none.
They gave my grandchild away.
She wouldn't talk about it.
I was interrupted by the doorbell. As I reluctantly
walked down the stairs, photographs still in hand, I
heard Lydia yell, 'Yoo-hoo,' through the letter box. After
it clattered shut, the outline of her head appeared in the
frosted window.
'Hello there!' she said as if surprised to find me at
home. 'Thought I'd drop by and see if anything needs
doing. Haven't seen you these last few days, love.'
'Here I am.'
'You busy? Shall we have a cuppa? I've brought some
milk and biccies.'
I could tell that she wasn't going to take no for an
answer. To tell the truth, I liked Lydia's motiveless
fussing. We had no particular history and there was no
reason for her to drop round other than neighbourly
concern, but she had picked an awkward moment.
As we stood in the hall, I watched her eyes register the
changes that I had made to the framed family tree. I
could see that she was trying not to frown.
'Oh, I see you've . . .' She nodded, ending the sentence
with an explanatory cough.
One evening, I had taken the family tree out of its
frame and inserted the date of my parents' death. It had
seemed a respectful thing to do at the time. Seeing
Lydia's reaction, I wondered if I had been right.
'You don't think—' I began.
'No, no,' she butted in, 'it's just seeing it there in black
and white. Bit of a shock, that's all. Wasn't expecting it.'
I stood in the hall looking at my handiwork while she
unloaded a carton of milk and some chocolate
digestives on to the kitchen work surface and filled the
kettle. I tried to visualize the next update and couldn't
think for the life of me how to make the entry for
my mother's son – my half-brother, if what I was
beginning to suspect was true.
She changed the subject. 'It's lovely out. You should
have a once-round the park if you get the chance.'
'Can't. I've started tidying my parents' room.'
She looked at me with a mixture of surprise and
distaste. 'Isn't it a bit early for that, love? Surely it can
wait until the dust has settled.'
'Actually, no.' I took a seat at the kitchen table and
looked downwards. 'The house has got to go on the
market to pay for Nana's care and, because of what's
happened, everyone wants it looking as impersonal as
possible.'
'Who's this everyone?' She puffed herself up with outrage.
'This is your home, love! Where will you go?' She
sat down on the chair next to mine. My mother's chair.
I shrugged. What happened to me seemed unimportant
in the scheme of things.
Her hand folded over mine. 'Are you even working at
the moment?'
'No, but they keep on paying me.' I tried the lighthearted
approach.
'And this has all been decided, has it? I could murder
your lot, you know,' she added as an aside, clawing at
fistfuls of air with her hands. 'You've agreed, have you?'
'There was no choice.' I found myself trying to pacify
this normally happy-go-lucky soul, but my bravado
failed and the tears came.
'Well, it's a proper shame, that's what it is. Ah, come
on now.' She circled me with an arm. 'It's more than one
soul should have to bear all at the same time. Don't get
me wrong, love.' She squeezed. 'I'm so proud of the way
you're coping. But it's not what your parents would have
wanted for you. I can't do much for you, but I'll have a
bed made up for you at ours any time you want it. We've
a spare room going to waste and we always like a bit of
company. Now let me get you that cup of tea, love.'
To change to subject I asked her how she had met her
husband, Bill.
'He was down "sooth" visiting for a weekend. He
came back to see me the two weekends after that, and
on the third he proposed. I didn't think twice about
upping and leaving for Sunderland.'
'That sounds like love at first sight.'
'It was love at first listen, more like. I loved the way he
spoke. He called me his bonny lass, his pet. No one had
talked to me like that before. How was I to know that
was how they all spoke up there?' She nudged me
They gave my grandchild away.
She wouldn't talk about it.
I was interrupted by the doorbell. As I reluctantly
walked down the stairs, photographs still in hand, I
heard Lydia yell, 'Yoo-hoo,' through the letter box. After
it clattered shut, the outline of her head appeared in the
frosted window.
'Hello there!' she said as if surprised to find me at
home. 'Thought I'd drop by and see if anything needs
doing. Haven't seen you these last few days, love.'
'Here I am.'
'You busy? Shall we have a cuppa? I've brought some
milk and biccies.'
I could tell that she wasn't going to take no for an
answer. To tell the truth, I liked Lydia's motiveless
fussing. We had no particular history and there was no
reason for her to drop round other than neighbourly
concern, but she had picked an awkward moment.
As we stood in the hall, I watched her eyes register the
changes that I had made to the framed family tree. I
could see that she was trying not to frown.
'Oh, I see you've . . .' She nodded, ending the sentence
with an explanatory cough.
One evening, I had taken the family tree out of its
frame and inserted the date of my parents' death. It had
seemed a respectful thing to do at the time. Seeing
Lydia's reaction, I wondered if I had been right.
'You don't think—' I began.
'No, no,' she butted in, 'it's just seeing it there in black
and white. Bit of a shock, that's all. Wasn't expecting it.'
I stood in the hall looking at my handiwork while she
unloaded a carton of milk and some chocolate
digestives on to the kitchen work surface and filled the
kettle. I tried to visualize the next update and couldn't
think for the life of me how to make the entry for
my mother's son – my half-brother, if what I was
beginning to suspect was true.
She changed the subject. 'It's lovely out. You should
have a once-round the park if you get the chance.'
'Can't. I've started tidying my parents' room.'
She looked at me with a mixture of surprise and
distaste. 'Isn't it a bit early for that, love? Surely it can
wait until the dust has settled.'
'Actually, no.' I took a seat at the kitchen table and
looked downwards. 'The house has got to go on the
market to pay for Nana's care and, because of what's
happened, everyone wants it looking as impersonal as
possible.'
'Who's this everyone?' She puffed herself up with outrage.
'This is your home, love! Where will you go?' She
sat down on the chair next to mine. My mother's chair.
I shrugged. What happened to me seemed unimportant
in the scheme of things.
Her hand folded over mine. 'Are you even working at
the moment?'
'No, but they keep on paying me.' I tried the lighthearted
approach.
'And this has all been decided, has it? I could murder
your lot, you know,' she added as an aside, clawing at
fistfuls of air with her hands. 'You've agreed, have you?'
'There was no choice.' I found myself trying to pacify
this normally happy-go-lucky soul, but my bravado
failed and the tears came.
'Well, it's a proper shame, that's what it is. Ah, come
on now.' She circled me with an arm. 'It's more than one
soul should have to bear all at the same time. Don't get
me wrong, love.' She squeezed. 'I'm so proud of the way
you're coping. But it's not what your parents would have
wanted for you. I can't do much for you, but I'll have a
bed made up for you at ours any time you want it. We've
a spare room going to waste and we always like a bit of
company. Now let me get you that cup of tea, love.'
To change to subject I asked her how she had met her
husband, Bill.
'He was down "sooth" visiting for a weekend. He
came back to see me the two weekends after that, and
on the third he proposed. I didn't think twice about
upping and leaving for Sunderland.'
'That sounds like love at first sight.'
'It was love at first listen, more like. I loved the way he
spoke. He called me his bonny lass, his pet. No one had
talked to me like that before. How was I to know that
was how they all spoke up there?' She nudged me
Similar Books
