A Locket of Memories

by Sarah Hope

  The rest of us troop into the living room, Charlie almost bouncing off the walls with excitement.

  ‘What is it? What is it?’

  ‘Calm down Charlie, give Mrs Reynolds a chance.’ I’m glad he doesn’t stop though; it’s lovely to see his enthusiasm for everything.

  We both watch as Mrs Reynolds unveils a beautiful white wedding dress.

  ‘Wow, that’s lovely. The detail is gorgeous.’

  ‘It was my mother’s.’

  ‘Careful Charlie, don’t put your dirty paws all over it. Thank you so much, but he can’t possibly take this to show at school. It might get ruined.’

  ‘Don’t be silly dear. It’s been sat in my wardrobe for forty odd years doing nothing but gathering dust. It’ll be good for it to see a bit of light and if something happens to it then so be it. It’s not as if I’m ever going to wear it.’

  ‘Really? Really Mum? Can I take it? Can I?’

  ‘Well, if you really are sure? I’d hate anything to happen to it.’

  ‘Wow! That’s gorgeous. Is that yours Mrs Reynolds?’ Mandy, having finished tidying the kitchen for me, joins us.

  ‘It was my mother’s wedding dress.’

  ‘Wow, it’s great. Could I wear to the prom next year? Please?’

  ‘Mandy, you can’t ask a thing like that.’

  ‘No, that’s fine Lynette. Yes of course you can love.’

  ‘No really. Mandy that was really rude of you, to put Mrs Reynolds on the spot like that.’

  ‘Honestly nothing would make me happier than to see it put to good use. My mother would have liked it to be worn, not holed up in my wardrobe.’

  ‘Ah bril. Thanks, I’ll be the envy of everyone. I’m going upstairs to call Kayleigh and tell her.’

  Smiling, I thank Mrs Reynolds again. I think she knows I’m not really just thanking her for saying she’ll let Mandy borrow the dress, but for the fact that I’ve not seen Mandy this happy about anything since Ste left.

  Once Mrs Reynolds has packed the dress away and Charlie is glued to the TV with a cup of warm milk, hopefully calming him down before bedtime, we retreat into the kitchen for a quiet cup of tea.

  ‘Lynette, please don’t think I’m interfering, but I think you should go and see your mum.’

  I stop pouring the milk and look round at Mrs Reynolds sat at the kitchen table.

  ‘I know you’ve been putting it on hold, telling her about your split with Ste, but I think it’s time to tell her now.’

  Nodding, I carry the cups to the table.

  ‘Yes, I know you’re right. I’ve not wanted to tell her because I don’t want to put any unnecessary stress on her, and to be honest, I kept thinking I’d got it wrong or that he’d come back or something.’ Looking down I know how silly I sound, ‘But I know that it really is over now, that he’s definitely not coming back. So I guess I’ll have to tell her.’

  ‘Why don’t you go tonight? I can look after the children.’

  By the determined look in her eyes I know she’s not going to take no for an answer and I know she’s right too. Mum deserves to know. She’d want to know what I was going through. It’s only half six, visiting doesn’t finish until eight for family members. I’ll go along and if she’s lucid I’ll tell her. I just hope it won’t upset her too much. But Mrs Reynolds is right she does need to know.

  With instructions given to Charlie to get himself to bed at half seven and not to play Mrs Reynolds up, I arrive at Mum’s care home twenty minutes later. I can feel a headache coming on, I really don’t want to tell Mum. I don’t want to let her down. I know one of her main comforts is knowing that me and the kids are okay and looked after. I don’t know what it’ll do to her to when I tell her that we’re on our own.

  Betty pushes Mum’s door open for me and ushers me in. I told her what I was planning on telling Mum, I thought it only fair on her and Mum that everyone knew the situation. If Mum is a bit out of sorts or the news affects her in any way I want her to have the support around her instead of her carers not knowing why she is upset. Betty, bless her, was lovely, she sat me down in the office and assured me I was doing the right thing in telling Mum. She also told me that Mum had had quite a good day today and that when she had taken in her supper a few minutes ago Mum had been lucid.

  ‘Good luck, you know where I am if you need me.’

