Mum
Oi, whiskers! Who do you belong to? Emily paused, gazing down at the large ginger tomcat perched at her doorway.
Naturally, the cat didnt answer. In fact, he didnt even so much as bat an eyelid at Emilys arrival. He remained perfectly still, except for a twitch of his ragged ear as if to say: Yeah, yeah, I hear you! But don’t expect me to say a word!
Well, fine then! Emily sniffed indignantly and rummaged in her bag for her keys.
The cat, as if he understood what she was up to, shuffled slightly along the doormat, not budging but keeping her in his amber gaze.
Finally, her keys surfaced, and Emily began fussing with the lock, stealing glances at her uninvited guest.
She and her husband had bought this little flat just a couple of months back. It was tiny, two rooms, nothing extravagant but to them, it was the stuff of dreams. Some would tut that you shouldnt settle for a pokey place in an ancient five-storey building, and should aim higher. Well! Perhaps thats true. But Emily and Tom would only laugh in the face of anyone who said so. Barely half a year ago, even their wildest hopes hadnt included their own place. Theyd been squashed in Granddads box room in a draughty shared house, and were already delighted just to manage on their own.
Emily, just please dont fall out with the neighbours! Toms mum, Margaret, helped her scrub the place before the wedding. Theyre good sorts, you know. Even if they do like their drink.
Oh yes? What exactly is good about an alcoholic? Emily made a face, wrung out her cloth and tucked a wild blonde curl behind her ear.
Her unruly mane delighted Tom, but for her, it was a daily battle. Especially when cleaning. No matter how she tried to wrench her curls into submission, they always wriggled free of any pin and puffed round her face like a dandelion gone mad.
Its complicated, Toms mother, Margaret, shook her head. Lifes been hard on them; not everyone copes well with their burdens.
Emily understood that. Orphaned, raised by a foster family who dropped her the moment she turned eighteen, she knew all about people feeling sorry for themselves, conveniently forgetting those who depended on them.
Her mother had abandoned her at a railway station, barely three years old, with a note in her coat pocket and a one-eared bunny. Emily sat as instructed on a bench in the waiting hall, clutching that battered bunny, whimpering quietly for her mother to return, wriggling because she needed the toilet but she knew if she moved, Mum would be very cross, maybe even hit her. So she fidgeted and searched the hall for her mothers face.
But Mum never came back. Instead, a big man in a navy uniform arrived. He asked something, but Emily shook her head fiercely, refusing to answer. The tears had run dry; she was cold, hungry, and couldnt understand a word. Only when the man tweaked the bunnys ear and asked:
Whats your rabbits name?
Did she thaw a little, look up and whisper:
Benny
He stroked Benny, then her head, and murmured:
Was it a long time ago your mum left?
That was when Emily broke down. She howled so hard that the flustered officer radioed for backup, frightening not just himself but the whole crowd of people waiting for their trains, none of whom had noticed the child sat alone for hours.
Years later, Emily found out why her mother did it. Just before leaving school, a strange woman stopped her by the gates, arms outstretched, wailing:
My darling, Ive found you! Come here, give me a hug! I missed you so much!
By then, Emily was living with another foster family, six kids crammed together, all cared for in that peculiar, pragmatic way where there was food, warmth, after-school clubs, and the firm knowledge that as soon as you hit eighteen, youd move on for new children to fill your place.
Though shed never shared closeness with her foster parents, who preached that affection and love were unnecessary when there was duty and care, Emily didnt go running towards the woman crying out for her.
Though, truth be told, she ached to do so. To finally have what shed imagined in the dark, when everything was still, her old bunny tucked under her arma battered, one-eared survivor but still family. It just didnt seem fair that a childs only kin should be a threadbare stuffed rabbit.
Of course, Emily often dreamed about her mum. That someday her mum would come back, scoop her up, and love herhowever that looked. Emily wasnt sure how, but from watching friends, she saw it did happen for others.
Yet when her mum finally appeared, sobbing, arms wide, Emily didnt believe those tears. Grownups said she was far too young to remember that station benchbut Emily never argued anymore. Let them think what they liked. She just tucked the memory away. Not in detailmore scraps, echoing soundsbut she knew, absolutely, there had been a station. Crowded, noisy, frightening. And shed been left there.
One of her sisters, Natalie, also in her class at school, intervened as Emily shrank away from the stranger trying to embrace her.
