“Was there ever someone who fulfilled that role in your life, Eleanor?
Someone who you felt understood you? Someone who loved you, just as you were, unconditionally?”
My first response was to say no, of course. Mummy most certainly did not fall into that category.
Something—someone—was niggling at me, though, tugging at my sleeve.
I tried to ignore her but she wouldn’t go away, that little voice, those little hands.
“I... Yes.” “No rush, Eleanor. Take your time. What do you remember?”
I took a breath. Back in that house, on a good day. Stripes of sunshine on the carpet,
a board game set out on the floor, a pair of dice, two brightly colored counters.
A day with more ladders than snakes. “Pale brown eyes. Something about a dog. But I’ve never had a pet...”
I felt myself becoming distressed, confused, a churning in my stomach, a dull pain in my throat.
There was a memory there, somewhere deep, somewhere too painful to touch.
“OK,” she said gently, passing me the much-needed box of man-sized tissues, “time is almost up now.”
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