Catherine had passed away. Her sons drove down from London to the quiet village for the wake. At least they’ve shown their faces now, the neighbours whispered among themselves at the gate, their voices just low enough to escape notice. At least she has her sons beside her on her final journey.
The wake came to a close, and the sons with their families began gathering up their things, readying themselves for the drive back to the city. Suddenly, Aunt Lydia, Catherines younger sister, stepped into the house, her presence filling the space with an unexpected steadiness.
Aunt Lydia, we really ought to be heading off now, began the eldest son, standing by the door, coat slung over one arm. Well need to lock up. You ought to get a move on too.
What do you mean, get a move on? Lydia looked at him, clearly baffled. I am home. Ive nowhere to go.
Everyone turned to her in silence, surprised by her words.
Several years earlier, Rita and James had married. After a modest ceremony at the local registry office, they moved in with Jamess mother, as buying a house in London seemed a world away from their savings.
Theyd always lived apartJames with his mother, Rita at her university halls. Rita tried to avoid her own mothers place; her childhood home had become a revolving door for reckless parties and strange faces. True family was a distant memoryshed never known her father.
Jamess mum decided to let the newlyweds settle into the house on their own for a while. She took her holiday and went to see her sister Catherine in the country village. Catherine’s life was quiet and solitaryher husband long gone, her two sons rarely ever phoning, let alone visiting.
They must have so much going on, always some business or another, too wrapped up in their own worlds. Catherine resented it in privatesurely a phone call now and then to their mother wasnt beyond them? She never asked them for anything, sorted things herself, or got a neighbours help. Occasionally, her nephew James and his young wife would visit, lending muscle and good cheer. Of her own sons, she hadn’t seen their wives since the city weddings and there were no grandchildren either. Too soon, theyd say.
Lydia, youre here! My sister! Catherine had exclaimed with true delight the day Lydia arrived. From childhood to well into adulthood, the sisters had always been inseparableuntil Lydia moved to London and married a city man, while Catherine stayed rooted in the village. Both were made widows the same year, never to remarry.
Youll have to mind the house while Im off, Lydia joked as she unpacked. Why isnt James here with Rita? They should have come down to the country for a visit. Or did they dash off somewhere romantic by the seaside?
Not at all. Theyre saving up. Didnt make a fuss of the wedding, just signed the book and went home. Ritas without much familyher mothers always off somewhere. She had to manage on her own for years. Poor girl, shes lovely.
Why didnt you bring them with you?
They need time alone. Besides, I fancy a break. At least a months peace. I honestly doubted James would ever marrythirty years old! Im so relieved for him. Best leave them to it.
I’m sure they get along well enough. Theres plenty of room if they want to come. Ring them. If Rita gets homesick, youre only a quick train away.
James and Rita came down a day later. Catherines face lit up with pleasureher own boys never set foot in the house, no matter how many times she asked. They always have excuses about being busy, she lamented quietly.
Rita found she adored the countrysideit reminded her of long summer days with her grandmother before everything changed. After her nan passed when Rita was fifteen, shed had to fend for herself, working and studying.
Catherine tended the house, Lydia put her feet up while cooking for everyone. James mended the fence by the old shed and re-laid the tiles on the barn roof. Rita, meanwhile, threw herself into the garden with gusto, hands deep in soil from sunrise to sunset.
You really neednt bother, Rita. When Im on leave next week, Ill catch up on it all. You take it easy now.
Oh, I dont mind; granny had me doing everything on her plot. I love working with the earth. You have your break.
The time flew by, and soon the visitors left for London, Catherine alone again. Shed completed all her chores, yet the house felt empty. Most evenings she would ring her eldest.
Whats happened, Mum? hed ask, suspicion in his voice.
Oh, nothing, just wanted to hear your news. Thought you might want to visit?
No, Mum. Too busy. Phone the younger one. Hes not far, but hes off to Brighton.
The same tale with the youngerhe was heading to the coast, no time for the village.
James, though he always kept his promise, showing up with Rita, helping with the garden. Years slipped byJames and Rita eventually managed to buy a flat. They never forgot Catherine, visiting with their children, lending a hand to maintain the house. The kids would spend school holidays roaming the countryside. Both Catherine and Lydia were pensioners now, sharing dutiestwo doting grandmothers.
Catherine never did get her own grandchildren, though. The younger son had a stepson but no children of his own. The older one was always too busy climbing the career ladder, and soon it was too late. Theyd drop by maybe every three or four yearsGood of them to remember I exist, Catherine used to mutter.
At least James, Rita, and Lydia were close by, and the little ones loved her.
Catherines health faded. Treatments were costly, and she called her younger son, explaining the situation.
Oh Mum, you never bothered with spas your whole lifedont start now! Home is the best medicine. Youll be fine.
It was James and Rita who paid for the stay at the seaside convalescent home, sending both Catherine and Lydia together to lift their spirits. They went, laughing through the fear, finding comfort in each other.
Four years later, Catherine was gone. The sons returned, sombre faces lowered, for the funeral.
At least they came, the neighbours whispered again. At least she was seen off by her sons.
The time came to return to London. The sons gathered their wives and children, all standing in the now sombre cottage. Lydia, with Jamess family beside her, stood her ground.
Aunt Lydia its time we left, the oldest said delicately. House needs to be locked up. You ought to get going as well.
Leave? Why would we leave? Were home here.
They all stared at her, confused.
This is our mothers house, the younger son declared. Meaning its ours now. Well sell it. If you want anything to remember her by, take a vase or a tea set. Itll all be cleared out anyway.
You can take the keepsakes. The house, though, Catherine gave to me when she grew illjust after returning from the sea. She wanted me to have it.
The sea? She gave it to you? But were her sons!
Are you, now? Where were you all those years? Not even a visit when she was bed bound. Some sons!
The brothers stood for a long moment. There were no explanations, no apologies. They departed. There was nothing in this village left for them now, no one to ring.
Lydia moved in fully, rented out her London flat, and helped Jamess family with the proceeds. They visited, they cared for, and they loved. It was a warm, bustling household, save for the shadow of Catherines absence.
Yet, in the laughter of children and the clinking of cups, Catherine remainedforever by their side, in memory and in heart.
