Run, Mummy, Run

by Cathy Glass

  Sarah and James jumped up and scampered off upstairs, chattering excitedly about the forthcoming visit of their grandma and granddad. Aisha looked at the mess they’d left on the floor: cereal bowls with crumbs from the cornflakes they’d eaten dry; half-drunk glasses of water, the cushions from the sofa dotted on the floor where they’d sat watching television. She sighed; they were only children but at present everything was such an effort. She stooped and picked up the cushions and returned them to the sofa, then collected the bowls, spoons and glasses, and switching off the television, carried them through to the kitchen. She dumped them in the sink together with her mug of half-drunk black tea, and returned to the lounge and sat on the sofa.

  Sarah and James reappeared, washed and dressed, and looking as presentable as was possible in their worn-out weekend clothes. The children went to the bay window and stood side by side behind the net curtains watching passing cars and looking out for their grandparents. Every so often James called out, ‘Is it a black Mondeo? A green BMW? A red Astra?’ wanting to be the first to spot his grandparents and showing off his knowledge of cars.

  ‘I don’t know, love,’ Aisha said over and over again, exhausted. ‘Wait until a car stops outside the house and then call me. I’m going to close my eyes for a bit. Wake me, if I fall asleep.’ She rested her head back and massaged her temples to try and ease the throbbing. If she could just sleep for a while, perhaps her head would clear and then everything wouldn’t seem such a burden. She heard the children’s hushed tones continue their commentary and then fade as her eyes closed. A little while later, she came to with a start as James squealed with excitement.

  ‘Mum! It’s a blue Ford! They’re here!’

  ‘He’s right, Mum,’ Sarah added. ‘They’ve parked outside.’

  Aisha hauled herself to her feet and running her hands over her hair, joined the children behind the net curtains at the window. She should probably have brushed her hair and had a shower but the energy required for all that was beyond her at present. At least she’d changed out of the bloodstained cardigan she’d been wearing the day before. She couldn’t remember doing it but she must have taken it off when they had got back late last night – it was still lying on the bathroom floor.

  The three of them watched as the doors to the car slowly opened and her parents climbed out. Aisha’s heart lurched at the sight of their once familiar outlines now distanced by the passing of time. How they’d aged, she thought, how different they seemed now, she would barely have recognized them if she’d passed them in the street. Her father was dressed in a suit and tie; he never wore casual clothes when he left the house. Her mother was wearing a dark green sari under a three-quarter-length coat. As Aisha watched she saw her pick up the hem and shake it free in a quaint little gesture that she now remembered from her childhood. Once they were out of the car her father went round testing all the doors, a habit Aisha had once found irritating but now seemed strangely comforting. She watched him offer his arm to her mother and they began slowly towards the garden gate. Her father was much thinner, and his usual upright shoulders were now slightly stooped, making him appear even shorter. Her mother had gained weight, but walked slowly and seemed to be using her father’s arm for support. And her black hair, which always used to be plaited, was now grey and knotted in a tight bun on her neck. She was carrying a shopping bag, and if Aisha wasn’t mistaken, it was the same bag she’d brought with her to the hospital when Sarah had been born. How long was it since she’d seen them? She really had no idea. They’d seen James as a baby, but not at hospital as she’d only been in one night. Did they come here? She thought maybe once, perhaps when James had been a toddler. Then there was their unexpected visit when Mark had sent them away, and they’d never been again. Aisha couldn’t remember exactly when that was, for like most of the last seven years, it had blurred into a fog of beatings and survival.

  Aisha waited until they rang the bell before going to answer the door. Her mother was standing just behind her father in the porch; they both looked sombre, lined and small. ‘Hello,’ Aisha said as lightly as she could, trying to raise a smile. ‘Good to see you, please come in.’ She stood aside to let them pass. She wasn’t sure if she should kiss them, but they made no attempt to kiss her so she didn’t.

  Her father nodded stiffly as he walked by her into the hall. ‘Aisha,’ he said formally and that was all.

