Page 185 of Every Silent Lie

“Not yet.”

I burst in and find it shrouded in darkness, the blinds all closed. I jar to an abrupt stop and drop my gloves to the chair, creeping toward her bed. It looks like she’s simply sleeping. I’ve sat here in this room countless times and looked at her like this.

I perch on the edge of the bed and reach for her hand, but falter when the cold registers in mine. Freezing. I rub them over my thighs to both warm them up and get some feeling back in them, before I take her hand in mine and stroke over the top. I can’t take my eyes off her face because, actually, I’ve never seen her look like this since she was brought here.

Peaceful.

No longer a feather in the frost.

Free of that dreadful disease that took my mum away from me long before now. I feel a significant shift in me, a lift in the weight of worry that’s lain on my shoulders. I’ve been grieving her loss for years, and today almost feels like the final stage. At least, for that part of my grief. I don’t know how long I have left grieving Noah.

Forever.

She waited.

She waited to go until she knew I was okay. That there was someone to look after me. She waited until she wasn’t leaving me alone. “Couldn’t you have waited just a few more minutes, Mum?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Just a few more minutes for me to get here?”

My muscles give, and I fold over at the waist, sobbing. I bring her hand to my mouth. Smelling her. Kissing her.

“Camryn,” Deirdre says on a sad sigh, resting her hand gently on my jerking shoulder.

“Can I stay with her?” I ask, snivelling. “Can I stay with her until they’re here?”

“Of course.”

She squeezes my shoulder before she releases me, and a few moments later, I hear the door close. I breathe in, sitting up and wiping my face. “We need some daylight, Mum,” I say, setting her hand down gently and making sure she’s comfortable. I go to the window and open all the blinds, basking her room in natural light. The sun has finally made it into the sky.

And it’s snowing again, thick snowflakes tumbling from the sky.

It’s another day that shouldn’t be so beautiful.

* * *

They leave me alone with her for twenty minutes before the undertakers arrive. The whole time, I just watch her, remembering everything wonderful about her and storing it to memory. I see her hovering behind Dad on Christmas Day with her mop. I see her swat his hand when he tries to dip the pigs in blankets. I see him grab her from behind while she’s baking and her giggling like she always giggled when Dad doted on her. I watch as they both kneel in the garden a few metres away from each other, Noah between them. Each of them jangles keys, trying to coax him into walking to them. Both wanting to claim his first steps as theirs. He walked to Dad. Just two steps before he dropped to his nappy-padded arse and Dad cheered and scooped him up, throwing him into the air as he giggled, and Mum yelled the injustice when she found Dad jangling coins rather than keys. “Bribery,” she’d cried through her beaming smile as she joined them. I watched from the window, wondering if any kid in the world was as lucky as Noah to have such doting grandparents. Excited for the endless joy he’d bring my parents in their older years.

My heart turns in my chest, my eyes closing, my forehead falling to the bed.

More unstoppable tears. And now they’re all gone.

“Camryn?” Deirdre calls softly. I look up and see her with two men in suits, both their heads bowed in respect. “I called your brother.”

“I forgot about him,” I murmur, wiping my sore face again.

“He’s not coming.”

“That’s okay.” I take a breath and stand. “I can’t watch them carry her away.” I swing on my coat. “Thank you for everything you’ve done since she’s been here.”

“It’s my job.”

“A job you chose. To take care of people.” I go over and give her a hug, surprising her. Her arms hang limply by her sides for a second before she lifts them and returns it. “I hope you get to spend some of today with your family.”

“My daughter’s picking me up at three,” she says.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Camryn.” She lets me break away, and I go to Mum and stroke her hair back, placing a kiss on her forehead. And I accept, she did wait. She waited until she knew I was okay. She waited until Dec and Albi found me. “Thank you, Mum.” I swallow and tear myself away, not quite believing this is the last time I’ll ever see her, taking long, deep breaths as I go.

As soon as I step out into the snow, I call Dec. He answers in one ring, and I just know he’s had his phone on his hip. “Camryn?”