Memories of May

by Juliet Madison

  But maybe by discovering more about her grandma’s life, she could also, in the process, discover more about herself. Maybe she had more in common with May than she realised. Maybe she could learn a few things that would help her in her own life, to take a few risks and create something of her own.

  She’d already decided she would do the course, she just needed to book and pay, and of course make sure that her mother could mind Mia every Tuesday for the next six weeks. And possibly some extra times for when she needed to talk with her grandma and take notes for the book, which could become time consuming depending on her grandma’s energy levels and memory. It could be a challenge for her mum, as she already helped out a lot, and she knew her mother needed time for her own life too, especially now she had a new boyfriend. But to entice her even further into becoming a student, Joel had offered some extra mentoring, free of charge, every Friday over lunch, so long as she tried something different from the menu each time.

  She’d joked that he should be a salesperson. He’d told her how he used to be one in the past, before he swapped his expensive clothes for expensive camping gear and hiking equipment.

  ‘So I’ll travel with her to the nursing home tomorrow,’ Diana Chevalier said to Olivia as she opened the car door for Mia after visiting Mrs May. ‘Then perhaps you two can come over in the afternoon after she’s had a rest, and bring some knick-knacks to help her settle in, and help me make her feel more at home.’

  ‘Sure. Marcus is fine to close up shop, so I’ll leave at about two and collect Mia from Hannah’s house. I’ll need to duck home first to take the washing off the line in case it rains later, according to the forecast.’

  Diana nodded. Parenthood was mostly about planning and logistics, Olivia had learned. Spontaneity had disappeared long ago, along with her freedom.

  Before they opened their own car doors, Olivia said, ‘Mum?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’d like to do a course on Tuesday nights. To help me write Grandma’s life story.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It goes for six weeks, but I’d need you to collect Mia from school and give her dinner and put her to bed, and I’ll have to eat too, but you might not have time to do the whole shebang, so I’ll probably just grab takeaway.’ A million logistical thoughts ran through her mind. She’d have to finish work on time, hopefully have time for a quick shower, eat, then get to class. Then she’d have to make Mia’s school lunch and iron her uniform for the next day, although it was probably time her daughter started doing that for herself; the making lunch part, not the ironing.

  ‘Tuesday?’ Diana replied. ‘That’s one of Peter’s rare nights off from the gym, do they have the class on any other night? But not Wednesdays, because that’s the only night they do the dance fitness class, and you know I adore that one.’

  Olivia tensed at the resistance. She got it every time her mother’s carefully planned schedule was tested. ‘It’s Tuesdays or Wednesdays, but I think the Wednesday is full.’

  ‘Drat,’ she said.

  ‘If it’s too inconvenient, I could look into a professional babysitter, though you know how Mia would feel about that, with her being almost ten, and—’

  ‘No, no, it’s okay. If you need me, I can do it. I guess Peter will just have to get used to the fact that I am also a grandmother and not just a fun-loving health-crazed older woman who’s always up for a fun night, in or out of the gym.’

  ‘Mum, too much information, please.’ Olivia diverted her gaze from her mother’s slim figure encased in body-hugging lycra, the top half of her butterfly tattoo peeking out from the skin above her left breast; the result of a supposed mid-life crisis—or celebration—just after Mia had started school and her babysitting duties were no longer as intensive.

  ‘What? I didn’t say what type of fun, just fun. Anyway, are you sure you want to do this course? I mean, it would be a lot of work, writing this book, and you could spend the extra time with Grandma rather than at a computer or in a class.’

  ‘But that’s the thing, I want to do it while she’s still here, there are questions I need to ask her, gaps that need filling in, so I can do her story justice. It’s now or never.’

  Olivia glanced at Mia who, oblivious to their conversation outside the car, had her EarPods in and was bobbing her head up and down to music. Yep, time was flying. Soon, she’d be the one in body-hugging outfits and probably getting piercings and dying her hair and maybe even getting tattoos. Olivia shook the thoughts away. When she glanced back at her mother, she was looking at the ground and fiddling with her necklace.