  Her mother followed him in and glanced in Aisha’s direction, her face pained and lined; then she looked at Sarah and James standing awkwardly further down the hall.

  ‘Say hello to your grandparents,’ Aisha encouraged as she closed the front door.

  ‘Hello,’ the children said and smiled shyly.

  Her father went up to them and leant forwards so the children could kiss his cheek. Her mother joined him and kissed Sarah and James unselfconsciously. ‘Hello loves,’ she said in the same small voice Aisha had heard on the phone. She sniffed and Aisha wondered if she was crying, but she had her back to her so she couldn’t see.

  ‘Shall we go into the lounge?’ Aisha said, and nodded to Sarah to lead the way.

  Once in the lounge, they all stood about awkwardly, avoiding each other’s gaze. Aisha thought how strange it was seeing her parents in the house after all this time. ‘Would you like a drink?’ she offered. ‘I’m afraid it can only be water or black tea. We haven’t anything else.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ her father said tightly. ‘We don’t need a drink.’

  Aisha shrugged. ‘Well, sit down then, won’t you?’ She waved to the sofa. ‘Shall I take your coat, Mother?’

  Aisha waited while her mother slipped off her coat and then handed it to her without meeting her eyes. Her parents perched side by side on the sofa while Aisha hung her mother’s coat on the hall stand and then returned to sit opposite them in the armchair. James and Sarah hovered, uncertain, and then came and sat on the floor beside her feet. There was another uncomfortable silence as Aisha looked at her mother and she in turn looked at the children. Her father sat very still, his gaze concentrated on the floor.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ Aisha said at last. ‘I’m sorry it’s been so long.’ She paused. Her father shifted position, crossing one leg over the other, while her mother looked at the children.

  ‘So, how are you both?’ she tried again. ‘Keeping well, I hope?’ She knew it sounded ridiculous after all this time but what else could she say?

  Her father looked up sharply. ‘How are we? Aisha, how do you think we are? You shut us out of your lives for years and then suddenly phone with all this.’ He waved his arm as though encompassing all the problems she’d ever had.

  ‘I should think you’re pretty angry,’ she said. ‘I would be. But if it’s any consolation, things haven’t exactly been good here either.’

  Her father shot her a warning glance, reminding her he was her father and expected respect. ‘I’m not talking about now,’ he said. ‘I realize you’ve suffered a dreadful bereavement, and I’m truly sorry. But all this time, Aisha. Don’t you think you owe us an explanation, if not an apology? After all we’ve done for you. How could you treat us so cruelly?’

  She looked at him carefully. Cruelly, now there was a word she understood and knew a lot about. More than either of her parents could ever begin to imagine. She knew she should open up and explain, but not now. She hadn’t the strength now and wouldn’t know where to begin.

  ‘I really don’t know how I treated you so badly,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry.’ And she was sorry. Sorry she’d hurt them, sorry she’d phoned and got them involved, sorry she’d met Mark, and sorry she’d ever been born. ‘Sorry!’ she said again with more force than she should.

  Her mother began to cry and her father looked at her accusingly. ‘Now see what you’ve done.’ He put an arm around his wife and comforted her while Sarah and James watched them, intrigued. They’d never seen a man comforting his wife before; hitting, shouting, yes, but not actually trying to make her feel bett
er. Aisha saw the look on their faces and could have wept.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she said more gently. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’ She wanted to go over and hug her parents but she didn’t think she had the right to, not after all these years and the way she’d behaved.

  After a few moments her mother took a lace handkerchief from the waistband of her sari, and drying her eyes, looked at Aisha. ‘We’ve come here to help, love,’ she said gently. ‘Not to be angry with you. I’ve brought you and the children something to eat. It’s not much, but it’s all I had ready.’

  ‘Thank you, Mum,’ Aisha said quietly. ‘That was kind of you.’

  She and the children watched as her mother reached down into the shopping bag at her feet, and unzipping it, took out two polythene containers and a glass bottle with a screw top. ‘It’s the dhal you used to like, but it’s not so spicy. Your father doesn’t like it too hot now. And a chappati – I made them last night – and some mango squash. It’s all I had ready. Would the children like some?’

