Mum
Oi, Whiskers! Who do you belong to? I paused outside my flat, eyeing the large ginger tomcat sprawled by my door.
Naturally, the cat didnt bother to answer. He didnt even acknowledge my presence, not a twitch except for a slightly torn ear that moved as if to say, Yes, yes, I hear you! But I wont be responding, Im afraid!
Suit yourself, I muttered, halfway offended, and rummaged about in my bag for my keys.
Sensing my intent, the cat edged over a bit, still refusing to move, eyeballing me curiously as I fumbled with the lock.
Wed only bought this flat a couple of months ago, my wife and I. Tiny, just two rooms, but for us, it was more than enough. Some might say life in an ageing block of flats in North London wasnt much to aspire to, that we should hold out for greater things. Maybe theyd be right. But Annabel and I would have laughed in their faces. Six months earlier, we hadnt even dared to dream of our own place. Just having a corner to call our own after years crammed in my granddads tiny bedsit felt like heaven.
Sam, just keep your head down with the neighbours, will you? My mother-in-law, Margaret, was helping scrub the bedsit before the wedding. Theyre good folks, even if they do drink too much.
Hows that make em good? I smirked, wringing out my cloth and pushing back my unruly hair.
Annabels curls, which I adored, had a mind of their own, especially when cleaning was involved. No matter how much she tried to pin them back, theyd burst free, making her look a bit like a startled dandelion.
Its complicated, Margaret said, pausing for breath. Lifes been hard for them, too many knocks. Not everyone copes well with hardship.
That, I understood. As an orphan shuffled from foster home to foster home, then booted out at eighteen, I knew all about self-pity and forgetting the people who rely on you.
My own mum left me when I was barely three. Dumped at the train station with a note in my pocket and a battered, one-eared cuddly rabbit. I sat in the busy waiting room obediently, clutching floppy-eared Stanley and whimpering quietly, terrified to move in case Mum returned and found me gone knowing full well shed be furious.
She never came back. Instead, a policeman in a sharp blue uniform eventually approached. He said something, but I shook my head desperately, refusing to speak. Id stopped crying; I was too cold, too hungry, too exhausted. He knelt by me, gently touched Stanleys ragged ear, and asked, Whats your bunny called?
I finally whispered, Stanley.
He stroked Stanley, then me. Has Mummy been gone long?
That was the moment the dam broke. I wailed so hard, the poor bloke panicked, frantically calling for backup while the commuters whod ignored me all morning finally noticed.
Years later, I learned why she abandoned me. Just before my A-levels, a wild-looking woman grabbed me outside school, screeching, Darling, I found you! Give Mummy a hug!
By then I was with a foster family seven of us, all ages. We werent left hungry or cold, but love and warmth were considered superfluous if you had routines and rules. We all understood as soon as we turned eighteen, our time would be up and other children would take our place.
I didnt run to that woman, tempting as it was to have someone anyone claim me. In the still of the night, Id clung to Stanley, dreaming of a real mum. But in that moment, I saw through her tears; they didnt wash away the past. Adults always said I couldnt remember the train station, that Id been too little. I stopped arguing, but the memories muddy, scratchy, fearful they haunted me. I knew exactly what shed done.
My foster sister Lucy, who happened to be in my form at school, intercepted that awkward reunion.
Sam, whos she supposed to be? Lucy shielded me with her body.
No idea, I whispered, my head spinning.
Sorry, love youve got the wrong person! Hes my brother. Off you go! Lucy grabbed my hand and whisked me away. We walked home hand-in-hand. When our foster mum raised an eyebrow, we just shrugged:
What?
After that, I finally had a sister.
Lucys story was only different in that it was her drunken dad who left, not her mother. She wanted family just as desperately as I had.
The strange woman staked out the school for a few more days; eventually, I spoke to her, largely because Lucy insisted.
Just ask her, Sam. Get it out in the open. Maybe youll stop blaming yourself.
How do you know I am?
We all do, dont we? We all wonder whats wrong with us.
Shed never said it before. I hadnt either. Some wounds are too raw for words.
