Inheritance

  I’ve got a plan, eight-year-old Mimi reassures herself as she approaches her parents.   

  The perfect moment. Her mother sits at the kitchen table, one hand around her cup of coffee, the other flipping through a magazine. Her father clatters around her, banging cupboards and drawers, making his favourite snack. It is a Saturday morning. The radio is on. No talk of work. No laundry to do, or shopping. No expected packages or phone calls.

  “Mum?” She keeps her voice neutral. No need to alarm them. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, pet,” her mother says without looking up.

  This is it. Finally. Yet Mimi has a hard time forming the words. Because she knows the following question is like a pebble she drops, selfishly, disrupting the calm surface of their weekend. And whatever answer her parents give her, if they choose to tell her the truth, will change her life forever. Her parents will look at her differently. She will feel different.

  “Why doesn’t Nana like me?”

  They do look at her. Then at each other, frowning.

  “What do you mean?” her mother says. “Of course, Nana… likes you. What makes you say such a thing?”

  Mimi places the large sheet of paper she’s been concealing behind her back on the table. Her parents lean in to see. It is her family tree project for school. Below each name and date is a photo of Mimi with the person: her cousins, her aunt, her maternal grandparents.

  Except two photos are missing. The empty spaces draw the eyes.

  “Honey,” her father’s voice is mock concerned as he addresses his wife, “why is our daughter doing her homework on a Saturday morning?”

  Her mother lifts her eyes to the ceiling and spreads her hands. “Where did we go wrong?”

  Mimi remembers the plan. Feels it slipping away. “Don’t change the subject!”

  Her mother sighs. Closes her magazine. Pulls out a chair. “Have a seat, young lady.” She flicks a finger at Mimi’s father. “You too, mister.”

  “But I still need to –”

  “Your snack can wait. Besides, it’s your side of the family that’s the problem.” Her eyes never leave Mimi as she enunciates the next words slowly, as if choosing them with care. “Your grandmother is a complicated woman. She can be a little cold sometimes.”

  This, Mimi already knew. Last Christmas, she had tried to count how many times Nana smiled at her versus her cousins. She did not like the results.

  What has she done to deserve this?

  “It’s not your fault,” her mother says, as if reading her mind.

  “That’s right,” her father agrees. “It’s your mother’s fault.”

  “What did you do?” Mimi asks. She is getting close, she can tell. Answers! Just a few more nudges.

  “Nothing! I didn’t do anything, okay? That woman had it in for me from the beginning.”

  Mimi begins to bounce in her chair. “What did you do? What did you do? Tell me.”

  “I can’t exactly think of a single, specific incident right now –”

  “I can,” her father cuts in.

  “Seriously? We’re not talking about this with her.”

  “Tell me.”

  “She has a right to know.”

  Her mother places her head in her hands. Defeated. “It’s like you want her to end up in therapy,” she mutters, her voice muffled.

  “It happened the day you were born.” Her father smiles. A strange, knowing smile. “At your grandfather’s funeral.”

EIGHT YEARS AGO

  “Any chance we could just not go?”

  “To my father’s funeral?”

  Gail had instantly regretted those words. Mostly that she waited until they were in the car to say them. But also because Ed had a point, and she was behaving like a sulking child being dragged to the dentist. These days, she couldn’t seem to hold her tongue. The second there was an inconvenience, some ache or craving she felt, she had to say it out loud, let it out into the world. Her body was already too big, anyway, full, bursting. She needed some release.

  She tried to explain. “I just don’t think I should be around your family right now. It’s like no matter what I do, I can’t get them to like me.”

  “Just be your usual charming self, and they’ll grow to love you.” Ed’s voice betrayed no irritation. The patience of a saint. “Trust me.”

  “Easy. Everyone knows I’m at my most charming at funerals.”

“You want a little advice? Sarcasm doesn’t help. And anyway, you’re pregnant. Everyone loves pregnant women.”

  Gail rolled her eyes. “Except your mother.”

  “No, she loves pregnant women, too.”

  She just doesn’t love me, Gail thought. It wasn’t that she had no idea what Josephine disliked about her. No, Josephine made sure Gail knew every time her eyes darted to Gail’s tattoo on her forearm or joked that she should buy Gail a watch whenever they arrived late. These days, she had started commenting on how beautiful Gail’s fingers are – no doubt all they were missing was an engagement ring.

