise youll spoil your supper.
Molly rushes off, and Vera shrugs.
– No further questions necessary.
She adjusts the buggy cover, touches the soft toy her son cuddles as he sleeps, and remarks,
– A perfect souvenir. I really ought to ask Molly what its meant to be. A puppy? A kitten? I never did work it out…