Em, whos that? Natalie stepped in front of her, arms crossed.
I dont know The world was whirling. Emilys head spun fiercely; thoughts stampeded, impossible to catch, impossible to quiet.
Lady, youve got the wrong girl! said Natalie. Thats my sister. Leave her be. She grabbed Emilys hand, dragged her off the playground. Ill tell Mum about this! Go away!
Emily, whose relationship with Natalie was lets say prickly at best, squeezed her hand. That day, they went home still hand-in-hand and when the foster mother shot them a puzzled glance, they shrugged in unison:
What?
From that day, Emily had a sister.
Nataliewhose only real difference from Emily was that her father, not her mother, had left herwanted a real bond with someone, too.
Emily did meet her mother again, a week later. Shed started appearing outside the school but stopped lunging for hugsshe just pleaded:
Talk to me, darling!
But that darling grated on Emilys nerves, though Natalie only shrugged.
Let her. Its just a word.
It was Natalie who said Emily should talk to her mother, find out why.
You cant lose anything. And maybe youll stop blaming yourself.
How do you know I do that? Emily gaped.
Isnt it obvious? We all do. Wondering what was so wrong with us that we got left behind.
You do?
Yup.
You never said.
Nor did you. You keep it quiet, Em, and cry. I cry about it, sometimes, but Ill stop soon enough. Time to grow up.
Talking to her mother didnt bring much closure.
You left me.
Forgive me, darling!
Dont call me that! Its infuriating!
Alright, alright! I wont! Just dont be angry!
Why did you?
It was hard, you know. No help, no support. Your dad threw me out.
Why?
I told him you werent his.
Is that true?
No.
Then why lie?
I was furious. We argued all the time. We were young and stupid. Broke up
Then what?
Then I fell out with my mum and decided to leave. But where could I go with a child? So I left you, but with a note saying Id be back
And you thought the note was enough?
I did wrong, I know If you let me fix it
What can you fix? The years I lived without you? Im sorry, but youre odd. I dont want you coming back!
You wont forgive me?
I dont know. Maybe someday. But even if I do forgive, I cant forget. Not ever. Dont you see?
But whats there to forget? You were just a baby, you cant remember!
At that, Emily got up and left. That day she decided no one else would ever tell her what she could or couldnt do.
Natalie understood.
Its your choice. If it feels right, do it, and dont regret it. Move on!
Youre so wise, Nat
Not yet. But I will be. I want to learn.
What will you be?
A psychologist, maybe. Then Ill figure out whats right.
Later, theyd laugh about thatyears after, when Natalie had married and become mum herself.
Rubbish, all that! No one knows whats right. Not you, not me, not a soul on earth.
Then what, Nat?
Have fun! Live so your loved ones feel warm and safe, and outsiders cant find the drama of a soap opera in your life.
Youre doing okay at that.
I try! Natalie would laugh, expertly tucking in her tiny daughter.
Watching Natalie, Emily slowly began coping with her problems differently.
So what if it was a single room in a shared house? At least it was central, close to work. A bit of DIY, and life was almost wonderful! Margaret was rightthe neighbours were decent, even if they drank to forget after losing their daughter. They didnt bring trouble home, and you had to know how to feel sympathy.
That truth took years to settle for Emily. She wasnt used to sympathyexcept from Natalie, no one ever pitied her.
It was Margaret and Granddad who taught her.
Margaret, a woman of action, stubborn but warm and endlessly energetic, counted taking Emily in as a triumph. Natalie said so.
Dont expect too much, Em, Natalie prepped her the first time she met Toms family. Youre not exactly a prize catch. Orphan, with nothing of your own. Council never gave you a place.
But I got on the housing list!
Know your number? Dont argue. Youll get a flat when pigs fly. I wouldnt hold my breath.
Why, though?
Where its promised, thats where it gets buried. You know how things go. Forget it. Keep your hopes soft, dont tell your new in-laws about dreams. No need.
Why?
When you get something, brag then. Not before.
Oh, thats all
Yep! And dont expect much, but dont bristle up either.
You think Im clueless?
No, just sayingyou cant know someone straight away. Keep your eyes open. Give her time, let her give you time. She doesnt owe you anything just because Tom chose you.
That, Emily did understand.
At first, Margaret put her off. Too loud, too big, too eager to make everyones life better. Emily, used to nobody caring, didnt know what to do with Toms mothers relentless goodwill.
