The pain clung to her, impossible to shake off. April had been mild and lovely, but early May brought a sudden cold snap—two days of even snow. The bank holiday weekend was just around the corner.
“I’ve decided to visit Mum’s grave. It’s been too long,” Mary told her daughter, Eleanor, the day before.
“How long will you be gone? Staying with family?” Eleanor asked.
“Family…” Mary hesitated. “Mum died young. I never knew my dad. No brothers or sisters. I’ll stay with my cousin, though. She lives in our old flat. Meant to call her, warn her I’m coming, but I don’t even have her number. Maybe she never had one. Doubt she’d go anywhere over the holiday. Honestly, I thought I’d make it a day trip—there and back.”
“Can I come? I’ve never even seen your hometown.”
“I assumed you had plans. Didn’t want to push. Of course, let’s go. More fun together,” Mary said, brightening. “You lived there till you were three. Don’t remember a thing?”
“Not a thing.” Eleanor paused, then shook her head.
“Your auntie Naomi visited once when you were older. When she found out I wasn’t moving back, she asked to live in the flat. Always dreamed of leaving the village. I helped her sort the paperwork ages ago. If we don’t make it back in time, we’ll stay with her.”
They left early for the station. Waiting for the coach, Mary glanced around. A few faces seemed familiar, but none approached her. Not that she’d remember their names anyway. The bus was packed—nearly every seat taken.
“Nervous? It’s been years. Must feel strange, facing all those memories,” Eleanor murmured as they settled in.
“The past isn’t all sunshine, love. Some bits are better left buried,” Mary sighed.
“You mean your dad?”
“Him, and more. Let’s not talk about it now.” Mary cut her off sharper than she meant to.
“Alright.” Eleanor leaned back, staring ahead.
Soon, the coach pulled away, winding through the town Mary once called home. The engine’s hum was soothing. Eleanor’s head drooped against the window—she’d dozed off.
Mary envied her. She watched the blur of trees along the road, too wound up to sleep. Too many memories she’d locked away now clawing their way out, making her question this trip entirely.
***
Sunset warmed the faces of two girls lounging on the balcony.
“Last exam tomorrow, then freedom! We’ll send off our uni applications and just… wait.” Lizzie grinned. “Sleep in, swim, wander—do whatever we want.”
Mary fidgeted on her stool, hands tucked beneath her.
“Why so quiet? You look pale. Feeling sick?” Lizzie frowned, studying her friend. “Or…”
“Or what?” Mary snapped, avoiding eye contact.
“You know what.” Lizzie’s gaze didn’t waver. “The girls are whispering about you and Nate…”
Mary froze mid-rock. Lizzie’s curiosity was plain now.
“Don’t be daft. Nothing’s going on with Nate. Let’s go inside—Mum’ll be home soon. If she catches us slacking…” Mary stood abruptly, slipping through the balcony door.
The front door clicked open. Mum walked in, took one look at them, and cut straight to it: “Finished revising, then?”
“Hello, Auntie Jane. Yeah, we’ve been at it all afternoon.” Lizzie edged toward the door. “I’ll head off?”
“Go on, chatter tomorrow.” Mum sighed, carrying groceries to the kitchen.
Mary followed.
“You look peaky. Feeling alright?” Mum opened the fridge. “Have you eaten?”
“Not hungry. Too warm. I’ll go study.” Mary hurried to her room.
She left the prom early. The heat made her queasy. She sat on a bench in the next block for ages, shivering in the cool air.
“Back already?” Mum set aside her knitting.
Mary sat beside her.
“What’s wrong?” Mum’s voice was tight.
The pink dress only made Mary’s paleness starker.
“Mum… I’m pregnant.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
“What? How—Nate? I knew those cinema dates were trouble—” Mum clutched her chest.
“It’s not Nate.” Mary bit her lip hard.
“Then who? God, Mary—were you…?” Mum gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. “Why didn’t you tell me? He should’ve been—”
“I was scared. Everyone would’ve known, pointed fingers…” Mary’s voice shook.