  The problem was that Josephine never confronted her. Ed’s entire family avoided confrontation, whereas Gail’s family revelled in the drama of a good argument. It was like therapy to them. No egos spared, they went all out: shouting, tears, a few broken plates.

Ed’s fingers tightened around the wheel as they caught yet another red light. She wished she could take some of his worries away, to somehow reach out and stroke his hair gently and absorb whatever it was that made his shoulders tense and set his mouth in a permanent straight line (the same as his mother’s – will the baby’s mouth have the same shape?).

  Gail made a silent promise to not make the day about her. She will simply be his companion, clad in black, there to support him. He’d been so worried about the baby; he didn’t have time to properly mourn his father. He hadn’t even cried yet. The idea of seeing a grown man cry – the man she loved – frightened Gail.

  She pictured herself handing out tissues, refilling glasses, rubbing the backs of strangers as they cried on her shoulder. Barely noticed, but later when they reflected on the day, appreciated. What a nice woman, they’ll think. Ed will be all right with her.

  True to tradition, they pulled up to the church almost thirty minutes late. Why surprise Josephine by arriving on time? She’s already having such a stressful day. Hurry up the sun-soaked path. Up the stone steps to the nail-studded oak doors. Get those great doors to open. Smooth your hair before they see. Was she supposed to make some joke to ease the tension, laugh off their lateness?

  The air inside was stuffy and hot. Gail watched every head turn towards them, as if in slow motion. Her skin crawled as she felt their collective gaze move past Ed and land on her, travelling from her face down her body, taking their time, violating her. Stopping at her belly which strained against her dress, grotesquely large and nine months pregnant.

  Ed barely seemed to notice. He strode forward, advancing only a couple of steps before turning around, and grabbing Gail by her hand. Together, they hurried down the aisle to the front row where Josephine and Ed’s older sister, Eileen, were getting to their feet. God, they looked so neat. No smudged make-up or a hair out of place, not a hint of purple bags under red eyes. Gail wondered what they made of her swollen, bare knees, her chipped fingernails.

  She hoped the baby will be a mess. Grow up to be a tempestuous teenager who will never clean up after themselves. Always losing things, misplacing keys, forgetting dates. She would love that baby so much! Instinctively, she cradled her belly.

  “I’m so sorry, Mummy,” Ed said, breathless, as he hugged Josephine.

  “It’s all right. We haven’t started yet.” Josephine turned to Gail, square chin held high and back poised. “Darling –” it always amazed Gail how she managed to inject such a sweet word with such contempt – “how are you? How’s the baby?”

  “Still a no-show.”

  “Must have inherited it from its mother.” She paused. Gail raised her eyebrows. “The tendency of being late, of course.”

  Eileen hugged her, tight. Her perfume was smoky, excessive; it made Gail’s throat tickle. “You look wonderful,” she said, holding Gail at an arm’s length. “God, your breasts are huge.”

  Eileen had a habit of blurting out the first thing that came to her mind, or at least she did whenever she was around Gail. Maybe it was the threat of a younger woman joining the family, but Gail guessed it had to do with Josephine. Eileen had a choice: making a new friend or staying on Mummy’s good side. Marrying a high school dropout was strike one; failing to produce the first grandchild was strike two. Becoming besties with her brother’s girlfriend who got knocked up six months into their relationship while their father was in hospital was sure to get Eileen disinherited. Yet Gail couldn’t help but pity her – the envy in Eileen’s eyes, as they kept darting back to her belly.

  Ed sank into the seat beside his sister, pulling Gail down with him. She was about to settle down, to blend in, grow invisible, when two elderly ladies she’d never met before appeared in front of her. She shouldn’t have been surprised – the elderly swarmed to her baby bump like flies to an open wound. All wide smiles and cooing voices. They talked over each other, their rapid-fire questions bouncing off the stone walls. Gail could picture the entire crowd leaning forward, eager to catch her hasty replies: yes, she is comfortable, and yes, it was a little worrying, two weeks overdue, but she’s marching on, and no, they still don’t want to know the sex or have agreed on the name.

  The ladies finally shuffled off when the minister stepped up to the podium. He looked professional; he’d get people’s attention away from Gail. She let herself relax.

  The room grew silent. The minister cleared his throat. Surveyed his crowd pensively. Then his eyes narrowed on Gail. “Are you comfortable, dear? If there’s anything you require, just say so,” he said, and Gail’s ears turned red.

