Mum
Oi, whiskers! Who do you belong to? Emily halts on the doorstep, eyeing the large ginger tomcat sitting by her flat.
The cat, of course, doesnt reply. He doesnt even move or change the way he’s sitting. Only his torn ear twitches a little, as if to say, Yeah, I hear you! But dont expect an answer.
Fine then! Emily huffs, feeling a little put out, and rummages in her bag for her keys.
As if understanding what shes doing, the cat shifts slightly on the doormat, but doesnt leave, keeping a steady gaze on Emily.
At long last, she finds her keys and starts fiddling with the lock, stealing glances at her uninvited guest.
She and her husband, Andrew, bought this flat just a couple of months ago. Its small, just two rooms, but to them its a dream come true. Some people might say its daft to settle for a place in a tired old block and that you should always aim higher. Well, maybe thats right, but Emily and Andrew would just laugh. Six months ago, having a place of their own felt impossible. They were holed up in her granddads spare room in an old council estate and felt lucky enough just to have a bit of independence.
Emily, just try not to fall out with the neighbours, all right? Andrews mum, Margaret, helped Emily scrub the room before the wedding. Theyre good people. Even if some do have a soft spot for lager.
Cant see whats so good about them then! Emily smirks, twisting out her cloth and pushing wild hair off her face.
Andrew is smitten with her locks, but for Emily, it’s a pain, especially when cleaning. No matter how she tries to pin the wild mass, curls spring loose and bob about her forehead, making her look like a dandelion gone mad.
Its hard to explain, says Margaret, shaking her head. Theyve faced too much in life. Not everyone comes out the other side managing just fine.
Emily gets that. Orphaned and bounced through the foster system, shes learned how easily people sink into self-pity and forget those who rely on them.
Her mum left her at three. Just left her sitting in Victoria Station waiting room, a note in her pocket and a tattered one-eared bunny clutched to her chest. Emily waited as she was told, holding tight to Bunny Ben, desperate for the loo but terrified of moving lest Mum come back and be angry.
Mum never did return. But a policeman in a neat uniform did. He asked questions, but Emily shook her head mutely. She couldnt even cry now, just sat there cold, wet, and hungry, until the policeman ruffled Bens worn ear and asked, Whats your friends name?
Only then did Emily thaw a little. She looked up and whispered, Benny.
The officer gently patted Bens head, then Emilys, and asked, Has Mummy been gone a long time?
That was when Emily broke down, setting off both the policeman, desperately trying to comfort her and radioing his partner, and the people all around whod ignored the child sitting alone for hours.
Emily only learned years later why her mum had done it. An odd woman approached her outside school just ahead of her A-levels, hand outstretched, nearly wailing, Darling, Ive found you! Give your mum a cuddle, Ive missed you!
By then Emily was with a foster family, one of seven, living by the rules: no going hungry or without jumpers, plenty of after-school clubs, and everyone expected to leave on their eighteenth birthday so the next lot could arrive.
The foster parents weren’t crueljust practical, believing affection was unnecessary if you provided proper care. So Emily didnt run to the woman, even though she longed to just once have what she’d dreamt of at nightreal family, a real mum, not just Benny.
She had always dreamed her mum would come, swoop in and love her, though she barely knew what that meant. Watching others at school, she thought maybe it was possible for her too.
But when the day finally came and her mother, sobbing, begged her into her arms, even for a second Emily didnt believe those tears. Grownups told her she couldnt possibly remember the train station or the cold benchshe was far too little. Eventually, she stopped arguing. But tucked these things away, because the memories never faded, not completely.
One of Emilys sisters, Sarahher classmate in schoolstood up for her then, blocking the strangers reach.
Em, whos she? asked Sarah, standing firm.
I dont know Emily felt the world spinningno real thoughts, just panic.
Youve got the wrong girl, Sarah told the woman. Shes my sister, not yours. Leave us alone! She grabbed Emilys hand and strode off the school grounds.
Emily squeezed her hand back, grateful despite their usual bickering. They went home together, side by side. When the foster mum looked puzzled they just shrugged, in perfect tandem.
From that day, Emily had a sister.
Sarahs story wasnt so different, except it was a drunk father who left her, not a disappearing mother. She too desperately wanted a real bond, even a makeshift one.
A week later, Emilys mum was still waiting at the gates. She no longer tried to hug Emily, just pleaded, Talk to me! Please, sweetheart
Dont let it bother you, said Sarah. Let her call you what she wants. Its just words.
Sarah eventually convinced Emily to talk.
You wont lose anything. Better to know why. Ask. Demand an answeryou probably wont see her again. Then maybe youll stop thinking its your fault.
How did you know? Emily blurted.
Easy, Sarah smirked. We all do. We all wonder what was wrong with us.
You too?
Of course.
But you never said
Nor did you. People dont. We just cry about it, quietly. I dothough I need to stop. Its time to grow up.
