Pen Beneath The Bush

Mother Of The Year

"Harry..." Annie Cross whispers, throwing the bouquet on her husband's grave. "I hope you can forgive me for what I did to our little Romeo."

She remembers it. She can still visualise the blood in the bathroom – the same blood that stains her blue dress. The torch is her only light in the cemetery but she knows the route to her husband's grave like the back of her hand.

Slaying her son, the last link to her husband makes her realise that she's not the holy matron she claims to be. She dedicates her life to church and her Harry served for Queen and country and returned from Iraq in a casket.

"I know me and Romeo always argued, but I didn't mean to kill him. The devil possessed me!"

She sobs and throws cuddles the tombstone. Their only child's body lies deep within the earth's ground. As any sinner, she knows she must pray for forgiveness. She knows she has no place in heaven now, but she still wishes to be a servant of God, the institution that comforts her. She takes a box from out of her pocket. It's one she found in Romeo's draw. She opens the box with shaky hands. Her breaths are rapid the moment she sees what's in it – a ring – an engagement ring.

In her other pocket there's a letter addressed to Annie. It's not meant to be opened until Mothering Sunday. "Its ages away," she hisses to herself. She opens it anyway. It's what she expects – a card for mothering Sunday. Anna picks up the piece of paper that slips out of the card. A close inspection makes her stomach churn.

Baby scan: its triplets.

She breaks down. Annie's grandchildren will never meet their father – and it's all her fault.