  They remained burning through the first prayer and into the speeches. It all seemed like too much fuss to Gail. She was glad her parents wanted to be cremated. Her eyelids began to droop. She mustn’t doze off, not when Josephine was so close, hawk-eyed, waiting for her to slip up.

  She forced herself to study the stained-glass windows above. They were beautiful. She heard her own breath quicken as she took each figure in, angels and mortals in cheerfully bright robes, their faces calm and unresponsive amidst scenes of violence. Spears pierced their flesh, stones poured down on their heads, and still they carried on, playing their harps and reading their manuscripts. She could almost feel their pain and admired their toughness.

  Something stirred inside her, deep down.

  “Is everything okay?” Ed’s eyebrows creased with worry. This wasn’t good – she mustn’t distract him.

  Yeah, why wouldn’t it be, she wanted to say but found it would take too much effort. “Fine,” she mumbled through deep, long breaths.

  Suddenly, a searing pain stabbed across her lower abdomen, shooting up her spine. Sounds rose in her throat, strange sounds she barely managed to choke back. She needed to get out of there. That was it – a few moments alone, just to collect herself.

  To the right of the altar, she spotted a door, propped open to let fresh air in. It led to the graveyard at the back of the church. Slowly, she heaved herself to her feet. Keeping her eyes on the target, she shuffled outside.

  She stepped into the sunlight just as her water broke.

  This can’t be happening. Not to her. Not today. She leaned against the wall, trying to breathe through the pain, when a voice made her jump.

  “Gail?” It was only Eileen, thank God. She was staring at her legs. At the wetness. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Gail’s voice came out strained. “The baby’s coming.”

  “What? Now? You need to get Ed. You need to go to the hospital.”

  “No, everything’s fine. We’ll just wait until after the funeral.”

  “You’re going to hold the baby in, is that it?”

  “There’s still plenty of time. Everything’s fine. I just need you to take a look.”

  “What?” Eileen shook her head. “No.” 

  “Please. You need to check if the baby’s head is out like I feel it is. Which it probably isn’t. Please.”

  Eileen kept shaking her head; it made Gail dizzy. “I don’t think our friendship is at that stage yet. I was planning on sharing a few more Christmases before seeing your… doodah.”

  “Well, it’s always a pleasure, getting to know you a little bit more.”

  Reluctantly – heroically – Eileen got down on her knees in front of Gail. With shaking hands, she grabbed hold of the hem of Gail’s skirt. Began to lift.

  “What are you doing?”

  They both turned. Ed stood by the open door.

  Gail reached out and pulled him closer. He was being too loud; the people inside would hear. She would hear. “The baby is coming,” she told him just as Eileen said, “You need to get her out of here.”

  Ed’s face instantly drained of all colour. “What?”

  “She wants to wait. She’s crazy.”

  Now Ed began to shake his head. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “No!” Another contraction made Gail want to scream. “If I have this baby today, I will ruin your father’s funeral, and Josephine will hate me forever.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “She’ll think I’m trying to steal the spotlight.”

  “You’re being childish now.”

  “Probably think I am being disrespectful – giving birth at her husband’s funeral.”

  “Come on. Car. Hospital. Now.”

  “No. I can’t.” Gail’s voice was suddenly low and measured. The other two froze. “False alarm. There’s no need to check. The head’s already out.”

  “Okay,” Ed said, but remained motionless. “Okay.”

  Gail took his hand in both of hers. “We’re going to have this baby now.”

  They laid her down on the freshly cut grass; she absolutely refused to go back inside. Removed her knickers. Ed took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Eileen called emergency services and Gail began to push.

  It was nice, having her body on the earth. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched grass. Blackbirds sang in the trees – the first sounds her baby would hear. After, when she held their daughter to her chest, wrapped up in her father’s jacket, Ed did cry. “I wish he could’ve seen her,” he said.

  Sirens in the distance. Eileen had kept most of the people inside the church once Gail’s cries betrayed what was happening. Now that it was over, Eileen knelt beside the new family, laughing through her own tears. Josephine also emerged but stopped a few feet away. Gail glanced up at her.

  Her heart dropped. The old woman’s face twisted as she stared down at her grandchild. There was no mistaking her expression. It was the same hate with which she regarded Gail.

  She couldn’t possibly blame the baby. Could she?