Chương 84: Ch 46a – Memory: Photographs

"You look like her, you know?" Cara says, holding the photograph up next to Jenny's face.

"You could be sisters. More alike as sisters than we are." Jenny rolls her eyes, makes a gentle swipe with the back of her hand to push the photograph away. Tunnels her attention into searching the mess of photographs on the table. Pretends it means nothing when it's plain to Cara that her observation means a great deal to Jenny. She studies the photograph, the thick paper quivering slightly in her hand. Mum is posing against the railing on the promenade.

A pier stretches out across the water towards Mum's right shoulder. Both girls are in the picture. Cara is nestled on Mum's hip, her pudgy toddler hand wedged into her mouth. Jenny stands proudly next to Mum, their hands tightly clasped. Jenny grins widely for the camera. The same grin spreads across Mum's face. Jenny has told her many stories of Mum taking them to the beach. Giving them pots of coins to feed into the slot machines on the pier.

Eating freshly cooked doughnuts from white paper bags on the benches along the sea front. Throwing stones into the waves.

"Is it bad-" Cara faulters, "is it bad that I don't remember much about her?" She squints at Mum's navy striped cardigan. She remembers the cardigan. Thinks she remembers it. Knows it must have been a favourite of Mum's. Is that because she remembers it was Mum's favourite or simply because Mum is wearing it in many of the photos? It looks to have big gold buttons. Were they metal or plastic? Patterned into knots or smooth? Was it a chunky cotton knit or soft wool?

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Jenny gives Cara's forearm a gentle squeeze, "You have a lot of her mannerisms."

"I do? Like what?"

"Noticing all the little things that everyone else is too busy to see. Tipping your head back twice before swallowing a pill. Fidgeting. You know, Mum could never just sit still. Gran was always telling her to go find something to do so she could watch the TV in peace."

"I don't fidget."

"Uh-huh," Jenny says, looking first at the label of Cara's beer bottle that has been peeled off and shredded into five neat strips, then to the paperclip Cara is absently moving through the fingers of her left hand. Cara huffs. Shrugs. Discards the paperclip. Picks up a picture of Mum in a chair, behind her Jenny is hanging ornaments on a Christmas tree. Mum's hands are clasped in her lap, tinsel interwoven between her fingers. She smiles at Mum.