her.
As always, Rose offered words of comfort and practical support. She was good at that, thought Abbie, my dear, kind mum.
Abbie had already decided that whatever time she got home, she would not run today. She didn’t know if it was out of an irrational fear of the unknown and whatever might happen again, or just because her legs - especially her thigh muscles - ached relentlessly, each step she took causing pain and discomfort and reminding her of the running effort she had made. She needed recuperation time, she knew that and, whatever the real reason for her decision - and she couldn’t decide which it was - in the circumstances both options seemed rational and lucid.
Abbie enjoyed the time wandering the shops; she bought some new running socks but couldn’t decide on anything else to buy. Her mum, on the other hand, seemed keen to shop and bought some blouses, in strange bright patterns, that Abbie knew weren’t her and that once she got them home her mum would realise it too and then have to return them. Life does repeat itself she thought.
Over lunch, Abbie played with her salad, pushing bits around the plate as she had no appetite to speak of, although she did force some of it down so as not to draw attention to herself.
“There’s something I wanted to mention” her mum said suddenly.
Abbie was surprised by this almost formal announcement.
“Go on” she replied cautiously.
“Oh don’t be so serious it’s nothing really” replied Rose.
Abbie smiled and felt herself relax a little.
Her mum began, “Yesterday, at the shops I met a lady, and she said
‘Hello’ and I said ‘good morning’, then I realised that it was one of your father’s old work colleagues; she introduced herself as ‘Mrs Oaks’.
“‘Oh’ I said, ‘I didn’t recognise you’
‘That’s OK’ she said ‘a lot of people don’t since I changed the colour of my hair’
“Well I tell you” Rose continued, “it was orange, not red, bright tangerine orange, and someone had said ‘it suits you’ to her and she believed it!
I don’t know if you ever met her but she said she knew of you.”
Abbie shook her head. Her mum continued “‘she said ‘I just want to ask you how your daughter is, I heard about her recent upset’.
“So I said ‘she’s doing OK thank you it’s a difficult time, but we’re getting through’.
‘Yes’ she said ‘send her my best wishes, but we both know how difficult it can be, don’t we, having been through it’.
‘I will’ I said. ‘So you see love, people who don’t really know you are also concerned and send their best wishes”.
“Thanks mum”, Abbie said, “I appreciate it”.
Abbie smiled to herself as she wondered why women of a certain age all speak in dialogue as though they’re reading a script when they’re telling you things. God, would that happen to her in time? Why not just so and so sends their best wishes, and then it’s over quickly; why all the ‘I said, she said’ it’s just like a Les Dawson sketch, she thought. What were those two characters called in that programme, she wondered? And then she remembered - Cissy and Ada.
When Abbie arrived home from shopping she felt tired. In some ways, her body still wanted to run, but she refused the temptation. It was as though her body wanted to escape, to be free, and it seemed to demand it of her, but Abbie resisted as she knew she needed to rest, so her limbs could enjoy it more tomorrow, refreshed and relieved of the aches and pains she hoped.
Several letters had arrived in the post. One looked somehow important, so she sat in the kitchen and opened it; to her surprise, it was from Peter’s employer, requesting a meeting with her to deal with some important legal matters which concerned her, although the letter stated that they were not of a nature to cause worry or upset. The senior manager, a Mr Paul Stokes wanted to meet her personally and had suggested
As always, Rose offered words of comfort and practical support. She was good at that, thought Abbie, my dear, kind mum.
Abbie had already decided that whatever time she got home, she would not run today. She didn’t know if it was out of an irrational fear of the unknown and whatever might happen again, or just because her legs - especially her thigh muscles - ached relentlessly, each step she took causing pain and discomfort and reminding her of the running effort she had made. She needed recuperation time, she knew that and, whatever the real reason for her decision - and she couldn’t decide which it was - in the circumstances both options seemed rational and lucid.
Abbie enjoyed the time wandering the shops; she bought some new running socks but couldn’t decide on anything else to buy. Her mum, on the other hand, seemed keen to shop and bought some blouses, in strange bright patterns, that Abbie knew weren’t her and that once she got them home her mum would realise it too and then have to return them. Life does repeat itself she thought.
Over lunch, Abbie played with her salad, pushing bits around the plate as she had no appetite to speak of, although she did force some of it down so as not to draw attention to herself.
“There’s something I wanted to mention” her mum said suddenly.
Abbie was surprised by this almost formal announcement.
“Go on” she replied cautiously.
“Oh don’t be so serious it’s nothing really” replied Rose.
Abbie smiled and felt herself relax a little.
Her mum began, “Yesterday, at the shops I met a lady, and she said
‘Hello’ and I said ‘good morning’, then I realised that it was one of your father’s old work colleagues; she introduced herself as ‘Mrs Oaks’.
“‘Oh’ I said, ‘I didn’t recognise you’
‘That’s OK’ she said ‘a lot of people don’t since I changed the colour of my hair’
“Well I tell you” Rose continued, “it was orange, not red, bright tangerine orange, and someone had said ‘it suits you’ to her and she believed it!
I don’t know if you ever met her but she said she knew of you.”
Abbie shook her head. Her mum continued “‘she said ‘I just want to ask you how your daughter is, I heard about her recent upset’.
“So I said ‘she’s doing OK thank you it’s a difficult time, but we’re getting through’.
‘Yes’ she said ‘send her my best wishes, but we both know how difficult it can be, don’t we, having been through it’.
‘I will’ I said. ‘So you see love, people who don’t really know you are also concerned and send their best wishes”.
“Thanks mum”, Abbie said, “I appreciate it”.
Abbie smiled to herself as she wondered why women of a certain age all speak in dialogue as though they’re reading a script when they’re telling you things. God, would that happen to her in time? Why not just so and so sends their best wishes, and then it’s over quickly; why all the ‘I said, she said’ it’s just like a Les Dawson sketch, she thought. What were those two characters called in that programme, she wondered? And then she remembered - Cissy and Ada.
When Abbie arrived home from shopping she felt tired. In some ways, her body still wanted to run, but she refused the temptation. It was as though her body wanted to escape, to be free, and it seemed to demand it of her, but Abbie resisted as she knew she needed to rest, so her limbs could enjoy it more tomorrow, refreshed and relieved of the aches and pains she hoped.
Several letters had arrived in the post. One looked somehow important, so she sat in the kitchen and opened it; to her surprise, it was from Peter’s employer, requesting a meeting with her to deal with some important legal matters which concerned her, although the letter stated that they were not of a nature to cause worry or upset. The senior manager, a Mr Paul Stokes wanted to meet her personally and had suggested
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