FAMILY HISTORY

 It was the last family gathering Caroline had attended, and possibly ever would.

   "You will be there tonight?" The question had been almost a dare. Dare you not to be.

   In truth, it had been a demand, not a question. It always was with Caroline's mother. It was Margaret's way or the highway, and it had taken Caro too long to realise that the highway might well be her best alternative.

   "It will be the boys' thirtieth, after all. That's important."

   Yeah, and it had been Caroline's thirtieth too, three years earlier. That had apparently merited a mere piece of card in the mail, two days late. Nothing at all from either of the twins. A quick text from Caro's sister. 

   Speaking of whom: "Heather and Steve will be there, and we all know how busy those two are. His mum will be having the children."

   Heather was a year younger than Caroline, and married to her childhood sweetheart. The couple had a ten-year-old son, Edgar, and triplets Katelyn, Vanessa, and Jayda, aged seven. Trust Heather to go one better even than their own mother, producing triplets instead of twins. But, unlike Rupert and Lloyd, who were identical, at least as far as appearances went, the three girls were definitely not.

   The living room of Margaret's house was devoid of even the usual furniture, of which there was almost nothing these days. Margaret and her minimalism, of course.

   "Tell me you do still have a three-piece suite, and the telly, Mum," said Caro.

   "Of course I do. Heather and Steve were kind enough to pop in earlier. They helped me to move the furniture into the dining room, so that people would be able to dance, or just to mingle."

   "So, where are they both now?"

   "There was some kind of crisis with the girls, so Heather is over at Yvonne's, trying to sort everything out. It never stops, you know - when you're a mother." The words stung, and were intended to.

   Caroline's mum had a bloody nerve, in the circumstances.

   Yvonne was Steve's mum. Sweet lady, but very OTT, when it came to her son. Admittedly, Steve was an only child, though. Maybe that was preferable. Being the eldest of four had certainly left Caro out in the cold. 

   "And the guests of honour?"

   "Oh, the boys aren't due for another hour. I want everything to be ready by the time they arrive."

   The doorbell rang.

   "Let's hope that isn't them, in that case." The guests, in general, weren't expected until seven-thirty.

   It wasn't. It was Heather and the triplets. And Caroline's sister was explaining to Margaret precisely why she had not been able to leave them with Steve's mum, after all, and that she had left Edgar with his friend, Oliver's, family. 

   But Caro couldn't make out much, over the triplets' racket. Or, more accurately, Katelyn and Vanessa's. Jayda was the silent sister, in the same way as she herself had been - poor girl.  

   "Katie hit me!" screamed Vanessa, whose dark brown, wavy hair was exactly like both Heather's and Margaret's.

   "Liar!" Katelyn retorted, her own white-blonde curls as unruly as ever. She strongly resembled Steve, and brother Edgar. "Jayda, tell them. I didn't touch her, and Nessa pulled my hair, so I should have - but I still didn't. I only..."

   But the look in Heather's eyes strongly suggested that both girls calm down, and they quietened down immediately. They knew well enough when Mum meant business.

   Heather turned to sandy-haired Jayda. "What happened, Jay?"

   Jayda seemed remarkably interested in the cream lounge carpet.

   "Jayda?"

   "I don't know," said Jayda, reluctant either to lie, or to take sides.

   "Fine," said Heather. "I don't especially want to know, anyway. Just behave yourselves, the pair of you. Understood? I've had more than enough from you today, as it is. And this evening isn't about you. It's about your uncles."

   "Yes, Mum," muttered Katelyn.

   "Vanessa?"

   "Yes, Mum." But with clear irritation in her tone.

   Margaret and Heather chatted for a while, whilst the girls played, comparatively quietly, with the Lego that was kept at their grandmother's, for their benefit. Barely acknowledging Caroline, as per usual.

   Superfluous. That was how Caro felt, in that family. She didn't even attempt to tell them about the publication of her latest novel. She'd learnt, in that respect, long ago.

   Heather was the one who provided the grandchildren. And Rupert and Lloyd were as golden as their curly hair. Twins, boys, and Margaret's youngest children. They could, naturally, do no wrong.

   Caroline couldn't help but wonder about the baby her mother, and then-stepfather, had forced her to abort. Maybe that would even have turned out to be twins or triplets. Quadruplets - who knew?

   Caro had been fifteen, and the pregnancy had occurred as the result of a brutal rape. A stranger rape in an alleyway, the type that apparently rarely happened. But such attacks did occur, and it had happened to Caroline, in all its horror.

   And she had been placed upon the family scrapheap, ever since. But, at a certain point, Caro had to draw the line. She had to.

   Picture perfect, that was her family. On the outside. 

   And Caro was no longer a part of that perfect picture. Like so many other families, they were fragmented. Broken. She was estranged now, and had been for several years. Part of her family's history. A page ripped unceremoniously out of the family album: one that nobody, apparently, even remembered to miss any more.