by Anne Donovan
When we got tae the bus stop we perched on wanny they metal seats that arenay really seats at all, just a shelf really. Ah tried tae balance the message bag on it then gied up. Anne Marie searched in her bag for her bus pass.
‘Miss O’Hara was at the funeral,’ she said, rummlin through all the wee pockets. ‘She said tae tell you it was a lovely service.’
It was a lovely service, aye it was a lovely service and for a while it softened the ache. But then it was a week and two weeks and the pain was still wi me, this pain ah cairried like a stone in ma belly. Ah couldnae eat or drink for it gettin in the way, couldnae wake up in the mornin but it was there. Ah wanted tae run it oot, even went back tae the aerobics classes ah’d no been tae for months. And ah was runnin, air squeezin in and oot ma lungs, ma heid nippin wi thon stupit music janglin in ma brain and the lassie’s voice beltin oot instructions. But no even the stabbin pain in ma side that made me stop and bend over in the middle of it could wipe oot the other pain, always wi me.
Wan mornin ah was walkin up the road tae ma work and there was a crowd of folk staundin ootside a big hotel, dead smartly dressed as if they were gaun tae a weddin or sumpn. A wumman came up tae me, a wee wumman in a smart flowery frock, plump the way ma mammy had been afore she got sick. She spoke in a Jamaican accent. ‘I know it is early in the mornin and people are busy but would you take this leaflet and read it later?’ And her voice was that warm and soft that ah wanted tae go intae her airms and be held by her.
Sittin at ma desk ah took the leaflet in ma haund and looked at it. On the front was a picture of a wee lassie in a white frock haudin a big bunch a flowers, lookin sad, sittin at a graveside. ‘Do you have an immortal spirit?’ it said, then on the back there was a picture of folk in brightly coloured claes, all different skin colours and features, huggin and kissin their loved wans; weans and grannies and couples. It was in a graveyard but the graveyard was all pastel colours, faded tae show it was death that wasnae real, and life efter death that was. The Watchtower. Ah folded it up and put it in ma purse.
Every day ah got up, went tae ma work, done the housework, watched the TV. Anne Marie and me had wer tea and she got on wi her hamework, seen her pals. Some nights Jimmy came round. Ah kept oot his road. All the time there was this big hole in ma life and naebody was talkin aboot it. Ah used tae go round tae ma mammy’s efter we’d had wer tea, spend an hour wi her, and that was the time it hit me hardest. Ah’d find masel about tae put ma coat on and ah’d stop. Ah knew ah’d have tae go round sooner or later tae sort the hoose oot, but ah couldnae face it. And naebody offered tae help. It was as if naebdy else had even thought aboot it. That’s no fair, ah suppose. Tricia’d offered tae help and ah know if ah’d picked up the phone she’d of been round like a shot. But somehow ah couldnae bring masel tae ask anybody. And another week went past. Then on the Wednesday ah got an email fae David. Ah was that surprised when it came up on the screen of ma computer at work. Ah’d forgot ah’d gied him the email address. Ah hardly ever get any personal emails at work anyway – Nikki gets all these daft wans fae some lassies she used tae work beside who seem tae spend all their time sendin round stuff they’ve copied off the Internet but ah couldnae be bothered wi it. The email was dead short. ‘hi liz, how d’you fancy lunch the morra – grosvenor any good? what time? lv, david.’
Ah pressed the reply button right away. ‘Hi David. Glad to hear from you. See you at the Grosvenor at 12.45.’ Then ah stopped. How do you sign aff? He’d put lv but that was daft, joky. Ah couldnae put that. ‘All the best, Liz.’
Somehow the rest of the day was easier. Ah went aboot wi a smile on ma face, felt lighter. That night ah spent ages figurin oot whit tae wear and decided on the top oot the Gap wi a pair of black trousers. Smart enough tae get away wi at work but mair trendy than ah’d usually wear.
David was in the café when ah arrived, had got a seat in the back. He stood up when he seen me and took ma haund. ‘Good tae see you.’
There was a hauf-drunk cup of coffee in front of him.
‘Have you been here lang?’
‘Fifteen minutes. Thought ah’d try tae get here early and grab a seat.’
‘Do you know whit you want?’
‘Ah fancy soup but ah’d like sumpn else as well. Don’t know whit, though.’ he looked doon the menu. ‘Suppose we have a bowl of soup each and share a baguette? They’re quite big.’
‘OK. What fillin?’
‘You choose. Ah’ll eat anythin.’
‘Tuna mayonnaise?’
‘Ma favourite.’
Efter the waitress had taken our orders ah took ma coat aff and put it on the back of the chair.
‘Nice top,’ says David.
‘Got it in the sale in the Gap.’
‘Colour suits you.’
‘Thanks. You workin in Iceland the day?’
‘No till four. Gives me some time tae catch up wi auld Immanuel this efternon.’
‘Immanuel?’
‘Kant. With a K. Famous philosopher.’
‘Is that who you’re daein yer PhD on?’
‘Naw. But there’s a bit ah need tae look up. It’s quite a minor point in the thesis overall but ah need tae be sure aboot exactly whit he said and it’s ages and ages since ah read him.’
‘Right.’
The soup arrived.
‘Must be dead interestin.’
‘Sometimes it is, sometimes it’s no. Sometimes you just have tae force yersel.’
‘How did you get intae Philosophy? Ah mean it’s no somethin you’d of studied at school.’
‘It was bit of a fluke really. Ah wanted tae study History and Sociology, and ah needed another subject tae make up ma timetable. And Philosophy was on at two o’clock in the efternoon so that meant ah didnae need tae get oot ma bed too early.’ He put the spoon to his lips, then stopped. ‘Naw, that’s no entirely true. Ah think efter ma mammy died ah’d always been wonderin why. Why? The meanin of life and all that. And ah thought if ah done Philosophy ah’d find the meanin of life.’
‘And did you?’
‘Does it look like it? Sorry, ah didnae mean tae be sarky. Ah think ah did find somethin. Mainly that the folk that taught me Philosophy didnae have much of a scooby aboot life. They didn’t seem tae have lives for a start.’
‘Absent-minded professors?’
‘Tell me aboot it. Some of the Sociology lecturers are actually quite normal but the philosophers were as odd as the hills. Wanny ma tutors couldnae even make eye contact wi me. So ah decided that they werenae gonnae tell me much aboot how tae live yer life. But the theories are interestin. And ah think the meanin of life is there is no meanin and while we’re here we should enjoy oursels and try no tae make anybody else unhappy. Amen, my child.’
Ah didnae know whit tae say.
‘Sorry Liz, just ignore me. Every noo and again ah need tae rant. Anyway, how have you been?’
‘Ah feel as if ah’m livin in a bubble, like nothin’s real. Ah get up, go tae ma work, tidy up, watch the TV, but it’s no real. