Anna repressed her anger. This wasn’t the time to argue with her brother. ‘How is Mum today?’ she asked instead.
‘Talkative.’
Anna and Florence exchanged a look. Maybe she wasn’t having one of her down days then. But the ‘up’ manic days weren’t so great either. Her mother generally had two moods: quiet and detached, or talkative and angry. Anna wasn’t sure which one she preferred.
They walked through to the small living room with its faded red sofas and patterned carpet. The shelves either side of the small fireplace were cluttered with books and ornaments, no family photos like at Florence’s.
Anna’s mother was leaning over, tickling the chin of her black and white cat, Korky, her long grey hair grazing her plump knees. She peered up, a look of surprise on her face when she saw Anna and Florence walk in.
‘Hello, Beatrice,’ Florence said, sweeping into the room and leaning down to kiss her daughter on the cheek. Anna’s mother flinched. She didn’t like affection.
‘How are you, Mum?’ Anna asked.
‘Too hot. And tired,’ her mother replied. ‘The sirens kept me awake.’
Anna avoided her gaze, focusing on placing Joni on the floor with the toys she’d brought with her.
Her mother scrutinised Anna’s face. ‘What happened to your face?’
Leo frowned. ‘Anna’s just visiting, Mother. I know it’s a rare occurrence but—’
‘Honestly, Leo, Anna comes every week, that’s hardly rare,’ Florence snapped.
Leo bristled. Florence may be the most loving person Anna knew, but she also knew when to put people in their place.
‘Anna?’ her mother pushed.
‘I have something to tell you, Mum,’ Anna said, looking her mother in the eye.
Her brother frowned. The last time they’d had a conversation like this was when Anna told them her and Guy were splitting up. It had triggered one of her mother’s episodes, meaning she’d refused to see anyone for two weeks.
‘Someone tried to hurt me and Joni yesterday,’ Anna said, trying to keep her voice calm.
Her mother’s eyes widened.
‘As you can see, we’re fine, I just got a bit of a cut to my cheek,’ Anna added quickly as Joni tried to reach for the cat. ‘But I had to—’ Anna swallowed. ‘I had to protect Joni and – and I…’
‘Spit it out, Anna,’ her brother snapped.
She couldn’t say the words, which was totally unlike her. She looked at her gran beseechingly.
Florence put her hand on Beatrice’s arm. ‘Anna and Joni were attacked on the beach yesterday, Beatrice. Anna had to defend herself, defend Joni. The boy died.’
‘Died?’ Beatrice asked incredulously.
‘My God,’ Leo said as he stared at Anna. ‘You’re the one they’re talking about on the news, the mother who killed the boy from The Docks?’
‘She had to protect Joni,’ Florence said.
‘By killing a schoolboy?’ Leo asked.
Anna ignored him, looking at her mother who started scratching her arms, something she did when she was nervous.
‘I didn’t mean to,’ Anna said to Beatrice. ‘It was an accident. I had a comb, a sharp tail one. It was the only thing I could grab, the boy had a knife, and – and the comb went into his neck…’
‘How old was the boy?’ Beatrice asked Anna.
Anna swallowed, tears brimming at her eyes. ‘Fourteen.’
‘Just a boy,’ Beatrice said. She turned away to look out of the window, face drawn.
‘Couldn’t you have bloody stabbed him in the leg or something?’ Leo said.
Anna closed her eyes, saw the comb’s end slipping into the soft skin of the boy’s neck, smelt his blood, felt it on her hands again. ‘I didn’t…he – he struck out with his knife, and I had – had to do something. Then he fell…’
‘You’d do the same to protect one of the twins,’ Florence said gently.
‘I wouldn’t be that bloody stupid,’ Leo retorted. ‘There are ways of protecting one’s children without resorting to murder.’
Anna kept her eyes on her mother. All she wanted, all she’d ever wanted, was for Beatrice to look at her, really look at her and hold her and tell her it was okay. Like the time her father died, the ambulance sirens disappearing into the distance, leaving her with her mother and her brother. She’d grasped at Beatrice’s cold hand, desperate for comfort. But Beatrice had just walked away, disappearing into her own private grief, not offering any word of comfort to her children.
It was no different now, Anna needed her mother.
But instead, all she got was a cold gaze. ‘Leo’s right,’ Beatrice said. ‘You shouldn’t have gone for his neck.’ Leo stood next to his mother, putting his hand on her shoulder. They both stared at Anna and Anna felt as she always had with them: ostracised, alone, judged.
A sob escaped her mouth.
‘Right then,’ Florence said, scooping Joni and her toys up as she tried to contain her anger. ‘We’ve done what we came to do, Anna. Shall we go?’
Anna nodded, suppressing her disappointment. ‘Let’s go.’
That evening, Anna tried to drive thoughts of her encounter with her mother and brother away. She ought to be used to it. She’d felt increasingly isolated from them after her father died. They’d sit quietly in the bungalow, reading and wallowing, refusing to talk about Anna’s father. Anna had wanted to talk about him, think about him, remember him. She didn’t want him to fade away. So she’d retreat to the lighthouse or to visit her gran, the only person she felt able to share memories of her father with. It was no different now.
No, she mustn’t dwell on the past. She had to focus on the now, on Joni. Guy would be looking after her that weekend, he was coming to collect her straight from the airport. As much as it pained Anna to be apart from Joni, she had to stick to their agreement, especially seeing as social services would be visiting, ‘just standard procedure after an incident like this,’ according to her solicitor. She couldn’t be seen to be breaking her agreement with Guy. And anyway, despite the problems between her and Guy, she knew he would keep Joni safe.
Anna focused on playing with Joni that evening, bathing her and forcing herself to remember over and over, ‘Look, you saved your daughter’s life. She’s here!’ But she still saw Elliot’s face, the awkward angle of the comb jutting from his neck, the blood and the gurgles, guilt piled upon guilt thanks to her mother and brother’s reactions.
As she read Joni’s bedtime story to her, she wondered if Elliot’s mother used to do the same for him. Did she brush her nose against his soft hair like Anna did with Joni? Hold his warmth close, marvel at how lucky she was to have him?
‘Mama.’ Anna looked up to see Joni peering at her, her little brow creased.
Anna forced a smile, kissing her forehead. ‘Okay, darling, bedtime.’ She lifted her into the travel cot that Florence had bought so Joni could stay there every now and again when Anna and Guy needed a break. Anna was still staying with her gran, not quite ready to return home yet. And Joni was still in with Anna, Anna not quite ready for her to be in a separate room.
She flicked on her video monitor then stepped out of the room. Joni cried, lifting her arms out to her. She did this sometimes. Just when Anna thought she’d slipped into a good sleeping phase, Joni would throw a curveball and refuse to sleep. Anna