Ria Discovers

Proserpina

Just as I was opening my mouth to talk to Tara, she said, in a sneering tone that I faintly recognized as being similar to the tone her friend Madeleine Nord used,

‘So you noticed that I was not around, Mumma? How is that?’

I gaped at her, my mind in a whirl. This derisive, mocking child, with her beautiful face twisted in a mixture of spite and fury, standing before me, her small fists clenched in anger.

Could this be the little girl I had cherished and carried, fed at my breast tenderly? Her Pappa’s pet?

And then, she said something that made me gasp,

‘How did you get time away from f*cking Pappa?’

In a flash, I had risen and struck her across the cheek, so hard that she stumbled back, her hand on her cheek, her mouth open, eyes wide. I had never hit her, in fact, I had never had a need to raise my hand on any of my children, except once on Ria, perhaps; but this was too much. Already upset over Philippe, I was too taut to handle it.

We stared at each other, shocked. She