Apple of My Eye
Youre just like your mother!
In what way, Gran? Katie snaps up without thinking, setting her jaw, but checks herself instantly. She wonderswho is she defending herself from?
In your own world, thats what! Your mother never listened to a soul, ever! And here you are, just the same!
What am I supposed to hear?
Me! Youre supposed to listen to me and respect me! Im older, I know better about life! Got it?
Katie stares in surprise at her grandmother, a slightly disheveled woman flushed with anger, wagging her finger an inch from Katies nose.
How amusing! Why does she insist on being heard so badly? Once she arrives, you cant get rid of her!
Katie moves her fingers, as if she could edit the day like a sketchsmudge a shadow there, lighten up here She hates these dark patches, dislikes shouting, quarrels, pointed voices Mum never spoke to her like this. Mum always said real people listenand actually hear.
Ears open, darling, listen closely now, like little bunnies! You know why bunnies have such good ears? her mum would say, Because foxes creep up ever so quietly. If a bunny doesnt listen, the fox will pouncesnap!and eat him up!
Dont! a little Katie would squeak, big-eyed.
Of course not! Thats why a good bunny listens carefully, and when it comes to dashing off, hes the fastest there is! No fox can catch him!
That feels like a lifetime back. Katies nearly grown, but every single story, every lesson her mum gave, stays sharp in her memory.
Funny When she was younger, Katie always thought Mum stretched the truth. Now, Mum seems wiser and more right than ever.
Take Gran, for instance. Katie knew nothing about her until last year. She lived with Mum in a little town by the English seaside, went to nursery, tangled with girls called Molly and Ellie, then made up, then ran off for ice cream on the tiny promenade. Then came school, a boy called Jamie, stolen kisses on the shore at sunset.
And MumMum was there.
Katie fiddles with the chunky fake turquoise bead on her bracelet, the one Mum made.
So what if its fake? Mum would say. Look how lovely it turned out! Sometimes, sweetheart, the real thing is bitter and hard. No matter how you look at it, it doesnt bring joy or warmth. A good imitation isnt always so bad.
How come?
Well, lets see why did you and Molly fall out a couple of weeks ago?
She said were poor because you bought me trainers that arent propertheyre not brand name. She said they look all wrong.
True, Molly was right, love. Uncle Eric made those trainers. But we never said they were designer, did we?
Nope.
Theyre good leather, made well, and made with love. Uncle Eric never does things by halves, does he? Do you like them?
I do!
There you go, then. That whole brand thing is just a way for people to feel bigger than the next person. Right? Ive got this, you dontso Im better! Silly, isnt it? The important thing, Katie, is not to be fake on the inside. Other stufflabels and all thatdoesnt matter. Some people care about what labels stitched on their clothes, others just take joy in what they have. And Ill tell youthe second lot are much happier.
Back then, Katie thought for a long time. She even managed to clean her room and Mums too. Then she wandered into the kitchen where Mum was making apricot jam and asked:
Mum, does that make Molly a bad friend? She says nice things, but thenbam! Shes mean. I know she likes my trainers really. She just wouldnt admit it.
How do you know?
Ellie told me. Said Molly made her mum cross at home, demanding even better trainers than mine.
Oh, Katie! Mum put aside her wooden spoon and hugged her tight. Dont be hasty. Mollys still just a kid, like you
Im not a kid! Katie squirmed in Mums arms and looked up, eyes flashingbut Mum knew it was herself she was angry with, for thinking poorly of her friend.
Still a child to me, Mum smiled softly. You and Molly. To mums, children are always their babiesyours too. Thats no bad thing. If I could, Id be little again, just for one kind word from my mum but shes long gone.
Mum frowned, kissed Katies hair.
Look, lets go back to Molly. Give her time. Remember when she carried you home after you fell off the swing? She was more scared for you than herself. She scraped her knees chasing after you too, cried so much the nurse offered her an injection as well, just to calm her down, remember?