  Smiling back at her I assure her I’ll be fine.

  ‘Lynette, dear. This is quite late for a visit isn’t it? What do I owe the pleasure?’ Mum’s creased face smiles up at me from her seat by the window. I feel worse knowing she’s in a good mood and that I’m going to ruin it for her.

  ‘There’s no need to loiter in the doorway, come over here and join me by the window, dear, it’s a lovely evening.’

  Taking a deep breath I go over and take the seat opposite.

  ‘Lynette, what’s happened? What’s the matter? Are the kids okay? Are you okay?’

  ‘Mum,’ Stupid tears, why do my eyes well up now? ‘I’ve got to tell you something.’

  ‘Okay my love, I’m listening.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘For letting you down. For having to tell you this when I know you’re going to be upset.’

  ‘Get on with it Lynny. You’re worrying me now.’ Leaning forward she puts her hand on my knee, which I didn’t realise until now was shaking.

  ‘Ste’s left me. He’s been seeing someone else behind my back. She’s pregnant. He’s living with her.’ Crap, I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that.

  Waiting for what feels like ages, Mum just sits there. Oh no, have I shocked her into some sort of regression? Can dementia work like that? I didn’t think so, but maybe it does.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Sorry dear. I’m just thinking how best to word this without offending you. But I can’t so I’ll just come out with it.’

  ‘Oh right, go on then.’ She is disappointed in me. Hurriedly I wipe the tears off my cheeks and straighten my back ready for her disappointment.

  ‘Good. He was never good enough for you. I always thought it would end. Don’t get me wrong I’m disappointed it’s ended this way. Not disappointed in you, dear, but disappointed for you. Disappointed it’s taken this long for you to see his true colours.’

  ‘What? Do you mean you think I deserve it?’

  ‘Gosh, no not at all. But you do deserve a decent chap in your life. One who’s going to put you first, not his job or his mates. Now, start from the beginning. Tell your old ma all about it.’

  So I do. I tell Mum everything. From him telling me he doesn’t love me, to moving out. Me finding the bank statements showing that he was paying another mortgage. I tell her all about how he and his tart turned up to pick the kids up and how he pranced around showing off her pregnancy. I tell her how I’d put two and two together and realised he was sleeping with her way before he left me.

  I leave out the bit about Mandy ending up in hospital, that would just worry her too much, and obviously I leave out the part about him blaming Mum in some warped way for our marriage breakdown.

  It feels good letting it all out. The only other people I’ve told everything to is Enid and Rachel, but it’s not the same as telling Mum. At some point she stands up in front of me and takes me in her arms so that when I’ve finished telling her everything I find myself hanging on to her for dear life. The way only a mother and child can.

  Leaving the home, I feel a whole lot lighter. I never realised how little Mum thought of Ste and it comforts me to know that not everyone likes him. I know it sounds daft, but with his job, everyone automatically thinks Ste is some great, caring person who can do no wrong.

  I’ve blamed myself for lots of things in our relationship and to be honest in most of the breakdown of our marriage too. Even though it was him who had the affair. Him who got tart pregnant and him who lied, played deceitful games and drove both me and Mandy to drink, I still blamed myself. I thought I
must be the root cause of it all because of what a nice person everyone thought he was. But now I see that not everyone brought into his camouflage. Mum saw through it and saw what he’s really like and others must have too. I just wish I had sooner to save me and the kids so much heartache.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Enid

  I stretch my legs out from under the table in front of me. Nearing the end of my pregnancy my feet have become painfully swollen and sitting down like this on a hard kitchen chair digging into the backs of my knees only makes it worse.

  ‘What are you playing at girl?’ I get the usual tuts from my ever sympathetic grandmother.

  ‘It’s just my legs...’

  ‘I don’t want to know. You chose to get pregnant, you can live with the consequences and pregnancy niggles quietly. You’ll get no sympathy from me. Now get back to that silver.’

  Getting back to the boring task of polishing the silver, not that anyone ever visits so I can’t really see the point in polishing the silly trinkets twice a week but never mind, I decide not to correct her on the fact that actually, I didn’t choose to get pregnant. I’m glad I did though. My baby is the only bit of Albert I have left and it comforts me to think that one day I’ll be able to introduce Betty and her parents to him or her and they’ll be ever grateful to me for bringing this baby into the world, for keeping a part of Albert alive.

