Deep Water by Mark Ayre (best big ereader TXT) 📕

Alice closed her eyes. She made no sound, and nothing showed on her lined features, but Abbie got the impression she was counting down from ten, attempting to repress her rage.

"Okay," she said. “Thank you, Ana. Please, go to your room."

Ana looked at the back of her mother's head. Stared at it as though willing Alice to face her. Alice didn't

"Mum, you believe me, don't you? You believe me?"

"You're my daughter, Ana. You would never lie to me, would you?"

"Of course I wouldn't." The lie came easily. Alice almost staggered at the latest emotional blow.

"Then I believe you. Please, go to your room."

"What will you do with her?"

Though Alice wasn't looking at Ana, Ana pointed at Abbie.

"Right now," said Alice, "that isn't your concern."

More silence. Abbie had regained her composure. Like Alice, she found she could not look at Ana and instead focused on the drained mother.

"Mum, will you look at me?"

"Go to your room," Alice repeated. "Go on now, I won't tell you again. I'll be up to see you as soon as I've dealt with Abbie. Please, go."

Ana stared at her mother's head a few seconds longer. Fear and confusion blemished her beautiful face. She wanted to think her mother believed her, but those for whom lies were more natural than honesty always struggled to believe anyone else was telling them the truth.

Afraid of what her mother was thinking, Ana tried to think of something she could say to win her mother back, But there was nothing.

"Thank you, mummy," she said. "I love you."

"And I you, sweetheart. Off you go."

This time, Ana did. Abbie watched the young woman retreat from the room, turn in the kitchen, and disappear towards the front door and stairs.

Once Ana was out of sight, Alice turned to where her daughter had been, stared for a moment as though seeing the memory of her girl, then closed the door between bar and kitchen. Facing away from Abbie, Alice raised a hand and touched her face. Wiping away tears. The matriarch would not want Abbie to see what Alice considered to be a moment of weakness.

"I need a drink," she said at last. "Gin and tonic, I think. Would you like one?"

Abbie heard no pounding feet upstairs that might indicate Ana had fulfilled her mother's wishes and gone to her room. She did hear what she thought was the front door opening.

"No, thank you," she said. "I don't drink when I'm…"

"On a mission to save a life?" Alice asked when Abbie trailed off, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Pretty much."

"But you don't mind if I partake?"

"Not even a little bit."

Stepping behind the bar, Alice removed from one of the many shelves a labeless glass bottle, half full of clear gin. From a fridge concealed beneath the bar, she took another, smaller glass bottle, this one full of tonic.

"My daughter's actions will haunt me until the day I die," said Alice, not looking at Abbie. "Lucky that's today, eh?"

Unsure what response this comment warranted, Abbie said nothing. It was enough to hear Alice confirm whose story she believed.

With an unsteady hand, Alice unscrewed the cap from the gin. Hand affixed to the bottle, she paused.

"You said you couldn't remember the last time you felt as angry as when you learned what Ana was about to do to Jacob."

Alice had not made this a question. In any case, Abbie nodded. "That's right."

"I get that," said Alice. "The thought of it fills me with rage. It twists and turns in my stomach, filling me with fire like a restless dragon. Look at me; I'm shaking." She lifted the gin to better demonstrate this condition. "I think such rage can only come from personal experience. From truly appreciating what it was Ana almost forced Jacob to suffer. Do you agree?"

"Trick question," said Abbie.

The ghost smile grew a little stronger on Alice's lips.

"You're right, and it's not okay, trying to trick you into confessing to past trauma. I apologise."

"No need," said Abbie. But that was all. She could not confirm this trauma from her past, which still caused her much suffering all these years later.

Alice moved on while pouring plenty of gin into a tumbler.

"I sent my daughter away to protect her. I saw the truth, and as the rage seized me, I almost lost control. I almost grabbed Ana’s hair and smashed her face into this bar." She rapped her knuckles on the hardwood. Replacing the gin on its shelf, she unscrewed the tonic. "What kind of mother does that make me?"

"Your anger is understandable," said Abbie. “Losing control to our strongest emotions is human. It doesn’t make us bad people or bad parents. What makes you a great parent is your ability to master that anger long enough to remove your daughter from harm’s way."

"You're too kind."

"Maybe. But I don't believe so."

Alice had her hand on the opened tonic but had yet to pour. Glancing at the bottle, as though surprised, she picked it up.

"I honestly believe Ariana has no comprehension of the damage her actions might have caused Jacob, long term. She never would have emasculated him with a knife. She knew the threat would make him do what she wanted, and she thought what she wanted would only humiliate him and, more importantly, his father. How could she understand the psychological suffering she was to inflict on Jacob, had he capitulated to her demand?"

Once more, Abbie chose silence. It was possible Alice was right, but Abbie’s anger would overpower any attempt Abbie made to agree with the mother’s sentiment. To avoid spitting bile, Abbie kept her mouth shut tight.

With a trembling hand, Alice began to pour her tonic.

She said, "Does Tony know what Ariana almost did?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

A beat. Another chance to choose lie or truth. Having stuck on the honesty track so far, Abbie persisted.

"He was surprised Ana didn't go after Kyle. Because Kyle's younger."

A tremor shot through Alice's arm, and tonic slopped across the bar.