I do
And her new markers that her dad broughtshe gave you those, when you couldnt have visitors because you were ill. She asked you to draw the prettiest picture you could, said shed hang it and wait for you to get better. You remember?
I remember
So you see! Trainers and all that? Rubbish. When youre grown youll see how silly it all is. Hold onto what you have now.
Shes already been round.
Why?
To make up. Said sorry.
And you?
I said I didnt want to see her and that were not poor!
You were angry.
Very!
And now?
Still a bit. But not as much
Wait till youre not angry at all, then make up. If you go now youll never forgive, and youll just have another argument.
How deeply Katie misses her mum now Mum wouldve known exactly what to do, what to sayespecially now, with Gran in the house
Gran appeared out of nowhere.
Katie hadnt known a thing until recentlynot that her mum was ill, or that shed reached out to her ex-mother-in-law and asked her to come.
Well, hello, Irene! Didnt think Id see you again! A plump, florid woman, rosy-cheeked from the summer heat, closes the gate behind her and leans against it, panting. Utterly boiling! No idea how Ill manage in this weather!
Hello, Mrs. Carter, Mum says, and Katie turns in surprise, hearing a note in her mothers voice she doesnt recognise.
This is Katie? Mrs. Carter peers at Katie. Nothing at all in common! Are you sure shes Alans?
You never change, do you? and now Mums tone rings with laughterKatie feels a bit relieved. Maybe things will be all right. Well see how it goes, as Mum used to say.
Katie takes an instant dislike to her gran: loud, fidgety, always cross. She fills their home with bustle and pointless fuss.
Honestly, cant you keep this place tidy, Irene? Youve got a childa girl, too! Shell never land a husband if she carries on like this! And serve her right!
Katie cant understand why Mum just smiles gently, saying nothing in return, watching this odd woman dart about the house, enforcing her own strange sense of order.
Even the cats, usually bold and cheeky, hide in corners, and Grey, the dog Uncle Eric got for Katie, retreats to the shady arbour in the garden and only gives a low growl when Mrs. Carters shrill voice rattles the windows.
This mutts the only sensible being here! Knows hes better off outside. Animals have no place in a house anyway!
The cats, seeing the mop in Mrs. Carters hands, scatter outside for safety.
Thats when Katie finally stands her ground. She scoops up her favourite cat, Biscuit, and strides to her room.
Whats all this?! Katherine! Mrs. Carters shout sets Grey barking from outside.
Theyre staying in, Gran! The cats and Grey. They were here before you. If you want things in order, leave it as it isits our home, and youre the guest. Do what you like in your own house!
Mum lets out a small gasp, hand flying to her mouth. Shes never heard her daughter speak to adults that way before.
To her surprise, Mrs. Carter isnt offended at all. She squints at Katie, smirks, and with a dry laugh, says:
Thats our lot! Apple doesnt fall far from the tree, eh Irene? You couldve done better bringing up my granddaughter!
From then on, Gran doesnt bother the animals. She sidesteps the cats when she sees them but leaves them be.
Not that anyone has time for them, not now. Things start moving so quickly, Katie just watches the old clock on the sideboard and wishes the hands would stop racing ahead.
Why does time rush so? Mum is still so young. Katie needs her so much. Its just not right.
But time ignores Katie. It ticks relentlessly on, not even pretending to pause.
Doctors, tablets, hospital.
Mum slips away one early spring morning.
The night before, for the first time all winter, Katie flings the windows open to the briny breeze from the sea and whispers:
Mum, your cherry tree will blossom soon!
Ill try, love I do want to see it, Mum responded.
When Katie learns Mum is gone, she storms outside in tears and breaks off the branch leaning towards Mums bedroom window. Why keep it there? Theres no one left to look at it now.
