Dont forget the bananas for Grandma Nora! Only the small ones, like she likes! Last time you bought something odd! Emma! How could you? Is it really so difficult to do as youre asked?
Emma Grace Howard, chief accountant at a large company, mother of two, and, for the most part, a content wife, sighed and nodded at the empty room, not considering her mother couldnt see her just now. Still, she had no doubt her mother would know precisely how she had reacted to yet another set of instructions.
And dont just nod; do it! I know you, Emma! Always away with the fairies. Its high time you grew up!
Emma wasnt about to nod a second time. Instead, she replied, Yes, alright! and said her goodbyes to her mother.
High time to grow up Right, if you say so! Only forty and a bit on the clock surely still a child, in her eyes.
There was half an hour left until the end of the workday, and Emma desperately tried to focus on her report. It was a struggle. Thoughts, restless and ruleless, floated through her mind mostly dark ones. All this, although she was the good girl. Or so her mother had always insisted.
Our little Emmies such a clever girl! Such a good child!
It was sweet back when little Emmie wore ribbons to nursery and frilly skirts. What a picture!
Though, truthfully, the miracle returned from nursery less angelic and more a mucky urchin.
Emma! Whats that on your head?
A nest! Thats what Miss Thompson called it. She suggested I stand outside quietly, so the birds might come and lay chicks in it. At least my hairdo might be of some use
And where are your ribbons?
I dont remember! Tom took one. He needed it as an anchor rope. Oh, Mum! Do you know hes got a real ship? His dad made it! Miss Thompson showed us today filled up the basin and sailed it! It was brilliant!
And the other ribbon?
No idea. Lucy borrowed it, and it vanished. Mum, why does the wind blow?
Emma!
What?!
Stop pestering me with silly questions! My heads pounding!
Emma would fall silent, watching her mother anxiously all the way home. Was she in pain? Might her head never be fixed and need throwing out, like those eggshells Mum tossed in the bin when she made breakfast?
Emmas imagination, always lively, would have her sniffling halfway home, then in full-blown tears, wailing in a gravelly childs voice, completely exasperating her mother.
Emma! Whats with this concert?!
She couldnt explain. She just ached for her mum her aching head and sour mood and it made her want to howl, just like Lady, the neighbours mutt.
Lady was a daft dog, howling day and night, but truly beside herself only when her master, old Mr. Bennett the plumber from the next block went off on one of his benders. Lady would wail for days, driving the neighbours to distraction and all the children from the top floor to beg their parents to rescue her. Of course, their parents would grumble, call the constable, but Lady always stayed put. She fell silent only once mid-aria, as Mr. Bennett was taken away and, for some reason, everyone present somehow knew that tragedy had happened.
They all came out to see off Mr. Bennett. He was a kindly soul, ever ready to help. Soft-hearted, Emmas mother would say.
Afterwards, Lady sat motionless on the doorstep, watching the procession as flowers were scattered along the pavement. She never howled again. Emma, whod stayed home that day ahead of a dentist appointment, reached to pat the little dog, but Lady didnt even wag her stubby tail unusual for her. Emmas mother gently pulled her away, and when they returned, Lady was still sitting there, shivering, unmoving, and Emma was sure cross her heart, just like Tom had taught her that Lady was crying.
Mum, why cant we see her tears?
Why did that simple question make things shiver? Emma didnt know, back then. But her mum trembled, crouched beside Lady, and softly extended her hand:
Come along, Lady Theres no one else coming back
Did Lady understand? Emma never knew. Her mother, when no answer came, simply scooped Lady up and ordered Emma home.
Thats how Lady became Emmas dog. Lady lived a long life with them. Emma never knew how old she was when her first master died, but Lady spent another seventeen years with their family. Emma finished school, went to university, married Never once did Lady howl again. She ate, let her paws be washed, went for walks with Emma or her parents, but never raised her voice. Even when she slipped away to join her old master, she simply gave a deep, entirely human sigh and closed her eyes, nose nestled in Emmas tear-stained palm. Emma never had another dog, not even when her own children begged for a puppy. The memory of Ladys deep, soulful eyes wouldnt let her.
Really, though, Emma was a cheerful child. She had all she needed for happiness. Mum, Dad, two grannies, a one-eared rabbit, and warm crumpets with homemade cream on weekends. And Granny Ediths cottage in Devon, though visits were rare. Why so infrequent, Emma didnt understand as a child. Secrets werent for childrens ears. It was a lark for everyone but Mum, but young Emma never realised.
