Grandmother for an Hour
– Mr. Harris, please forgive me, but I need to leave work a bit early today. Would that be alright? My daughters fallen ill.
Mary placed the neat stack of papers and the meeting schedule for the next day on the desk. She had an hour left before the end of the working day, but the nursery had already called her twice, and she decided to take her chances by asking. Shed only just started at this construction firmby some miracleand considering her lack of secretarial experience and the appearance requirements in the ad, she could scarcely believe shed landed the position.
Looking at herself in the mirror before the interview, Mary grinned wryly.
– That requirement definitely wasnt meant for me.
Her old, well-cared-for cardigan still looked decent, but her skirt had certainly seen better days. Her mother had stitched it for her, painstakingly choosing the fabric and sitting at the sewing machine for hours, trying to work up the nerve for every new seam.
– Itll look just as good as one from a shop, youll see.
– Mum, its hand-made! Of course its just as good. Mary had fibbed slightly, but she knew how much her mother needed to hear such words.
There was never spare money for new clothes. Mary remembered times when her father was alive and shed had no problems with dresses, but everything changed after he was gone. Her mothers nurses wage wasnt much to live on. But they managedat least until her grandmother fell ill. Marys mother, Lydia, hadnt the best relationship with her mother-in-law. To put it mildly.
– Lydia! You dont have a clue what family loyalty means. Though, with your background, Im hardly surprised. Still, youre one of us now so youd best get used to family taking care of family.
Mary was still too young to grasp what these words meant. They sounded impressive, but she eventually realised they meant her mother sacrificed her salary and time caring for her grandmother, who accepted these offerings with regal indifference, never giving anything in return. There was a never-ending barrage of complaints and lectures.
– Mum! Why dont you say something back? Why not stand up for yourself? Mary, older now, was baffled each time she overheard another of grandmas lessons. Lydia seldom brought her along on visits, but her grandmother insisted Mary came too, so sometimes there was no alternative.
– Because, darling, I know shes wrong. And I know shes lonely and unwell. She hasnt got anyone else reallyshe fell out with her sister, and her nieces and nephews want nothing to do with her. Lydia would fold freshly ironed laundry as she spoke. And I promised your father I wouldnt abandon her. How could I break my promise?
Mary seethed at her grandmother, ready to blurt out everything she thought, but Lydia would simply hush her with a gentle glance.
– Dont, Mary. I dont take any of it to heart. Let her talk. All that matters is I know whats right, and your grandmother has everything she needs.
– She would do, regardless! Mary muttered under her breath, now old enough to see how things really were.
Shed grown wise to the fact her grandmother was no poor relationshe had a spacious flat, another one let out, a generous pension, and a solid bank account left by her late husband. Grandma wanted for nothing, really.
– Why does she keep taking your money, mum? Isnt it enough already? Mary would furiously jot numbers down in their battered old household accounts book.
– Mary! Lydia would toss down her tea towel, exasperated.
– What, mum?
– Just stop. Lydia would soften her voice. Dont become…
– Become what? Like whom?
– Doesnt matter! Just be yourself! Dont darken yourself with all that. Remember: whats hers is hers. Not ours. Never was, and likely never will be. Lydia would gently place the washed mugs in a neat line. Mary, noticing her mothers composure, would always fall silent. She couldnt manage such self-control, but she saw what it cost Lydia each time, and something in the perfect row of mugs screamed just how much.
Mary only understood what her mother truly meant when her grandmother passed away. The envelope with the will and farewell letter sat in the nightstand. Lydia, having read them, exhaled shakily, crumpled the thin sheets and tossed them aside.
– Come on. Were done here. Ive settled my debt.
Mary didnt ask for details then. She found out later her grandmother left everything to her nieces and nephews. Lydia never shared what was in that letteronly once, when Mary pestered her:
– She left them everything because they were blood. Thats all, Marydont ask again. That filth isnt for you. Let it stay in the past.
– Did she doubt I was her granddaughter? Mary couldnt help asking, finally.
– No. Lydia sighed. She thought you took after me too much and not enough after your father. Not the right blood.
– But is that true? Mary bit her lip. Dont I look like dad?
– Dear, Lydia lowered her head tiredly, youre the image of him. Not just in looks, but in spirit. I never knew a better person than your father. Thats why I say, and for the last time: take whats good from this family and leave the rest behind. You dont need it.
Mary had long since stopped arguing. She only partly understood her motherbut she saw how much it mattered to Lydia.
Time passed. Mary finished school and went to unithe infamous skirt was sewn for that very occasion. She sat finals in it, wore it to lectures, and later worked at the maths department in it. She even met the man whod become the father of her child in that skirt. It was her lucky skirt, so when her interview at the company rolled around she wore it, not that she had much else to choose from. She couldnt very well turn up in jeans.
