Shattered Doll

The Broken Doll

“Mary, that was simply exquisite! Ellie is a marvel! And her voice I’ve never heard anything like it in all my days! And you know how often I attend performances at Covent Garden, so I call myself almost an expert. She truly must sing there one day! She must, without a doubt!”

“Thank you, Bella, for such generous praise! Ellie has worked so tirelessly for this moment. Years of effort and persistence, and finally Carmen!”

“Wonderful! Really wonderful! And now,” Bella continued, leaning close, “now that Ellie has achieved this, isnt it time to think of her future? Yes, shes our little nightingale, but one cannot flit from branch to branch forever, can one? What about settling down, a house, children?”

“I dont know. I dont think shes ready yet, Bella. Shes still so young, and tonights success is just the first step in her career.”

“Mary! Nicholas has been ready for marriage for ages. How much longer are we going to make him wait? He loves Ellie sohe simply cant go a day without her! And we, it seems, are only hindering their happiness!” Bella dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “Who are we to stand in their way?”

Mary did not reply.

She knew Bella wouldnt be brushed off so easily, but she had no desire to continue this conversation. It was not the first time, nor even the hundredth.

Bella, whom Mary had known since childhood, was always so very single-minded. If she wanted something, she pressed for it, brooking neither resistance nor obstacles. And Mary had to admit, Bellas tenacity never failed her, at least not in any way Mary could recall.

Their acquaintance had begun, in fact, with the fulfillment of one of Bellas wants, a memory Mary could never quite forget. The doll, beautiful Lizzieas Mary named herhad been brought from London by her father after a work trip. Flaxen curls, blue eyes, and the most unusual dress. Mary adored her new doll, setting her at tea tables, hosting lengthy tea parties, demanding strict manners shed learned from her mother.

Bella saw this new favourite only a week after Lizzies arrivaland was instantly smitten. But unlike with other toys, she couldnt simply ask and have it given. Mary wouldnt part with her Lizzie, and so Bella fell illgenuinely, with fever and tears. She grieved so convincingly that Mary brought the doll to her friend, unable to think of any other way when Bella was so distressed.

But almost immediately, Mary regretted it. She watched as Bellas tears dried up at once, saw her scoop up her old dollKate, whose eyes only sometimes closed nowand toss her into the toy chest.

“Youll live there from now on!”

Why did this upset Mary so? She couldnt have put it into words. She only felt a deep pity for poor Kate and asked if she could have her. Bella, disinterested, agreed, and Mary took Kate home.

There, Mary handed the battered doll to her mother and asked for her to be mended. It hurt Mary terribly to have given away Lizzie. She knew one day Bella would decide a new doll was better and Lizzie, too, would be tossed aside, forgotten in an instant.

It never occurred to Mary to take Lizzie back. That wouldnt have been right.

What was right was keeping Kate, who remained on Marys childhood shelf for yearseven after Mary grew up, had a daughter, and Kate perched there still, arms outstretched, blue eyes wide, though shed long lost her lashes.

For Mary, the doll was a reminder of how easily some people abandon old attachments in favour of new desires. It seemed to her that such people could act that way not just with toys but in life.

But Bella was her closest neighbour and only friend, for, by some odd coincidence, there were no other girls their age in the block, and so Mary chose not to quarrel over such things. One never knowslife might always change, and its best not to burn bridges.

Marys small family had moved into their new home after her grandfathers passing. She hardly remembered him, but ever since, his nameDavid Thompsonwas mentioned only in hushed tones, with proper respect. Only years later did Mary learn more about who he had really been. Such things werent for children.

She discovered he had been in the intelligence service after her own father, a leading surgeon at St. Georges in London, died suddenly and Mary and her mother were left alone.

“Well have to manage by ourselves now, Mary-love. Im just not sure how”

“Why not, Mum?”

“I always lived beside your father. And when your grandfather was alive, we all lived under him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He made all the decisions, darlingwhere to go, what to buy, what to wear. Afterward, your father took over.”

“Mum! But thats not right! Why did you put up with it?”

“My dear, what else could I do? And whats so bad about men taking responsibility for the family? I came into your grandfathers house with nothing to my name, hardly the shoes on my feet. Your grandmother was a single motherunheard of then, you cant imagine the shame! Im almost grateful she left me to the childrens home It showed me true kindness, Mary.”

“You were scared for me?”

“Oh, very much so. Always. Your father didnt understandit was different in his family. They taught you to stand on your own two feet. To make decisions, accept responsibility. Both your grandfather and father lost their mothers young, you know, and were raised by grandmothers. Odd twist of fate. They both went to Sandhurst, but your father lefthe wanted to be a surgeon, and his father respected that. ‘If a man has made up his mind,’ hed say, ‘let him get on with it.'”

