The ache of remembering, the impossibility of forgetting
April had been kind with its warm weather, but the start of May brought an unexpected chill—even a dusting of snow over two days. The long 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, Emily, the evening before the holiday.
“How long will you be gone? Staying with family?” Emily asked.
“Family…” Mary hesitated. “Mum passed young. I don’t remember my father. No siblings either. I’ll stay with my cousin—she lives in our old flat. Meant to call and let her know, but I never saved her number. Or maybe she didn’t have one. Doubt she’ll be away. Either way, I was planning to make it a day trip.”
“Can I come? I’ve never seen where you grew up.”
“I thought you’d have plans. Didn’t want to assume. Of course, come along—better with company.” Mary smiled. “You lived there till you were three. Don’t remember?”
Emily thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“Your aunt Grace visited us once when you were older. When she found out I wasn’t moving back, she asked to stay in the flat. Always wanted to leave the village. I helped her sort the paperwork. We’ll stay with her if we’re running late.”
Early next morning, they caught the coach. Waiting at the station, Mary scanned the crowd—a few faces looked familiar, but no one greeted her. Not that she could’ve placed them anyway. The coach was packed, nearly every seat taken.
“Nervous? Facing the past and all that,” Emily said, tilting her head to catch her mother’s eye as they settled in.
“The past isn’t always bright. Some things are better left untouched,” Mary sighed.
“You mean Dad?”
“Him too. Let’s not talk about this now,” Mary cut in sharper than she meant to.
“Alright.” Emily leaned back, staring ahead.
Soon, the coach pulled away from the station, rolling through the town Mary once called home. The engine’s steady hum lulled Emily to sleep, her head drooping onto Mary’s shoulder.
Mary envied her. Outside, forests blurred past the window. Sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how hard she tried. Too many years spent burying memories, and now they clawed their way up, unsettling her, making her question this trip…
***
The setting sun warmed the faces of two friends on the balcony.
“Last exam tomorrow, then freedom! Submit uni applications and wait. *Actively*,” Lucy added with a grin. “Sleep, swim, wander—do whatever.”
Louise rocked on her stool, hands tucked under her.
“What’s up with you? You look pale—are you ill?” Lucy frowned, studying her. “Or…”
“Or what?” Louise snapped, avoiding her gaze.
“You know. The girls gossip. You and James…” Lucy trailed off.
Louise froze mid-rock. Lucy’s eyes burned with curiosity.
“Don’t be daft. Nothing happened with James. Let’s go inside—Mum’ll be back soon and yell if we’re not studying.”
The front door clicked open. Mum walked in, groceries in hand. “Finished revising?” she asked without greeting.
“Hello, Auntie Jean. Yes, we’ve been at it all day,” Lucy said, squeezing past in the narrow hall. “I’ll head off, then?”
“Go on, chatter tomorrow,” Jean sighed, heading to the kitchen.
Louise followed.
“You look peaky. Feeling alright?” Jean opened the fridge. “You’ve not eaten?”
“Not hungry. Too warm. I’ll go study.” She retreated to her room.
Louise left the school prom early. The stuffy air made her stomach churn. She sat on a bench in the next estate till the cold drove her home.
“Why back so soon?” Jean set her knitting aside.
Louise sank onto the sofa.
“Something wrong?” Jean’s voice tightened.
The pink dress only accentuated Louise’s pallor.
“Mum… I’m pregnant.” The words tumbled out, eyes fixed on her lap.
“What? How—James? I *knew* those cinema dates were trouble—” Jean clutched her chest.
“It’s not James.” Louise bit her lip hard.
“Then who? God—were you—?” Jean gasped, eyes shut, gulping air. “Why didn’t you *say*? He should’ve been—”
“I was scared. Everyone would’ve pointed, whispered…” Louise’s voice trembled.
Jean pulled her close.
“We’ll go to the hospital, sort it. How far along?”
“I went already,” Louise whispered. “They said my blood type makes it risky. And I’m too far gone.”
“Christ help us.” Jean’s whisper shook. “Alright, a baby’s not the end. We’ll manage. Just tell me—who *is* he?”
Louise pulled away.
“No. I hate him. If you think I’d marry him, I’d sooner drown myself.”
“Don’t say such things!”
They talked and wept till dawn. Louise wouldn’t apply to uni that year. She’d move to London, find work—Jean would help with rent…
And so it went. Louise left, took a job as a hospital cleaner. Jean visited weekends.
One day, the matron noticed the bump. Called Louise in. She confessed, begged not to be sacked.
“Not reporting the pregnancy—fine, but you *can’t* lift buckets! No husband? Thought so. What am I meant to do—throw you out? I’ll move you to reception. Can you handle that?”
Louise nodded, fighting tears. In late October, she had a girl. Jean met her at the hospital.
“We’re going home. Bought everything. Auntie Grace helped. No one blames you—people talk, then forget. Look at her—our little beauty. An Emily.”
Returning to her hometown made Louise shudder. She glimpsed Steven twice while pushing the pram—turned away fast. But he either didn’t recognise her or didn’t care, walking past without a glance. A year later, she enrolled in the Open University.
When she saw her attacker marrying (a park photoshoot with his bride), she didn’t exactly heal—but she stopped flinching at偶然 encounters.
“Mum, don’t stop me. I can’t stay where everything reminds me…”
When Emily turned three, Louise left for London, leaving her with Jean at first. Found work, a flat, then brought Emily over.
She buried the memories deep—no room for them to surface. But she adored her daughter. Couldn’t imagine life without her. The circumstances of her birth? Best left unthought.
At nine, Emily fell ill. Louise brought Jean to London for cancer treatment. Jean never went home. Two years later, she was gone. Louise buried her back home, beside Nan.
A year after, Mum’s cousin Grace visited. Asked to live in their flat if Louise wasn’t coming back. Louise visited the grave twice after—otherwise, she lit candles at the local church, left notes for the departed.
***
New builds and cranes loomed ahead. Mary fidgeted. Emily woke, stretching.
“Sleep okay? Is this our town?” she asked, eyeing the passing buildings.
The coach stopped at a small station. They stepped out, stiff-legged.
“Going to Auntie Grace’s first?”
“No, the cemetery. We’ll visit her after if there’s time.” Mary headed for the bus stop.
Noticing Emily’s frown, she pulled out sandwiches and water.
Emily devoured half in one bite. “You’re not eating?”
“Not hungry.”
Mary watched her hometown, heart pounding under the weight of memories. At the cemetery, she froze—everything had changed. They wanderedMary took a deep breath, squeezed Emily’s hand, and stepped forward—ready at last to lay the past to rest.
