SSC (2012) Adult Onset Read Free

ultimately, author of “Young Adult” fiction. MR MacKinnon is known for her “sensitive evocations” of childhood and “uncanny portrayals” of children. Her first book,
JonKitty McRae: Journey to Otherwhere
, is about an eleven-year-old girl who discovers a twin brother in a parallel universe—in her world, Kitty has no mother, but in his, Jon has no father … It was a surprise crossover bestseller, a hit with young and “old” adults alike. The momentum carried through to the second,
JonKitty McRae: Escape from Otherwhere
. Together they are known as the Otherwhere Trilogy—although she has yet to write the third.
    “Dance, dance!”
    For another thing, unlike her mother, Mary Rose has never borne a child, much less buried one.
    Her partner, Hilary, being ten years younger, is closer to the start of her career trajectory and when they talked about having a family, Mary Rose welcomed the chance to be the woman behind the woman, no need for the spotlight anymore; like John Lennon, she was going to sit and watch the wheels go round and round. Except it turns out she has very little time to sit, nor is she a big “sitter” in any case. In that way she is like her mother: she has difficulty sitting and watching. And listening. All of which are what Hil does for a living, being a theatre director.
    So Mary Rose gardened really hard. She cooked really hard. She cleaned like a white tornado, baby on her hip till he started toddling and Maggie came along and there were suddenly two in diapers. A writer she admires has described sex as “indescribable.” The same goes for a day with two toddlers. That early period is now a blur, but Mary Rose still has the reflexes to show for it: like a war vet throwing himself over the body of a bystander at the sound of a car door slamming, she rushes in with tissues to staunch other people’s spills in cafés, and has to repress the urge to cup her hand beneath the chin of a coughing stranger. She used to think she was busy when she was all about her career, but she did not know from busy till she had children. Now her life is like a Richard Scarry book,
Mom’s Busy Day in Busy Town
.
    She never dreamt she would be married. She never expected to become a mother. She never imagined she would be a “morning person” or drive a station wagon or be capable of following printed instructions for an array of domestic contraptions that come with some-assembly-required; until now, the only thing she had ever been able to assemble was a story.
    “Dance chicken!”
    They hired a part-time nanny: Candace from northern England, a real-life hard-ass Mary Poppins. Mary Rose started yoga. Wrecked her knee doing the tree. Met other moms, went to playgroups, caught all the colds, felt shame when she failed to pack snacks and had to accept the cheerful charity of the shiny mums, preened with goodwill when she was the one with the extra rice cake or unscented baby wipe. She bought stuff for the house, she renovated the kitchen, researched appliances and didn’t waste time bargain hunting—another way in which she differs from her mother. She forged a new domestic infrastructure for their lives, All Clad all the time.
    A mere three years before Matthew was born, she was living in boozy boho twilight with erratic Renée, three to five cats and the occasional panic attack. Then, in a few blinks of an eye, she was marriedto blue-eyed striding Hil, living in a bright semi-detached corner house, other-mother to two wonderful children. It was as though she had waved a wand and presto, she had a life.
    But it was also as though she were a factory, tooled for a wartime economy. Apparently it was peacetime now, but she could not seem to find the switch to kill the turbines. Before leaving for the gig out in Winnipeg, Hilary asked if she wanted to start working again, to come out of her self-appointed retirement. Like a groundhog poking its head up out of its den, thought Mary Rose, except she’d see