by Diana Finley
‘My darlings, I must go to bed. We can talk more in the morning. Goodnight to you all, my dear, dear children.’ Anna gets up and kisses each of them.
As she approaches the door they respond, almost in unison, ‘Goodnight, Mamma,’ and subside into tipsy chuckles.
‘We should all go to bed,’ says Ben, ‘but just before Mamma goes, can I ask you one thing, Shimon? Have you ever tried to contact your father … Otto, I mean?’
‘I have thought about it occasionally, and Rachel and I have talked about it. But no, I never have, and I never will. Otto would be over seventy by now, and his children with Karin – assuming he is still with Karin – must be middle-aged. Anna never told him she was pregnant, so he knows nothing of my existence. What would be the point? He’s an irrelevance to me. All my life I have had Reuben, who’s been the best father anyone could wish for. A few years ago I acquired a stepfather, in Sam, whom I also grew to love. Two good fathers are surely enough for any man?’
Anna smiles and blows a kiss into the room, before shutting the door behind her. Intense sorrow and joy flood through her simultaneously, like two rivers interlaced, each struggling to dominate the other. Her body is racked with uncontrollable sobs as she staggers up the stairs. She feels cleansed, scoured of all the secrets and lies. At last, at last, she has done the right thing. Her fear of alienating her children was unfounded; she has united her family. If only Sam were there too.
Chapter 17
Sam is not there, yet time passes, the years go by, and Anna grows old, very old, without him. How is it possible to be so old? Today they, she and Eve, are going to the house Sam, Anna and the children lived in when they first moved to England. Anna can hardly believe that was fifty years ago. Fifty years ago! How they loved that house, the first proper home of their own. Before that she’d never been able to put down roots anywhere. All those houses in Germany, none of them truly homes. It meant so much to her, and to Sam.
Of course, he loved the garden. It was extra special for him, knowing they wouldn’t have to move on before his beloved plants matured, as so often before. In the event, he didn’t have as long to enjoy their home as they all expected. Strange to think how significant the time in that house was for them both, yet they had only six or seven years in it together. Anna lived on there alone for another twenty-five years, but it’s the time they spent together she remembers most. How odd the notion of time is, especially when you’re old. Some periods seem to go on and on, others condense into a moment.
It’s nearly twenty years since she moved into Ben and Nadia’s house in Islington, into a ‘granny flat’, as they called it. She knows how good they were to her, how welcoming, yet those years are a bit of a blur. Trying to settle in a strange part of London, where she didn’t know anyone, was very hard. She didn’t even know the butcher or the postman at first. She hadn’t realised how important those little contacts were; she even missed dear old Mrs Potts.
But she had tried to make a life there: joined a bridge group though she hated cards, took up Spanish, attended a local history class, and a music and movement class, and helped out with the family in whatever way she could. At first, she had made cakes or puddings for special occasions. Ben and Nadia expressed appreciation, even though they were excellent cooks themselves. Charlie, Guy and Alma were sweet and affectionate to her, but they’d been outraged when she suggested ‘babysitting’ for them one evening, while Ben and Nadia went to the theatre. It’s easy to forget that even grandchildren grow up.
In the end Anna had become unwell and spent two weeks in hospital. It had turned out to be pneumonia. No one thought she would survive. She had to remind them she was the skinny girl from the soup kitchen in Vienna! Not swept away so easily by a little cough on the chest. Her illness did age her though. She wasn’t very steady on her feet after that. The doctors thought she might have had a small stroke too. After much discussion, everyone had decided she needed more care than Ben and Nadia could provide, so she moved to Morden House.
She had hated the idea at first, but she didn’t want to be a burden for the family. Now, after four years there, she’s used to it and reasonably contented. It’s comfortable and she feels safe and well looked after. The staff are kind, but there aren’t many residents she can talk to. She can’t hear them, even the ones who make any sense. The family visit a lot – at least one person comes every day. Even so, there are long periods of time when she is on her own; time to think, maybe too much time.
