Clemence the Insomniac Duckling - part 2

The photo developing service promises a 24-hour turn around and therefore has Mum drop her baking activities and waddle off to the city center at Willow Pond. Armed with an envelope full of memories, she returns home and, forgetting the pie in the oven, delves into chapters of ducklings, her heart aglow with that golden shine of motherhood.

She smiles at Max’s unruly quaff, at Paloma’s tendency to pose, at Deirdre inquisitive looks and Wilfred’s resemblance to his father. She takes out a pen and paper, and begins to chronicle the photos, putting down in writing the series of events and the dates at which they took place. There are 24 photos in the pack. The first series of seven date back to the science fair, and to Deirdre’s outstanding accomplishment. The next ten show the ducklings at play with the neighbour’s kids. The last six are a collection of portraits of each child at various times. She notes various detail down, such as Mona’s tendency to gain weight, making a mental note of portion sizes to serve her at dinner time. She also scribbles some suggestions for birthday cakes. But there’s one more photograph in the pack. It’s facing down, when all the others were organised upwards. She turns it over.

There she finds a frail and very young duckling. She immediately makes a note to return this photo to the shop jotting it down as a sorting mistake. But deep inside she recognizes those eyes, and the pain in her chest, the one she had lived with for seasons after the birth, is reignited. It’s a blurry photograph, but the mischief in the young duck’s eyes shines clearly through the lens.

She remembers taking this photo, back then still amused by Clemence’s wayward ways. That day, Doug and Mum had taken the kids out to learn to hunt. They’d chosen a secluded area of the pond for this exercise. They knew to watch out for Clemence’s distracted disposition and had therefore placed her at the head of the line. Wilfred had vehemently complained that he was the eldest and should therefore be at the head, but Mum and Dad hadn’t taken heed. They’d enjoyed a good day of hunting, and returned home at dusk to put the kids to bed. They’d all fallen asleep immediately, worn out by the day’s activities.

All except for Clemence. It’s at that moment that Irma had taken the photograph, eager to record her daughter’s willfulness, and amused at the growing resemblance with herself. That night Clemence had gone to sleep and Mum’s fears were abated. She could not have predicted what would happen next.