Every step was torture for Martha, like sharp nails were being pushed into her skin. Determined, she gritted her teeth and rammed through the pain barrier. As she hobbled into the kitchen, she glanced around. In the corner, her best friend watched the kettle boil. Steam rose and disappeared into the kitchen tiles. It danced to the same tune, which burrowed into her nightmares.
Had she half imagined Laura being in the room with her the last few hours? Hush little baby don’t say a word. She hadn’t said anything positive, just the song and harsh words about her father. Why couldn’t Laura recall how he was before? It was Thomas who brought her Buddy, back when she was no bigger than a few bags of sugar. It was Thomas who showed them both off to everyone in the street. It was Thomas who loved her the most.
No-one could have been prouder.
Now she had to be proud for them both. Martha was sure that one look at Tabitha and Thomas’s hard shell would crack. He would be born again – share her happiness. Instead he was threatened by it.