The Little Bird
Margaret! Whats taking you so long? Ive been waiting! Come and sit down! Mary, my neighbour, shifted on the bench, making herself more comfortable.
And why not? Such a lovely evening! Why sit indoors? Theres only the television and Poppy the cat. Dull as dishwater! But out in the courtyard its spring! Early yet, only April, but the airs already warm. Even the cherry tree beneath the flat, the one Marys late husband, Arthur, planted years back, has woken up and started blossoming. And that bench under it, the one Arthur cobbled together, thats ready and waiting for us too. Mary painted it only last week, and now it looks good as new! The bench cant wait for us to plonk down side by side as we always do, losing ourselves in neighbourly chatter. About children, about aches and pains, about life and about love.
What else do women talk about? Even though we know every last thing about each other, theres always something new to discover, another reason to chat. Our children keep growing, our ailments multiplying, and love Well, theres never quite enough of it, is there? Certainly more often than not, theres not enough. So we sit, hoping for a little confession from someone, our ears pricked, ready to listen. When you hear someone else talk of being loved, it makes you feel lighter somehow. Even when your own heart is all silence and emptiness, if someone else can say love is out there, it means its not gone from the world. Its still shining, still warming, still giving life
Mary Alice, known to everyone on the street as simply Mary, has lived next door to Margaret for as long as I can remember. More than half a century weve spent on the same staircase. As girls, our mothers never bothered to lock the doors, knowing if we werent in one flat, wed be playing in the other. Of course, that changed later after that time Mary and Margaret went off in search of happiness.
We were six or so then.
Marys grandmother was visiting. She told us girls that the main thing in life is to catch the bird of happiness by its tail and hang on tight. Do that and all will be well life easy and smooth, everyone around you content.
We didnt really understand life, but we did remember the bit about everyone being happy. Who wouldnt want their parents to get along, not argue over silly things? So we decided to look for this mythical bird.
Especially because Mary said she knew exactly where the bird lived in the house next door! There was an old man there, with this scratchy voice. Sometimes hed bring his bird out into the courtyard. It was beautiful! All these colours, really big! Made a weird racket. But it had to be the one the bird of happiness! After all, we never saw anything like that at the zoo when wed go with our folks.
We prepared for our quest with all the seriousness two six-year-olds could muster.
We found an old rabbit cage on Marys balcony, one her gran had brought ages ago.
Well, wed need somewhere to keep our bird, wouldnt we? You cant walk around forever with it in your hand, and anyway, our arms would get tired, and everyone knows happiness is best enjoyed with an ice cream, which we were sure would magically appear once we caught it.
We took some bread and biscuits. Who knew what the bird preferred? After some thought, Margaret added a toffee. You never know! Everyone likes toffee! It would be a letdown if the bird turned its beak up at bread.
There was no rush. This was serious business! Marys granny had left for her home, promising to have Mary over for summer. Their parents were packing for holiday the two families would drive down together, sharing petrol costs. Fortunately, the seaside was only a couple of hours away. Sometimes you barely had time to doze off before arriving. The house was old but solid. There was a big garden, a swing, and the beach nearby. Bliss!
Mary was looking forward to the trip to her grans too.
She felt sorry for Margaret, who had no grandmother at all. Imagine a child with no granny! Who would sneak you treats behind your mums back, or tell you proper bedtime stories, not just Jack and the Beanstalk because there was always washing up or laundry to do? Who else would knit you a sunhat that looked like a ladys hat, with a pretty ribbon?
Mary thought, if we catch this bird, maybe Margaret would get a granny too. Maybe even one from Marys grans village! Maybe then they wouldnt have to part for the summer. Worth catching a bird or two for that!
The day before they left for the seaside, the girls called out to their mothers that they were off to play, then quietly slipped out, closing the door softly so as not to make a sound, stifling their giggles as they hurried down the stairs.
Out through their own courtyard, then into the next, up to the drab grey house where the magical bird lived.
But the place was deserted. It was already hot, everyone was inside or at work.
