Return
Mary began feeling unwell right there on the railway platform.
She just managed to reach a litter bin, bending over it, aware that her expensive coat was brushing against the cold, grimy metal surface.
Miss, are you alright? came a warm, local accent from nearby.
Just leave me alone
Mary straightened up. Around her, people drifted by like characters in a silent filmpuffer jackets, battered holdalls, tote bags overflowing with potatoes.
The air was tinged with diesel fumes, cheap tobacco, and that special musty scent she remembered from growing up in English provincial townsa smell that always brought on a headache.
She hated this town. She hated it with that clean, icy hatred unique to someone who ran off fifteen years ago, determined to erase the memory of the place.
Her phone buzzed.
Dad.
Mary, where are you? Im in the car, waiting for you.
Ill get a taxi, she snapped. You dont need to pick me up. Just give me the address of the hospital.
Mums not at the hospital now. They let her out yesterday. Blood pressure was low, they said rest at home. Ill come for you
Shes home? Mary clenched her jaw. Are you serious? Ive travelled all this way for nothing?
Dont be cross. Your mums missed you. Shes baked some pasties for you.
What pasties, for heavens sake?!
She hung up.
***
The house where shed grown up looked even smaller now.
Mary stood in the entrance, eyeing the battered door with peeling faux leather. The neighbours cat was rubbing against her legs, leaving grey hairs on her boots. There was the smell of cabbage soup, cats, and something sweet. It always smelled like this. Always.
She went in without knocking.
Her mum was in the kitchen, small, silver-haired, draped in an old housecoat over a nightdress.
When she saw Mary, she clapped her hands, happiness and guilt wrestling on her face. Something about it made Mary wince.
Mary, darling! I thought youd be here this evening
You promised not to lie. Mary stayed standing in her boots, right in the hall. Do you realise my work contracts in jeopardy? I spent the night on a train so I could visit you in A&E, and youare baking pasties?
Mum deflated, arms at her sides.
Im sorry, love. Didnt want to scare you. Just a bit of low pressure, thats all. Missed you so much
Thats called lying, Mary said, kicking off her boots and flinging them into the corner. Alright. Wheres your blood pressure monitor? Lets check, then Ill go to a hotel. I wont stay here tonight.
Mary, please
Mum, your loo is leaking, the radiators hardly work, and the neighbours argue so loudly the walls shake. I physically cant be here.
Mary moved into the kitchen and sat at the table. A plate of golden, still-warm pasties sat in front of her; she ignored them.
Bring the monitor.
Her mum fetched an old rubber-pump monitor.
Whats this? Mary grimaced. Cant you afford a proper one? Ive sent you money.
I put it in your savings book. For you. Just in case.
Oh, for goodness sake
Mary pumped up the monitor. The numbers danced before her eyes.
160 over 90. Are you eating salt by the spoon?!
Just a little
Fine. Ill buy you proper tablets and a new monitor tomorrow. Im shattered now. Where can I sleep?
Her mum scampered off to make up a bed. Mary gazed from the kitchen window at the grey terraced houses, thinking, Just dont get stuck, just get out tomorrow.
***
Mary didnt sleep that night.
The sofa was too short, the springs jabbed into her back, and the neighbours bellowed at each other until there was screaming and the sound of a fighta womans shriek, a mans blustering swearing.
She lay there, staring at the ceiling crack shed known since childhood. Then, it resembled lightning. Now, it simply reminded her that the house was crumbling.
Towards dawn, she finally drifted off, and dreamed she was small againMum taking her through the market, buying her a jam pasty, still hot and dusted with sugar. Mary felt so happy.
She woke crying, the sheets wet beneath her cheek. She couldnt seem to stop. She just lay there, sobbing silently.
Now it was quiet next door. Only the old clock ticked out the silence; the same one Mum had always promised to throw out.
Mary? Mum called through the door. You awake?
Im not sleeping, Mary croaked.
Theres someone here for you.
Who?
No idea. Some girl. She said her name was Julie. Do you remember?
Mary sat bolt upright. Julie? That Julie?
She pulled on her dressing gown and padded out.
It was indeed Julieher best friend from school, the one Mary had left behind without so much as goodbye when she moved to London.
Julie hardly looked any differentsame fair hair in a ponytail, the same dimples. Only her eyes had dulled, with deep shadows beneath.
Hiya, Julie said. Your mum said youre here. Thought Id pop roundfifteen years gone!
Mary was lost for words. She wanted to say something tartmaybe, How did you find me? or Im busy, you knowbut found she couldnt.
Come in, she blurted instead.
They sat in the kitchen. Mum, realising shed be in the way, nipped next door. Julie cupped her mug in both hands, sipping tea.
Im married now, she said. Got a daughterLily, seven years old. Off to school soon.
Congratulations, Mary nodded.
And you? Hows London life?
Fine.
Married?
I was.
What happened?
Mary shrugged. She didnt want to explain about her husband leaving her for someone elsethat the flat, the car, the career meant nothing at night when she was alone. Utterly alone.
Incompatible, she said softly.
Julie nodded. Silence. Then she said, I forgave you, you know.
Forgave me? Mary frowned. For what?
For leaving without a word. We were like sisters, you and I, shared everything. Then you left and nothing. I cried, then I got angry, but I figured you needed to. Built your own life. I did too. Now here we are, chatting over tea, and Im glad to see you.
Mary blinked back tears, turning to the window.
