A New Chapter
Mum, how much longer are we going to rot in this backwater? whined her daughter as she blew back into the flat from the local coffee shop. Were not even in the sticks, Mum. This is the sticks sticks.
Sophie, Ive told you a hundred times: this is our home, our roots. Im not going anywhere.
Her mother was stretched out on the sofa, legs propped up with a cushion, a pose shed jokingly dubbed the Churchill stretch.
Oh, here you go again, roots, roots. Ten more years and those roots will wilt, and then youll hook up with the next odd bloke in town, and suggest I start calling him Dad.
Wounded, her mum levered herself up and walked to the wardrobe mirror.
My roots are lovely, thank you. Dont be ridiculous
Im trying to say theyre just fine for *now*. Any longer and youll turn into a parsnip, or a swede, or, I dont know, whatever veg you fancy. Youre the chef, you pick.
Well, if its so important, Sophie, you go. Youre old enough, no ones stopping you. Why do you need me to go too?
For my conscience, Mum. If I leave you here behind in the hope of a better life, wholl look after you?
Ive got my pension, a stable wage, Wi-Fi, and Ill find myself a friendly beetle like you said. Its easy for youyoung, sharp, you actually get how things work these days, and teenagers dont make you twitch. Im halfway to Valhalla already.
Oh, Mum! There you go, theres that sense of humourjust like my mates. And youre only forty
Why did you have to say it out loud? Ruin my day, why dont you.
Well, if you were a cat, thatd only be five!
Youre forgiven.
Mum while we still can, why dont we jump on a train and go. Theres nothing here tying us down.
A month ago I finally got them to spell our name right on the gas bill, and were registered at the local surgery, her mother countered, clutching at her last excuses.
All surgeries take you with a health card, and we dont need to sell the house. If it fails, we still have somewhere to crawl back to. Come on, let me take you out there. Ill even teach you how to really live.
That sonographer at my scan said youd give me no peace. Thought he was jokinglook at him now, bronze on Britain’s Got Mediums! Anyway, lets do it. But promise me if it all falls apart, youll let me come homeno drama, no tantrums.
I swear!
Thats what your dad said in the registry office, and you two had matching blood types
***
Sophie and her mother didnt bother with any small townthey went straight for London. They emptied out their precious savings, splurged on a poky studio flat squeezed between a scruffy marketplace and the bus depot on the outskirts, and paid four months rent upfront. The money ran out before theyd properly started spending it.
Sophie was bursting with energy. Instead of faffing around unpacking or nesting, she dove into city lifeits creative scene, nightlife, the lot. She made friends easily, spoke the lingo, picked up the latest styles, slipped into the rhythm like shed sprung fully-formed out of Londons smog and sparkling cynicism.
Her mother meanwhile drifted between a morning cup of chamomile tea and evening herbal sleeping tablets. On the very first day, ignoring Sophies pleadings to go exploring, she started hunting for work. The capital dangled a load of jobs with salaries that barely kept up with the cost of living, and offered more trickery than opportunity. After quick maths, she reckonedwithout the help of any TV psychicthat theyd last half a year, max, before heading home.
Unwilling to take critique from her ambitious daughter, she stuck to the familiar, landing a job as a cook at a local independent school and took a shift as the evening dishwasher at the café around the corner.
Mum, youre chained to the stove again! Didnt you want a new life? Give it a gostudy something! Design, wine tasting, brows Take the Tube, sip artisan coffee, blend in!
Sophie, Im not ready to study now. Honestly, Im just not. Dont worry about me, darling. Ill find my feet. You go and live your life.
Sighing at her mothers stubborn lack of ambition, Sophie settled in. She found her place in cafés, where attentive northern lads picked up the bill; she worked on her wellbeing and spiritual vibes, forging cosmic links with the cityjust as that rune-influencer on YouTube had instructed; she mingled in circles obsessed with success and big money. She wasnt rushing to land a job or boyfriendthe city and she both needed time to size each other up.
Four months later, her mother paid the rent with her own wages, ditched the dishwashing, and took up cooking for another school branch. Sophie meanwhile had quit several online courses, tried out for radio, joined the extras on some student film (where payment was spaghetti and fish fingers), and briefly dated two buskersone a total donkey, the other a feline father of five whod no intention of settling down.
***
Mum, want to do something tonight? Pizza and a film? Im so shattered, I cant be bothered with anything, Sophie yawned, splayed out in her Churchill stretch, while her mum did her make-up before the mirror.
Order if you like, love. Ill transfer you the money. Dont save me any, though, Ill probably not be hungry when I get back.
Get back? From where? Sophie sat bolt upright, staring at her mothers back.
Ive been asked out for dinner, her mother replied, grinning with the giddiness of a schoolgirl.
By who? Sophie asked, not as thrilled as shed thought shed be.