They looked at each other. How on earth were they supposed to find the bird now? There was no one to ask. Margaret started to pout, her nose crinkling, on the verge of tears. But Mary wasnt the type to start sobbing over nothing. If theres a job to do, you do it! Dreams of a granny for Margaret, a box of ice cream, and matching polka-dot sundresses depended on it. Also, their parents If they didnt catch this bird of happiness, the folks would start quarrelling again!
Why naughty bird, you ask? Because if it were any good, itd be sitting in the tree outside their building and they wouldnt have to go looking. But it wasnt!
Mary looked around, grabbed Margaret by the hand, and marched up to the building. No point standing about. Might as well knock on a door and ask about the bird.
So many flats! And that was just one entrance. Some didnt open at all clearly no one home. Others told them off for playing around.
Still they carried on, knocking where they couldnt reach the bell.
Does the bird of happiness live here?
Adults are such odd lot. A simple question why couldnt anyone just answer? Instead, doors slammed, hands were waved, someone even threatened them with a good telling-off. The girls made a note of that green door with a strange handle; never knocking there again. Surely no such bird would live with people like that.
But at one flat, their luck turned. A slightly older boy opened the door and just shrugged at their question:
Come in, then!
No bird here either, but the flat was full of fascinating things. The girls lost all sense of time.
They gazed at frightening masks hanging on the walls, listened to the ocean in giant conch shells, and goggled at a huge model ship sails, masts, tiny sailors and all.
Dad and I built it. HMS Mary Anne.
Oh! Like me! Mary drew back her finger, grinning.
Your names Mary? Lovely! Thats my mums name too.
Where is she?
Mum? At work, but shell be home soon. Why are you two out alone? Wont your mums be cross?
Only now did the girls remember the bird and that it was well past lunchtime, which meant theyd be in trouble.
Maggie, we have to run!
Mary, grabbing Margarets hand, dashed for the door, forgetting all about the cage.
Wait! The boy caught up as they reached the doorway. Here!
The feathers he handed them were so beautiful the girls just stared, mouths open in awe, not daring to touch.
What are these?
Peacock feathers! Mum brings them from the zoo. Take them!
The girls barely breathed as they accepted the delicate feathers, forgot even to say thank you, and ran straight home.
There, disaster awaited.
Tearful mothers were searching the courtyard, shouting their names. The fathers were nervously puffing away by the entrance, waiting for the police, whod given strict instructions not to move until theyd sorted the search.
The moment Margarets mother spotted them, she gave a cry and sank to the tarmac in relief.
Youre safe
There were tears, hugs, even the threat of the slipper. Luckily, they were spared a proper telling-off their parents had neither time nor energy left.
A couple days later, sitting on the swings in the holiday homes garden, the girls fidgeted and whispered:
You know, Maggie, we dont need that bird at all!
Why not?
Granny said happiness is when youre loved.
And?
Well! If we werent loved, would our mums have wept like that when we went missing? Would they have been so scared wed never come back? Would they?
No
So, that means were already happy girls, arent we?
I suppose so.
I know we are!
What about our parents?
What about them? Have they argued these last two days?
No
Proves they can get along, just dont always bother. Doesnt matter how many birds they have, if they dont want to, it wont help. Get it?
Got it.
That summer became our best childhood memory.
I, Mary Alice, look back on my life, always glad Ive someone with whom I can share those memories. Not just share, but check things with if I forget. After all, keeping memories together is easier.
And Margaret always remembered details better than I did. Maybe because she was so calm? Who knows. I was always dashing about; my mind like quicksilver. Margaret would sit and ponder, then walk on quietly, going over everything in her mind. Haste makes waste, shed say. She remembered everything as if it happened yesterday.
When I met my future husband, I didnt recognise him at first. Wed been seeing each other for a month before he took me home.
HMS Mary Anne
The model ship sat in the same spot, just as wed stared at it as two small girls. We were twenty-three now, Margaret already married, but I felt again like the child who worried about breaking a sailor by accident.
When we got married, I pulled out the peacock feather Id cherished all those years from my favourite book and showed it to my husband.
Remember this?
And we both laughed as he struggled to recall something from so many years ago.