Gran doesnt stand on ceremony. She envelops Katie in a bear hug, tugs a gigantic, sheet-like hanky from her pocket, and commands, Cry, scream, swearget it all out! Its not yours to keep. None of us can change whats happened
How did she know exactly what Katie felt? Because its trueKatie blames herself, thinking of how hard Mum worked, how little she rested, all for Katie and her future Go to university, get an education
And what did Katie do? She hung around with Jamie and her mates instead of studying. Her grades dropped even though there was precious little time left before school finished. It was only at the end she buckled down, but by then it was too late to tell Mumshe didn’t want her to worry.
Mums letter turns up only at the forty-day mark. Gran hands over a plain white envelopeno stamp, no address, just For Katie in Mums handwriting.
Here you are! Time for you to read it. Your mother left you her wishes.
Whys it already open? Katie rolls the envelope between her fingers.
Who do you take me for? I may not be a sweetie, and you dont have to like me, but I wouldnt read anyone elses letter. Off you go nowsome of us still have work to do. If you fancy, come help. I havent got time to argue.
Gran sounds hurt, Katie realises, as soon as she turns away. No scolding like usual. Katie rests her forehead on the doorframe, where faint pencil marks still measure her heightMums marks, each year taller.
Goodness, Katie, how much youve grown! Such a big girl!
So clear in her mind, Katies startled to step back. Big girl, really? If she were truly grown-up, shed be smart enough not to hurt those around her. Mum wouldnt have liked how she was behaving.
Closing herself in her room, Katie perches on the floor, the envelope heavy in her lap, not daring to open it. There are so many things she wants to say to Mum, so much shell never hear.
The envelope boasts pages and pages, all crammed togetherripped from a simple exercise book. Katie cuddles Biscuit as she draws out the sheets.
Katie! Dry those tears right now! Youre a strong one. Why cry? Lifes so wonderfulfull of good things. Dont waste it on regrets. Youll say weve had so little time together, but Ill tell you this: we had so much. More than you know. Although, you may not understand just yet Let me tell you everything, because its your story.
Lets start when I met your dad. He was wonderfulwhen I saw him, I just fell. My mates thought I was madginger hair! They never realised how beautiful he was, or how warm. Youre just like himin freckles, eyes, and nose, at least. Hed hoped youd get your Grans curlshis mum, Mrs. Carter.
Love her, Katie. Mrs. Carters a good womandont take her brashness to heart. Shes always been loud, rough, but also reliable and kind.
If youre wondering why you didnt know her sooner, thats my fault. I was too young, too stubborn. I just didnt see her properly.
Im sorry.
We argued badly when you were little. Life with your dad was good until he found someone else Thats how it goes, sometimes
It wasnt that he stopped loving you or caring for us. Just met someone who changed his world.
Then Mrs. Carter turned up, looking to sort out her son and save our family. She didnt understand what was happening, so she opened with, Wheres the order, Irene? I lashed out. Words were saidtoo many, and too harsh. She yelled; I yelled back. Worse yet, I snapped that you werent her granddaughter
Oh Katie, how foolish I was! Easy to make a mistake, so hard to take it back.
I ought to have remembered when I was in the hospital and doctors said you might not make it. She dropped everything, moved in, brought me food, sorted the flat so well I couldnt find a thing afterwards. She only left once she was sure youd be safe.
I didnt know she tried to talk to the other woman, either. She almost cursed her but eventually accepted heradored her children every bit as much as she loved you. Yes, Katie, you have a brother and sister. If you wish, Gran will introduce youwe talked about it. The more family around you, the better. That will make me feel easier, toodo you see?
Now, promise me this: study! I want you to have a future. Make your own choicesdont let anyone control you! Use your talentyoure gifted. Nature doesnt bestow gifts lightly, so use yours. It wont be easy. But Mrs. Carter will help you. Ive left some savingsnot much, but enough to see you through a year or two. After that, youre on your own. Youve always managed to earn a littleeven tourists snapped up your painted bags and pictures each summer. In London, or even Manchester, youll find it easier to sell your work. Dont give up your dream! One day youll have your own show at a city gallery, Im certain. And wherever I am, Ill be proud, knowing it.