There were trips to the seaside with her other grandmother, Nora, whom Emma adored, as she spent all her spare time with her. Unlike Edith, Granny Nora never declared any subject taboo, freely answering every cheeky question and earning plenty of flak from Emmas mother as a result.
Honestly, Mum! Why do you tell her these things? Shes only little wont understand a word!
You were never silly. You understood plenty. And so does Emma shes just like you!
Emma would dissolve into giggles watching her mother puff up with indignation, secretly thinking shed grasped little of her grannys explanations about where babies really came from but it was all so fascinating, there were clearly more questions to ask.
There was reason for those questions, indeed. The adults tried unsuccessfully to shield Emma from family troubles. What child needs grown-ups quarrels? And yet, these would slip through the bedroom door, muffled arguments followed by her mothers quiet crying. Granny Edith, hosting them at the cottage, would purse her lips and look past Emmas mum. Emma didnt understand a thing, so shed tug her mums hand into the kitchen where Edith made the famous cherry pie.
Mum, come on! Granny will teach you; then you can bake it at home! Youre rubbish at it yourself!
Her mother would shake off Emmas hand and shake her head:
No, thanks.
No one hurried to explain what was happening. They kept a brave face. Emma would only grow to understand relations were complicated. Just because people are called family doesnt mean theyre truly close.
Her parents parted ways when Emma turned ten.
Mum had thrown a birthday party for Emma and her school friends. It was going splendidly when the front door slammed, and in answer to Emmas startled face came:
Thats that
Lady, far more aware than Emma, padded over to her mum, leaning against her shin, comforting. A friend shouted for Emma and she dashed off, yelling that the birthday cake was about to be served. When she returned to fetch her mum, she found her and Lady still frozen together, staring into space, each lost in thought. To Emmas frail inquiry, her mum startled, then snapped back to cheerfulness:
Of course! Cakes coming! Go on, run to your friends!
Moments later, Emma saw her in the sitting room doorway, smiling, brandishing the homemade cake shed slaved over through the night in hope, at last, of some culinary applause.
Once the guests had gone, Emma joined her mother on the sofa, where she was handed a spoon:
Cakes good, isnt it? To hell with diets, Emma! And everything else too itll all be alright in the end!
What occasion her mum meant, Emma didnt grasp, not then nor afterwards. Her dads maintenance payments barely stretched to new trousers for a fast-growing girl, and real celebrations dwindled to birthdays and New Year. Her mother stopped marking her own birthday altogether.
Granny Nora would say, untroubled by Emmas listening:
You need to find yourself a new man, love, and live a little!
But Emma could see how these talks grated. Mums only retort was always:
Ive had enough, thank you.
Later, Emma would wonder how life mightve turned out if her mother hadnt sealed herself off forever, if shed allowed happiness a second chance. Might Emma have had a brother or sister? Might there have been more laughter than headaches?
But there was no answer. Emma simply imagined what could have been.
Her mother, meanwhile, rarely smiled or laughed anymore, growing sterner by the year, and it took all of Emmas restraint not to answer back at times. Not that shed always succeeded in youth but whenever rows flared, Lady would appear by her mother and bare her little teeth in just enough of a quiet warning to make Emma think twice about a fight. Ladys bite was sharp. Emma knew.
Just once, in the heat of post-argument silence, Lady came and nipped gently at Emmas ankle, making her yelp, then padded off without so much as a glance backwards. That lesson, marked by the small bruises of Ladys teeth, remained in Emmas memory long after the marks faded.
Her granny clarified a lot for Emma, never mincing words when it came to endless questions.
What can you expect? Of course your mums difficult. No love in her life. Anyone would get cranky.
But we love her, dont we?
Oh, Emmie, thats not the same! A woman must feel like a woman, not just a daughter or a mum. Only a man beside her can give her that. Youve never felt this, but I have. When your granddad passed, I was just forty. I had a few gentleman callers after, not serious Oh, dont laugh! I wasnt always an old grump. The moon shone for me once too But I only ever loved your granddad. I couldnt imagine anyone else in his place. Taking flowers and dinner out fine. But waking beside someone every morning? Thats different entirely. Dont scoff! Lets see how you talk when youre married yourself. Looks like youll follow in your mums steps soon enough.
Gran, Im sixteen!
So? Your mum was only eighteen when she told me she couldnt live without your father. That he mightve managed without her didnt trouble her one bit. Some might say she fell in love like a silly cat. But I saw it was real, not some fairy tale. She understood herself, even then. Knew itd be hard his parents never really accepted her, and your dad was always the favoured child. She endured. As long as she could. She only drew the line at one thing.
