Great joy. The whole family is blessed, a gorgeous baby boy. Married Daughter brought to us this priceless gift.
Bella was to be Godmother to him, to our precious bundle of joy.
He had the face of angel, swaddled in his shawl.
The night before the christening, Bella had said, she would relax in a bubble bath, and paint her nails red.
The cream jacket and trousers she wore, hung on her like a suit on a hanger. Her nails were still pink, and chipped. Her hair was slick with product. The dark circles under her eyes were not concealed by make-up.
The girl who was so proud of her appearance. The girl who spent hours in front of the mirror perfecting the look she desired. The girl who stood before us on a night out, pleased with our compliment, had turned up to her nephew’s christening like this.
I wept inside. Where had she gone that daughter of mine.
The church service was over. We amassed to the pub, a buffet laid on for guests.
Two hours flew by. Bella came and sat by me. Her eyes were glazed, her speech erratic.
A crowd of men, friends of the baby’s father, decided to take their party to another pub, away from the family environment.
Our daughter invited herself, said she would join them, after she nipped home to change her outfit.
I was told she was paralytic at this other pub, with these other men.
With no consideration of how hurtful that was to me.