  I can’t believe how quickly my baby has grown. He or she will be ready to come out and meet me soon. I have roughly worked out I have about three weeks left until I give birth. Which is both scary and exciting. It also means that Mum will be here any time now to collect me so we can start our new lives. Feeling my baby kicking and squirming inside me constantly reminds me why I need to be so patient.

  I can’t wait to see her again, I miss her so much. She’ll be so surprised to see how much my bump has grown since she saw me last.

  Suddenly the clatter of the gate out front makes us both look up in surprise.

  ‘Stay here and don’t show your face.’

  Just as Grandmother barks at me and goes to heave herself out of her chair, the front door swings open with such a force that it ricochets off the wall opposite and slams itself shut. Staring at each other in fright we hear a thud against the hall wall as though someone has stumbled.

  ‘Bloody mat.’

  ‘Father?’ The word comes out in a whisper and I back away towards the back door leading to the yard as he comes crashing into the room, bringing with him the thick atmosphere of stale ale and whiskey. Almost gagging on the fumes radiating from him I stand stock still. Slumping against the kitchen wall he slithers down to land in a heap on the floor.

  ‘Bob? Bob? Whatever’s happened to you?’

  Grandmother rushes over to help him but all I can do is stare. I take in his ripped work uniform, buttons missing, leaving it gaping at the neckline. I take in the congealed blood around his nose and the scratch marks at his neck and on his wrists.

  What’s happened? By the look of him it’s obvious, he’s been in some sort of fight, but not the usual kerfuffle he gets himself into down the pub. After those he normally comes home with black eyes. No, this is different, and it’s only three o’clock. Why has he been drinking this much at this time of the day? And why is he not at work?

  ‘Didn’t know where to come. Did anyone see me come in? You gotta hide me Mother.’ I have to listen really carefully to his mumbles; his voice is so thick with drink.

  ‘I don’t know. What’s brought you here? Why do you need to hide? From whom?’

  It occurs to me that I’ve never seen Grandmother looking flustered before and it really doesn’t suit her, already her hair has started to detangle itself from its ridiculously tight bun, her voice has become about ten notches higher and she’s not even done anything apart from go to Father’s side.

  ‘Let’s sort you out. Enid, get that glass bowl from the cupboard and fill it with warm water. I’ll need a flannel too.’ She indicates the cupboard and looks back at Father. ‘Let’s get you sitting up at the table and clean you up. Okay, no need to push me away. We’ll clean you up here. Hurry up girl. This blood has congealed enough.’

  Forcing myself to move I follow Grandmother’s instructions. After filling the bowl up with water from the kettle on the range, I bend down and place it on the floor next to Father, being careful not to get too close to him. He’s in a right royal state still shouting about, asking if anyone has seen him coming in. Maybe he means Mum. Maybe Mum has come to fetch me. Yes, that must be it. They must have come together. Maybe Father got into a fight on the train and he ran on ahead to get here. I bet he’s worried that Mum’s got lost.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ It’s time, I bet Mum told Father she wanted to visit me. We can wait until Grandmother and Father are asleep and then run off and get away.

  ‘Your mother is the one that did this. It’s her fault.’ Shouting he swipes the bowl of water away where it shatters on the floor, splashing hot water over his legs and Grandmother’s ankles.

  Jumping up in fright she scolds him for losing his temper.

  ‘Don’t you talk to me about temper. It was her fault. She drove me to it. She got what she deserved.’

  Got what she deserved. What does he mean by that?

  ‘What do you mean?’ I can barely whisper the question. What has he done to her? Why isn’t she here yet?

  ‘It’s all her fault, and now they’ll be after me.’ His slurring makes it hard to work out what he’s saying.

  He’s just not making any sense at all. His incessant worry over someone following him. Who? The person he had a fight with on the train? Mum? If Mum, then why does it matter if she was following him? Surely he would want her to. He wouldn’t want her getting lost and wandering around not knowing where she is. I know it doesn’t seem it, but I know he does care for her, deep down he must do. After all they got married. They must have been in love once.

