My Second Life by Faye Bird Page A

down,” she said.
    I opened the drawer and saw papers and pens, a pack of playing cards, and a small plastic pill pot, all neatly arranged in front of me. And there, to the right, was a stack of birthday cards. You Are One and Two Today! I flipped them between my hands inside the drawer. They were old, worn. My heart sped up. There were more underneath. Congratulations! You are 3! 4! 5! I turned around to see if Frances was looking over at me. She wasn’t. She was filling a glass with water for her pills from a carafe on the table next to the tea. These were Catherine’s cards. They had to be. I felt as if somebody had their hands around my neck. My throat was tight. There was no air. I glanced back at Frances again and then pulled in a deep and painful breath before opening one of the cards to read.
    Dear Catherine,
    Happy Birthday!
    With love,
    Amanda, Richard, and Emma
    This was Mum’s writing. It was hers. I let my fingers stroke the card where her pen had been. I was close to her, in that moment, closer than I’d ever been before. I quickly opened another card, my hands still in the drawer.
    Dear Catherine
    Have a day filled with fun!
    Lots of love,
    Amanda, Richard, and Emma
    And still, another, the same.
    From Amanda, Richard, and Emma
    And on one, I’d signed my own name.
    Emma
    And in another I’d drawn a smiley face —
    For my friend Catherine
    My writing was big, scrawled.
    â€œCan’t you find them?” Frances asked. I jumped at her voice, and then I took one of the cards and put it in my skirt pocket. It was instinctive. I just knew I had to have the card. To have something that had been touched and held by Mum.
    â€œGot them,” I said, holding the pill pot up to show Frances, and I closed the sideboard drawer.
    I went and sat back down and passed over the pills. I watched while Frances opened the pot up and tipped the contents out into the palm of her hand. She was slow. So slow. Arranging and rearranging the pills on the table and then again in her hand. And as I waited I felt anxious, restless.
    I looked out the window at the Green.
    And suddenly it was there. An almost-immediate pain — and with it that feeling again. My dad. I’d been waiting for him to come and play. Where had he been?
    I turned back to Frances.
    â€œHe didn’t come out and play,” I said, and as I said it I felt as if I was still waiting for him now, willing him to come.
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” Frances said, setting down her glass of water on the table in front of her.
    â€œDad. He never came out and played like he said he would. He never came.”
    â€œHe was talking to me,” said Frances.
    â€œTo you? But he was meant to come out and play with me — ” I said, and I recognized the child in my voice as I did.
    â€œI’m sure he would have come, but we had things we needed to talk about. What does it matter, Ana?” Frances said.
    â€œIt matters,” I said. “To me!”
    â€œWhy?” Frances said.
    â€œWhere was Mum?”
    â€œShe was already at the party. You’d all gone to the party early — around half past five. Amanda was helping with the food. She’d baked. She was always baking something. So you and Richard helped Amanda carry the food over to the party and then he brought you over here to see Catherine. The plan was that the four of us would go to the party when it started at half past six. But none of this matters, Ana. None of it. Because it isn’t what happened.”
    â€œWe’re going to the river, Catherine. We’ll play hide-and-seek by the river.”
    â€œIf you don’t play I’ll tell on you. You have to come or that’s what I’ll do.”
    â€œWhat were you and Dad talking about?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t remember,” Frances said.
    â€œBut he never came,” I said, again. “He’d promised!”
    â€œYou never could accept