* * *
Eve is due in a few minutes. She must have thought about this outing for some time. Thought about what would give her mother pleasure, have special meaning for her. Anna smiles to herself. She knows she annoys Eve. She can’t help it. Sometimes it’s as though she’s compelled to annoy her, even hurt her. She doesn’t mean to really. Or perhaps she does, she’s not sure. They’re very different in some ways, she and Eve, and very similar in others. She’s not certain whether it’s the similarities or the differences that are more provocative. Eve is oversensitive, always was, even as a child, though Anna knows Eve hates it when she tells her that. Says it’s a ‘cop-out’, an excuse for being cruel. Perhaps she hasn’t always been as kind to Eve as she should have.
There’s a pounding on the door. Eve always makes sure Anna hears her come in.
‘Hello, Mamma,’ she says loudly, bending over the chair to kiss her mother. ‘You look nice. When did the hairdresser come?’
‘This morning. I asked her to do my hair first thing today, so I’d be ready for you. Stand there by the window. Let me look at you. Do I know this blouse? I like that green on you – it suits you.’
‘Well, there’s praise! No, I don’t think you have seen it before – it’s quite new. The trousers are old though.’
‘I can see that. I recognise them. Never mind, I suppose the Masseys will be casually dressed. People usually are. You haven’t put any weight on have you?’
‘Do you have to look me up and down like that? No, I don’t believe I’ve put on weight.’
‘You’re slim; that’s why you can even get away with wearing old trousers. Have you dyed your hair?’
Eve gives a long sigh. ‘No, Mamma, I haven’t dyed my hair. Can we change the subject?’
‘What? What subject?’
‘Change the subject. Can we talk about something other than what I look like?’
‘You look nice.’
‘Thank you.’
Eve often tells Anna she’s obsessed with people’s looks. Perhaps that’s true. Well, outward appearances are important. Looks have always been important to her, her own and other people’s. Maybe it’s a foolish attitude at her age. Why bother now? She can hardly claim to be an example of physical perfection herself, not any more. Everything sagging and bulging and wobbling and fading – bah, how horrible! Eve switches Anna’s hearing aids on and gently inserts them.
‘Are you ready? It’ll take a good hour to get there, so you may want to go to the loo first. I noticed there’s a nice café opened in that little shopping centre by the post office. D’you remember where I mean? Just round the corner from the house? Everything’s on the ground floor. I thought we’d go there first for a light lunch, and then on to the house. The Masseys expect us about two-thirty. Does that sound OK?’
‘It sounds fine, darling. How clever of you to arrange it all.’
* * *
It makes a pleasant change going out in the car with Eve. It’s a fine, bright day. Late spring – one of Anna’s favourite times of year. As so often, she wonders briefly whether it might be her last. Not that it matters, she doesn’t mind, but she tries to notice all the details, just in case. The leaves are still pale green and fresh, everything looking new and young. It’s good to see the outside world again; it feels like such an exciting expedition, she might as well be on safari in Africa.
In places the traffic is so thick the car has to crawl along. Eve tuts impatiently and drums her fingers on the wheel, but Anna doesn’t mind t
he delays at all. It gives her a chance to watch the people in the streets. Amazing how they dress these days. Just look at those girls! Showing great bare folds of tummy flesh, even the plump ones. You’d think they’d want to hide it, not show it off. Some of the boys are just as bad, trousers hanging halfway down their behinds.
‘Do we really need to see their underpants?’
‘What?’
‘Those young men – showing everyone their bottoms.’
‘Oh … yes. Just a bit of a fad at the moment I suppose. You didn’t think much of me wearing mini-skirts years ago, did you? But I seem to remember you weren’t much happier about the long flowery skirts a year or two later.’
‘Mmm. Your hippy phase. It wasn’t so much the flowery skirts I didn’t like, it was everything and everyone that went with them.’
‘Well, I’m thoroughly respectable now.’
Eve finds the café and manages to manoeuvre the car into a small space very near. She starts to lift the wheelchair out of the back of the car.
‘Leave it – it’s not far. I can walk if I hold your arm.’
