A Broken Doll
Mary, it was simply delightful! Ellen is a treasure! And that voice! Ive truly never heard anything more marvellous! And you know Im often at the Royal Opera House, I dare say Im nearly an expert. She must sing there! There, without a doubt!
Isabella, thank you for such high praise for my daughters talent! Ellen has worked so hard for this moment. So many years of effort, so much dedication, and at lasther Carmen.
Wonderful! Wonderful! Mary, now that Ellen has achieved everything shes dreamed of, isnt it time to think about her future? Shes as free as a lark, but surely she needs her own nest? Chicks in the nest and all that!
I dont know, Isabella. I really dont think its time yet. Shes still so young, and tonights success is just the first step in her career.
Mary! Charles has been ready for marriage for ages. How much longer is he meant to wait? He adores Ellen! Cant go a day without her! What are we doingstanding in the way of their happiness? Isabella Blake dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Who are we to deny them?
I said nothing. By now, I understood that simply ignoring Isabella wouldnt do. But I couldnt continue this conversation. It wasnt the first, or even the hundredth, time wed talked like this.
Isabella has always been unerringly persistent. Since we were children, anything she wanted, she went after, with absolute focus and little patience for obstacles. I have to admit, thanks to her determination, there wasnt a single thing shed set her mind to that didnt come true.
I suppose our whole friendship began with a wishhers. And even today, I remember that gnawing confusion and sharp sense of hurt.
The doll, whom Id named Lucy, was a beautiful gift from my fathers trips abroad. She had golden ringlets, blue eyes, a unique little dress. I adored her. Every day Id host elaborate tea parties for Lucy at my tiny table, teaching her all the etiquette my mother taught me.
Isabella first saw Lucy a week later and was immediately entranced. But unlike other toys Id handed over at her bidding, I refused to let her have Lucy. Isabella, not used to being refused, promptly fell ill. She wasnt pretending: feverish, in tears, she seemed genuinely unwell. I relented, feeling awful, and brought her the doll. How could I deny her if she was truly so miserable?
But the moment Isabella had Lucy, her tears vanished. She tossed her old doll, Katie, into the toy chest”Youll live there now! she said with a laugh.
Why did that bother me so deeply? I couldnt have explained it then. I just felt such pity for old Katie that I asked to take her home with me, and Isabella, distracted by her new prize, didnt object.
I took Katie home and asked Mum if she would spruce her up. I mourned Lucy. I knew she too would be discarded one day, when a new toy arrived and took her spotthrown aside, forgotten.
But I didnt think of taking Lucy backsome things just arent done.
Katie, though, stayed with me for years. Even after I grew up and had my own daughter, there she sat on my shelf, arms wide, blue eyes staring, long since missing her lashes.
Katie became a reminder: how easily some people cast off their old affections for something new. I knew then that dolls arent the only things people abandon.
But Isabella was my neighbour and, by some twist of fate, my only playmate. So I decided not to make a fuss over her odd ways. You never knowthings change, and its easier to just get along.
Wed moved to our new house in Hampstead after my grandfather died. I hardly remembered him, but in our family, even his nameChristopherwas spoken in a hushed, reverential tone. It took me years to learn what his work truly was. And perhaps it was for the bestchildren neednt know everything.
When I finally discovered hed been in the Secret Service, it was years later, after Dad diedone of Londons leading surgeons. Just Mum and me left.
Now were on our own, Mary. Well have to manage. Im not sure how yet…
Why?
My whole life, I depended on my father. When he died, your grandad led us. He made the decisionswhere to go, what to buy, how to live. Later, your dad took over.
But Mum, isnt that wrong? Why did you put up with it?
Well, what choice did I have? And is it so bad, having men carry the family burdens? I came to your grandads home with nothing. Truly nothinga girl from the outskirts, born under a cloud of scandal, you cant imagine the shame back then. Odd as it sounds, Im almost grateful my mother left me…
Mum…
The childrens home became my only home. A good one, toowarm, loving thanks to the people there. They didnt indulge us orphans, but they cared, and they cared enough to worry about usthats real love, Mary. If youre not afraid for a child, that shell fall or get hurt, then what sort of love is it?
Are you afraid for me?
Always, more than you know! Your father never understood that. He was taught to stand on his own, make decisions, take responsibilityand no wonder, with a family like his! His gran raised him after losing his mother at six, like his own dad had. And both attended Sandhurst, though your father left, insisting hed be a doctor. His father didnt arguein his mind, a man stood by his word, however young.
And Dad became a doctor…
A brilliant one! You know that.
How did you meet?
By chancebroken heel, in the city centre, sobbing like mad! My only decent shoes, and they werent even mine…
Hows that?
Well, we were six in our house share, sharing three nice pairs of shoes between us. Saved a bit from each grant, bought for the girls with the biggest feet. Small shoes pinch; big shoes you could pad and manage. Imagine losing a paircatastrophe! Thats why your father was a hero. He ran to the cobblers, persuaded him to mend the heel quickly, and saw me home safely. He wasnt afraid.
But why should he be?
Where I lived at the time, local boys could be… unfriendly to strangers. But your father sorted it, made friendshe could charm anyone.