And we were happy for nearly thirty years. There were worries and troubles, first steps of our daughter, and then our son. There was illness, which Arthur helped me through by finding the best doctors and never letting go of my hand until the future crept cautiously up to our door, too timid to step inside for fear it might go wrong. There came a day when time stopped and I simply forgot how to breathe because all the air went with Arthur. Margaret was there, didnt falter, brought me round and cradled me as if Id been a child.
Hold on, Mary! Youve got your children
I came back to myself. Because happiness still lingered nearby. Not what it had been lesser, half of what Id known but still the happiness Arthur had given me. The kids were grown, but losing both parents one after the other its not right, is it? Children need someone. What did granny say?
As long as someone stands between a child and the sky, theyre no orphan! A happy child
She was right! So, I had to live on. For the children, for the grandchildren. Even though everyones scattered, work and life pulling them away but I know Im needed and loved. I can always pack up, buy presents and visit son or daughter, makes no odds. Theyre always happy to see me. Or I could wait for the school holidays, and the house would yet again be filled with the lively chaos of grandchildren. Id lose sleep, listening to them softly breathing next to me at night. Even that big bed the one I shared with Arthur would no longer feel empty. Even the eldest granddaughter would lurk shyly, then climb beside the little ones, listening to the same old tale, acting surprised at each twist, never letting on shed known it by heart for years.
Peace settles on the heart once more. Joy returns, light as a feather. Maybe not as dazzling as that peacock feather my husband once gave me, but precious all the same.
Not everyone gets luck like ours. Some beg the heavens for happiness in vain. But Margaret and I we were lucky. No, we never caught that magical bird, but we never lost our happiness either. We managed to understand, even as children, what happiness means to a woman. Of course, its different for everyone. For us, it was what we imagined back then. So long as the children are healthy, the rest falls into place if you really want it.
Margaret wanted and tried. She could have remained childless. She and her husband never managed to have children of their own. Yet they loved each other so deeply, everyone marvelled at it. Always together, never tiring of each other. While the rest of us grumbled about our partners, Margaret said little, not because she was secretive but simply because she had not a word of ill to say.
They lived as one soul.
I used to think such things were made up. Until I met Arthur. Or looked at Margaret and saw where love lived.
Life wasnt perfect for them, either. With Margarets lot, there was a horde of in-laws on all sides; just the aunts alone made seven. Her husband, John, even had two sisters both right battleaxes! They made Margarets life a misery nothing she did was right, from the way she got up to the biscuits she brought to tea.
Her mother-in-law, Mrs. Mary Johnson, was a gem. The only one to welcome Margaret in right from the off, never once reproaching her. Why her daughters turned out so contrary was a mystery shed raised her son well, at least.
She was ever so gentle, could never say no or lose her temper. If anyone argued, shed end up in tears. Margaret pitied her, took to calling her Mum from the first days.
All together, all close by.
Oh, what a commotion when Johns mum sold up and moved nearer to her son. John offered to have her live with them, but she wouldnt, saying she didnt want to be a burden, that their flat was small, and, anyhow, she knew all about Margarets and Johns plans. She never breathed a word of it to anyone else.
She knew how hard family peace is to keep, of course. Shed been there herself when her husband walked out, leaving her with three children. Hed still help in every way, but its no real family when the one closest to you just ups and leaves. Years later, they sat and talked it all out, and Margaret played a big part. She saw how much her mother-in-law suffered, even after so many years.
Why did her husband leave? Turns out, for nothing in particular just a new love, which for some reason never replaced the old. Like some English sultan!
Of course, Mrs. Johnson wouldnt tolerate a harem, but at least she felt like a woman again. Margaret helped her heal.
She was the one who helped Margaret and John find their son. She left the county hospital after many years and started work at the maternity hospital, where she found herself a grandson.
Margaret and John planned things very carefully. Theres no way the relatives would have accepted an adopted child, so they quietly left for a time and then returned with their son. Where hed come from, when he was born no questions answered. I knew the truth that was the first time Margaret cut her nosey relatives out of her business. They grumbled, but seeing how the boy was loved by Mrs. Johnson, they fell silent. If she accepted him, so would they.