The chat wasnt much of a revelation.
You left me.
Im sorry, darling! Please forgive me.
Dont call me that! It drives me mad.
All right, I wont. Dont be angry.
Why did you do it?
Life was hard. I had no one. Your father threw us out.
Because?
I told him you werent his.
Was that true?
No.
So why say it?
I was angry. We argued. I was young and stupid and stormed off.
And?
I fought with my mum and decided to leave. Where could I go with a child? I left you there, thinking someone would take care of you. I even left a note I said Id come back.
Did you really believe a scrap of paper was enough? Who are you?
I regret it! Let me make it right
You cant fix it. You cant bring back all those lost years. I dont want to see you anymore. Please dont come back here.
You wont forgive me?
I dont know. Even if I try, I cant forget. Understand?
She tried to say I couldnt remember that I was too young. But I did, and because of that, I decided nobody else would tell me what I could feel or remember.
Lucy got it straight away.
Its your life, Sam. If it feels right, dont regret it. Just move forward.
I wish I were as wise as you, Luce
One day maybe! I want to become a counsellor then I might finally figure out how to live properly.
She did become one, later, after she had her daughter, and wed laugh about it. Once, Lucy said to me, Truth is, no one knows whats proper. Not you, not me, not anyone.
So what do we do then?
Live with joy! Make sure your loved ones feel safe and happy. Dont live some soap opera other people want to watch.
Youre doing a cracking job.
I do my best! she laughed, deftly changing her babys nappy.
She helped me put things in perspective. So what if we lived in a poky bedsit? At least it was in the heart of town and close to work. A bit of DIY, a splash of paint, and life lookedwell, almost perfect. Margaret was right about the neighbours: they kept themselves to themselves and tried to drown their grief in drink, but caused us no bother. Pity, I learned, was something you had to master.
I didnt know how to accept it, not until Margaret and Granddad showed me.
Margaret was tenacious, practical, and as stubborn as they come but she had a heart as broad as her Yorkshire accent. She treated me like family from day one. Lucy called it a superpower.
Dont expect too much from Annabels family, Lucy had warned, packing me off for Sunday roast. Youre her orphan boyfriend, no house, no prospects. Council flat? Dont bring it up unless its happened, not in the pipeline. Wait till its real.
Do you think Im thick?
Not at all. Im saying, it takes time. Let them get used to you. No one owes you their approval just because youre Annabels pick. Give it time.
I already knew that.
At first, Margaret got on my nerves. Everything about her was too much: her booming laugh, her height, her insistence on making life better for everyone she knew. She fussed over me, like Id never experienced.
Sam, could you come with me to the shopping centre? Need help picking a new winter coat. Arthur hates the shops and I end up grabbing the first thing I see. Its tough to find my size nowadays.
Reluctantly, I went along and always returned home laden with bags. Oddly enough, most of the haul was for me: a new jacket, shoes I never would have dreamed of, a trendy rucksack. Shed catch me eyeing something and steer me straight into the shop.
Look at that rucksack! Not for me at my age, but perfect for you. Shall we try it on?
There was no point resisting. Later Id unpack and quietly thank her for her kindness.
She was strange, no doubt who goes out of their way for someone who isnt even truly family yet? In stories, maybe, but real life? Still, remembering Lucys advice, I tried to stay polite but distant.
Margaret must have sensed it; after a while, she stopped pressing for heart-to-heart chats. But she understood my need for independence.
Granddads getting frail. He needs looking after, so you and Annabel can move into his flat. Hell move in with me.
Granddad took it all in stride, winking at me as we packed our things. Hed soon have Margaret out at the park, dousing himself with cold water like a man half his age.
One day, Margaret vented to him, Do you think I did the right thing, Dad?
Of course let the kids make their own mistakes. Only help if they ask. But lay off Sam; hes proud. Help gently or not at all.
She listened to him. When she visited, it was by invitation. She saved her advice for when we wanted it, always reminding herself of how much her own life had changed once Annabel was born, how her mother-in-law softened when she became a granny.
Her late husband and mother-in-law died young, but she never let Annabel forget: You were so loved. The best bit of our lives.