And Grandad? How did he take to you?
Oh, youve grown up, asking that. He took his time. Watched me, didnt protest when your father brought me home. Your choice. But no coddling. Observed me for agesuntil you were born. Your father was always working, at the hospital night and day. I was lost with a baby. The hospital only taught me what I asked, and I learnt the rest from booksso little. Nurses scolded me, and Id weep, desperate for guidance. By the end of two months I was so exhausted, the flat in chaos.
Grandad hated servants, did everything himself when he had the time, as did your father. Thanks to the childrens home, I could cook and look after the place, but Id never cared for a baby. Orphans our ageyes, not little ones. Thats why it was so difficult.
Till Grandad helped. He happened to be home that night, came to my rescue. I mustve been crying from exhaustion without noticing, walking you up and down, begging for sleep. Suddenly he took you from my arms:
Off to bed, girl! Ill manage!and I nodded and collapsed in the chair. He later said he tried to wake me for bed, but couldnt.
When I woke at dawn, panic set inwhere were you? But hed cared for you effortlessly, fearless where I only worried Id drop you. When he swaddled you like a midwife in the hospital, I felt shamehow could a man do this, and not me? But he was wise as well as skilled. After that, he called me Nell, switched to you, as if Id truly been accepted into the family. For me, that was a miracle.
But most precious of all: he loved you dearly! Id always berated myself for giving birth to a girl first, but he was ecstatic. Remember that photohim tying your hair bow? That was me, giggling, camera in hand. Grandad, a stoic man whod lived through so much, with ribbons and giggles. Im so grateful he showed us what family means…
Sadly, he left us too soon. In a way, it was for the best; the world changed, and he wouldnt have fit. Christopher was an officer through and through. Honour, countrythey werent just words. When another world came, he didnt fight his illnesshe let it win…
Why do you think so?
In his last days, so wracked by pain, he kept apologising for leaving. He made sure we were safe; he pushed me to get an education when all I wanted was to have another baby and look after the house. Now, Im so thankful. Yes, Im afraid, because Im responsible for you. But well manage, Mary, because he raised me well, even if only for a short time. Ive got my job, we have our home, and youve Grandads flat. Its empty now, but one day, when you marry, youll live there. That was his wish. I almost let it, but I cant stand the thought of strangers there, touching his things, his books. Well manage on our own, for as long as we can.
And I was always grateful to Mum for that. Sometimes Id tidy Grandads flat or sit by his bookshelves, reading and pretending he could hear my thoughts.
Mum was never idle. She changed jobs soon after with a reference from an old friend of my father-in-laws. He remembered Grandad, helped her into a government hospital in London. Pension barely covered us, but Mum understood that daughters grow up.
When Mum died and Ellen was ten, I refused to give in to despair. Ellen had only me left and I simply couldnt fail her.
I kept in touch with Isabella all those years, although not intimately. After her wedding, she moved with her husband to the countryside, where he had a vast house and studio. Her son, Charles, became an artist too. Isabella, naturally, insisted Ellen shouldnt marry below her circle.
Talented people must stick together! Why water down the family line? Who knows whatll pop up otherwise! I need clever, gifted grandchildren! Surely you agree, Mary?
I always kept silent. I never told Isabella much about my own family. Grandad always taught: listen more than you tell.
The less they know of you, the better.
It was a lesson I took to heart.
The thought of Charles as Ellens husband never sat right with me. I didnt say sono point in falling out, and Isabella would never understand.
Ellen was nothing like Charles, whod always been handed everything without working for it. My Ellen was like the clever frog in that tale: she paddled and struggled, always seeking a place under the sun. She knew her gran and I had both been widowed youngEllen lost her dad almost at birth. All she knew of her father was his smile in the photo hanging in her nursery and the stories we told.
The refrain of her childhood: Dad wouldve been so proud of you! Nothing pleased Ellen more.
She also knew Id always support her, in every way. She chose her path carefully, aware that we walked it together.
But she never guessed shed fall in love with Charles, whom shed barely thought of as more than a friend.
How did it happen? When? She couldnt say. But suddenly she wanted nothing more than to see him.
Charles was carefree, always optimistic, the spark missing in serious Ellen. Hed grab her by the hand, not letting go until she agreed to spend the weekend in the Cotswolds skiingalthough shed never skied in her life. Hed buy her boots and gear, and tease her:
Cant do it? Of course you can!
Why was that encouragement so important? Ellen had never lacked praise, but still she needed more.
The first trip was a blastgood friends, Charles affirming to everyone that she came with him, even if he chatted to other girls.
The only thing Ellen didnt enjoy was skiing. She found it terrifying and soon opted out.
Charles couldnt understand. He joked, then sulked.
Why come, then?
Because youre here, Ellen nearly cried.
Oh… well, alright then.
At the end of the trip, Charles proposed. It was all spectaclefriends shouting Congratulations! and toasting with prosecco. Ellen said yes, then wept as she gazed at the ring Isabella surely chose.
The wedding was a grand affair, beautifully arranged by Isabella. All that was left was to choose a dress and fix up Grandads flat, where the newlyweds would live.