There was an inspection at school. I served them those meat patties you loved as a kid. The lead inspector asked to meet the head chef. She smirked. I had a laughimagine, a head chef at a primary school! Anyway, we grabbed coffee, youd be proud. Tonights dinner at his placehome-cooked, apparently.
Mum, you cant! To a strangers house, for dinner! Are you mad?
Whats so odd about it?
Havent you considered he expects something?
Sophie. Im forty, single. Hes forty-five, smart, not married, and easy on the eyes. Frankly, Ill be happy with anything he expects.
You you sound like some desperate village woman! Like youve got no choice.
I dont know you anymore. Whyd you drag me here, then, if you didnt want me to live, really live?
There was no answer to that. Sophie realised with a shock that theyd swapped roles, and it stung. On her mums card she ordered the largest pizza known to mankind and spent the evening eating her feelings. Mum came tiptoeing in near midnight, not bothering with the lights, her face aglow.
So, how was it? Sophie asked, sulking.
Hes a good sortnot some beetle from the sticks, a proper local chap, her mum giggled, already slipping off for her shower.
Dates multiplied. There were trips to the theatre, a comedy gig, jazzy nights, a library card, membership at the local tea club, training courses, fancy certificates, new recipes mastered. Her mum attached herself to the life of the city hospital. Six months on, her mum was thriving.
Sophie wasnt about to sponge off her, so she attempted to climb the ranks at fancy offices. But no matter how hard she tried, those jobs always knocked her back. Friends faded away once they realised they werent getting anything for free. She took a job as a barista, then switched to night barman. The routine sank sharp clawsdrawn faces in the mirror, energy snatched away. Her love life, if it could be called that, consisted of drunken come-ons from strangers at the bar, none remotely resembling true love. Eventually, shed had enough.
You know what, Mum? You were right. Theres nothing for us here. Im sorry I dragged you away. Its time to go home, Sophie blurted, worn out after another bruising late shift.
Go where? Home? her mum replied, zipping up a suitcase.
Yes, home! Where people spell our name right and the GP knows who we are, Sophie said miserably, flinging belongings around for effect. You were right about everything.
Im all sorted here now, dont want to go back, her mother stopped her, looking carefully into Sophies watery eyes.
Well I do! I hate it here. The Tubes mad, coffee costs a fortune, everyone at the bars stuck-up. I need to go home. Back to people I know, our flat. Youre packing too, arent you?
Im moving in with Henry, her mother announced out of nowhere.
What do you mean, moving in with Henry?
Well, youre settled nowyou can cover the rent yourself. Sophie, Im giving you a gift! Grown up, beautiful, with a job, living in Londona land of opportunity, if ever there was one. She squeezed Sophies hands, her pride clear. If you hadnt dragged me out of that poky village, Id still be suffocating there. Here, Im alive. Thank you! She hugged her daughter, but Sophie wasnt quite ready to rejoice.
Mum, but what about me? Wholl look after me? Sophie asked, tears spilling freely.
Youll be fine: health insurance, a salary, Wi-Fiand youll find your own chap, just like I have, Mum replied, repeating her own old words from home.
So youre just leaving me, then? Just like that?
Im not leaving. But you did promiseno drama, remember?
I remember Fine. Hand me the keys, then.
Theyre in my bag. But one favour?
What?
Your grans planning a move too. Ive sorted it all with her over the phone. Check in with her, help her pack.
Grans moving here?!
Yes. I told her all about a better life, the village swamp, and beetles. Theres a job going at the post office, you know what Grans likeforty years in the game, she could get a letter to the North Pole without a stamp. Let her have her adventure too, before her roots get too tangled.Sophie stared at her motherher bright eyes, her impatient little smile, the traces of laughter threaded into her face. Then she thought of Gran puffing down the capitals pavements, postbag slung over one sharp shoulder, mouth full of stories, ready to conquer the city at seventy.
Suddenly the flat seemed different. Less like a trap, more like a launchpad. Once, her mother had clung to the familiar, and now she was taking flight. Gran, too. Even the village roots, Sophie realized, werent about clutching the same old dirt, but growing strong enough to try new ground.
Sniffling, Sophie wiped her face, took a breath, and managed a wobbly grin. Fine, but if Gran brings her budgie, Im actually moving to the Tube tunnels.
Her mother laughed, soft with pride and relief, and pressed her daughters hands to her cheeks. Youll see. Theres always something newjust around the corner. She kissed Sophies forehead, grabbed her suitcase, and was gone in a whirlwind of confidence and rose-scented perfume.
Sophie stood alone in the flat as the first pale gold of morning crept through the curtains, and she realized she wasnt as scared as shed thought shed be. In the distance, a bus bustled past, and the city outside shimmered, full of unopened doors.
Rooted, yesmaybe. But roots could reach in any direction. She grabbed her phone, grinning, and dialed Gran.
Fancy a cup of city tea and showing me how you tackle the London post? she said, and this time, her voice was steady, and her roots brimming with new beginnings.