There was sniggering in HR, but Lydias advice echoed: straighten your back, shoulders square.
– Youve no experience, youre a single mumwhere have you worked before?
– I taught at the university.
– And why the career change?
– I wanted to try something new. Mary fought to keep her voice steady; her knees were shaking. She braced herself for another rejection.
But she was summoned back, and, after a few more questions, was offered a secretarys role on a probationary basis. Mary never heard the conversation when the door closed behind her.
– Why her? What would Mr. Harris want with that one?
– He likes clever lasses. Lets see how she does. And shes not half so plain as you think. Smart her up a bit and shell put the rest of you to shame. Now, back to work.
Her boss, Peter Harris, seemed to take to her at once. Watching her consult the coffee machine manual, he chuckled:
– First woman Ive seen not just mashing every button but actually reading the instructions. Well get on fine!
The job wasnt so difficult. Peter liked controlbut soon realised Mary had an excellent memory and handled scheduling with rare precision. She could track down any contact, arrange meetings to suit everyone, and reschedule without ruffling feathers. Calendars were always up-to-date. The only complaint was her need to occasionally dash off for her daughter.
– Mary, I understand, but its becoming a habit. Ill be without a secretary at this rate. Peter rubbed his temples.
– Headache? Paracetamol?
– No, itll pass. Thank you! Go on now, of course. Children come first. But you should try solve this, yes? Isnt she at nursery? There are grandmothers, nannies, relatives
– Ive no one. Mary tugged at her new jacket, bristling.
– No one at all?
– None. My mothers gone and theres no family left.
– Thats hard. Well thena nanny?
– Im afraid thats not in my budget. But Ill try to sort it. Youre right, its my problem.
She left his office in low spirits. Her daughter Annie, with a fever, waited at nursery. The flat would be a mess, there were chores and worries. She wanted to howl with frustrationwhy was it always so hard, why so wrong, why so alone?
But she knew. Like Lydia once said:
– Not everyone has good people cross their paths. Sometimes, you could count them in a lifetime on one hand. That just makes them all the more preciousyou cant miss them.
– What if they never come at all?
– Oh, dont be daft. Youre a mathematician, loveimagine the odds of never meeting a good person!
And Lydia would laugh. Theres not many who are truly awful in the world. Most people are just busy with their own lives, listening to themselves, loving themselves, living for themselves. Judging them its not worth it. Were all a bit selfish, just some more openly than others. I hope you meet the latter.
Mary, remembering her mothers words, often regretted not listening when she met Annies fathera bright up-and-coming academic, burning with ideas and ambition, everything Mary herself lacked. But their dreams didnt matchshe wanted family and research; he couldnt see them together. He hardly planned ahead. Why bother? Live now, hed say. So when he was offered a post abroad, he didnt hesitate to accept, proposal or not.
– Well wait a couple of years, maybe morenot a problem.
– I cant wait. Were expecting a child
She saw his face change and knew that was that.
– Right now? Cant it wait? He paced, not meeting her eyes.
– No, and it wont disappear on its own. But never mind! She grabbed her bag, paused at the door, and turned to him. Ill manage. Best of luck!
He was gone from that moment.
Annie arrived a month after Lydia passed of a heart attack, surrounded by nurses, but there was nothing to be done. Mary buried her mother, refusing to let herself cry.
– Later, mum, forgive me. When Annies born, Ill weep. Is that alright?
But even later, there was no time. Annie was sickly, in need of care, and Mary was on autopilotwashing, tidying, walks, meals, repeat. Shed left the universityshe couldnt stand the whispers and glances.
– Sorry, mum, Im too soft, but I couldnt do it shed whisper to Lydias photo, so as not to wake Annie. What did I do wrong? And marrying her father wouldnt have solved it. But youd have said, Dont mind them. Just keep going. Im trying, mum. Its just not easy.
The moment she could, Mary got Annie into nursery. The first year was hardesther daughter was always unwell, and Mary realised with her record, shed never get a good job. She stopped sending applications and went to clean at a beauty salon in the evenings, hoping that one day she could do something better.
These memories spun around Marys mind as she fetched Annie. Collecting her, Mary stopped by the chemist and hurried home. At the door, she greeted her neighbour without thinking.
– Evening, Susan!
– Evening! Shes come down again? Susan nodded at the bundle clinging to her mother.
– Yep. Mary finally conquered the finicky lock. Ill get kicked out at this rate. Thats the second time this month. I thought shed finally settled insix months without a sniffle!
– Oh, love, mine was fine the first year then started clocking temperatures every month. Why not get a nanny now your pays improved?
– Not quite enough. Mary sighed, ushering Annie in. Shoes off, poppet.
