Cynthia had always been a cold fish, she had never grasped the meaning of happiness. It seemed to have eluded her somehow, and Mary wondered at times if that was her fault. But she knew logically it wasn’t anything she had done – in the beginning she had loved Cynthia as much as she had Celeste. She had loved both her girls with a deep and abiding passion from the minute she had given birth to them. But Cynthia had always had this wall around her, and nothing Mary had done had ever broken through it. So she had eventually accepted her daughter’s personality, accepted that her Cynthia was not built for big displays of affection – in fact they troubled her, bothered her. Cynthia had always been a law unto herself, and it had been hard for Mary, a genuinely warm person, to be rebuffed by her own daughter from a young age. From then on, Cynthia had been a child who was difficult to love, really love. Mary had even disliked her sometimes, and now she wondered if that was why her daughter was such a hardcase. She’d tried to understand her daughter’s personality but, if she was honest, it was beyond her. Cynthia had never been an easy child, and she was not an easy woman.

But now, her daughter’s aloofness, and her complete indifference to her own children really worried her. She knew she couldn’t do anything about it, because outwardly Cynthia was the perfect mother – who would believe her? But Mary worried that her grandchildren would suffer one day for their mother’s lack of genuine affection.

Jimmy tried to make up for it, she knew, she saw that every day, and she wished she could tell him that she understood what he was going through. But voicing her worries would be tantamount to treason, would be criticising her own flesh and blood, and she just couldn’t do that. It would be different if Jimmy came to her, and said it out loud. But she knew he would never do that. Cynthia had him well and truly under the thumb.

‘Are you all right, Cynth? You look so down, love.’

Cynthia looked into her mother’s eyes, the same deep blue eyes that her daughter had inherited, and she said in genuine bewilderment, ‘’Course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?’

Mary smiled sadly. This was hard for her, really hard – she didn’t know how she was supposed to deal with any of this.

Chapter Seven

Jimmy looked around the kitchen and made sure there wasn’t a cup out of place. He wanted Cynthia to come home from her mother’s to a spotless house and a nice meal. He had even cooked for them. He was looking forward to seeing her and his new son, of course. He just wished his daughter was coming home with them too.