Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [17]
“I know it’s not so personal as the actual thing; you know, the paper she wrote on. You can all have a turn with that—I’m not hogging it. I just thought…I just thought we should all have a copy we could keep…” Her voice trailed away a little.
The image of Jennifer standing by the photocopier at the office feeding bits of their mum’s diary into a machine made Amanda want to laugh. It was so efficient, and…so Jennifer. Mum would have loved it!
Hannah opened her copy, saw her mother’s handwriting, and closed it again. Not tonight.
LISA AND ANDY GAVE JENNIFER A LIFT HOME. AMANDA WAS STAYING the night. She and Hannah put clean linen on the bed in the guest room, giggling as they both fought to be the fastest to pull the elasticated bottom sheet over the corners. Once they’d secured it, Amanda threw herself back onto the mattress, and Hannah lay down, too, from the other side, so that their heads met in the middle. They both stared at the ceiling.
“I’ve had too much to drink.”
“Disgusting.”
“I know. I’m a lush. Did you have a nice time, baby?”
“You’re going to have to stop calling me baby soon. I’m sixteen now. Besides, it’s very Dirty Dancing.”
“Okay. No more baby. Did you have a nice time, Hannah?” Amanda turned her head too fast to look at her sister.
“I did.” Amanda was still looking at her. Or squinting, in a sort of unfocused way.
“I really did. I mean, I was afraid, a bit, that I’d be all sad. But I was okay.”
“You were cool.”
That felt nice.
“And now I’m going to go to sleep.” Amanda closed her eyes.
“You’re still dressed. And you haven’t brushed your teeth.”
Amanda laughed, but she didn’t open her eyes. “What are you, the personal hygiene police?”
DOWNSTAIRS, MARK WAS WAITING FOR HANNAH.
“I’ve got something for you.”
“More? Even I think I’m spoiled now….”
He held out a card and a small, beautifully wrapped box. Hannah knew immediately.
“It’s from Mum.”
Mark nodded. “She told me to give it to you today.”
“Oh.”
She opened the box first. It was a pair of very small, but nonetheless very sparkly, diamond stud earrings. Hannah put the box down very carefully, leaving the lid open. The card wasn’t really a birthday card. It was white, and it had big black letters on the front. GO CONFIDENTLY IN THE DIRECTION OF YOUR DREAMS, it said. She was still at it—issuing instructions from beyond the grave. Hannah smiled.
Inside, Barbara had written, “No sadness today, my birthday girl. Some bling from me. Wear them and dazzle. Your first, and, I hope, your smallest diamonds! Love you, Mum.” She’d signed it with crosses and hearts, like she always had done.
Mid-December
Hannah
Hannah had wanted Now That’s What I Call Christmas. Mark had favored the King’s College Choir. So they had settled on The Jackson Five Christmas Album. Robin was currently rocking, well and truly. The tree had been chosen, netted, driven home, and dragged in, leaving a trail of needles that they would still be vacuuming up in March. It was huge. “What the hell!” Mark had said. “Let’s get a whopper.” It nearly reached the ceiling.
They’d decided, the two of them, the night before, over a pizza, to buy new decorations. Neither of them was ready to get the big box up from the cellar. Full of handmade ornaments, and cherished mementos, it was too much. They had both learned, over the last few months, not to wallow. If they’d opened the box, they’d have been opening the door, and, for now, they chose to leave it closed. Instead, they’d driven into town on their way to get the tree and bought new lights, and new glass balls, and new tinsel for their new Christmas.
They decided a lot more together since…well, lately. Hannah liked it. Before, she’d been an add-on. Important, but not…not at the center of things. She ate dinner with her parents, of course. But no one ever said to her—“What d’you fancy for supper tonight, Hannah?” She’d sat and watched TV with them, but no one ever asked her what she wanted to watch. If she didn’t like the same thing as them, there was always the