Mum pulled her close.
“We’ll sort it. Hospital first. How far along?”
“I already went.” Mary whispered. “They said… my blood type makes it risky. And it’s too late.”
“God help us.” Mum exhaled. “Alright. A baby’s no illness. We’ll manage. Just tell me—who?”
Mary recoiled.
“No. I hate him. If you’re thinking of forcing some wedding, I’d rather drown.”
“Don’t say such things!”
They talked and wept till dawn. Mary wouldn’t apply to uni that year. She’d go to the city, find work, rent a flat with Mum’s help…
It happened just like that. Mary left, became a hospital cleaner. Mum visited weekends.
One day, the matron noticed her bump. Called her in. Mary confessed everything, begged not to be fired.
“Hiding the pregnancy, fine. But lifting buckets? Madness. No husband, I assume? Didn’t think so. Christ, what am I supposed to do—throw you out? Reception desk. Can you handle that?”
Mary nodded, swallowing tears. In late October, she had a girl. Mum met her at the hospital.
“Home now. Got everything ready. Auntie Naomi helped. No one judges you, love. People forget. Look at her—proper little Eleanor.”
Returning home made Mary shudder. Twice, she spotted Simon—her attacker—out with his pram. He never recognised her. Just walked right past. A year later, she started distance learning at uni.
When she saw his wedding photos in the park, she stopped flinching at the sight of him. Didn’t heal—just numbed.
“I can’t stay here, Mum. Not with everything reminding me…”
When Eleanor turned three, Mary finally moved to the city, leaving her with Mum at first. Found work, a flat, then brought Eleanor home.
She buried the memories deep, refusing to let them surface. But she adored her daughter—couldn’t imagine life without her. The circumstances of Eleanor’s birth? Better left unthought.
At nine, Eleanor fell ill. Mary brought her to the city’s oncology ward. Mum never came home. Died two years later. Mary buried her back home, beside Gran.
A year after, Mum’s cousin, Auntie Naomi, asked to live in their flat—since Mary wasn’t coming back. She visited the grave sometimes. Mostly lit candles at the local church.
***
New builds and cranes loomed ahead. Mary tensed. Eleanor stirred awake.
“Sleep okay? This it?” She yawned at the passing buildings.
The coach stopped at a small station. They stretched stiff legs.
“Going to Auntie Naomi’s?”
“No. The cemetery first. We’ll see her after.” Mary headed for the bus stop.
Noticing Eleanor’s frown, she handed her a sandwich and water.
Eleanor took a huge bite. “Not hungry?”
“Nope.”
The town blurred as memories surged, her pulse frantic. At the cemetery, she froze. Years of absence had changed everything—new graves sprouted like weeds. They wandered for ages, scanning dates on headstones.
“Let’s rest.” Mary sank onto a bench. “Like she’s hiding. Probably cross I stayed away.” She eyed the sea of flowers, fresh wreaths.
“You sit. I’ll keep looking.” Eleanor jumped up.
“Don’t go far. It’s a cemetery.”
*Good thing we came straight here. No rush. Mum… are you really angry with me?* Mary tracked Eleanor’s path. *Where’s she going? New section.*
Cemetery silence unnerved her, whispering of life’s brevity. Mary was nearing the age Mum had been. *Gone too soon. Worried for me, for Eleanor. If I saw Simon now—I wouldn’t run. I’d scream every hurt.*
She lost sight of Eleanor and stood, scanning the graves. *Holding onto hate’ll kill me before her age. Where is she?*
“Mum!” Eleanor’s voice rang out. “Found her! Here!”
Mary picked her way toward the sound.
“Here!”
Squeezing between tight plots, Mary stumbled, banging her knee on a railing.
*Bloody pothole. Could’ve broken something.* She brushed dirt off her dress—then froze.
Black granite. That smirk. Simon’s face stared back from theShe looked at the dates on the stone—realized he’d been dead fourteen years, and all that time, her fear had kept her away from home for nothing.