Her mum offered little in way of comfort, only apologies and vague explanations: I had no one to help me. Your father threw me out when I said you werent histhough you are, I was just angry.
And you thought leaving a note was enough? Emily asked. Why should I ever forgive you?
Please, let me make it right
You cant give me the years I lost. Maybe Ill forgive you, but Ill never forget.
But you were so young! You cant possibly remember!
Emily simply walked away after that. She decided nobody else would ever tell her what she could or could not rememberor what she could or could not feel.
Sarah understood perfectly. Your call, Em. If it feels right, dont look back. Forget it and get on with things.
Oh, Sarah, youre so wise
Hardly. But maybe I will be one day. I want to study psychology. Then maybe Ill find out how to live properly.
And they used to laugh about those words in later yearsafter Sarah had married, become a mum herself, and said offhand one afternoon, Rubbish, really. No one knows how to do it rightnot you or me, or anyone else alive.
So, what do we do then, Sarah?
We live. We make things good for our own. Warm, safe, so that even strangers watching your life on TV wouldnt envy it.
You manage, Sarah.
Im trying! Sarah would laugh, expertly wrapping her tiny daughter in a blanket.
Watching Sarah, Emily learned to handle her problems…better, somehow.
A cramped room in a council block in London? So whatits central, close to work, and with a fresh lick of paint and a few repairs its nearly perfect. And, as it turns out, Margaret was rightthe neighbours arent bad sorts. They lost a daughter and now drink to escape, but they never bring trouble home and mostly keep to themselves. And empathy, Emily would learn, matters.
She only came to accept that much later. Until then, only Sarah had ever really cared for her.
It was Margaret and Andrews granddad who helped Emily most.
Margaret, a forceful but gentle soul, took Emily in like a daughter. Even Sarah called it heroic.
Dont expect too much, Em, Sarah told her, packing for the first meet the in-laws. Youre no fairy-tale find for themyoure an orphan, without a penny, and you never got a council flat.
But I got in the queue for one!
And what number were you? Yes, exactly. You might get it when pigs fly. I wouldnt count on it.
But why, Sarah? Im entitled to it!
You know what entitled means. Dont mention it to your mother-in-law. Just keep quietwhen youve got it, you can boast!
Oh right.
And dont expect anything from Margaret, but dont go prickly either.
You think Im daft?
No, but it takes time to figure people out. Shes not obliged to like you just because Andrew picked you, you know?
But Emily understood that better than anyone.
At first, Margaret seemed over the toploud, tall, bustling about, trying to make life better for everyone around her. Emily wasnt used to being looked after, and if she tolerated Andrews care, she bristled at Margarets compulsion to do good.
Em, my old coats seen better dayswould you come to the shops and help me pick a new one? Andrew hates shopping, and I need time to find something that fits. What do you say?
Emily would reluctantly agree, yet every time they returned home burdened with bags, the majority of the purchases were for hera new jacket, boots shed never dared to dream of, a bag shed only eyed up on the shopfront.
There was no arguing. Margaret would just spot Emilys longing and say, Thats a gorgeous bag, isnt it? Not for me, but it suits you. Come on, lets take a look.
Emily would just go along, and in private, silently thank this odd woman.
For Emily, odd was the only word for her. Who was she? The future mother-in-law, yes, but in truth, just a stranger taking her in. Care, much less love, was rare to receive from a mother-in-law, unless in stories. So Emily was cautious, as Sarah had advisedgrateful, polite, but never letting her get too close.
But Margaret seemed to get it and stopped pushing. She noticed Emily and Andrews yearning to live independently and quickly sorted it herself.
Your granddads getting on. He cant look after himself anymore. You and Andrew can move and swap rooms. Granddad will get my place; you two can manage on your own.
Granddad chuckled at the idea. After moving, he always got Margaret up on weekends, Come on, lovetime for our walk!
Shed sigh and take him to the park, then help with his cold-water splashes.
Dad, was I right to do this all? she asked once.
Course you were! Young people need their knocks. Dont butt in unless youre asked.
But Emilyshe came to us with almost nothing.
Thats different. You have every right to look after herbut dont overdo it. Shes proud, dont crowd her.
Margaret listened. Shed pop round only when invited, never giving too much advice, reminding herself she too had struggled as a young mum. After her husband died in a car crash, she battled aloneuntil her mother-in-law mellowed after Andrews birth and helped her out.
Youre his mum! her mother-in-law scolded, as Margaret nervously tried to bundle Andrew as a baby. Dont fuss. You cant get it wrongyou carried him, didnt you? So trust yourself. Ask for advice if you need toIll help.
Andrew hardly remembers his father or grandmother, losing them so young, but Margaret always told him: You were so loved! Granny never put you down. As for your dad, footballs everywherehe couldnt wait to teach you.