– Well, nannies are dear now. All youd do is work for her. Shame youve no granny.
– It is. Rightsee you, Susan.
– Night, Mary.
But little Annie, curling up on the carpet, snapped her out of gloom. Mary tucked her up, made hot tea, and sat pondering. Something had to change.
A soft knock on the door startled her. Annie was asleep and Mary was browsing ads for nannies, trying not to make a sound. Odd that a caller didnt use the bell. She hurried to the door.
– Good evening, Mary love!
On the step stood Mrs. Dawson, a frail elderly neighbour from the next building. Mary barely knew her beyond a hello on the stairs.
– Evening! Is something wrong? Mary looked at the old woman, surprised.
– Well, depends how you look at it. Will you invite me in or shall we do this on the landing?
– Sorry, of course! Mary stepped aside.
Mrs. Dawson, with the air of one on a mission, slipped off her shoes and motioned to the kitchen.
– Your kitchen in there?
– Yes
– Lets go. No waking little onessleeps the best medicine.
Mary, baffled, followed her. Mrs. Dawson sat neatly, folded her hands, and gave Mary a look.
– You want a Granny for an hour, do you?
– Pardon?! Mary arched her brows.
– A substitute granto sit with your little girl when shes ill, or whenever. Mrs. Dawsons voice, so matter-of-fact, reminded Mary achingly of her mother.
– I do. But Ive no idea where to find one.
– Well, Ive come to you. Will you have me as your part-time gran?
Mary hesitated. The offer came at just the right time, yet she barely knew her and trust didnt come easy.
– Im sorryhow did you know I was even looking?
– Hardly a secret! Mrs. Dawson chuckled. I ran into Susan; she told me.
– I see Mrs. Dawson, dont take offence
– No need to fret. Ask what you likeyoud want to. If you like, Ill just tell you my story myself, then you can decide if you want my help.
Mary poured tea, set out the biscuit tin, and sat opposite.
– Tell me, please.
Mrs. Dawsons story was simple.
– Born right here in London. Parents worked at the factoryproper working class. Grew up, finished school, headed to the same factory. Met my husband there, married, had two boys. Raised and educated them, saw them off into the world. My husband passed before fifty. The boys, once theyd done National Service, moved away and set up their own lives. Im on my own. Got four grandchildren, but their other nans are involved and now the children are all grown. Never had my chance to spoil them. I see the little ones in the square and my heart aches. Susan put me up to this, so here I am. Maybe you need meand I need you. I wont charge much. Dont say yes nowgive it a think and tell me tomorrow. Thats sensible.
Mary noddedshe had nothing to lose. When Mrs. Dawson left, Mary sat pondering.
– What would you say, Mum? Feels oddjust as I wished for help, she appears at the door. Is it for the good?
Lydia smiled out silently from her photograph, while Mary thought and checked on Annie through the night. In the morning, she had her answer.
– Mrs. Dawson, good morning! Id like to accept.
Their partnershipas Mrs. Dawson always called itbegan.
– We’re colleagues, you and me. You work, I work. Its good for both of us. Youre at ease for your child, and I get a little something on top of my pension.
– Do your sons help you, Mrs. Dawson?
– Oh yes, sometimes. I dont ask for muchonly needed them when I was poorly. They’ve their own families, plenty to spend on. I’m still able, so I earn my keep.
At first, Mary watched as Mrs. Dawson handled Annie, but soon let herself relax, especially as Annie was immediately drawn to her.
– Not feeling well, love? Mrs. Dawson would touch Annies forehead on day one. Well do some tea with honey and Ill tell you a storylong and exciting. Youll nap and wake right as rain, I promise.
– Weve no honey though Mary looked helplessly.
– I brought some along. When would you have had time to make preserves? Off with you to workwell manage here.
Within a few months, Annie was showing off new skills, and Mary was amazed.
– Shes only five, and shes reading already! Mrs. Dawson
– Bright girl, your Annie. Shes good at draughts, too. Get her into an after-school club. Ill take her along.
Soon enough, Annie was swimming twice a week and learning chess.
– I could never manage this myselfthe time, honestly! Mary told Susan, overjoyed. Thank you, Susan!
– Dont thank me! Susan laughed. Wait till my Daisys olderIll be tempting Mrs. Dawson away from you, see if I wont.
Time moved on. Annie grew and started school. Mrs. Dawsons help was needed less, but by then neither she nor Mary could imagine life otherwise.
– Mary, its high time you thought about moving ahead Mr. Harris looked up from his paperwork. With your degree, you could have quite a different career. Ever considered changing fields? Maths, was it?
– Maths, yes. But Im happy where I am.
– Well, Im not. I need people I can trust, and youre one of them. Well train you up and find you something better.
