Our red eared slider has thawed out over the last few days and started to engage with life again. Like his faltering attempts to reuse his legs, I too have had to begin with small steps, as I establish a new framework for my life. We are not alone in this, Slider and I. Across the road my neighbour is teaching her daughter to drive the family car. Their tense faces tell me this is early days yet. "Go girl", I whisper. 
It might feel strange right now, but the awkwardness will pass eventually and we will soon be wheeling around in an intoxicating state of freedom. 

The Story continues:
Part 2 of Chapter 1 - Enjoy and please remember I value your opinion tremendously.

When Rhona let herself in at home she could tell her eldest daughter was still there, spending a day off work at home. The stereo was thumping with some hip-hop thing. In the shower the warm high pressured jet ran over her head and body, thawing out the chill of the morning. When the water ran cold she got out and rubbed herself viciously until she was red and blotchy all over and her hair stood out in a tangled helmet. At least no one she knew had been at the Museum.

She closed her eyes and listened to the repetitive base of the music track, observing some sinuous reptile unfurling inside her stomach. When she opened her eyes the towel was curled tightly in clenched fists and she hurled it at the bathroom door. Viciously stabbing her limbs into garments, she dressed, wrestling with ugly layers of poly-cotton knit.

Rhona cast herself supine on the bed. Careless of damp hair on the cover, she lay staring at the ceiling. Why did some grey haired men have dark side burns?

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Are you OK Mum? Can I come in?” Here was Sarah, coming to investigate.

“Yes” a whisper. Rhona cleared her throat, “Yes come in missy”

The eldest girl popped her head around the door and came in, flopping down on the bed beside her mother. “I heard you come in. Worn your self out Mum?”

“No love I’m fine, nothing the matter.” Rhona swung her legs off the bed. “Come on, let’s have some tea.” Her daughter followed her to the kitchen and sat down at the table, watching as her mother moved about boiling the water, fetching the cups, clearing up as she went with automatic practiced movements.

Eventually the girl said quietly. “I’ve got some news Mum, but you may not like it.”

“Go on then”. Rhona turned from the bench and folded her hands over her stomach.

“I’ve found a flat with Katey. You know Katey from work? I’m going to move at the weekend.”

“Well that’s good.” There was a definite tone of relief in her voice.

 “Oh. But look Mum I … what will you do with only Gracie left at home? You’ll be OK won’t you?”

“Of course, I’ll be just fine. I’m really pleased for you. Make me a list of anything you might need and I’ll see what I can spare for the flat”

“Thanks.” The girl got up, taking her mug from the table. “Look, I’m going out. Could you just leave my dinner for me and I’ll get it later? Oh and Dad rang.”

Rhona turned back to the bench. “Did he?” she asked, staring at the kitchen window ledge.

“Yeah.” Sarah sounded defensive. “I didn’t know where you were.  Well you never said did you?”

“You were asleep when I left,” her mother replied in a flat tone of voice.

“Oh right. Then he wanted to know why you didn’t use the mobile he gave you. Do you want me to show you how to use it?”

“Not just at the moment Sarah.” Rhona glanced over her shoulder with half a smile on her lips, “Maybe another time when you’re not going out.” As she began to wipe the spotless chrome taps she asked, almost inaudibly “What else?”

“Sorry? Oh Dad you mean? Just that he won’t be home tonight again and could you pick up his dry cleaning. Where did you go anyway?”

Rhona shrugged, drawing her cloth across the bench with a blank expression on her face “Oh nowhere interesting. It doesn’t matter.”

Rhona got through the weekend in the usual way. Gracie was off at school netball and out with her teenage friends. Sarah and her prospective flatmates emptied the back bedroom and carted it all away in a rental truck- after she had made them lunch. The husband was away again- golf and something vague to do with work. She cooked and cleaned and got things ready for the next working week, ironing all his shirts and changing the beds.

Monday lunchtime a neighbour rang wanting Rhona to collect her children from school. She agreed. She was used to it.

It was a short walk to the Primary school. As Rhona came past the playing field at ten to three she saw her friend Valerie coming out of the school gates as the teacher on crossing duty. They had first met when Rhona’s eldest son had started school, twenty years ago. She watched Val’s black haired, brick shaped figure gesturing to one of the girls to fix up her sash. Her commanding voice could be heard urging both monitors to get a move on.

“Hello Rhona” Val barked when they came into hailing distance. Her voice had all the carrying qualities of a parade ground professional. “On duty again?”

Rhona waited until she was alongside before replying. “Yvonne rang at lunch time, some appointment.”

“You’re always picking up for that woman.”

“Oh well. I don’t mind I suppose. Think of the twins. It’s not their fault.”

 The school bell rang, releasing a trickle of parents coming back with their children.

“Here comes the stampede” Val said. “Give me a ring tonight will you? I have something to tell you.”

Rhona collected her six year old charges and agreed to their desperate appeal for some time on the playground. Watching miniature figures hanging upside down on the jungle gym, with her mind gone quiet, she noticed that feeling in her stomach again, just like she had in the shower last Friday.  On the phone later that evening she noticed the same sensation. Val was saying

“Listen, I’ve been meaning to tell you. Colin and I went to one of his boring finance crowd dinners last Saturday night. There were a couple of guests, you know, from various other firms, and you’ll never guess who was there. Your husband.  Himself. Did he mention it?”

“No, I haven’t…”

“No I bet he bloody didn’t. He had some P.A. woman with him. Looking very smug she was. Had some ridiculous name – some flower.

“Oh. Do you mean Jasmine?”

“That’s it. Christ how pretentious is that?”

“Anyway- your bloody husband tried to avoid me.” Val’s voice was loud enough to be heard across the lounge where Gracie was doing homework on the floor. Rhona moved up to her bedroom, out of ear shot. “I baled him up for twice as long just to make my point. Hacked me off I can tell you.”

When Rhona made no reply Val continued with less volume in her voice but greater urgency. “You listen to me. John has been playing up on you. I asked Colin afterwards and he as good as confirmed it.”

 Rhona sat wearily on the bed and said “Val I appreciate…”

“Shit. I don’t want your appreciation. I want you to get pissed off or something.”

Rhona sat on a while afterwards, staring at her wardrobe doors with a gentle, amused expression. Gracie came in with two mugs of milo and perched on the bed beside her mother. At fourteen she was already much taller, but in all other respects the likeness between them was striking. There was a closeness between them too, which the older children had never shared. She wanted to hear Val’s news.

“What was that about Mum?”

Rhona made a comic, wide eyed face. “Val is upset with Dad because he didn’t notice her at a work dinner.” She shrugged and took her cup.

Gracie looked blank disbelief at her. “How could he miss her? She’s always the loudest.”

They sat together a bit, sipping their drinks a while until Gracie asked “So what was she saying about Jasmine?”

“Oh, I don’t think Val liked her very much.”

“I don’t like her either. She’s always sort of, you know, patronizing. Dad likes her though. You can tell.”

Rhona caught her worried, sideways glance and made an effort to smile convincingly, hugging her daughter with her free arm. “Well, he’d have to like her to work with her all the time wouldn’t he?”

Gracie shrugged her shoulders. “You never say anything mean about anyone do you? It’s murder having a saint for a parent.”