'Mirror, Mirror' by Maeve Heneghan

 

She had to be the vainest woman I had ever met.  Her hair was never out of place and she always kept up with the latest, most expensive fashions.  What else did she have to spend her money on?  Her darling only son had grown up and had the misfortune, in her eyes, to marry me. The barely concealed contempt that she had for me always carried on her voice in conversation.  I pretended not to notice for Jack’s sake. The only thing that was going for me was the fact that I cooked and cleaned well enough.

When mum died, I stepped in as surrogate mother for my six younger brothers. Daddy worked constantly. I cooked, cleaned up after them, read to them and was their counsellor. When I left they were broken-hearted.  I hope it was more than my housekeeping skills that they missed.

As I plumped the cushions in the sitting room, Jack had that imploring look again.

‘Can we tell her tonight Connie?’ ‘You are past the twelve weeks.’

‘Can I think about it Jack?’ I’m still a little bit nervous.’

He was about to talk me around but I cut him off. ‘I’ll tell you what, why don’t I make that apple pie that your mom loves so much?’ You know, with the cinnamon crumble?’ That seemed to sway him enough to put the pregnancy out of his head for now.

I busied myself with the pie and I resolved that I would not tell her tonight. If I had my way I’d never tell her.

As I sprinkled the cinnamon into the crumble mix, I thought I might add a little extra something this time.  I could blame it on the hormones. Daddy always said my apple pie was to die for.