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Back One Winter Morning Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. By the same author
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. Acknowledgements
  54. Read More
  55. Two Years Later
  56. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

‘She’s so great,’ I enthuse. ‘It feels so unfair that she has all these issues to contend with.’

‘I know,’ Kit agrees, his expression pensive. ‘She’s such a sweetheart, despite it all. She never lets her condition stop her from doing what she wants. Bonnie’s raised her so she understands her limitations, and she accepts that she’s not like most of her friends.’

It’s the casual ‘Bonnie’s raised her’ that stings the most, and I’m assaulted by a wave of both sympathy and disgruntlement. Of course I feel sorry for Tui, but I don’t want to make any allowances for the difficulties that Bonnie must have faced. Dismay has always been my go-to emotion where my biological mother is concerned, but now those clear waters are being muddied by all this new information, and these people, and this place. I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to feel about Bonnie now – or if I want her to make an appearance. Can I still resent her when everyone else seems to love her so much? Is she really as great as Kit makes her out to be, or has she simply done a good job of fooling him? Maybe he doesn’t know her as well as he thinks he does. And then there is Tui – can I have affection for her that is not linked to our shared mother? And will I lose one if I refuse to forgive the other?

I am still mulling it over an hour later, long after lunch has been eaten, chasing the same questions around in my mind as I stare out at the view across Milford Sound. Perhaps somewhere in this dark, churning mass of water, I will find the answers I crave. I don’t want to have to face all this on my own – I want someone else to take over and tell me what I should do, and how I should feel.

And not just anyone, I realise, closing my eyes as it comes to me.

I want my mum.

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21

Anna’s memory book lies open on the bedside table – it’s the first thing I see when I open my eyes. The leather is cracked along the spine, and the ribbon bookmark frayed at its edges. I remember that Anna used to play absent-mindedly with it as she scribbled away, caressing the soft material with the fleshy part of her thumb.

She had busy hands, my adoptive mother, and each finger was laden with the rings that she had collected during her years spent travelling. Her favourite was the vintage diamond engagement ring that David had blown his first proper month’s salary on, but I always preferred the jade stone. When she gave it to me on my twenty-first birthday, I was so touched that I cried genuine tears of joy.