At what?
At his affair. Sorry to be so blunt, but youd learn sooner or later. Best it comes from me. Your mums suffered enough. You cant tear a soul apart and shrug it off, you know. People accused her of not loving enough, not caring, not giving. As if she could have given more. Im only telling you this so you understand. Dont hate your dad theres no good in it. Everyone deserves to live their own way and not waste time on anger. Hes fine now. Be glad for him, odd as that is. Youre part of both of them, and cant simply cut off half yourself.
Mums never spoken ill of Dad.
She never will. Shes clever, Emma. Understands hes still your father. And youll always be his little girl. Best not to make it harder than it already is.
Does she still love him?
I think so. Thats why she wont change anything.
Gran, do you think Ill find someone to love like that only ever one?
I can only hope that whoever comes into your life is worthy of such love, my girl
Emma met her husband, Edward, precisely as Granny predicted dashing down a corridor for her first ever university exam, she crashed headlong into a tall, rather gawky young man. She barely saw his face, but he caught her with strong hands just in time, and his amused, just-breaking voice said:
Miss, you move so fast I doubt Ill keep up! Quick, give me your number before youre off again!
Emma didnt give her number, but she wasnt surprised when, after her exam, she saw her rescuer waiting outside.
Not in a rush anymore?
They married three years later. For a while they lived with Emmas mother; Emma knew it couldnt last.
It was tough. Her mum didnt approve of Edward: What sort of job is software developer anyway? Always hunched over a screen, snacking nonstop. Wont be long till you have your own little elephant next to you!
Dont exaggerate, Mum! What, you begrudge him a sandwich?
I just feel sorry for you. Youll shed enough tears, youll see
Edward had to work for his mother-in-laws respect. In the end, it took nearly a decade before Emmas mother conceded that her son-in-law was worth his weight in gold.
By then, Emma and Edward already had their own small flat. He spent long hours at the office trying to get his start-up going; Emma rushed around showings, knowing an estate agent earned their keep on their feet. Between her granny and great-granny helping with their firstborn, Emma counted her blessings for their clear minds and mostly good health.
The first worrying signs began when Emma was expecting her second child.
Emma, what do you think youre doing? Off for an hour and disappear! Ive a thousand things to do! her mother grumbled, stirring Edwards favourite leek and potato soup on the stove. There! Done! Im off now! Next time, be considerate of both our time!
Emma was baffled. Shed only stepped out for her scheduled appointment at the GP (just round the corner), and had actually been home the whole day. But her mother was mixing up times and days. Mum flatly refused to see the doctor, no matter how Emma pleaded.
What for? Dont be ridiculous. Im fitter than anyone here! Better worry about Granny Edith, she could use a check-up.
After consulting with Edward, Emma managed to get a specialist doctor to come to the house.
Im afraid I have no easy news. Youll need a thorough assessment, but I can already say hard times are ahead.
As Emma listened, icy dread crept into her heart. How could this be about her mum? She was so young, how could illness strike her?
Plenty of possible causes; knowing them wont help. Our best bet is to focus on managing it, perhaps slowing things down if possible.
Can we?
Medicines made progress, but theres no miracle cure. The main thing is to support her and keep things steady. Stress is its own kind of poison.
Emma realised, from that moment, everything would change. She wasnt happy about it, but it was unavoidable. For her, there was no one closer than her mother. She would do everything to make sure her mums days were as peaceful as possible. The doctor said calm was as important as any medicine.
Emma didnt much like remembering how shed persuaded her mother to move in with them after they bought their house. Edward had thrown himself into the project, and the cottage she found was bought, even though it meant debt.
Well manage. The main thing is were all together now, youll be at ease.
Emma would hide her face in Edwards shoulder, thinking her peace of mind was now more remote than ever.
So it proved.
Mum would often forget she lived in the new house, fretting to go home.
Mum, your room is just down the hall.
Why are you putting me in your guest room? I have my own house!
Of course you do, but tomorrow Ill really need your help with the boys. Granny Edith is poorly. Please, stay with us?
Oh, fine! But dont think this is forever! I have my own life too, you know!
Of course, Mum, I understand.
Heaven help me, what would you know at your age, Emma?
If it werent for Granny Edith looking after her mum, Emma thought shed have simply lost her mind.
Gran, does she really remember nothing?