  Aisha looked at her mother as she meekly offered up the food she used to lovingly prepare for her as a child. Like many mothers, food and love were inextricably linked. The years fell away and Aisha remembered her parents’ visit to the hospital when Sarah had been born, and the food she’d brought with her then in that same shopping bag. She remembered how proud and excited they’d been and how much they were looking forward to being grandparents and idolizing their grandchildren. But that had never happened and it was her fault.

  ‘Thank you, Mum,’ Aisha said, and touched Sarah’s shoulder, who stood and went over to her grandmother.

  ‘Thank you, Gran,’ Sarah said smiling and took the boxes. James joined her and they went through to the kitchen.

  ‘Will she be able to reach the bowls and glasses?’ her mother asked.

  Aisha nodded. They heard Sarah open a kitchen cupboard and take out the crockery, followed by Sarah saying how nice the food was and James agreeing. Aisha looked at her mother and could see how pleased she was. Her father seemed to have softened a little too, she thought. The three of them were quiet; it was so difficult to know what to say. Then her mother broke the silence, and turning to her husband she said quietly, ‘Please give her the money, Ranjith.’

  Aisha watched as her father reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out his wallet; it was black leather with his initials in gold. Aisha remembered her mother giving it to him for his sixtieth birthday years ago. Opening the wallet, he stood and came towards her. ‘Here is a hundred pounds, Aisha, to see you through.’ He held out the twenty-pound notes.

  Aisha stared. She’d never seen so much money, not for a long while. ‘I don’t need all that,’ she said. ‘Ten or twenty pounds will be plenty.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ her mother said kindly. ‘That goes nowhere nowadays. Take it, Aisha and let us know if you need any more.’

  Her father nodded and pushed the money towards her. ‘It will be months before things are sorted out. You can’t live on nothing.’ Aisha stared at him still shocked, for that was exactly what they had been doing – living on nothing.

  He placed the notes in her hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ he said and returned to sit beside her mother.

  Aisha looked at the two of them sitting side by side on the sofa, loving, supportive and respectful of each other, even after a lifetime of being married. That’s how it should have been for me, she thought bitterly and her bottom lip trembled and her head throbbed.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ her mother suddenly asked, almost as if she suspected some of what had been going on.

  Aisha shook her head and felt her eyes mist. ‘No, Mum, not yet.’

  ‘Well, when you do, you know where we are,’ she said tenderly. ‘Is there anything else you need? How will you manage – organizing the funeral and everything? There’s so much to do.’

  Aisha shrugged, she hadn’t really thought that far ahead. She’d been too worried about trying to find some money so they could eat to think about the funeral. Sarah’s voice called from the kitchen, ‘Mum! Can we have seconds?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Have as much as you want,’ Aisha said.

  Her mother smiled, pleased that they were enjoying her cooking as Aisha had done. Then glancing at her husband she sat forward earnestly. ‘Aisha, we won’t stay long now but I was wondering … would it help if Sarah and James came back with us and stayed for a few days? It would be easier for you and we would like it so much, wouldn’t we?’ She looked at her husband for confirmation.

  Her father nodded. ‘I’d be pleased to have them,’ he said. Then, looking straight at Aisha: ‘But can you not tell me why you haven’t let us see them before? And why you never returned our calls? And the accident? You’ve said nothing about that. What happened and where?’

  ‘It was on the motorway,’ she began and stopped. She met his gaze and the years rolled back. Suddenly she was a little girl again, vulnerable but with her father to protect her. It took all her self-control not to tell him but she feared the outcome. For seated here with her parents and with the children’s chatter coming from the kitchen, a normality had returned as it had done briefly in the car. It was impossible to imagine, let alone explain how she had got into the position she had, and then done what she had done. ‘One day,’ she said softly. ‘But I can’t tell you now.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘You are a grown woman, Aisha. I must accept that, although I won’t pretend we haven’t been hurt.’