“And Dad became a doctor”

“A remarkable one. And you know that well.”

“And how did you meet him?”

“By chance on the high street. I broke a heel. I bawled my eyes outit was my only decent pair, and they were borrowed.”

“Borrowed? How?”

“We lived six to a room at university three pairs of nice shoes between us, shared around. Bought them as we could. If the shoes were too big, wed stuff them with cotton. The girl with the smallest feet had to wait.”

“So, losing a pair was a disaster! Your dad was a herogot the cobbler to repair my heel quickly and walked me home. Didnt hesitate even though the blokes in my area didnt like outsiders and could be rough. But your dad got on with anyonesomehow naturally.”

“And Grandpa? Did he accept you?”

“Youre asking very adult questions! At first he just watched and waited. He nodded when your father introduced me, said only ‘Your choice.’ Never a fuss. But not over-familiar either. I was ‘Miss Oliver’always ‘you’, never ‘dear’. That changed after you were born. Your father worked all hours, I was alone, frightened, untrained for babies. The health visitors scolded me, I cried, no one to help. Housework piled up, but we had no maidsnone. And your grandfather was so practical, but never had time. I managed alright, except for youa demanding baby! I didnt know, but now I think I didnt have enough milk, so you cried day and night. I was utterly run-down.

Then Grandpa helped. He happened to be home for a while. One night, I was stumbling with you through the halls, rocking you, desperate for sleep, when suddenly someone took you from my arms: ‘Off to bed, love. Ive got this.’ I just collapsed and slept right there. In the morning, I woke up terrifiedI couldnt see you! Grandpa had managed better than I ever could. Bathed you, swaddled you. I felt so useless but he was so kind. After that, I was Olie, not Miss Oliver, and ‘you’, not ‘you’. I realised hed accepted me. He even called me daughter. For me, that was a miracle. But best of all, he loved youadored you. I worried I should have had a son, for the familys sake, but he was thrilled you were a girl.”

Mary smiled. For her, Grandpa had set the model of what family meant.

He passed far too soonbut perhaps, Mary said, it was for the best. He was an honourable man in a changing world. Hed taught her strength and self-reliancethe best a family can giveand for that, she was grateful.

Mary and her mother moved forward. Her mother, Olivia, changed jobs with the help of her late father-in-laws connections and found work at a National Health Service clinic, determined to be self-sufficient. Marys pension was enough for now, but Olivia was always mindful that Mary wouldnt always be a little girl.

When Olivia passed, Ellie was just ten. Mary didnt collapse into grief. Ellie had no one left but her mother, and Mary would not allow despair. She kept ties with Bella through the years, seeing each other less now that Bella had married and moved to a big country house, her son becoming an artist like his father. Bella constantly urged: “Talented people must marry within their own circle! Why risk muddling things with mediocrity? We want healthy, gifted grandchildren, dont we?”

Mary would just listen. Shed never share too much of their family story; some things should be kept quiet, as Grandpa saidthe less they know, the better.

She never wanted Nicholas for Ellie. Why antagonise Bella over it? The two young people, Mary knew, were of different sortsNicholas, handed everything, never striving, and Ellie, who had the determination of a storybook frog: resourceful, resolute, always pushing herself forward. She remembered her mothers and grandmothers sacrifices; her own father too, lost just after her birth, known to her only from photos and stories. Her childhoods refrain was, “Your father would be so proud of you!”

Ellie always knew her mother would support her, whatever came, and so she moved cautiously through life, aware her choices affected both of them.

The only thing Ellie didnt foresee was falling for Nicholas after all. How or when it happened she couldnt sayjust one day, she realised she wanted to see him all the time.

Nicholas was lightness itself; fun, spontaneous, always ready to sweep Ellie away for a weekend skiing in Scotlandthough Ellie had no idea how to ski. It didnt matter to Nicholas. He bought her skis and kit, teased her, and said, “Nothings beyond you, Ellie, you can do anything!”

The first trip, Ellie enjoyedgood company, Nicholas by her side, his attentions clear to everyone. The only thing she didnt like was the skiing itselfshe realised she lacked coordination and was scared.

Nicholas didnt understand; he teased her, then scowled, disappointed. “Why come, then, if you werent going to ski?”

“Because youre here,” she wanted to say, tears in her eyes.

At the trips end, Nicholas proposed, arranging it with as much fanfare as possible. Friends cheered, champagne corks popped. Ellie accepted, and later, wept quietly over the beautiful ringBella had seen to everything.

Bella made sure the wedding was grand; all Ellie and Mary had to do was pick out a dress and tidy Mary’s fathers flat where the young couple would live.