  ‘Mum?’

  Diana glanced up to meet her daughter’s gaze, but her eyes were glossy in the moonlight.

  ‘Mum?’ Olivia walked around to the other side of the car and placed her hands on her mother’s. ‘Is Tuesday really a problem? I know you want your new relationship to get off to a good start, you deserve some happiness. And it’s okay, I’ll manage somehow, I’ll look up babysitters tomorrow and—’

  ‘No, I’ll look after Mia,’ she said. Her bottom lip trembled. ‘It’s just …’ She let out a long exhalation and fanned her face with her hands. ‘It’s your grandma. My mum. And what writing this book means.’ She glanced up at the sky. ‘I’m not ready to let her go yet.’

  Olivia’s heart shook, and she felt the same. She had been so focused on her own reaction and Mia’s to her grandma’s ailing health, she hadn’t even realised that for her mother, it would be even harder. ‘Oh, Mum. I’m sorry.’ She wrapped her arms around her and they shared a sniffle. ‘I don’t want her to go either.’

  Diana pulled back and straightened up, holding her daughter’s hands firmly. ‘You go ahead and book into that course, young lady. And maybe tomorrow you can see if she’s up to answering some questions for your book. And don’t forget, I have a few stories of my own I can share from growing up.’

  A smile grew to life on Olivia’s lips and enthusiasm soared in her heart. ‘It’ll be exciting,’ she said.

  ‘It will. And if anyone can do it justice, you can.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, thank Grandma. She’s the one who created all these memories that deserve to be told and relived. Maybe we’ll even learn a few juicy secrets … who knows?’ Olivia returned to her side of the car. ‘I have a feeling we just may,’ she said with a smile, then laughed at the accidental use of her grandma’s name. They got into the car and drove home, while Mrs May was preparing to move into a new home that would be her last; but maybe they could help her create some new memories there before she turned out the light for the last time.

  Chapter 5

  ‘Oh, crap, crap crap!’ Olivia rushed out into the small backyard but it was too late. She wrenched the laundry off the clothesline and shoved it into the basket, then scurried back inside, her hair now stuck to the sides of her face. She kicked the back door shut and exhaled loudly. ‘Five minutes, that’s all I needed!’ she called out above her head, to Mother Nature or whoever gave permission for clouds to spill their load. ‘Five minutes, and I would have had them.’ She put them in the clothes dryer and turned it on. They would probably end up with rain smell but she had no clean and dry towels, so as long as she had one that would do for tonight’s shower it was no big deal.

  She quickly ate a banana then got in the car and headed towards her daughter’s friend’s house. The rain intensified, and she cursed it again. When she got to the driveway, she rummaged in the back of the car and grabbed the only umbrella she could find—a small plastic one with a pink ballerina on it.

  ‘Hi, I was going to bring Mia out for you when I saw something pink racing towards the house!’ Hannah’s mother, Rachel, said, as she opened the door with a much larger and much less pink (black) umbrella in her hand when Olivia arrived.

  ‘Ha, not to worry, here now. Thanks for having her again.’

  ‘No problem, she’s such a delight. Although …’ Olivia’s nerves tightened as Rachel turned to
Hannah and said, ‘Honey, don’t forget to go get Mia some of those cookies we baked so she can take them home.’

  The children dashed off around the corner, and Rachel leaned closer and whispered in Olivia’s ear. ‘She mentioned something to Hannah about people who have died and have special vision powers? Like they might be able to see us even though we can’t see them. I think it spooked her a bit.’

  Olivia covered her mouth and shook her head. ‘Oh, no, I’m sorry.’ She glanced sideways to check the girls weren’t coming back out. ‘It’s just with her great-grandmother being ill, she’s been asking lots of questions. It’s always hard to know how to explain these things.’

  Rachel chuckled. ‘Yeah, I know the feeling. Have you had the birds and the bees talk yet?’