Oh, Emma, she remembers a lot especially the distant past. Sometimes she recalls what Ive long since forgotten. Makes me realise how little time I spent with her as a child. Those days, you put children in nursery, school, aftercare Only saw them for a hurried hour or two a day. I properly felt like a mum dont laugh! only when I raised you. Your mum Shes my sorrow. I wish I could get back even a fraction of that lost time. Sometimes I feel all thats happening now is so she might forgive me, forgive your dad, and maybe forgive this often unkind life. She grumbles, scolds, but that doesnt matter. When she looks at me, searching, trying to figure out who I am, I know shes not in pain anymore. And she smiles at me. Its very hard, child And yet its good. Every mother wants their child to be happy, if only for a moment. In those moments, I know she is. Shes young, healthy, everything ahead of her. Love, you, and all the trouble she doesnt yet know. How does one bear it, Emma?
I dont know, Grannie I dont
Emma saw how hard it was for Granny Edith to accept that her only daughter was fading away to a place where even the dearest cannot follow. Many times Emma would find her mum sitting on the floor at Granny Ediths feet, and whisper:
Shall I take her away?
No! Leave it Itll only be for a moment
Granny Edith left them only a year after Emma realised nothing would ever return to the way it was.
Take care of her, Emma. Treasure her with all your heart! I can do no more
Emma would bite back tears, nodding, thinking only not to reveal how afraid she was of being left alone with the weight of it all.
Dont think of her as your mother anymore. You know, they say in old age we become children again and its true. Children live from the heart, not the head. All impulse, all feeling. Please, Emma, see her as a child now. Instead of me. Cherish her. When you need to scream in frustration, do it but where she cant hear. Dont frighten her. Once youve let out the pain, remember what I told you and cherish her As youll one day want your own children to cherish you Promise me.
I promise
How many times would Emma recall this? Countless. Even now.
She checked her watch, sighed, and reached for her bag purse, car keys, umbrella, all present. Time to go. Collect the elder son from football, pick up the younger from school, then the shop. Bananas the small ones. Just like Granny liked.
Because, for some reason, when Mum sees that bunch, shell imagine Granny is still alive. That she only need walk a few steps down the corridor, ignore the carers quizzical gaze, open the sitting room door and see that old armchair not matching the decor, but unmoving as long as its remembered. Shell grumble:
Emma! Cant you clean the upholstery? How many times must I ask? Did you get the bananas? Grannyll be here any moment she asked for them.
Of course, Mum! Sit down, Ill make you some tea.
And the chair will be filled. Therell still be time. Emma will nestle her cheek in those beloved hands, catch that stern but loving gaze, and smile in answer to:
Emma, whats on your head? Wheres your hairbrush? Bring it! Ill brush you. Goodness, its late Time for bed! What do you fancy in the morning? Porridge or pancakes?Emma closes her eyes for a moment, letting the echo of her mother’s voice wash over hersharp and tender, all in one. She stands in the doorway, the world waiting just beyond: football boots to untie, spelling tests to check, soup to reheat, patience to summon. Theres a bag of tiny bananas in her hand and, against all common sense and grownup deadlines, she laughs, quietly, to herself.
Perhaps she isnt really grown up at all, not in the way her mother meant. Perhaps none of them ever are, not truly. They just learn to carry the weightof memory and love, of the things lost, and all the things that remain.
In the kitchen, a chorus of everyday life begins: the door swings open, tired voices call for Mum, shoes clatter on tile, and a kettle sighs on the hob. Emma moves through itgently, as if not to wake a dream. She places the bananas on the counter and, with deliberate care, arranges the smallest, brightest one on a plate, just as her mother once did for her, just as, perhaps, she will one day teach her own children to do.
She walks down the hall and into the sitting room, where the old armchair sits empty but never truly unoccupied, each cushion pressed with invisible stories, each thread holding fast. Emma leans in, setting down the plate, and for just a heartbeat, she feels the presence of them allLadys warm weight at her feet, Granny Ediths soft humming from the kitchen, and her mothers hands smoothing her hair.
Time slows, then settles. In the gentle hush before the next rush of daily living, Emma breathes in the scent of remembered dayslemons, soap, linen, and sweet bananas. She smiles, a little braver now, knowing the hearts real work is in these smallest acts: a laugh, a touch, the courage to hope that love endures. Even as memories slip into mist, her promise holds fast, filling the room with light that does not fade.
And somewhere, from the cozy corners of her mind, she hears her mothers unmistakable refrainhalf-sigh, half-song
Emma, child, what on earth are you smiling at?
Nothing, Mum. Everything, she whispers, and lets the moment linger, golden and whole, for as long as it will stay.