Troubles started about a year in. Ellie sang, Nicholas painted, but Bella scolded: “Ellie should have a baby! Why wait until were too old to help? The sooner the better!”

Mary kept her feelings to herself; she knew the problem wasnt Ellie. Nicholas simply didnt want children and made no secret of it with Ellie:

“Dont tell Mum, no need for her to fret! She goes on about grandkids, meanwhile, I cant picture anything worsechaos, mess, endless work. I was raised for a different life, Ellie! I want to achieve great things! You get me, dont you? Mum was right: were both artists, art is our life.”

Ellie could only suffer in silence; all visits with her mother-in-law were kept to a minimum.

And whenever Bella pressed Mary”Encourage Ellie to see about her health, why wait?”Mary held her tongue.

Events came to a head during another trip to the Highlands. Nicholas was ill-tempered; when Ellie admitted she still didnt want to ski, he shouted at her to try. To pacify him, Ellie gave ina decision shed soon regret.

“Why an instructor? I can teach you! Stop being such a baby!”

Why did she agree? Why did she think peace was better than a quarrel?

The next thing she knew, she was in hospital, Mary by her side, having somehow secured a place in the ICU.

“Mum…”

“Hush, darling. Dont speak. Everything will be alright. Im here.”

“What about Nick?”

Mary turned away, unable to tell her daughter that Nicholas had caught the next train back to London, shrugging: “What do you expect me to do? Im not a doctor. I have my exhibition to prepare. All this is so inconvenient!”

Ellie learned all this later, after Mary had managed to transfer her to the clinic where she worked. The doctors gave little hope, but Mary was determined: “I wont give up! Never! She has only meI will not let life defeat her.”

Mary pleaded with Nicholas once more:

“Please! Shes your wife! You do love her, dont you?”

“Did, yes. But what am I to do now, sit by the bed? Whats the point? We wont be what we wereshe wont forgive me, and I cant live with constant guilt. I have one life; thats that.”

“How can you say that, Nick?”

“How? Its just the way things are. You know Im right, really, you just wont admit it.”

So Mary gave up on trying to save Ellies marriage, focusing solely on her daughters recovery.

Little by little, at great cost, Ellie surprised the doctors by standing, then walkingslowly, painfully, but with her mothers love at every step.

“Thats it, my girl! Come on! You can do it! Your father would be so proud!”

Ellie never sang again. Her voice was gone, whether from the surgeries or from those two hours lying off the snowy path, shouting herself hoarse. She didnt even recall; she only knew that an evening instructor had found her, while Nicholas, it turned out, had never realised she was missing.

“Mum, dont,” Ellie said at last, when Mary tried to explain why Nicholas didnt visit. “I understand. Ive been discarded. No one wants a broken doll… No one wants a Kate,” she whispered, recalling the toy.

“You are not Kate! I wont let you be!” cried Mary so loudly that a nurse looked in.

“Is everything alright?”

“All fine, thank you,” Ellie replied. “And it will be, wont it, Mum?”

“No doubt about it!”

Years later, a young, graceful woman with a slight limp would stroll through Regents Park, set her little boy down on the path, and command:

“Go on, my dear! Theres so much to discover! But not too quicklyMummy cant quite keep up. Give me your hand!”

The boy would toddle beside her, then, seeing his grandmother approaching, dash away to greet her with outstretched arms.

“My dears! Ive missed you so terribly!”

Ellie hugs her mother.

“How was your trip, Mum? Restful?”

“Lovely! Youll never guess who I saw”

“Who?”

“Bella.”

“And how is she?”

“Unhappy. Says nothings right, Nicks alone, shes ageing, no grandchildren after all her hopes.”

“And what did you say?”

“Nothing, dear. Nothing at all about your life or the wonderful news to come. Poor thing.”

“Pity Funny old world, isnt it, Mum?”

“Were all different, darling. But lets not dwell on the sad. Whos this good-looking boy? Show Grandma your new tooth! Goodness, Ellie, has he got too many? Surely not?”

“Oh, Mum! Hes just perfect!”

Ellie takes her mothers hand and gently brings it to her stomach, smiling.

“Want to hear my news?”

“Is it good?”

“Best of all! Youll be a grandmother twice over this time! Hows that?”

“Oh!”

“Not pleased?”

“No, Ellie, just surprisedoverwhelmed with happiness I wonder, can one have too much happiness?”

“I dont think so. I think we truly deserve it, especially you! Mum”

“Hmm?”

“Im not Kate anymore, am I?”

“Of course not, love. I promised you, didnt I…”

And so, through pain and loss, the broken doll is at last gently mended by hope, love, and the wisdom to value those who truly careand to let go of those who do not.