Its odd, but in our own way, we ended up forming the family we never had. Over time, my edges wore away; Margaret became less the bumbling meddler and more of a friend.
When Granddad announced hed be selling up, I felt a knot in my stomach.
Whats got you down? he asked, sorting paperwork as I helped.
Oh, well manage. Well rent a room or a small place while we save. Annabels just changed jobs; itll be tight for a while. My pay only stretches so far. If I had a bit more, Id have asked you to let us buy it. Thats just wishful thinking though. Lucy always says even a few quid in savings gives you hope. Shes right well get there.
Glad to hear it, he smiled.
Did I say something daft?
He just patted my cheek, asked me to stick the kettle on, and then settled at the table. Tea and a good natter, my favourite things now. Tell me, Margaret getting on your nerves?
Heavens, no! Shes never been anything but lovely.
Dont be daft. Look at you, all flustered! Relax.
But why do you say that?
Shes your mother-in-law legend says theyre supposed to be monstrous, no?
Thats rubbish! Maybe thats true for some, but not for us. And you know it.
I do. And I know Margaret thinks of you as a son. Just give her a chance to get closer. She means well.
But I dont need pity. I can look after myself.
And whats wrong with a bit of sympathy?
It feels wrong.
Well then, perhaps I should stop coming over. I quite liked thinking you cared for me.
Course I do! But pity is isnt it a bit sad?
Depends on your meaning. Once, in England, to pity meant to care deeply. If someones poorly, is it grand passion they want, or a bit of gentle sympathy?
Probably the latter.
And if someones hurting inside?
Then you show some kindness.
Spot on. Its not about condescension. It matters how and why. Sympathise with sense. Dont enable bad habits, or weaken someone who needs to be held accountable. But to those you love partner, friend, even a stray cat it matters. If you can care, truly care, it comes back to you.
Thats the conversation running through my head now, looking at the cat outside our new flat. Thanks to Margaret and Granddad, wed scraped together enough for this place. And the cat looked like he was hoping for a bit of kindness himself. He let me stroke him, didnt flinch. When I opened the door and welcomed him in, he darted away up the stairwell.
Well, excuse me! I called out, ready to close the door just as he reappeared, this time with a tiny ginger kitten dangling from his jaws.
Blimey, I breathed. I scooped up the noisy bundle, and the big cat raced off again.
There was a second kitten, rowdier than the first and determined not to be carried anywhere. The big cat tried, dropped him, tried again, and I couldnt help but laugh at the circus act.
Youre more mum than dad, mate, I grinned, ushering them all into the hallway. Is that all of you, or is there more?
The cat finally ventured in, anxiously watching as I arranged the kittens on an old tea tray. He then insisted on showing them the litter tray like a proper mother hen.
You really are something! I chuckled, then silently slipped away to see what I could rustle up for tea. They clearly expected to be fed.
That evening, I held a family summit.
Margaret, if youre not happy, Ill find homes for the cats. I cant just turf them back outside. The kittens are barely weaned, and Ive absolutely no idea where their mother is or why their dads in charge, but here we are.
She picked up a kitten, smiling. Why are you asking me for permission, Sam? Its your flat. Yours and Annabels. You two decide who lives here. I approve just tell me how you fed them?
Theyve mastered milk, thank goodness, I said.
I think Ill take one when its bigger. As for the rest…
Ill rehome a kitten if I can, but the big fellow I think hell stay. I have a lot to learn from him.
Learn what, pray tell? Margaret lifted an eyebrow.
Annabel smiled, glanced at me, gave me the nod I could finally share the secret wed kept for her birthday.
How to be a good mum I said gently. Now Ive got two teachers. You and this fluffy nanny
I reached out to scratch the cat behind his battered ear and, for the first time in years, I let myself have a proper cry as Margaret hugged me.
Looking back, I realise what I never understood as a child: kindness and comfort are what make a family, not blood. Pity isnt weakness when given wisely, its a strength. And, perhaps most of all, sometimes what you need finds you curled up by the front door, just waiting for you to invite it in.
