Dot (Araminta Hall)

to touch his wife’s shoulder but she was already too far away. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I love you. It’ll be OK.’
    ‘No it won’t,’ she said and there was more tragedy in those words than he knew how to deal with. ‘Go away. Now.’
    Gerry knew his wife well enough to leave.

19 … Despair
    Death comes to us all. Isn’t that the saying? But I do not want to see another person I love die. I feel as though I have been watching that all my life. Dealing and watching and keeping my upper lip stiff. When you are young death seems like the worst tragedy that can befall you, but as you get older and you lose more and more people it stops being so fearsome. Up until this I felt quite sanguine about it, sometimes I even looked forward to the release, but now the person I love more than anyone else is in danger and once again death has taken on its old mantle and I quake in its presence.
    She cannot be dead or even hurt. And I know there are lots of people dying behind the cameras showing us those images on the television right now, but one of them cannot be Dot. Do you hear me, whoever you are who sees fit to constantly drag destruction across my life? If anything happens to my granddaughter I will hunt you down, so help me God, and I will sacrifice my soul to make you pay. I recognise our world less and less. It seems desolate.
    I was in the garden when Alice got the call from Sandra. I heard the phone ringing from where I was standing admiring the agapanthus which seemed to have sprouted forth overnight. I was thinking what a majestic plant it is, how it looks fierce and beautiful at the same time, when Alice practically fell out of the house. It was obvious that something was very wrong, but I didn’t expect to hear the words which poured out of her. I brought her inside and sat her on the sofa and we turned on the telly and now we are stuck, bound by the endless loop of news telling us nothing, making no sense. Every five minutes or so Alice calls Dot’s mobile, but it never connects. At least it’s not ringing; I think that would be worse.
    ‘Sandra said she’d gone to look at her birth certificate,’ Alice says finally, her eyes never leaving the screen.
    ‘Let’s not think about that now,’ I answer.
    She turns to look at me. ‘No, Clarice, let’s think about it.’
    ‘Have you not got a copy?’
    ‘Of course I have.’
    There is nothing to say to that; it’s too obvious.
    But my daughter continues, ‘I’ve ruined everything. Tony, Dot. I thought I was doing OK. I always meant to tell her about him, but it always felt like the wrong moment. I never knew which words to use.’ She looks over at me and her beauty is so fragile it seems fake, so exactly like my mother’s that I have to look away. ‘It made it too real. Does that make sense?’ I nod, but she’s not looking for reassurance. ‘I thought she’d blame me for being too unlovable to keep her father around. I thought she’d feel sorry for me, see me as some pathetic woman with no life.’ Her voice catches. ‘But she’s got eyes. She can see me for who I am without me telling her.’
    ‘Come on, Alice,’ I try.
    She’s angry now. ‘All of that is about me. Me! I wasn’t thinking about what’s best for her. I’m a total idiot.’
    I feel angry as well now, but not with Alice. ‘Alice, you have done your best. Do you hear me? You were so young when you had Dot and then Tony left without a word. You’ve coped brilliantly. You’ve been a brilliant mother.’
    She looks at me as if I’m mad, her huge eyes swimming. ‘We just spin through life, don’t we? Your mother was right. There’s no one looking out for us or protecting us. And we grab on to anything that gives us that sense of stillness. That’s why I’ve clung to Tony for so long, even though he’s been gone for years. But you know what, right now he doesn’t seem so bloody scary. I could have told Dot all of this years ago and the sky wouldn’t have fallen in. What did I think was going to happen, Clarice? Something worse than this?’
    ‘You were scared, Alice. Life can be terrifying.’ I grab at things to make it better for my daughter who, I see, is as lost as her own daughter. ‘I used to watch you in the garden with Dot and I’d feel so proud of you, how capable you were of giving love. Alice, I doubt I’d have done any better. In fact, I didn’t do any better. I’m the one who should be apologising to both of you, probably.’ We are