  ‘Go check. Check to see if they’ve followed me. Go you stupid girl, go.’

  ‘What does he mean?’

  ‘I don’t know Enid, just do as he says and go and look out of the front door. Alright Bill, stop shouting she’s going to check.’

  Shuffling to the front door, I still don’t know who I’m supposed to be looking for. Pulling the front door open and looking down the lane I don’t see anyone.

  Silly man, what’s he on about? It’s probably the drink, he’s probably hallucinating. It wouldn’t be the first time. Taking a deep breath of fresh air before I go back into the cottage, now thick with the stench of drink, I look one last time. No one.

  Yuk, I didn’t notice on the way out, but what’s that on the wall? It’s blood. It’s everywhere. Where’s it come from? Obviously my father but the scratches didn’t look that deep, he can’t be bleeding that much. Not unless he has another injury, a deeper cut somewhere.

  Getting back to the kitchen Father is still slumped in the same position against the wall. This time I look carefully to see where he is bleeding from. His shirt is bloodstained, patches from where his scratches have rubbed along the collar and button holes where his shirt is torn. Further down I notice his shirt is sticking to his stomach, drenched in blood. Gasping, I whisper to Grandmother and point to his stomach. Maybe he’s been stabbed. Maybe that’s why he’s hallucinating. How rubbish do I feel now? Immediately thinking the worst of him, what a bad daughter I am. Father’s right I am bad.

  Watching, I see Grandmother trying to unbutton his shirt.

  ‘Get off me Mother. Leave me be.’ He pushes her hands roughly out of the way.

  ‘Bill you’re hurt let me just see.’ She perseveres, managing to undo one of his blood drenched buttons before he pushes her away again. Harder this time, so hard she loses her balance and stumbles from kneeling to an uncomfortable sitting position.

  ‘Now stop this. You’re still my boy. Don’t be too proud to let your old mother help you. I’ve got to see where this blood is coming from so I can stop it
.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. It’s not my blood, Mother. Now get off me.’

  Grandmother pulls herself to standing using the edge of the table for help.

  ‘Well, whose is it then? Who have you been fighting with this time? I hope it’s not anyone from around here. I don’t want to be the subject of gossip.’

  ‘I told you. I’ve already told you. But it wasn’t my fault. It was hers. She pushed me to it.’

  Hers? Mum. He’s on about Mum again.

  ‘What have you done to her?’ I hardly recognise my voice. It comes out high pitched and I can feel myself panicking. He has, he must have hurt her. What if it’s her blood? ‘Is she okay? Have you left her with someone? Is she still at home? Is she okay? Is she?’

  ‘She deserved it.’

  ‘Deserved what? She never deserves anything that you do to her, what you put her through.’

  He shifts his body, his eyes locking sight with mine. And that’s when I see it. The fear. The regret. I’ve never seen anything so clearly in his eyes before.

  ‘What have you done?’

  He doesn’t have to answer. I can hear what he is trying to tell us without him having to say a word. Mum. Time freezes as I try to understand what he’s trying to tell me.

  ‘You haven’t...?’

  Of course I already know the answer, I don’t need his nod.

  ‘No, no you haven’t. You can’t have. She’s okay. She must be. You can’t have.’ The hoarse whisper of denial escapes my throat.

  ‘What? What have you done Bill? Where is she? What’s going on?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to. She came at me. I didn’t mean any of it. She hit her head. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. Where to come.’

  Standing stock still, my feet frozen to the spot, I listen to the unworldly scream of desperation and pure anger until what feels like hours later I realise it’s coming from me.

  Mum, not Mum. Not my mum. Mum. Falling back I grab hold of the chair behind me, saving myself from falling.

  ‘Stop it Enid, stop it. Someone will hear, you silly girl.’ I hardly feel the sharp slap across my face as Grandmother tries to shock me into silence. Looking her in the face I can see she’s just as shocked as me, but I can also see a determined steely look in her eyes that tells me she’ll do anything to protect her only son from the law. How can she? How can he? How can he have done this?