Possession(58)

“How long ago was this?” I ask.

She moves her head a little closer to me to hear. “What’s that?”

“Mabel’s niece. How long ago was it that this Drake helped her out?”

“Oh,” she says, returning to her position, “I think this was five or six years ago now. My, how time flies.”

So this was when Drake knew me. I don’t understand it. He’s always such an arsehole with me, so how come this other girl gets rescued and placed into college, but when it comes to me, he keeps me prisoner? I can’t help but feel how unjust the world is. I should feel enamoured with Drake for how he helped that girl, but all I can feel is anger. Hot-blooded anger tinged with jealousy is flowing through my veins at the thought of how much he gave to that one girl—a stranger—while he did nothing but strip me of all my choices and free will.

“Would you like me to ask Mabel?”

I snap myself out of my daydream and shake my head. “No, that’s fine, thank you. I would prefer to try and deal with this on my own for now.”

“I understand. You’re obviously very independent.”

I chuckle. “I’ve been told I’m rather stubborn too on many occasions.”

She laughs at that, and it makes me smile. “Ah, there’s no harm in being a little stubborn. ‘To those waiting with bated breath for that favourite media catchphrase, the U-turn, I have only this to say: You turn if you want; the lady’s not for turning.’”

“That’s a great quote.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, it’s not from me. It came from the late Margaret Thatcher—God rest her soul. But, there is also something else to say about being stubborn. No matter all the will and pride you have in this world, you will at some point stumble. Sometimes, you will fall. But it takes a great person to choke on their pride and admit when they need that offered helping hand to get back up.”

I smile. “Also great.”

She briefly looks at me with an amused grin. “That one was mine.”

I chuckle. “Very good.”

I’m starting to really like Dotty. She’s obviously a woman of advanced years, but she’s still a lot of fun. She looks to be around her late seventies with long, greying hair in a tight bun. I also notice she’s wearing a wedding band. “So, do you not have a Mr Dotty to bring with you to visit your sister?”

“No,” she says sadly. “My Henry passed some five years ago now. Cancer it was. First, his lungs, but once it spread to his liver, he quickly faded into a man I couldn’t recognise. He didn’t last long after that.”

I feel an overwhelming sadness for her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She smiles towards me. “I had the most wonderful fifty-five years with him.” She suddenly points to the glove compartment. “Open that up. In there, you will find my purse. I have a few pictures in it of him, my kids, and my grandkids.”

I do as asked, pleased that she trusts me enough to handle her purse. I don’t think I would have been as trusting if it were me. Pulling the handle, I see a load of papers inside, but also a big blue purse on top. I take it out, and she instructs me to open the zip. Once open, I see a clear casing with a black and white photo of a man who looks to be in his thirties in a soldier’s uniform. His hair is dark and swept back, and his posture is straight and serious. He looks handsome, though.

“That’s my Henry. This was taken a few years after I met him.”

“He was in the army?”

“Yes, 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards. He loved it. I and our children led an army life for many years, living on the barracks. But after a while, our kids got tired of all the travelling.” She then points to the purse. “At the back of that photo is another.”

I pull the photo of Henry out and place it carefully on my lap. I look back at the purse and see three grown women and six children of all different ages. Four boys and two girls.

“Those are my daughters, Meredith, Katherine, and Susan. Meredith has three sons, Tim, David, and Mark. Tim is the cheeky little devil.”

I look at the photo, and straight away, I see one boy who is smiling mischievously at the camera. “Is this Tim by any chance?”

She gasps. “Yes. However did you guess? I suppose it’s something to do with that butter-wouldn’t-melt expression?”

I chuckle. “Yes, I think it must be that.”

“The other boy is Karl. He’s Susan’s son. The other two daughters, Beth and Michelle, belong to Katherine.”

“Wow, you have quite the family. You must be proud.”