Karen

It came easily to me, a born actress at heart, hiding the truth behind a smile. I wasn’t sure whether it was the world or myself I was trying to fool but a feeling of peace spread through me like softened butter as my hand lay loosely wrapped around my baby. My usually frantic mind felt numbed for the need for stillness, for silence, the time just to be. To exist in a moment that would be captured and last forever, however big a lie the image would tell.

The camera clicked loudly and we continued to sit in stillness. I wondered, in decades, centuries even, would someone find this photograph and try to understand who we were, what we did, what our stories were.

I could feel the gentle, rhythmic breath of Annie, her chest as it rose and fell against my hand. I followed her breath, in and out, in and out, trying to ignore the growing discomfort, the stiffness, in my lower back. I wanted to wriggle a little, allow the tightness to flow unnoticed out of me, down the legs of the chair and into the ground where it could remain as motionless as it pleased, but I maintained my posture.

The joys of motherhood, or so I am told. My body that supports more pounds than it used to, the fat on the hips, the milk filled breasts. Sometimes I feel unrecognisable even to myself. I focused on the discomfort, embraced it almost and pulled Annie in slightly closer until I could feel the wisps of her creamy hair lift in the breeze and tickle my neck.

Terence, of course, would never understand this change in my body.

“It’s what you women are built for, now stop your whinging.”

So, I did. Like every other woman I know, and I grew stronger for it.

As we sat in stillness, I recalled his face that afternoon. Of course, there was the usual gossip in the village and unbeknown to Maggie, Terence had been in the queue for the bank directly behind her. Well, it caused quite a stir on the morning of the photoshoot, but I was determined to go ahead as moments do not last forever.

Poor Emily had heard the fight and had run off to her bedroom. She had to be coerced down and I felt as inner victory as she stood, sullen by her father.

It had taken a long time to be blessed with my first child, with Emily. I had watched wistfully, knitting hats and booties as friend after friend grew little families of their own. Terence blamed me, called me, “barren, a failure, not womanly enough.” If it wasn’t for the children, I would leave that empty, soulless, cruel man.

As for the affair, well Maggie was perfectly correct. Annie was not his. But she was mine and I would protect both her and her name with my life. I could never tolerate double standards. For years he had played away, discretely at first.

So when Albert had offered me attention, warmth and comfort at a time when I hated my body the most, I grabbed at him with every fibre of my being. He made me feel beautiful, womanly, alive.

The stillness, the photoshoot, was coming to an end. I could feel a knot forming in the depths of my stomach. Annie must have sensed it as she tensed, her little arms jerking and began crying.

I adjusted her on my lap and peeked at Terence as I did so. His unreadable, hollow expression was gone, replaced once more by rage.

Once the photographers had left, I smiled calmly at him, anticipating his outburst.

“Not in front of the children, dear.”

But his face had reddened, his eyes had narrowed and his hand was already reaching for the whisky glass. He was visibly shaking as he filled his glass and gulped it back, filling it once more.

I held Annie tightly and brought Emily into the fold of my other arm.

They were all the strength I needed. I was ready for battle.