As they approach, a waitress holds the door open for them, and customers pull chairs out of their way. They’re shown to a table by the window. One of the few benefits of being very old, and looking it, is that at least most people go out of their way to help you.
* * *
As the little car turns the corner into the cul-de-sac, Anna feels her stomach tensing. Twenty years disappear in a moment. She glances at the Ryecrofts’ house next door, almost expecting to see dear old Sandie lying sprawled by the front gate as always, lifting his head half-heartedly and thumping his tail on the pavement in greeting. But of course he’s not there, poor old mutt. No doubt the Ryecrofts themselves will have moved on too. The Beaumonts’ house has been repainted – rather an odd shade of peach to choose.
‘Fancy painting the house that orangey colour – Melissa Beaumont always did have strange taste.’
‘Mmm?’
How tall the cherry trees in front of Number Four have grown. After an overnight shower, the browning petals lie in soggy clumps on the path and on the pavement. Must be slippery, quite a hazard for people walking past. A great mistake planting cherry trees so close to the house, Sam always said. Fifty weeks of shade for two weeks of strawberry pink.
A woman – it must be Helen Massey – comes scurrying to the front gate, a broad smile on her face.
‘Oh here we are! Hello, Mrs Lawrence, how lovely to meet you. May I help you?’
‘I can manage, thank you,’ Anna says, heaving her legs sideways, where they dangle helplessly over the pavement. Mrs Massey hovers uncertainly. Eve walks around the car, walking frame in one hand, and hauls Anna efficiently into a standing position, holding her steady while she gets her balance. Then she places the frame in front of her.
‘We may need the wheelchair if Mum gets tired,’ Eve tells Mrs Massey, ‘but she likes to walk when she can.’
‘That’s marvellous! You’re doing very well, Mrs Lawrence.’
‘Fortunately, I learned to walk as a baby, as most of us do.’
Mrs Massey glances at Eve, who raises her eyebrows.
‘Well, do come inside. Take your time.’
Anna pauses and looks up. The windows have changed. Mrs Massey follows her gaze.
‘We had double glazing put in after we moved here. It does make it much warmer.’
‘When did you move here, Mrs Massey?’
‘Ooh, let me see. It must be about eight years ago – 2005 or 2006 I’d say. We bought the house from the MacCarthys. I think they bought it from you, didn’t they? They were here a good few years. And please, do call me Helen.’
‘Our front door was natural wood, solid oak. My husband varnished it each autumn.’
‘Was it? I think the MacCarthys painted it blue. This white one was new when the windows were fitted.’
New windows on either side of the front door have lightened the hallway. The polished wooden floorboards have been replaced by a pale cream carpet. Not very practical, Anna thinks.
‘You don’t have children?’ she asks loudly.
‘We have two actually, a girl and a boy. They’re both away at uni at the moment.’
‘Where?’
‘At university.’
‘Ah.’
Anna’s automatic navigation takes over and propels her towards the kitchen.
‘Sorry. Is it OK?’ Eve mouths at Helen Massey as her mother shuffles ahead. She nods and smiles back. They follow Anna’s retreating figure.
‘It’s quite different. Very modern,’ says Anna. She looks around with interest. ‘We had the cooker here. And what is this?’
‘It’s a fridge-freezer.’
‘So big?’
‘It is rather big. It’s useful having the space though, especially when the children come home. You know how much young people can eat! Now, I’m just going to put the kettle on for coffee. Why don’t you go on into the sitting room and make yourselves comfortable? I’m sure you know where it is! Just look at anything that interests you.’
Everything so familiar, yet so different. Like landing in a parallel universe, Eve says. More like a dream, Anna feels, where nothing is quite as it should be. On the way home they discuss their impressions.
‘Dad wouldn’t think much of the garden now, would he?’
‘No, they’ve designed it to be labour-saving. He’d hate all those fir trees. And that wooden veranda – what did she call it?’
‘Decking.’
‘Yes, decking. More suitable for a ship.’
‘Anyway, it was kind of her to let us visit – and give us a tour.’
