Chapter Two

"Is the dragon coming tomorrow?"

"No. Thank God!"

Sophie and Hannah were sitting in Caffè Nero enjoying a cappuccino and sandwich.

"Are you sure you can’t come, I could do with the moral support."

"Sorry. I’ve got a meeting in London. I can’t put it off. Mind you I do like your family gatherings. They’re such a set of characters."

"Do you mind! They’re my family by marriage. Thank God none of them are blood relatives. Sadly you’re the only blood relative I have left."

Sophie laughed. "I’m not sure how I should take that."

She looked carefully at her sister and could see the dark smudges under her eyes; the hair that needed a trim; the lack of makeup; the clothes that paid no homage to modern trends and the worrying weight loss. What had happened to that person who always had a smile on her face and seemed to bring the sun in when she entered a room?

"Do you remember that party you had about three years ago? I was going out with that musician, he really played up the image, the dreadlocks, the piercings, the mock West Indian accent. Oh, and he was black! The Dragon’s face when we came in. I wish I’d had a camera. I thought at the time that he was the one and that we’d settle down together. I wonder what happened to him, he was a real sweetie? I really thought he’d make it in the music business, maybe he did. But she wouldn’t look at him, tried to avoid any contact with him. He, of course, went out of his way to be nice to her, just to be perverse I think. I remember she got one of her dizzy spells and Paul had to take her home."

Hannah began to laugh with a little of her old sparkle returning. "Yes I do remember that. You really dropped me in it. She was convinced that both of you were high on drugs. You couldn’t stop laughing and I had to keep disappearing into the kitchen to hide my giggles and she suspected I was going in to top up on some questionable substance. Paul didn’t find it in the least amusing and said it was our fault that his mother had had an angina attack, attention attack I’d call it! He said that we shouldn’t invite you at the same time as his mother again. No wonder he calls you flighty." She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled fondly at her sister.

"So who will be there?"

"There’s the sainted cousin Lucy with the wonder child. The Dragon carries on as though it was the second child of God. That is unkind I do like Lucy and it’s not the baby’s fault that he has the Dragon as a great aunt but I get so tired of all the meaningful looks and sly references to the will and what will happen to her fortune when she passes on. ‘I won’t see another summer!’"

"Is she still threatening to ‘pass to the other side’?"

They both began to giggle.

Hannah began to count on her fingers, "So there’s Lucy, and the baby of course, Aunt Em, you know the one who’s deaf and misunderstands everything. There’s Jack, Paul’s uncle, and his wife who is scared to death of the Dragon and his cousin Simon who is a bit of a disappointment to the family."

"Whatever happened to old Bert? I just loved him. He was such a character. The only one in Paul’s family who wasn’t afraid of the Dragon, just laughed at her."

"Would you believe he’s ninety now? In a nursing home, got dementia so another skeleton they lock in the cupboard."

"That sounds like a really happy gathering. I really do wish I could be there."

"I think I could almost enjoy it if you were."

They sat in companionable silence for a while; each lost in her own thoughts. It was a café much frequented by mothers and their toddlers who met after delivering the other children to school. Hannah smiled fondly at them, wishing that it could have been her.

"I know what you’re thinking. You would have made a great mother. I would have been lousy, no patience. I don’t like the mess they make, or the smell. Too selfish I suppose. I like my life as it is. I can please myself. Do what I want when I want to do it. Why did you take any notice of the Dragon when you thought about adopting? There’s still time for you. Leave him. You can come and stay with me until you’re sorted"

"Paul wasn’t that keen, we’d just moved house using that money she lent us. He said we’d think about it when we’d got straight. Of course once he was in her clutches I had no chance. Whenever I mentioned it he just shut off from me and refused to say anything. I got so angry with him once that I threw a cup at him. It cut his face. He just looked at me for a minute and walked out. Back to his mother. I was so ashamed. I knew he’d told her from the looks of hate she gave me next time I saw her. Most of the time now we get on by ignoring each other which is quite easy as he spends most of the time at his mother’s. I do occasionally look at him and get a great feeling of resentment. I know it was her fault but if he loved me he would have ignored what she said about me. I’m not sure I can put up with it much longer. Apathy is a dreadful thing. I say to myself, ‘I’ll just wait another week and see what happens.’ But…"

Hannah stopped what she was saying and looked down at her badly bitten fingernails. Sophie began to feel uneasy about what Hannah was going to say.