Emily, I need a new coat. Mines threadbare. Will you help?
How?
Come down to Marks with me? Help me pick one out? Id ask Tom, but he hates shopping. I always grab the first lump of fabric I see and dash out. And for a woman my size its hard to find clothes. Will you?
Emily would give in, then emerge baffled, loaded with bags from which only a couple belonged to Margaret; the rest, Emilys own new coat, dream boots, or bagitems that Margaret had silently spotted her admiring.
What do you think? Lovely colour, right? Wouldnt suit me, but fits you! Come on, try it!
Complaining was useless. Emily would unpack the bags, silently thankful for this odd lady.
No doubtMargaret was odd.
Who was Emily to her, really? Just the outsider her son brought home. To care for her, much less love herwell, that only happens in fairy tales. So when Margaret tried to talk heart-to-heart, Emily bristled. Polite, grateful, but wary.
Margaret, for her part, seemed to understand this, and stopped pushing for intimacy. She accepted Emilys wish for independence without fuss.
Granddads not getting younger. He needs more care. Tom, give him your room.
Mum, where do we go?
To Granddads. Swap. You youngsters should manage alone now, and Granddadll be close by.
Granddad, moustache twitching, would nod. After moving, he roused his daughter on Sundays:
Up you get, lazybones! Time for a run!
Margaret would sigh, shuffle out of bed, and take her father out to the park, later splashing him with cold water for health.
Dad, did I do right?
Of course! Youngsters need to make their own mistakes. Dont interfere unless they ask.
But Emily She came to me nearly barefoot.
Thats different. You have every right to be motherly. But dont overdo it. Shes proudremember that.
Margaret listened. She visited the kids only when invited, rarely gave advice, always reminding herself shed been young and clueless once. Shed butted heads with her own mother-in-law until Tom was born. Caring for a tiny baby solo was a struggle. Her mother lived far off. Thats when the in-law came through: at Toms birth, she softened.
Youre his mum! her mother-in-law would say, watching Margarets hands shake over nappies. Whatre you afraid of?
What if I do something wrong? Hurt him? Hes so tiny
Stop snivelling and listen! No woman knows anything till she picks up her first baby. Everyone learns. Heres lesson number one: a mum cant do harm to her child! You carried him, didnt you?
Yes
Then hes still a part of you. Take him, feel, youll know what he needs. If youre stuck, Ill help. Still remember well enough.
Thank you
Oh, darling, thats what mums do for each other!
Tom barely remembered his grandmother or father, who died when he was little, but Margaret always reminded him:
You were loved! Gosh, you were so loved! Grandma wouldnt put you down for a second, and Dad was chuffedhe kept buying footballs, said there could never be enough.
Mum, why did it happen? Dad could drive, couldnt he?
I dont know, love. It was foggy; visibility was bad. He was driving Grandma to her sister, who was sick and lived alone. How could he say no? It was quiet, not many cars, then a lorry Well
Mum, do you miss him?
So much. If it werent for you and Granddad, I honestly dont know I loved your Dad so much.
Did he love you?
He did, I know it.
How did you know it was love, not just something else?
Something else?
Well, you know. People just get by together out of convenience.
Tom!
Mum, Im not a kid. I get it. Convenience is everything these days. Real emotion is rare. Most just want the bills shared, life made easier. Am I wrong?
I dont know, son. Maybe Im old-fashioned. For me, living with someone is about more than sharing expenses. Do you think the same?
No, Mum. I want it like you and Dad. To love, to marry for love, not just because its right or we had an accident, but because I want to share my life. I want to be loved.
You will, sweetheart! Just dont rush. Youll meet the right girl, you see!
I hope so, Mum
Perhaps thats why, when Emily entered their home, Margaret didnt object. If her son chose this girl, she decided, shed better get used to it.
It was only hard with Emily at first. Over time, the prickles she wore as armour dropped away, her glances at Margaret changedalmost trustful.
Granddads suggestion to sell the room upset Emily a little.
Whats wrong, love? Granddad shuffled through papers, Emily helping. Worried youll have nowhere to live?
No! Well figure something out. Were grown-up. We can rent a room, or a flat if we can afford it. Toms just started a new job, so its hard to say what well have to spare. My wage would just about get us another box room.
Whats wrong with that?
