Great joy. The whole family is blessed. A gorgeous baby boy. Married Daughter gave this priceless gift of a grandson. Laura 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, Laura had said, she would relax in a bubble bath, and paint her nails red.
The cream jacket and trousers Laura wore hung on her like a suit on a hanger. Her nails were chipped pink. Her hair was slick with product. The dark circles under her eyes could not be concealed with 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 over, we amassed to the pub, a buffet laid on for guests. Two hours flew by. Laura 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. Laura 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. Someone always had a tale to tell.
With no consideration how painful that tale was to me.