Dorothy & Irene

Dorothy Chapeau lifted her head upwards and closed her eyes. The sun felt pleasant on her skin and, for a moment, she felt warm. She had not felt warm for what seemed to be a long time, when in fact it had only been three short months. Three months since her world had been irrevocably altered.

She extended her hand, her finger moving slowly around the handle of the cup. She was sure the café was fine, but it tasted bitter to her, just as the salad which remained half-eaten in front of her was most likely delicious, but each mouthful she took tasted worse than the last. Dorothy did not need to open her eyes to know her daughter would be staring at her, green eyes fixed squarely, sparking with deep concern. Dorothy reached for a strand of copper hair, which had fallen from the pile on top of her head and secured it back in place.

‘Can I order you something else, mama? You really...’

‘... have to eat,’ Dorothy finished the sentence for her daughter. Her voice was baritone, but there was no harshness to it when she spoke. She opened dark eyes flecked with red and smiled. ‘I know you’re just concerned for me, darling Irene, but I am fine. I WILL be fine,’ she added with as much reassurance as she could muster. She did not want to sound fake because she knew she could not fool Irene in the slightest.

Irene Chapeau’s rosebud lips pulled into a smile. Her hair was redder than her mother’s and cut into a smooth bob, but they were similar in every other way. Small and svelte and both with keen, alert faces. There were just twenty-five years between them, and the passing of time had been kind to both of them.

‘Just because I’m only a nurse, not a doctor, doesn’t mean I don’t know the importance of looking after myself,’ Dorothy added. Again there was no maliciousness to her tone, only a gentle teasing.
Irene smiled and reached across the table and touched her mother’s hand. Their eyes met, and it took just a moment for them to mist, forcing them to look away rather than face the emotion they were both running from. Irene turned her body, rearranging the blanket around Bruno, her five-year-old son who had fallen asleep in the afternoon sun.

‘I’ll just have a little nap, and then we can go back to the hotel,’ Dorothy stated, closing her eyes once again.

Irene turned back, a cloud sweeping over her face. ‘Mama, you really shouldn’t be...’

Dorothy lifted a hand from her lap and wafted it towards her daughter. ‘I am doing exactly what I should be doing, and I’m doing it because I need to.’ She lowered her head and narrowed her eyes towards Irene. She wanted to be sure that her daughter understood and accepted what she was about to say. ‘I asked you to come with me because I thought it would be an enjoyable experience for us to share, but if it’s going to be problematic for you, we can always rethink our agreement.’

Irene smiled. ‘People have always asked me where I get my stubbornness and determination from. I don’t think it would take a genius to work out where I got it from.’

She reached across the table and touched Dorothy’s hand again. ‘I am a doctor, but more importantly, in this time and space I am nothing but your daughter, and all I am here to do is to be with you, to share this with you, but please understand one thing, dear mother, I will not, I CANNOT keep my mouth shut if I think you are endangering yourself. That was and remains my one condition. My line in the sand, if you like. I can be your daughter until I have to be a doctor, and that most certainly trumps you feeling mollycoddled.’

Dorothy stuck out her tongue. Irene snorted. ‘And while we’re at it, I feel as if I should remind you of something someone very wise once said to me; you can be as stubborn and as obnoxious as you like, but the sooner you accept I have nothing but your best interests at heart, the better.’ She smiled at her mother. ‘And I am following that advice, so I won’t let you chase me off or shout me down just because I’m concerned you might drop dead on this folly of yours...’

‘It is no folly,’ Dorothy berated.

‘Désolé, I didn’t mean to be dismissive, mama,’ Irene breathed. ‘My point is. I am here because I love you and support you. But as I said, I am a daughter who is also a doctor. I can’t ignore anything obvious.’ She held her hands up. ‘That is my only point. Other than that, knock yourself out and have a hell of a time, but when I am concerned, you will listen to me, or else there will be trouble. Am I making myself completely clear to you, mama?’

Dorothy turned her head to hide the smile on her face. ‘Honestly, I don’t know where you get your pig-headedness from.’

Irene snorted again and picked up the fork on her mother’s plate and handed it to her. ‘Oui, you do. Now eat your damn salad, or I’ll send you to bed early.’

Dorothy snatched the fork. ‘I should never have taught you to speak,’ she said, moving the salad into her mouth and playfully winking at her daughter.