Eudora Honeysett is Quite Well, Thank You

‘Let’s pick some!’ cried Stella.

Eudora fetched some scissors and snipped a dozen stems. ‘Here’s some for you,’ she said. ‘And I’m going to put the rest in a vase for Mummy.’

‘Thank you,’ said Stella, accepting the blooms with the tenderness of a new mother cradling her baby.

Eudora was changing beds later that day when the shouting began.

‘Where did you get them, you wicked girl?’

‘Dora and I planted them. They’re mine!’

‘Liar! You’re a liar. You must have stolen them from someone’s garden.’

‘I DIDN’T! THEY’RE MINE!’

‘HOW DARE YOU SHOUT AT ME?’

‘YOU’RE SHOUTING AND I DON’T CARE. I’M NOT LYING! I WISH YOU WERE DEAD!’

Eudora rushed down to the kitchen in time to see her mother deliver a stinging slap, which sent Stella flying. ‘Mummy, stop! Please stop!’

Her mother turned, face contorted with ugly rage. ‘Did you hear how she spoke to me, Eudora? Her own mother. She wishes her own mother dead.’

Stella’s face was a mask of anger but there were no tears. Later in life, Eudora would muse on the fact that she never saw her sister cry. ‘It’s true,’ said Stella quietly. ‘I do.’

‘DEVIL!’ shrieked Beatrice, lurching towards her. Stella darted out of the way as her mother stumbled to the floor.

‘I HATE YOU!’ screamed the little girl, disappearing out through the kitchen door.

Eudora knelt next to her sobbing mother and tried to console her. ‘She doesn’t mean it, Mummy. She was upset because you wouldn’t listen to her. We did plant the sweet peas together. It was meant to be a surprise. For you.’

Beatrice gazed up at her daughter with such sorrow. As the years progressed, this look became as familiar to Eudora as the reflection of her own face. ‘For me?’

Eudora nodded. ‘We thought you might like them. Would you like to come and see?’

Beatrice gave a brief nod, allowing her daughter to help her to her feet. They made their way into the garden together but stopped in their tracks at the sight of Stella. She had pulled the entire tangle of sweet peas, canes and all, from the ground and thrown them onto the grass. She was now ripping them apart like a wolf setting upon its prey. She glanced up but didn’t stop. She kept her gaze fixed on Beatrice as she pulled apart every stem and petal with a cold determination that chilled Eudora to her core.

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