The sisters might have suspected, but didnt dare say more. Not because of Margaret, but their mother: shed changed. A sharp word, and shed hang up on anyone. Her softness was spent on her grandchild. She believed an orphan needs extra care and warmth. She poured all her heart into him, looked after him, helped Margaret. She was certain thats how shed save her sons family and keep them happy. What kind of wife and mother doesnt know such things?
So they lived. Margaret had her husband and son. I had my own family.
Life was good!
We holidayed together, the kids close as ever. Doors were left open as of old, so you werent forever turning keys. Though yes, we kept an eye out we didnt need a repeat of the bird hunt!
Then Arthur was gone, leaving an emptiness where dreams of growing old together had been.
And John soon followed, struck down in his prime by a clot no one saw coming, despite him working at the hospital.
Margaret was devastated. It fell to me to prop her up, to keep her from falling into that pit so deep theres no return.
Youve got your boy, Margaret! Parents! Mrs. Johnson! You cant drown in all this grief. Wholl hold them together if not us? Think! What would John say, seeing you in tears for a month now? He loved you more than himself. You cant waste that love, Margaret! John wouldnt have it
Maybe it was those words, or maybe knowing how many people depended on her, but Margaret got back on her feet and learned to live again, as I did, treasuring the love shed known.
Her son, Peter, flourished. He became an officer, gets posted all over, but never forgets his mum. Brings the grandchildren twice a year, and if he cant, his wife comes. Margaret and her daughter-in-law are thick as thieves. Margaret took to being a wise mother-in-law, learned from experience, and accepted Peters choice without fuss.
And there were difficulties, of course. Peter brought not only his wife, Sarah, but her child from a previous relationship. The boys biological father had left when Sarah was six months pregnant. At least, in the end, the man signed over all rights and let Peter adopt the boy.
And Margaret? She just moved Peter aside, picked up the toddler and said:
Hello, Im your Granny Margaret! Would you like a biscuit? No? Shall we look under the tree for presents? Father Christmas left something there for you I saw it myself! Come on, lets see!
It doesnt take much to melt a mothers heart. Accept her child, and youll have the full measure of her affection.
Sarah is now as much a daughter to Margaret as anyone could be. Margaret calls all the grandchildren hers, starting from the eldest, whom she loves as her own.
Mag, when shall we head to the country house? Its warm enough now! I lift my head, trying to spot the blossom above me in the dusk.
Lets go at the weekend. As soon as I finish the windows, were off.
Oh, I forgot Easters early this year. Time to get things in order, isnt it?
Its time! And I still need to organise the food.
Your lot coming?
For two days. Passing through. The eldest is looking at universities in London. Theyll stop over now, and stay for longer on the way back. The little ones might stay for a fortnight. Still sorting it out. What about yours?
Mine cant come till summer. School, not nursery anymore still got classes. So Ill be waiting.
Only a month and a half!
I know, but it feels like forever
Always does, when youre waiting for something good. Time drags, and when it comes, it flashes by in a warm, loving second and then its gone. But you know, Mary?
What?
Id give anything for that second it may be fleeting, but you turn it over in your mind like beads on a string. Thats happiness. Theres never too much only too little when you cant see what youve got.
How true! Remember when we went hunting the bird of happiness?
Of course I do! Margaret laughs, folding her hands across her ample bosom. I couldnt sit down for a week after! Mum was so flustered, Dad saw fit to well, you were bouncing about just the same!
I was! But you know what, Margaret?
What?
I think we really did catch that bird by the tail, after all. Didnt notice it at the time, but we did. Its been flitting around us ever since. How else to explain that weve received what so many women spend their whole lives wishing for but never get? Families, good husbands, marvellous children and the grandchildren! Are we not happy, tell me?
Of course youre right! And we ought to thank our little bird properly just let it flutter its wings a bit longer and flick its tail once more. So that those we love will be happy, too
Today I know this for certain: happiness is rarely as far as you think. At the end of a long row of days, I understand love, and gratitude, and memory are the feathers that keep us aloft. And sometimes, just sometimes, we really do catch that impossible little bird.