A new role, new prospects Marys life changed so fast she barely kept up. With better pay, things loosened financially. Annie was growing, and Mary could finally breathe easy.
– Well done, Mary! The best news! Mrs. Dawson was genuinely delighted for her.
Their relationship long since outgrew partnership, so when Mrs. Dawson vanished, Mary was beside herself.
– Susan, where could she be? No warning, nothing. Its not like her at all!
– Tried the hospitals?
– Ive rung every one. They wont let me inI’m not family.
– Her sons?
– Say they know nothing. Wont even come. How can they be so cold? Shes their mother
– Well, clearly, we cant expect anything from them.
– So what do I do?
– Keep calling, keep searching. Nothing else for it.
But Mary didn’t really believe, so she started going round the hospitals herself.
– Who are you to her? No family? Then why bother? she heard at every ward.
It took a week, but she finally found Mrs. Dawson.
– She came in without any papers. Woke up a couple of days later. Memorys spotty.
Mary looked upon Mrs. Dawson, small and pale in her hospital bed, her heart pounding.
– Why didnt you ring? I could have come sooner! What happened?
– Car accident. Amnesia, maybe temporary. And you are?
– Daughter! Wheres the head nurse?
Mrs. Dawson was moved to a quieter ward. Mary took her hands.
– How do you feel?
– And you are?
– Mary. Never mind for now. Lets focus on getting better.
Calls to Mrs. Dawsons sons changed nothingthey wouldnt come, full stop.
– Fine! Well manage. Mary put the phone down gently. She recalled Lydia: People look after themselveshow true you were, Mum.
Mrs. Dawson came home after a week. Mary brought her back herself.
– Annie, Mrs. Dawson cant remember things well. Call her Gran Dawson and do what you can to keep things calm, alright? Doctor says her memory may come back with time.
– Is she living here now?
– Yes.
Annie nodded gravely.
– Thats right.
Now it was Annies turn to care for Mrs. Dawson. Shed warm up lunch, coax her into eating, then settle in beside her to do homework.
– When Im finished, how about draughts? Want to play?
Mrs. Dawson would beam and nod. She called Annie her granddaughter, Mary her daughter. Mary never arguedshe cared little for what others thought. What mattered was that Mrs. Dawson had family, however makeshift.
It was six months later that Mrs. Dawsons son finally came.
Mary was hurrying home from work with Annies birthday cake, when she was stopped outside her building by a tall man she vaguely recognised.
– You must be Mary?
– Yes.
– Im EdwardMrs. Dawsons son.
– Hello. Mary clutched the cake a little tighter.
– May I see my mother?
– Of course. Why ask? You should have come long ago.
– Well, yes I He faltered. Mary looked him over.
– Dont judge others by yourself. I want nothing from your mother. Shes helped me more than you can imagine, and now Im simply grateful enough to return the favour.
– Youve misunderstood Edwards voice quivered. Mary smiled, not unkindly.
– Maybe so. Listen, shes yours to visit, of course. If you want to sort her papers or flat, finebut her, youll not take. Dont even ask.
– Why not? I wanted to bring her back home with me.
– If that were true, youd have come much sooner, while there was hope.
– And now?
– Now, too much times passed. She may not remember you at all. Shall we go in?
Edward stopped her at the door, apologising.
– Dont apologise to me. You owe your mum, not me. And do your best not to unsettle her, alright?
– Yes Alright.
Annie opened the door, eyes wide at the size of the cake box.
– Wow, mum!
– The cakes even betterhappy birthday, darling! Mary kissed her daughter. This is Edward Mr. Dawson, Mrs. Dawsons son.
– Who? Annie nearly dropped the cake, but Mary silenced her with a gesture.
– Not so loud. Remember what the doctor said?
– Dont upset her?
– Precisely. Take the cake to the kitchen.
Mrs. Dawson didnt recognise her son. Edward saw little left of the robust woman whod raised himonly a frail, feather-light old dear propped up in her armchair.
– She wont ever remember us? Edward asked as he made to leave.
– I cant say. The doctors give no assurances. What I do know is shes peaceful here. Let it remain so, dont move her.
– I see may we visit?
– Dont askits your right. Youre her son.
As Edward left, Mary watched him go, sure hed not return soonif at all. She shrugged and closed the door. So be it. Let the past stay closed. They had their own time, their own placea strange, pieced-together family, but theirs.
– Annie, stick the kettle on! Lets have a party.
– Mum, can gran Dawson have some cake?
– She must! The biggest slice! Shes got towhat did she say when she spoilt you with jam?
– Have a treat, Annie giggled.
– Thats it! And we need spoiling now and then, dont we! Mary locked the door behind her and followed Annie into their little kitchen, the world feeling slightly brighter, all at once.