She had such a look of desolation that Sophie wanted to rush over and put her arms around her.

"But I think I’ve begun to hate him and I just want to hurt him like he’s hurt me. I did love him!"

Tears slid down her face. Sophie sat next to her putting her arms about her, knowing that there was nothing she could do to make things better.

"I’ll get through the party tomorrow and then I’ll try to think about what I can do."

"I’ll  get out of my meeting. I can be there for you then."

"No, don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. One more day, my head will be clearer and I can make some decisions.
 Look at the time I’ll have to go. I’ve still got to get those lovely Quiche Bites from Tesco. I wonder if they sell them with arsenic as an optional flavour?" She smiled, kissed her sister and left the café.

Chapter Three

Easter Bank Holiday Monday. The sun shining, a brilliant blue sky and a garden full of the colours of spring. Hannah loved the garden, the only place where she could forget, where she could be herself. When they’d moved to the house the outdoor space had been a wilderness. Both Paul and his mother had suggested decking or slabbing, "So much easier and much more tasteful," the Dragon had said.
"If you want a garden you’ll have to do it. I don’t have a clue," was Paul’s comment. It had been hard work but was worth it. There was a small vegetable patch, well protected from the rabbits, and beds containing shrubs that fired the garden with life in the summer. Spring was Hannah’s favourite season; she liked its gentle, simple colours. She loved to be up early, leaving Paul still sleeping in the spare room. They had come to this arrangement a couple of years earlier. "I come to bed late, you get up early. I think it will suit us both if I sleep in the guest room," was what Paul had said.
‘So like him to call it a guest room. We’ve never had any guests to sleep there!’ Hannah had thought but had made no objections, feeling more comfortable not sleeping with him.

Hannah had been pottering in the garden for at least an hour, the cup of tea she’d made herself forgotten. She could feel the sun beginning to warm up and see the plants starting to turn their heads to its shining face. She had been able to lose herself in the simple tasks of weeding and tidying. She was always delighted with how much a garden gave in return for only a little care and love, unlike people! She had been able to forget for a while that it was ‘Party Day’. At least she would be spared the evil eye of the Dragon!

She straightened up and looked back towards the house. It did not seem to welcome her, to invite her in. It was as though the windows were malevolent eyes watching and judging her. It had never felt like her house, or her home. It was theirs. She took her cold tea to the summerhouse and made great efforts to try and make plans for the day ahead. She was so deep in thought, and not about the day ahead but about plans for the garden, that she did not notice that Paul was standing on the path watching her. She looked up just in time to catch a sorrowful look on his face.

"Got everything in hand love?"

When she thought about it later, after, she realised that he was going to say something but she didn’t give him chance.

"Will you stop calling me love. You don’t mean it. It’s just habit. And what have you done to help this party out?"

"I’ve got to go out, get some petrol. Anything you want me to get?"

"Nothing."

"I won’t be long."

She picked up her cup and went back into the house to begin the preparations. No one was due until about three so she had plenty of time, and most of the preparation was only unpacking. She made up some sandwiches and wrapped them in foil, laid the table with china and cutlery and decided to leave everything else till later. A long soak in the bath was just what was needed.

She filled the bath with water as hot as she could stand, making sure that it had its correct quota of perfumed bubbles, and she sank into its soporific depths closing her eyes and at the same time attempting to clear her mind.

"I’m back love."

Her heart sank and she got herself reluctantly out of the bath. She wrapped her head in a towel, put on her dressing gown and went downstairs.

He was sitting in the lounge reading his newspaper. He looked up as she came into the room.

"There’s been a change of plan love. Mum can make it after all."

That was the last straw, the last thing she needed, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to face that woman.

"The only thing that was going to make this bearable was the fact that SHE wasn’t coming. Oh God! I’ve got to put up with all her snide sarcastic remarks."

The argument had continued from there until that last fateful remark, and that last smile.

"A good job we never had any kids. You would have made a lousy mother!" He’d said.

What happened next was a blur, a blank in her consciousness.

The doorbell rang.