Nothing, really! If I had the money, Id ask to buy it from you! But its just a daydream. Itll be years before we can afford our own place. But were saving, tiny bits, but it helps. Natalie says even a few quid saved helps you feel a bit more secure about the future. Shes right! Well get there, in time.
Good for you, my girl! Granddad beamed.
Did I say something daft?
Granddad didnt answer, just patted her cheek.
Lets have some tea and a natter. Im old, after all. All thats left is tea and a bit of gossip. Is Margaret bothering you?
Oh, not at all! Shes never been anything but lovely!
Good, good! Look at you, all flustered! Calm down.
Why do you say that?
Well, shes your mother-in-law!
So?
Come off it! Isnt she supposed to eat you alive? Or is that just what people say?
All nonsense! Maybe some grannies nibble, but not mine! You know that!
I do. And I know Margaret thinks the world of you. Dont push her away. Let her get close. Shes got a soft heart.
I dont want pity!
Why not?
Its wrong! Isnt it?
Depends what you mean by pity. In Old English, to pity meant to care for. If someones ill, do they need lovewith kisses and moonlit serenades? Or comfort?
Probably comfort.
Exactly! And when someones heart aches?
They want to be comforted?
Clever thing! But remember, not everyone wants or needs it.
How do you mean?
Well, if your husbands a drunk and you pity him for years, it wont do anyone any good. Or if your kid messes about and you never discipline him out of pityagain, it doesnt help. Pity with wisdom, Emily, thats what matters.
I do care about you, though
I know! And I appreciate it! Because you dont care for me just because Im old, you like me, eh?
I do!
Grand! Because I care for you too!
Thank you But who should you care for, really?
The people your heart points to. Family, friends, your husband, your children animals too, if youre wise! No point in chucking a sausage at a stray cat once and feeling proud. Want to care? Bring it home. Give it shelter. Thats something realand itll do you good.
Why?
Always does! Where you give with sense, youll get more in return.
And now, standing at her new flats doormat, Emily was remembering this. The ginger tom, found at their door thanks to the help from Granddad and Margaret, seemed just as in need of care. He didnt flinch from her touch, allowed her to stroke him. But when she beckoned him in, the cat, oddly, darted up the stairs, leaving her puzzled.
Well, arent you the little lord fauntleroy Emily muttered as she nearly closed the door, when the ginger cat reappeared.
And he wasnt alone.
The kitten in his jaws was an exact, miniature version of its father.
Blimey! Emily scooped the mewling fluffball into her hands as ginger ran up the stairs again.
The second kitten, equally ginger but much livelier, refused to be carried. Emily laughed as the tom dropped him on the steps over and over, yet wouldnt give up trying to bring him to her.
Honestly! Youre a real mum, arent you! she took the kitten from her Mr Tom and flung the door wide. In you come! Anyone else out there?
The cat gingerly stepped inside, forever glancing back at Emily, who cuddled the kittens.
Go on, its fine! Nobodys going to hurt you. Wheres Mum-cat then?
He certainly didnt reply. He grabbed one kitten and scurried about the hall.
Oh, hang on! Silly me! Wait!
He sat patiently while she fetched an old tray, placed the kitten on it and showed him the makeshift litter box.
You really are a proper mum! Emily laughed, clapping a hand to her mouth so as not to startle the kittens. Sorry! Ill see what Ive got in the fridge to feed you.
The cats attitude suggested the idea was more than welcome, so Emily headed to the kitchen.
That evening, she called a family meeting.
Margaret, if you say no, Ill try to find them homes. But Im not putting them back out. Theyre only babies. I dont know where their real mum is, and its odd that its the father caring for them.
Emily, Im not sure why youre asking me. Margaret stroked the kitten on her lap with a smile. Its your and Toms flat. You decide who can live here. Why are you looking at me like that? You understand. You go ahead! So, tell me, what did you feed them?
Milk. Luckily theyve learned to lap already.
Ill take this cheeky one once hes grown. As for the others
Ill find a home for one, but I think Ill keep Mr Tom. Maybe Ill even learn something from him.
Learn what, may I ask? Margaret arched a brow.
Tom smiled, nodded at his wife, and left Emily to announce what theyd secretly held in for a week, awaiting Margarets birthday.
How to be a good mum Now Ill have two teachers. You, and this whiskery nurse.
Emily tweaked the cats ear. And for the first time, she burst into tearsright therewhen Margaret hugged her tight.