  Olivia’s eyelids stretched wide. ‘No. Not yet. Wait, should I have?’ From what she remembered, Mia would probably learn that stuff in school next year, so she had planned to wait till then to add her input to the standard curriculum. But she wasn’t sure how to expand on what her daughter already knew about her daddy living somewhere else because he had important stuff to do that he couldn’t do in Tarrin’s Bay, and how to explain that not all babies were made because a mummy and daddy loved each other. Some were made because of that one or two per cent gap of unreliability of modern contraception, but also because she hadn’t been thinking straight that New Year’s Eve after her boyfriend had left her, and she’d decided to find a temporary one to fill the gap for that night.

  ‘Well, we have, although I’m not sure how much of it sank in and was comprehended, we might need to do a refresher.’

  Olivia shuddered. She had enough to think of right now without adding that to the mix. ‘Maybe I’ll wait till she asks,’ Olivia said. ‘Anyway, we must be off, need to make sure Mrs May is all settled into her new room, and Mia wanted to bring her some things.’

  ‘Sure, hope she’s doing better. I mean, hope she’s …’

  Olivia waved her hand. ‘It’s okay. She’s much better, thanks. Just needs lots of monitoring and care.’

  The girls came back to the door, Mia with a bag of cookies. ‘Can we give one to Mrs May?’ Her wide eyes beamed as bright as her smile.

  ‘Maybe,’ Olivia replied. ‘I’m not sure what she is or isn’t able to eat at the moment, we’ll have to check with the nurses.’

  Rachel put Mia under her black umbrella and walked her out, so that Olivia could use the pink umbrella on her own, and they waved them goodbye and drove off.

  ‘Did you bring the teddy bear for Mrs May?’ Mia asked, looking around the car.

  ‘Oops!’ Olivia did a U-turn and drove back home, picked up the small teddy bear, got back in the car, then drove towards the nursing home.

  When they finally arrived, there was a strange sense of calm inside the building, like everything was moving in slow motion. They found Mrs May’s room and stepped tentatively inside. ‘Grandma?’

  She was lying back in bed, but her head was raised from the pillow and she was trying to find something, lifting the covers as much as she could with her muscle weakness.

  ‘Mum, there’s nothing under there. There’s no letter,’ Diana said.

  ‘But I could have sworn it was here.’ Mrs May sighed and rested her head back in apparent exhaustion.

  Olivia glanced at her mother who shook her head, her eyes looking weary.

  ‘What letter?’

  ‘Shh,’ Diana mouthed discreetly.

  ‘From William. It was just here, I’m sure of it.’

  Olivia moved closer. She wanted to ask more about this mystery man but she was here to help settle her in first, not probe her for information for her book just yet. ‘Mia, do you want to give Mrs May her gift?’

  Mia bustled over to the bed with the teddy bear in her hand. ‘This is for you.’

  Mrs May’s eyes brightened. ‘For me? To keep?’

  Mia nodded and her brown ponytail bobbed up and down.

  Mrs May patted the bear’s fake fur on top of his head. ‘He’s lovely. I think I’ll call him …’

  ‘Benjamin?’ Mia suggested.

  Mrs May shook her head.

  ‘Bradley?’

  Her head shook again. ‘William.’

  ‘Oh dear God,’ Diana mumbled as she stood, then cleared her throat. ‘Mum, how about a cup of water?’ She poured some from the plastic beaker into a cup, but her grandma refused it.

  ‘I think William’s a nice name,’ said Mia. ‘William the teddy bear.’

  ‘It is a very nice name.’ Mrs May patted his head again.

  ‘He can keep you company while you rest,’ Mia said, and Olivia smiled and gently rubbed her daughter’s back.

  Her grandma held the bear close to her chest. ‘Oh, William.’

  Olivia was about to ask once and for all who he was, when Mia got in first and said, ‘Mrs May?’

  ‘Yes, dear?’

  ‘Are you afraid?’

  ‘Afraid? Of what?’

  Mia looked around as though she was about to do something naughty, then whispered, ‘Of dying?’