  ‘I know, Dad, believe me I know. We’ve all been hurt in this.’

  She stood and wiping the back of her hand over her eyes went over and kissed them both, then went through to the kitchen where the children had just finished eating. ‘Gran has asked if you would like to go and stay with her and Grandpa for a few days?’ she said.

  Sarah and James looked at her wide-eyed and amazed – the invitation which was the norm for many children was a first for them.

  ‘What? Sleep there with my teddy bear?’ James asked. ‘Yes, if you’d like to? Just for a few days.’ ‘Will you be all right alone?’ Sarah asked, as always concerned for her mother.

  ‘Yes, things are different now. I’ll be fine, and we can phone each other every day.’

  They scrambled down from the breakfast stools and went through to the lounge. ‘I’m coming to stay with you, Grandpa.’ James said squeezing himself between his grandparents on the sofa.

  Sarah, more reserved, hung back. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right alone?’ she whispered to her mother.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. Now you go and talk to your grandma while I go upstairs and pack a bag for you and James.’ Finally reassured, Sarah sat on the sofa, and as Aisha left the lounge she heard her mother asking Sarah if she enjoyed school and Sarah saying she did.

  Upstairs, Aisha went to the cupboard on the landing where she knew there was an old holdall that had once been Mark’s. Taking it out she unzipped it and going through to Sarah’s room lay it on her bed. She opened the door to the built-in wardrobe and began searching through. James’s clothes were in here too as there wasn’t any furniture in his room except for the bed. But as she looked she realized just how few clothes the children owned. Apart from their school uniforms, which had had first call on any money, and the clothes they were wearing now, there wasn’t much else. She found a dress for Sarah that still fitted, a pair of joggers with a top for James, and a few pairs of pants and socks for each of them. Folding these into the holdall she picked up the children’s nightwear from Sarah’s bed and put that in too. Then James’s teddy and Sarah’s rag doll which were in the bed. Aisha went through to the bathroom, and taking their toothbrushes and face flannels returned and tucked them into the side compartment of the bag so they wouldn’t dampen the clothes. Zipping up the holdall she carried it downstairs, embarrassed that her parents would shortly be unpacking it and seeing the conte
nts. Leaving the bag in the hall she went through to the lounge where Sarah and James were now chatting easily with her parents. If her parents wondered why their grandchildren weren’t more upset at having just lost their father they didn’t say, and it crossed Aisha’s mind again that possibly they had some idea of what had been going on in their short lives.

  ‘I’ve packed what they have,’ Aisha said to her mother, ‘but I’m afraid there isn’t much. The rest is in the wash,’ she lied. ‘If I give you some of this money Dad gave me, could you buy them another outfit each, please?’

  She put her hand into her cardigan pocket ready to draw out the notes but her mother said, ‘Keep that, we’ll take care of some new clothes. It’ll be a nice treat to take them shopping, won’t it Ranjith?’ Her father nodded.

  ‘What about school on Monday?’ her mother now asked. ‘Shall I phone the school and tell them what’s happened and that the children won’t be going for a while?’

  ‘Yes,’ Aisha said, again having not thought that far ahead. ‘That’s probably what we should do.’ She felt relief that finally someone else was in control and knew what to do. ‘Thanks, Mum. That would be very helpful.’

  ‘We won’t have another accident, will we?’ James suddenly asked, concerned.

  ‘No,’ her father said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. ‘I’m a very careful driver. I’ve been driving since I was seventeen and I’ve never had an accident.’

  ‘Cor, that’s a long time,’ James said and his grandfather smiled.

  Her parents stood and the children did likewise; they all went into the hall. Aisha hugged the children, and Sarah asked again: ‘You will be OK without us, Mummy?’

  ‘Yes, I will, don’t worry. I’ve lots to do, and I’ll phone you every day. It’ll be like a little holiday for you.’ But as soon as she’d said it she knew the comparison was futile, for the children had never been on holiday – something else they’d been denied.