Julie, I was stupid. Sorry.
Never mind, Julie smiled. These things happen.
They talked all afternoon. Julie told storiesher husband worked at the factory, drank but was mostly harmless; her little girl, an artist in the making, all the walls scribbled on; tales of ordinary family life. Mary listened, surprised to realise she was genuinely interested.
Look, come over tomorrow for dinner, said Julie as she got up to leave. Ill make stew. Meet Lily.
Im not sure
Come on, Julie squeezed her hand. Your mum says youre staying till Wednesday. Lets catch up.
Mary nodded.
***
Next day, Mary went to the chemists.
She had to get tablets and a decent blood pressure monitor for Mum, maybe a few other useful bits and bobs. She wandered through town, looking around. Somehow, the place didnt seem quite so awful today. Hoar frosted the trees, kids tugged sledges, old women huddled on benches. It felt normal.
The chemists had a queue. Mary joined the end. The lady in fronta tired woman in an old quilted coat with a shopping bag full of grocerieswas shifting her weight uncomfortably, breathing heavily.
Are you alright? Mary asked.
Its nothing, love. Just my heart. Bit off, Ill buy a pill and be right.
Mary took a closer look. The woman was pale, lips tinged blue, forehead shining with sweat.
Sit down, Mary said gently. Tell me what you need. Ill get it.
Nitroglycerin, dear. Thank you, youre an angel.
Mary hurried to buy it, handing over the little pill. The woman put it under her tongue, closed her eyes. After a minute, her breathing eased.
Thank you, darling. Youre not from round here, are you?
I am, Mary said suddenly. I was born here.
She left the pharmacy with a rare smile.
***
That evening she visited Julie.
Julie lived in a tired old maisonette, fifth floor, no lift. Mary trudged up shabby stairs, thinking, God, how Im out of practice with these entrances.
But, oddly, it didnt bother her this time.
A little blonde girl with wide eyes opened the door.
Are you Auntie Mary? she asked. Mum said I should meet you.
I am, yes, Mary nodded.
Im Lily. Come in. Were having stew tonight.
The flat was poor but spotless. Old furniture, faded wallpaper, childs drawings everywhere. It smelled comfortingly of beef stew and fresh baking.
Julie bustled at the stove.
Here, Mary! Coat offlets eat. Lily, get the spoons!
They sat down together. As Mary spooned hot stew, she realised she hadnt felt so warm or comforted in ages. When was the last time shed just sat at a table, among ordinary folk, no showiness or fuss?
Can you draw something for me? she asked Lily.
The girl eyed Mary, nodding gravely.
Youre pretty. Ill draw you.
Go on, then, Mary laughed.
Lily fetched a sketchbook and crayons, then settled in to work.
Mary sipped tea and chatted with Julie.
Do you have children? Lily piped up, not looking up from her picture.
No, Mary said. I couldnt.
Oh. Why not?
Lily! Julie chided. Dont ask that!
Its alright, Mary smiled. Sometimes it just happens that way, Lily. Not everyone can.
Dont be sad, Lily said earnestly. Youre still young. Youve got time.
Mary grinned.
Thank you, sweetheart.
Lily showed her the drawinga woman in a flowing dress with a crown, surrounded by flowers.
Thats you, Lily explained. Like a princess. But sad. Wait, Ill draw a sun to cheer you up.
Marys throat tightened.
Thank you, love. Ill hang your picture at home in London. Promise?
Promise. Lily nodded. And will you come back?
I will, Mary saidand surprised herself with how real it sounded.
***
She got back late. Mum hadnt gone to bedshe was waiting up.
How was it? she asked.
Really nice, Mum. Really, really nice.
Mary pulled up a chair and took her mums hand. It was warm and rough, splotched with age.
Mum, Im sorry. For everything.
Dont, petal. For what?
For for being ashamed of you. Of this town. Of myself. Thinking I was better because Id left. But Im not. I just ran away.
Mum said nothing, just stroked Marys hair as she had when she was little.
You didnt run, love. You survived. Thats how it was: get out, or go under. Im proud you left. Just dont forget us, eh?
I wont, Mary whispered. I swear.
***
In the morning, she was leaving.
Dad took her to the station. Mum stood on the platform, tiny in her old coat, waving her hand.
Mary looked out the window, feeling a squeeze deep inside.
Remember to come back, Dad said. Were not here forever, love.
Ill come, Dad. I promise.
She found her seat, pulled out her mobile. There was a text from Julie: Come again soon. Lilys already asking when Auntie Mary will visit. She likes you so much.
Mary smiled and tucked her phone away.
The train set off. Grey terraces, garages, and frosty fields soon drifted past the window. And this time, Mary noticed she didnt have a headache. She wasnt sick. She didnt feel like shutting her eyes and pretending none of it existed.
She took Lilys picture from her bagunfolded it. There she was, in a crown, with flowers and the beginning of a sun.
Mary gazed out. Above the fields, the real sun was risingbroad, red, and dazzling.
***
A week later, Mary sent Julie some money. Just becausefor Lily: art supplies, school trips, whatever she needed.
Julie refused at first, but Mary insisted.
Six months later, Mary came back to her hometown. Just turned up, bought a ticket, and arrivedno warning.
The three of them sat together at Julies kitchen tableMary, Julie, and Lily, sharing stew and sharing stories. Mary found herself thinking, perhaps this is what happiness feels like: simply being needed, for no reason at all.