Questions drifted in roughly a year on. Ellen kept singing, Charles kept painting, but Isabella wasnt satisfied.
Its time for Ellen to start a family! Why wait until we cant help anymore? While were still able, well care for grandchildren and they can focus on their art. Its fine being creative, but life waits for no one.
I didnt know what to say. I knew Ellen wanted a child, but the problem wasnt her.
It was Charles. He was resolute: no children.
Just dont tell Mum! Shell only fret. Shes obsessedkids, kids, kids… I cant stand the thought of little terrors destroying my studio, and working day and night for themno, thanks! I want to live, not waste life on such nonsense!
For Ellen, it was a blow. She tried talking with him but soon realised this wasnt a whim.
I want to achieve something, Ellen! Greatness! And youdont pull me down just as Im nearly there! You understand, right? For us, art is life. Mum was right choosing you. Shes clever, isnt she?
Ellen couldnt say. Or rather, she could say plenty but kept it to herself. Shed long since started to minimise visits with Isabella nothing good ever came of them.
I just dont understand you! Charles wants a baby and all you think of is opera! Havent you any sense of womanhood?
Ellen had no replyshe couldnt force Charles to tell his mother he saw no future together beyond their occasional cohabitation. Nor would she justify herself to Isabella.
Mary, please! Make Ellen see reasonshe must sort her health out! How much longer must we wait? Isabella grew more insistent daily.
Then it happenedthe accident that shattered Ellen and ended her marriage while forever splitting our families.
On another trip, Charles was irritable, and when Ellen, as always, hesitated to ski, he yelled at her to try.
Not wanting to upset him, Ellen gave in.
Why an instructor? Ill teach you! Why so scared? Youve done it before!
Why did she comply? Why peace at any price?
She woke in hospital, I at her bedside, thanks to a nurse whod let me in.
Mum…
Dont speak, darling, not yet! Youll be alright. Im here.
And Charles?
I turned away, unable to explain hed flown back to London, simply shrugging:
What do you expect of me? Im not a doctor. Ive an exhibition to prepare. Its terribly inconvenient!
Ellen learnt the truth much later, after Id exhausted all efforts to move her to my hospital and fought for her recovery.
The doctors werent hopeful. But I wouldnt hear of failure. Each morning, gazing at family photos, I whispered to myself:
I wont. No matter what, I wont. Thats not what they taught me! Shes all I have. Ill never let her be broken!
I pleaded with Charles.
Please! Shes not a stranger. You love her!
Loved her. But what can I do now? Sit by her side? Pointless. We are finished. She wont forgive me, and I refuse to spend life consumed by guilt. This is my only life.
How can you say so, Charles?
Why not? Its honest. You know it, but dont want to admit it.
I gave up trying to save their marriage and focused entirely on restoring Ellen.
Eventually, painfully, she astounded the doctors by standing, and then walking slowly, with much effortstaring into my eyes with each step.
Thats right, my love! Youll manage! Dad would be so proud!
Ellen could never sing again. Her voice was lostwhether through the operations or those two dreadful hours, left alone, screaming for help, no one could say. Painful as it was, it was only her cries that led a ski instructor to find her, checking the trails. That Charles never noticed was something Ellen learnt in hospital. When I tried to explain his absence, she just covered my hands with hers and shook her head:
Mum, dont. I know already. Tossed awayno one wants a broken doll… No one wants a Katie…
Youre not a Katie! I wont let you!I shouted so loudly a nurse looked in.
Sorry, I didnt mean…
Its all right. Need anything, Ellen?
No, thank you! Were fine… We will be, wont we, Mum?
Absolutely, darling.
And so, years later, on a bright day in Regents Park, a young womangraceful, slightly limpingwheeled to the lakeside, helped a small boy out and said:
Off you go, my lad! Theres so much to seejust dont dash ahead or Mummy cant keep up. Give me your hand!
The boy walked sedately until he spotted his grandmother and broke into a run, arms wide.
My darlings! Oh, how Ive missed you!
Ellen hugged me.
How was your trip, Mum? Did you relax?
I did! Guess who I met?
Who?
Isabella.
And how is she?
Oh, shes not happy. Charles is still adrift, she feels old, no grandchildren on the horizon.
And what did you do?
Nothing, Ellen. I didnt say a word. She knows nothing of your new marriage, nor that Im about to be a grandmother again. I just feel sorry for her.
I do too… People are odd, arent they, Mum?
Were all different, love. But lets not talk of sad things. Look at this beautiful boy! Show Granny your new toothgoodness! Has he got as many as he should? Not too many?
Oh, Mum! Youll be the death of me. Hes just right.
Ellen took my hand and set it on her belly and smiled:
Want to hear my news?
Is it good?
The very best! Youll be a grandmother twice over! What do you think?
Oh!
Arent you pleased?
Forgive me, darlingIm just… startled. Not pleased? Im thrilled! Is it possible to have too much happiness?
Im not sure. All I know is weve earned it, especially you. Mum…
Yes?
Im not a Katie.
Of course not. I promised, didnt I…
