“Er . . .” Henry darted me a confused look, to which I shrugged in response. “Hi, Mum. Hi. . . lady.”
“I’m Sheena, Kira’s mum.” She walked around the kitchen island and patted his cheek. “And you must be Henry. I’ve heard a lot about you, sweetie.”
Henry smiled at her. “Hi Sheena, great to meet you. Kira’s a cracking girl.”
“I like to think so.”
I cleared my throat and all eyes swung to me. I’d noticed the lack of cheek pats and temple kisses for me, but I guessed that was understandable, given that I’d been a huge dick. Sheena turned to me and narrowed her eyes.
“I want you to fix my daughter,” she told me.
I blinked.
“Sorry? You . . . I mean . . . wha–”
“I’m not saying it’sallyour fault,” she continued. “That bloody tiny-di – whoops! Sorry Laura. I mean small-penised man harassing her and then . . . well . . .” she trailed off and swallowed, her eyes going down to look at her feet. “Wellthatwould affect anyone. But . . .” She looked me in the eye and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what happened between you, but I know you hurt my daughter too. And she’s . . .” her eyes were glassy now and she swallowed again, “she’s not the same. It’s like she’s been switched off. I want you to switch her backon.”
“Now, now Sheena,” Mum said softly, guiding Sheena over to her cup of tea. “We’ll sort it out. Don’t you go getting upset again.”
“How did you two . . .?” I rubbed the back of my neck, my brows drawing together. “I mean how are you even in contact? I thought . . .”
“I told you – Sheena is friends with Bunty. It wasn’t hard to get her number. And after I learned what happened to Kira, I had to contact her. Besides, it’s beenwonderfulopening up my social circle. I’d never been to a naturalist campsite before, never even–” she whispered as if the police were bugging her every sentence, “–never partaken inspecial brownies. Not until I met Sheena.”
My eyebrows went up into my hairline. The idea that my own unwaveringly sensible mother could ever be a potential source of political scandal was not something that would have crossed my mind before Kira.
“Look at you,” Mum’s tone was now soft as she stirred her tea and contemplated my expression. “So shocked. Always so serious. Always doing the right thing, the sensible thing. And you see, I know it’s my fault. I let you take on too much when I was ill.” She turned to Henry. “You’re not the only one to have suffered with depression, darling. The difference is, when I went down that black hole my husband was working all the hours God sends, and I left a nine-year-old to look after his four-year-old brother.” She turned to Sheena. “I lost a baby, you see. Still birth. It was a little girl. Things were . . . difficult afterwards. Fergus went back to work too soon. I was too proud to ask for help – too much pressure for a nine-year-old boy. I let him down.”
“Mum, that’s not true. You–”
“Oh, I might have been there physically. I might have been putting meals on the table, but you were the one that woke up with Henry’s night terrors. You were the one signing his permission slips so he could go on the school trips. You taught him to read, for goodness sake. You always were so earnest, so good at taking care of everyone else, even wanting to save the world. But along the way, you forgot to findyourjoy. And I forgot what was important. I thought success in your career would make you happy, but you’ve been anything but happy over the last two months. I have a feeling this girl was helping you find joy, and your father (who I might add is still banging on about her saving his life) feels terrible that he might have got in the way of that. So, I want you to listen to Sheena, and then you’re going to fix Kira, just like you’ve fixed everything else you’ve ever come across that’s broken. Just like you did when you were nine years old.”
*****
Kira
“I really don’t think I’m up to this,” I said under my breath as I trudged through the undergrowth towards an out-of-the-way part of Epping Forrest.
“Come on, Ki Ki,” said Libby, giving me a little push from behind. “You’re always telling me how awesome this thing is, you can’t flake out on us now.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “But I don’t know why you’re so bloody keen to go this year. Whenever I’ve asked you before, you’ve told me you had better things to do than ponce about with a load of hippy weirdos in the forest.”
“Well,” she said, putting her arm around me with a little difficulty, seeing as a baby was strapped to her chest. “I lovethishippy weirdo, so maybe I thought it was time to suck up a bit of Wiccan forest action.”
“I’ve always secretly wanted to come,” she said in a quiet voice. “But . . . I didn’t really have the – how would you term it, Kira? The lady-balls to make myself do it when you asked me. You know what I’m like with new people, and I’m not so keen on . . . well . . .” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “public nudity.”
I rolled my eyes. “X, you know I made that up, right? My mum and her peeps don’t really prance about the fire singing in their birthday suits.”
“Oh well, I must say that’s a bit of a relief.”
“The only one that takes anything off is the poor bastard they’ve dragged in this year to chant around.”
“Oh! What fun,” Libby said, “bit of eye candy.”
“Last year it was Bev’s husband Geoff, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up – it’s not exactlyLove Island.”
“You said ‘bastard’, Auntie Kira,” Rosie put in. She’d insisted on coming along and, after Jamie had been reassured that it was all PG rated activities, he’d allowed it. Although I wasn’t sure how sensible a decision that was. The whole point of tonight was female empowerment – Rosie was empowered enough, in my opinion. “That’s one pound.”
“Badgering hell, Rose Pose, that’s a bit steep, isn’t it?”
