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Dear Penny,
I want to tell you about the day you were born. I’ve told you about it before, I know. The day the plastic came alive and tried to kill everybody (doesn’t it sound a bit weird when you say it out loud?), but I never told you the full story.
I never wanted children. I have to be honest, because this is probably the last time I will ever have the opportunity for honesty. I am incredibly grateful that you and Lucy came into my life, but it was never part of my plan. True, I never really had much of a plan, but who does? When I found out I was pregnant with you, I was terrified. I was absolutely terrified. I felt like my life was over. How could I possibly raise a child?
Your father, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier. When we found out you were a girl, he had already picked your name. But it wasn’t Penny.
It was Beatrice.
Yes, really.
He wanted to name you after his mother. Little Bea Valentine, imagine that! I, on the other hand, wanted to call you Esmerelda, which I’ll admit is probably just as bad. Don’t ask me where that name came from though, I’ve no idea.
We were rushed into hospital on the 26th March. You were a month early, and you picked a hell of a day for it. That was the beginning, wasn’t it? When our universe became bigger, when we realised we weren’t alone. Because of the plastic invasion, there was no-one around to deliver you. Half of the midwives were trying to stop people getting strangled by plastic tubes, and the other half were dead. We found a little room, barricaded the door, and did our best. But we were on our own, and scared as hell.
“Just breathe,” your father kept saying as he held my hand. “We’ll get through this.”
Do you want to know the strangest thing? The one thing on my mind was your name. We still hadn’t agreed on what we were going to call you. Your father decided to flip a coin. Heads, Beatrice. Tails, Esmerelda.
It was tails.
“I hate Esmerelda!” I whimpered, trying to be quiet as the pain became unbearable. “And I hate Beatrice too!”
Your father didn’t know what to say. He was barely keeping it together himself, the screams of people being killed echoing outside the door. He looked down at the coin in his hand, and he said three words:
“How about Penny?”
And that’s how you got your name. Our lucky penny. I wish I could say I’d kept that penny, but I didn’t. I can’t even remember what happened to it.
Your father is the reason you’re even still alive. He went to fetch help, but I never saw him again. They told me later he had been killed by a medical testing dummy, can you believe that? But you see, that same dummy found me seconds after you were born, and it was about to kill the both of us. It raised its arm and prepared to shoot, but for some reason I was never quite able to work out, it dropped to the floor and died right there. If your father hadn’t gone to fetch help, if he hadn’t fought against that dummy and slowed it down, it might have found us a second earlier and...
Well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.
I’m afraid the story of how Lucy got her name is a lot less boring. Her father (the utter bastard) always hated the name, so I called her Lucy just to spite him. Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit, but the name is hers now, and I couldn’t be happier.
I don’t think I have much time left now, Penny. I wish I could see you, but I understand why I can’t. If this is truly the last time I may ever get to speak to you, even indirectly, then I want you to know how sorry I am. I was never a good mother to you. When your father died, I fell apart. I know that, and I will die knowing that. But I tried. I want you to know that I tried. All the times I screamed and yelled and drank. All the times I ignored you, all the times I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.
I hope, I truly hope, I was better with Lucy. I like to think I was. I like to think I was a good mother to her, at least. I was older and wiser and I’m just sorry I couldn’t do it earlier. I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you when you needed me, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
Please tell Lucy I love her, and tell her that I will always love her. Tell her that I will live on in her heart forever, across time and space and the boundary that divides us when I go.
And tell yourself the same thing too, because it’s true, and I never said it enough.
And please, my gorgeous girl, remember what I’ve always told you. The darkness will never ever beat you because you are stronger than you think. Even the darkest nights have to end. Even when you feel lost, or alone, or like the world is going to pull you down and never let go, there is light.
At the end of every night, there is a sunrise.
Love, Mum.
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