Читать книгу The Lost Sister - Laura Elliot - Страница 9

Name–Mary Green

Occupation Social worker

Intention–To break up our family

Obstacle to achieving her goal–Me!

Duration of visit–2 hrs

Mary Green doesn’t like it when I make notes but I’m not supposed to object when she does the same. Was she trained to ask questions then wait silently, however long it takes, for me to stumble into her trap? Or did she pick up the trick when she started dealing with ‘dysfunctional’ families? She makes ‘orphans’ sound like a disease and ‘Care’ sound like the Promised Land.

Cathy has nits in her hair…so what? Everyone in her class has them. It’s called an infestation. Julie bunks off school. Her and half of the student population, but when she does it, it’s seen like a crisis for the State. Lauren…well, there’s the rub…I don’t have any easy answers but she’s not going anywhere and if they try to take her away they’ll do so over my dead body. Mary Green says I’m overwrought, hysterical, too young and inexperienced. She forgets to include ‘grieving’.

We’re drowning in tears. It’s awful. Julie is the loudest. She’s loudest at everything and her grief is terrible to hear. Crying with her face in the cushions or against Paul’s chest, crying over the slightest thing, and I want to scream at her to stop…stop…stop!! but I can’t because it only makes her cry louder and call me a heartless cow.

Cathy cries in corners or behind chairs or under bedclothes. I know by her eyes. They’re pools of grief. She’s like a shadow behind me, clinging to my presence, afraid I’ll disappear if she lets me out of her sight. I don’t blame her. I feel myself disappearing all the time, my dreams dissolving one by one. Then I’m furious with myself for being resentful when we have all lost so much. What kind of person thinks about trivial things like college and friends and travel and being able to walk away from it all?

She writes letters to Mammy. She showed me one but I choked up and couldn’t finish it. I showed her how to spell ‘angel’ correctly. Why did I do that? Why didn’t I rock her in my arms instead? I would have…in the past. I would have held her until her chest stopped heaving and her face was dry. She falls asleep in class. She’s slipping behind the main stream. It’s all there in Mary Green’s little black book.

How am I supposed to manage? I couldn’t boil an egg before they died. Julie says my dinners look like Nero’s vomit but she eats everything-unlike Lauren, who never says a word, even when she’s dumping hers in the bin. Cathy says I’m the best cook ever. She’s forever trying to please me but not the way she used to. It’s more like she’s learning new lines and is unsure of the way forward. After all, I’m the boss now. But I’m only seventeen! I haven’t a clue what I’m doing. Little steps, Lydia says, step by little step, anything is possible.

I’ve accepted the Morans’ invitation. A break will do us good. They’ve a fabulous house, and horses too. Country air will be good for Lauren, put some colour in her cheeks.

Lauren’s tears are like icicles. When I hold her, I get nothing but frost burn. I’m afraid if I hold her too tight she’ll snap cleanly away from me. I wish she’d cry like Julie, howl and yell and kick the doors. But she’s frozen with guilt. I keep telling her it’s not her fault. But she doesn’t hear me. Even if she did, she’d figure I was lying.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her.