‘I’m glad I couldn’t go upstairs.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I don’t think I wanted to see our bedroom, with all their things in it. It was our place, mine and Sam’s. I wouldn’t want to see signs of another man in our room.’
Chapter 18
2014
Just as the party is starting to break up, he arrives. Just look at him and Ben, walking towards her together, each with an arm around the other’s shoulder. Her two sons. How handsome they both are, yet so different: Shimon with his smooth brown skin and dark eyes; Ben with his pale complexion and reddish hair, just peppered with grey at the temples. And behind them, Eve and Rachel. Rachel, elegant and striking, even in her seventies, Anna observes approvingly.
‘Shimon! You’ve come! I’m so glad.’
He crouches by her wheelchair and hugs her.
‘Of course I’ve come. I’m hardly going to miss my mother’s hundredth birthday, am I?’
Anna’s eyes fill with tears as she strokes Shimon’s hand.
‘She’s very tired, aren’t you, Mamma?’ says Eve. ‘Why don’t we all take you up?’
‘No, no! Not yet. Shimon’s only just arrived …’
‘I’ll be here all week – we all will,’ he says, looking at Rachel. ‘We’ll come back tomorrow – spend all day with you, and Eva and Samuel want to visit with you too. There’ll be plenty of time for a proper talk.’
Shimon and Ben run up the stairs to meet Anna and Eve as the lift doors open. Anna smiles to see the childlike pleasure on their faces. With Shimon’s help, Eve settles her in the armchair next to her bed.
‘Thank you, my darlings, for all you have done, for all you are, and for your lovely families. What an extraordinary day!’ She kisses each of her children, but lingers, as always, over Shimon. She clutches his hand and reaches up to stroke his face and the short white hair at his neck. He takes her hand and gently presses it to his lips. Anna shakes her head, as if not quite believing he is really there.
After more hugs and goodnights, the two men retreat downstairs.
‘Shall I stay and help you to bed, Mamma?’
‘No, you go back home, darling. It’s late and you’ve a long journey. You and Richard must be tired too. Besides, I feel like sitting here a bit longer. I’m not ready to sleep ye
t.’
‘Don’t be too late. It’s been a long day.’
‘Yes it has. Thank you for a very special day today. You know …’
‘What?’
‘You know I do appreciate you, and all you do.’
‘I know.’
Anna leans back in her chair and luxuriates in the pleasure of being alone. She looks at the clock. Soon the evening carers will arrive and help her to bed; it’s always such a relief to switch off, close her eyes, and wait for sleep to carry her away. But tonight she has her thoughts to occupy her. The day has filled her mind with thoughts and impressions and memories. She reflects on her life – if only there wasn’t so much of it! – and tries to order her thoughts.
Her eye is drawn to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. Anna struggles to rise out of her chair and stands for a moment, clutching the bar of her walking frame tightly to get her balance. She shuffles towards the bookshelf. Straight ahead of her, at eye level, is the large maroon-bound photograph album. Ben and Eve had bought it two years previously for her ninety-eighth birthday, and helped her to compile it. Margaret, her younger sister, had just died at the age of ninety-four. Now there was only Anna. The photos were to be a comfort for her, a gallery of the most important people throughout her life. She holds herself steady with her left hand and carefully extracts the album from the shelf, staggering for a moment from the shock of its weight as it slides off the edge.
Breathing heavily with the effort, Anna lifts the album onto the top bar of her frame, and holds it in place with her thumb, using the rest of her fingers to grasp the bar. Slowly, she makes her way back to the armchair. She swings the photograph album onto her low table. It lands with a thud. She’s feeling a little dizzy now. Beads of perspiration punctuate her forehead. Keep steady, don’t fall, she tells herself. She takes a deep breath and edges herself round, turning her back to the armchair. When she can feel the front of the seat against the backs of her knees, she reaches behind to find the arm of the chair and starts to lower herself. The last part of her descent comes in an unexpected rush and she lands panting in the chair. She sits for a few minutes getting her breath back and waiting for her heart to slow.