Mum, why did it happen? Dad was a good driver
No idea, love. There was thick fog and a lorry driver who didnt see them. Your dad was helping his sister. Family comes first, always.
Do you miss him, Mum?
Terribly. If it wasnt for you and my dad, I dont know what Id have done. I loved him so much.
And he loved you?
I knew he did. We just clickednever just for convenience. I hope youll have that too.
I want that, Mum. I want real love, not just for the sake of it.
And youll find it, Pet. Just wait.
So, when Emily entered their lives, Margaret didnt protest. If Andrew chose her, Margaret would accept it, no matter how difficult it was at first.
Over time, Emily dropped her guard. Margaret became less of a meddler, more a friend.
When Andrews granddad announced he was selling the spare room, Emily felt bleak.
Whats up? Granddad asks her over a pile of paperwork, Emily helping. Worried youll have nowhere to live?
No, well figure it out. Maybe rent. Andrews just changed jobs, so its uncertain. My salary would only cover a tiny place, like this room.
Whats wrong with that?
Nothing. If I could, Id buy it from you. Not that I can afford it. At least weve a goalto save. Sarah says even a bit in savings makes you feel safer about the future. Shes right. Ours will work out.
Good girl, Granddad grins.
Did I say something funny?
He doesnt answer, just squeezes her cheek and asks for the kettle to be put on.
Lets have a proper natter. Does Margaret get on your nerves?
What? No! Shes never been anything but kind!
Calm yourself down, girl! See, youre all red. Breathe!
Why do you ask?
Well, shes your mother-in-law. You hear horror stories, dont you? About mothers-in-law eating new daughters for breakfast?
Not her. You know that. And anyway, she calls me her daughter.
Dont take her for granted, mind. Shes got a soft heart.
I dont need pity! I can look after anyone.
And thats grand! But why not?
I just dont like it.
So, I shouldnt visit you any more, then?
Why?
Well, I thought you pitied meold and alone, and I enjoyed it! If pitys so bad, best not bother.
Confused, Emily splutters with the kettle in hand.
Sympathys not all bad, Em. Long ago, to pity meant to love and cherish your own. If someones ill, do they need love, or kindness?
I suppose kindness
Exactly. If someones hurting, show compassion. But pity has to be wisenot wasted on lost causes, or youre no help to anyone.
I do care for you.
I know. And I care for younot because Im old, but because I like you.
Thank you but who should we care for?
Those your heart choosesfamily, friends, pets… but do it with purpose. It means nothing to toss a sausage to a stray catyou want to help, give it a home. Take the responsibility and itll mean something.
Why?
Because when you give real help, it comes back to you.
Remembering this, Emily looks down at the ginger tom on her doormatthe flat theyd been able to buy with a hand from Margaret and Granddad. Maybe the cat is waiting for someone to care for him too. He lets Emily stroke him, but when she invites him in, he dashes up the stairs, leaving her puzzled.
Suit yourself she grumbles, almost closing the door, when the ginger reappearsthis time with company.
Hes dragging a tiny ginger kitten in by the scruff.
Well, I never! Emily gathers up the mewling bundle, and the big cat bounds away.
A moment later, hes back with a second kittenjust as ginger but far livelier, struggling to get away. The tom nearly drops it, but stubbornly tries again till Emily steps in, rescuing the kitten.
And you call yourself mum! Emily laughs, and throws the door open wider. Bring the whole family, why dont you?
The tomcat carefully crosses the threshold, watching Emily cradle the kittens.
Go on, in you come! No one will harm you here. Wheres their mum?
Naturally, the ginger doesnt reply; instead, he gently places the kittens on a tray Emily lays down, and then, to her amazement, starts showing them the litter tray.
You really are their mum, arent you? Emily giggles, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from frightening the little ones. Well, time to see whats in the fridgesomeones got to feed you lot.
The cat makes it clear the idea meets with approval, and Emily heads to the kitchen.
That evening, she calls a family meeting.
Margaret, if you dont agree, Ill have to rehome them somewhere else. I cant turf the kittens out, theyre so little, and I dont know whats happened to their mother. But for a tom cat to be looking after themhow strange!
Why are you asking me, Emily? Margaret pets a snoozing kitten. Its your flatyou and Andrew decide who lives here. You understood that, didnt you? So, go on! By the way, what did you feed them?
Milk. Luckily they already know how to lap it up.
Ill take this one when hes older. As for the rest
Ill find homes for the kittens, but I think Im keeping the tom. Maybe I can learn from him.
Learn what, may I ask? Margaret lifts an eyebrow.
Andrew smiles, nods, then gives Emily the nod to share the news theyve kept secret for a week, waiting for Margarets birthday.
How to be a good mum Looks like Im going to have two teachers: you, and this whiskery nanny here.
Emily rubs the cats ear, and finally bursts into tears when Margaret hugs her tight.