  ‘Mia!’ Olivia blurted, then covered her own mouth when she realised it was probably a bit too reactive.

  ‘Dying?’ Mrs May responded. ‘I used to be, but not now. Besides, more people are scared of living than they are of dying, they just don’t realise it.’

  Something twinged in Olivia’s chest at the words. She didn’t know if it was that her grandma didn’t seem afraid, or that she had a niggling feeling that her last sentence made too much sense in her own life.

  ‘How’s our newest special guest?’ a nurse said as she popped her head around the corner of the doorway.

  ‘This one here?’ said Mrs May, gesturing to Mia. ‘She is good. Such a great conversationalist.’

  Mia giggled. ‘I’m not a special guest.’

  ‘Yes you are, my dear.’

  Mia grinned and adjusted her position on the bed, fiddling with a blanket.

  ‘Sounds like all is okay at present,’ said the nurse with a smile.

  ‘Actually,’ said Diana. ‘Could I just …’ She stood and walked towards the nurse, then turned back to Olivia, her thumb pointed over her shoulder. ‘I’ll just take a quick break, if you’re okay in here for a while?’ She raised her eyebrows.

  Olivia nodded. ‘Sure.’

  As her mother exited the room, she heard her say something to the nurse about confusion and disorientation, then her voice trailed off.

  ‘How about the special guest draws a picture for Mrs May?’ Olivia sat on the chair that her mother had been on. ‘And you could listen to your music while you do it, and your great-grandmother and I can have a boring adult chat.’ She winked at her daughter and Mia hopped off the bed and sat in the chair against the wall, placing her EarPods in and extracting some paper and pencils from the bag Olivia had brought in.

  Mrs May tried to sit up straighter, looking at Mia. ‘Is that the letter?’ she asked.

  Mia tugged out her EarPods.

  ‘It’s okay, sweetie, you can put your music back on. No Grandma, it’s not the letter, Mia is drawing you a picture.’ She placed her hand on her forearm. ‘But … tell me more about this letter.’ Olivia pressed record on her phone’s audio recorder in case anything interesting came up. And if there was a medical reason for her ramblings, then she would have something to present to the doctor.

  Mrs May’s head relaxed into the pillow, the creases in the cotton radiating out like spokes on a wheel. ‘Such a nice letter.’ She smiled.

  ‘I’d love to hear more about it. It was from William, yes?’

  ‘Indeed. But I wasn’t aware of that at first. It was a secret letter, until the next one came, and the next, and then my secret admirer was revealed.’

  Olivia leaned forward. ‘Oh, so William was a secret admirer of yours back in the day?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, then breathed out an exhalation that was more like a satisfied sigh. ‘But … he was oh so much more than that.’<
br />
  This sounded like the beginning of an intriguing romance novel, and Olivia wanted to read it. ‘Tell me more,’ she said, clasping her hands together in anticipation …

  * * *

  May’s Memories, of love letters …

  Jacques Chevalier smiled at me for the first time that day, that day when everything seemed to be going wrong … I had tripped on the broken bit of flooring outside my room, bruised my knee and bumped my nose on the floor, then spilled two meals worth of soup on the kitchen floor when the heavy crockpot fell from my grasp. Mother scolded me and said I needed to be more careful, and help out more—get another job besides the sewing work I was doing for the locals. Or marry a decent man and leave the family home. So when I walked to town to buy more food supplies with money we really couldn’t spare, his smile was a welcome distraction and a light on my dreary day.

  I had smiled back of course, but in the sweet demure way that was expected of me, not the gaping wide grin I had wanted to show. But we didn’t speak, our exchange had only been through the glass filter of the window of his father’s tailor’s shop as he carried folded clothing in his hands towards the back room.

  The next day I walked into town again and we smiled at each other a second time. Which was why, the next morning when I collected the mail, I thought the love letter was from him. I continued to think that for another week, until my snooping revealed my true admirer.

  I still remember taking the letter to my room and closing the door, wondering who had written May so beautifully in ink across the front of the envelope. When I opened it and began reading, my heart fluttered …