Two bouquets for Mum
The favourite spot for little Ben in the house is the wardrobe. Its a huge, old, darkbrown wardrobe that sits in the corner of the childrens bedroom he shares with his parents. The doors are heavy for his small hands, creaking and squeaking every time he opens them. Inside he piles his simple toys a teddy bear with a torn ear, a clown wearing a massive bluered hat that Mum gave him for Christmas, and a horse. Yes, a horse.
The horse was once black, with a sleek mane the colour of a ravens wing. Over the years the black plastic cracked and faded in the sun, but the mane stayed almost intact. Ben loves the horse and even puts a little sprig of grass in its mouth.
The wardrobe is Bens secret world, his own Narnia, where real magic happens: the clown becomes a knight riding the trusty horse, defending a beautiful princess from a nasty bear. What follows after the knightclowns victory is still a mystery to Ben, and the most exciting moments of his play are always interrupted by his grandmothers call.
Ben is oddly afraid of Gran. Her hands are always dirty and knotted from gardening while Mum and Dad are at work. Her face is lined like freshly ploughed earth, and her voice is sharp and loud, much like their dog Rex, who lives outside all year in a kennel and, after catching a chill, barks hoarsely and in short bursts.
Ben feels sorry for Rex, especially in winter when the fierce February wind nearly tears the shutters off and a fierce snowdrift almost buries the kennel. One especially cold night Ben slips out of the house in his flannel pajamas covered with bear prints, socks on his feet, and crawls through the drifts to rescue the dog. Halfway there his mothers worried voice and Grans angry shouts catch up with him. Mum stands on the doorstep in a coat slung over her shoulder, staring into the darkness and shouting:
Ben, where are you?
From behind her Gran bellows:
Come back, you cheeky lad! Where do you think youre going? Youre just like your wandering father, always off on some nonsense!
Wandering father never shows up he has an important job. Ben doesnt quite grasp what a longhaul driver does, but he knows its something that keeps Dad away most of the time. When Dad does appear, he pats Ben on the back, asks Hows it going? and then heads straight to bed.
Gran calls him oldtimer, while Mum folds her eyes and says:
Dont worry, love, well manage. Youre my happy little boy, already growing up. Look what Ive got for you Dads watch. Just like a grownups. Dad comes home when the little and big hands meet at the bottom and the little window shows the date 12. Remember that? Dont lose it.
Ben beams with pride at having Dads watch, just like an adults. Still, he feels a bit shy watching his friend Freddie bounce around with his own dad on Sunday mornings, both holding fishing rods Dad with a big spinning reel, Freddie with a tiny rod and a bucket that never seems to catch anything.
Even sixyearold Lucy, whom Ben honestly thinks a bit slow because she still cant read, rides in her fathers white van every Sunday to the market a habit Ben finds amusing, especially since at five he can already read shop signs like Pharmacy and Optician, albeit not always fully understanding the difference.
Ben dreams that one day Dad will sit him on the big lorry he drives, and theyll go off on their manly errands together. But on the rare days Dad is home, hes rarely in the mood for Ben: they argue with Mum, Mum cries, Gran fusses, Dad slams doors and steps outside to smoke. Ben hides in his beloved wardrobe, clutching his trusty teddy, and cries. Real men dont cry, but neither the bear nor the clown will ever tell anyone it stays Bens secret.
That afternoon is Mums birthday. Ben races home from the back garden when he suddenly stops. On the pavement opposite he sees Dad holding a young woman in a red dress by the elbow. She laughs, and in Dads hands glints a huge, beautiful bouquet of roses that takes Bens breath away.
For Mum! flashes through his mind. Its her birthday today! It must be for her! his heart thumps with joy.
In the evening Mum and Gran set the festive table: steaming potatoes just out of the oven, a clear jelly wobbling in its mould, crunchy pickles from the cellar, and a massive cake decorated with pink roseshaped buttercream. One rose is missing, though Ben had sneaked a bite earlier. When the guests sit down, Dad returns carrying a bouquet but not the roses. These are modest white chrysanthemums wrapped in grey paper. Mum lights up, wraps her arms around his neck, and laughs like a delighted little girl.
Ben swallows, his mouth dry, wanting to ask where the first flowers went, but he looks at Mum she looks radiant in a new pink dress that suits her perfectly, her cheeks flushed from joy or perhaps from dancing. He stays silent.
Later he sits in his dark wardrobe, among the bear and clown, twirling Dads watch on his wrist. Once a very important, adultlike, magical thing, the hands now stand still, lifeless. He shakes it a few times, to no avail. Tears sting his eyes, but this time he doesnt let them fall. He realises crying wont change anything hes no longer the little boy waiting for his dad to return from the road.
Ben places the watch on the shelf between the bear and the clown and gently closes the wardrobe doors. His Narnia now holds no more miracles.
In the next room Mum hums softly while unwrapping presents. Ben comes over, hugs her waist, and feels her shiver.
Im with you, Mum, he says quietly but firmly. Ill always be with you.
