In My Wheelhouse
All I ever wanted was to be a mum, to hold my own baby in my arms, smell its soft, newborn smell, shower its head with kisses, cuddle it from dawn ‘til dusk. When I got pregnant with Tara, I can’t describe how happy I was to see those little blue lines. Everyone said that I was a natural mother and when I fell pregnant with Tilly when Tara was six months old, it felt as though our family was complete.
I can’t tell you when things began to change, but I can tell you that babies are easy; toddlers, not so much. I was always being complimented on how beautiful my girls were, how well behaved, but as they grew older, they became more and more of a handful and Andrew would never listen when I told him that I needed help with them. It’s hard work having girls a year apart and when they hit two and three, my days seemed to be nothing but stopping the sisters from killing each other. They have no idea how many times I came close to throttling the pair of them, how many times I had to shut myself away for fear of what I might do to them.
People ask how could a mother abandon her children? It’s the one big taboo. It’s fine for a father to walk out - men are so expendable - but a woman dare leave her children and it’s as though she’s committed the worst sin possible. I can think of worse things, though. It’s because I can think of those things I had to leave - in the past, those thoughts would have stayed firmly in my head but after I met Brett…
Of course, people said there had to be another man, that there was no other reason a devoted mother like me would have left suddenly like that and although they were only partially right, there’s no denying that if it wasn’t for Brett, I’d still be there, still being the dutiful wife and mother, still presenting that perfect front to the world, which would still believe that I was doing what I was born to do. I was the one they all came to for advice, see, the one they knew would have the perfect treatment for colic or the right knack for toilet training. The funny thing is that when it came to other people’s children, I really was brilliant. It’s why I’d wanted my own for so long - if I was that good with other children, how amazing would I be with my own? Nobody would ever have believed them if I told them that I doubted myself all the time and how much I had to fight to keep the visions out of my head, the visions of what would happen if I kept my back turned while I knew they were doing something dangerous so that it wouldn’t be my fault, couldn’t possibly be my fault…
There was something about Brett, something… dangerous that spoke to me from the moment our fingers accidentally brushed against each other while reaching for the same book in the shop. Static electricity would be the mundane explanation, but sparks literally flew when our hands met and I was lost, even before I looked into his eyes.
He promised to take me away from all this and he did. When teeth bit into flesh, my life as it was ended and my real life, the destiny I was born to fulfil began. He’d warned me what to expect, was kind enough to say that I could have one last goodbye kiss for the girls, but I knew that if I saw them one more time, I would no longer have the self-restraint I’d practised for years, so that was that. I was free.
We made our way across Europe. I’d always wanted to live overseas and Brett was true to his word. He did everything he could to make my dreams come true, but I discovered that I didn’t like foreign. The food was too garlicky and the further East we got, the more dangerous it was for us - Eastern Europeans remember the old ways and there were still those who kept wooden stakes to hand. After one close call too many, Brett decided enough was enough and I couldn’t conceal my relief at the thought of going back.
It’s a myth that vampires need to sleep in coffins filled with soil from their homeland, but there’s definitely something about being back on familiar ground that energises you. Everything was as it should be, even the miserable weather became something to rejoice in. After so many years away, I realised that I was ready to be the mother I should have been, ready to take the girls with me. When I left, I’d been within a hair’s breadth of ripping their heads off; now I was in control of myself and my abilities and there was so much I wanted to show the girls, so much to share with them. You haven’t lived until you’ve drunk the blood of a newborn, the heady bouquet of that special scent filling your nostrils, creating a multisensory experience unlike any other. I desperately wanted my girls to understand what it truly meant to be alive.
So that’s how I found myself standing outside my old front door, taking a moment to compose myself before knocking. I know they’ll be so excited to see me, they’ll invite me in without question and then… Then, my darlings, pack your bags, because Mummy’s home and she has so much to show you.