‘Jude loved you very, very much.’ Carolyn reached out to touch my hand, but I saw her stop herself. ‘Her death had nothing to do with you.’
Anger flared inside, and I tried to keep my features from twisting. My aunt meant well, but my mother’s death had everything to do with me. We’d been connected in a way only a mother and child could be, and even though I’d got over it, her leaving had torn me apart for years. I drew in air, forcing away the emotion. Now wasn’t the time to succumb to feelings.
‘But Jude had . . . well, she had some issues,’ Carolyn continued. ‘Depression, you know.’ She gazed into the fire. ‘At first, we thought it was just the baby blues, after having you. Hers seemed a bit more serious than usual, so I took her to the GP. She took some medication for a while and seemed better, but then . . . then I’d find out she’d cancelled all her lessons, and that neither of you had left the house in days.’
I tilted my head, trying to cast my mind back. Had my mum been depressed? I remembered her sleeping a lot, but I’d thought that’s just what adults did. I’d very often get up and make my own breakfast (a piece of bread and some milk, if we had any), then play with my toys until she stirred. There were days she’d sit and stare at the sea for hours as I played around her, trying to poke and jab her and get a reaction. Eventually, she’d drag herself upstairs into bed and I’d crawl in next to her, listening to her heartbeat and telling myself it was okay; she would always be here.
But I hadn’t known any different. I’d thought that was what everyone did; what every mother was like.
‘I tried to get her on to her medication again, but she refused to see the doctor. Before she died, I think she was drinking quite a bit,’ Carolyn said. ‘It was her way of dealing with her depression, I guess. She tried to hide it from me, but I could smell it on her breath.’
I nodded, remembering the sweet, cloying smell of my mum’s breath sometimes when I crawled into the bed – and those thick glass bottles filled with clear liquid I’d sometimes find under the sink. I hadn’t known what it was then, other than it seemed to make Mum better. In my head, I’d called it her medicine.
‘So she was depressed and she drank,’ I said. ‘Was there anything else?’ My tone was matter-of-fact, but that’s how I needed to be: business-like and removed, as if this had happened to a stranger, not my mother – as if it hadn’t happened to me. I couldn’t let emotions touch me again.
Carolyn slowly shook her head. ‘No.’
The room was silent for a minute as I thought about what else to ask. ‘And the police . . . did they do much investigation? When was she officially declared dead?’ It hit me once more how little I knew. I’d been so young, and of course Carolyn and Rob had kept the finer details away from me. I’d never wanted to know until now.
‘After I told the police about her depression, combined with the reports of people who’d seen her walking into the sea and her belongings on the beach, well . . . it didn’t take long for the police to decide she must have taken her own life. The currents that day were strong and although the police made every effort, they said the chances of finding her body after a few days were very slim. I almost didn’t want them to. I wanted to keep Jude in my head exactly as I remembered her: beautiful and full of life.’
Carolyn paused, her shoulders lifting in a sigh. ‘All that evidence, along with the fact that she hadn’t taken any money from her bank accounts or used any cards for weeks after her disappearance . . . It was enough for all of us to know she wasn’t coming back.’
Enough for everyone but me. My heart panged at my five-year-old self’s steadfast belief and trust in my mother, and I shook my head to clear the emotion.
‘We had to wait a few years before we could get her death certificate but, by then, the whole thing was really just a formality. We only got it in case—’ Carolyn cleared her throat. ‘Well, for logistical reasons, really.’
I raked my mind for more questions to ask, but nothing came to mind. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but my mother’s death seemed so black and white. She’d been depressed and, without treatment, it had all been too much. She’d left me and walked into the sea, and that was that.
Maybe because I’d refused to think about it for years, I’d thought there would be more – more of a reason; more of a story behind her death; maybe an explosive memory long since buried. Relief filtered through me as I realised everything was out in the open now. Despite what my subconscious may have conjured up, there wasn’t anything else there to fear.
‘I have some of your mother’s things packed away upstairs,’ Carolyn said. ‘I’ve been saving them for you, whenever you were ready.’
I drew in a breath, remembering Carolyn asking me throughout the years if I wanted to take a look. I’d always shaken my head – after giving up hope that my mother would return, I hadn’t wanted anything to do with her. Why would I want to comb through her precious things? Nothing had been enough to keep her from the sea. Not even her very own daughter.
I still didn’t want to. I’d come here to learn about my mother’s death, not her life. I didn’t need to know her as a person. She’d been a mother who’d left me, and that was all. I wasn’t scared – I simply wasn’t interested.
‘There’s some jewellery there I’m sure she’d like you to have,’ Carolyn said, and I jerked towards her. Jewellery? Did she mean the pieces they’d found on the beach that day, or had the heart pendant been found? Maybe it had been uncovered in the sand at some point. Carolyn wouldn’t think to tell me. She didn’t know my mother’s promise that the pendant would one day be mine.
Before I could stop it, hope flared inside me . . . hope that maybe my mother had left something, after all. Something she’d known I would cherish; a piece of her I could hold close to me, knowing it had been precious to her, too.
Maybe she’d kept one promise, after all.
Stop it! I shook my head so hard that my neck hurt, swearing at myself under my breath. I was done here. I’d faced the past. Nothing had touched me, and nothing would. But before I could gather myself to say anything, Rob was already halfway up the stairs.
‘I’ll get the box for you,’ he said, his voice floating down. ‘And don’t worry, there’s no rush – you don’t need to go through it here. I’ll drive you home and you can take your time.’
Relief filtered through me that I wouldn’t be forced to open the box under Carolyn’s watchful eye. I’d shove it in the back of my wardrobe, and it could stay there until I had a chance to return it to my aunt.
Carolyn and I watched Rob head up the stairs and, this time, Carolyn did reach out to touch my hand. I tried not to shy away. ‘I’m so pleased you’re ready to talk about all of this,’ she said. ‘If you have any other questions, you know where to find us. Call any time.’
I tore myself away from her intense gaze and looked at the fire. ‘Great. Thank you.’ I didn’t want my words to sound so forced, but I couldn’t help it.
Rob came down the stairs with a cardboard box tucked under his arm. ‘Ready to go?’