I love youI’m afraid for you. But I believe in you. My brave, clever girl.
Now, wipe your tears, like I said!
Mum.
Katie puts the letter down at last, head bowed, fighting the tears, because Mum told her not to cry.
Biscuits already curled asleep on the rug, twitching in his dreams, while Katie sits and wonders what to do next.
Then Mrs. Carter pops her head in, flicks the lights on, and orders, Enough of this gloom! Come have some tea, we need to talk. There are things to do, not just tears to shed!
Mrs. Carter is unimpressed with Katies artist nonsense. She lectures Katie on proper careers, insisting shed be far better off as an accountantsteady job and money in your pocket.
Gran, I dont want to! Katie protests. I want to do what I love. Mum left you money for me, right? Ill be eighteen next month. You hand it over, and Ill go my own way. Less trouble for youIll look after myself.
Mrs. Carters mouth flies open. She almost wags her scolding finger, then thinks better of it, looks at Katie for a long moment, and suddenly twists her fingers into a classic see these three fingers?Im watching you! sign every British child knows.
Right, thats it. Im coming with you! And Ill make sure you turn out a fine artist, mind. I promised your mother you wouldnt be left alone, so thats that! No more talk! Mrs. Carter huffs, pushes the food closer, and barks, Eat! Its all going cold now!
Years pass. In a small independent gallery in London, a peculiar trio wanders the rooms.
A flame-haired, slightly flustered, plump woman; a tall, awkward young man in trendy specs and a long nose; and Katie, with her toddler son in her arms.
So? What do you think? Katie cant help but ask. Shes told herself a hundred times not to, to wait for Grans verdictthe one who marched her to this day almost by hand.
Mrs. Carter glances at her granddaughter, sniffs, scoops the baby up to wipe his nose, then lets him rest his head on her shoulder, nods at last:
Not bad! Lovely frames, and the rest. But you still use up paint like there’s no tomorrow. Katie! Could you keep it down a bit? And do tidy up that studiowent by this morning, nearly broke my neck! Jack! she turns to the spectacled man, What are you playing at?
Whats wrong, Mrs. Carter?
Just look at her eye-bagsfrightful! Shes not sleeping, is she? Thats it. Im taking Samuel tonight. You both rest up. Come on over after the weekend, and get yourselves sorted! All right, off we go then, eh lad?
Pausing beside Katie as she heads out, Mrs. Carter brushes her cheek and whispers:
Your mum would be ever so proud of you, love. And so am I. You do know that, dont you? Good girlmy apple of the eyeKatie blinks, surprised by the sting of tears, but they dont fall. Instead, she smilesa real, wide, shimmering smile she hasnt let herself wear in so long. The gallerys walls shimmer with the colors of her heart: the sunlight on the cherry tree in spring, the silver of a North Sea dawn, the mischievous amber of a cats eyes. All her stories hang before her, each one a little echo of love, of pain, of growing and not breaking.
She watches Gran shepherd Samuel and Jack toward the wide door, her voice trailing, full of fuss and fondness. The little boy laughs at something only he and Gran find funny, and Katie catches the way the late afternoon light gilds their haircopper, tawny, gold. She remembers Mums words: more family, not less. Thats what matters in the end.
Behind her, a stranger lingers by a painting of a cherry branch tipped with impossible blossomsbuds and blooms and empty air, all at once. He turns, catches her gaze, and nods, the sort of nod that means I see what youve done. I understand.
Katie stands for a moment in the hush, her heart full and spacious, hearing the gallery hum with the gentle buzz of ordinary life. She feels, all at once, the weight and promise of every goodbye shes ever said, every welcome shes ever dared to give. The pain does not vanish, but it blooms, like the cherry tree outside her childhood windowthe one that returned every year, stubborn, brilliant, alive.
Outside, the street is noisy and bright. Katie steps into it, ready for whatever comes, and as she goes, she swears she feels a warm, familiar hand settlejust for a momenton her shoulder.
She lifts her head to the sky, and walks on.
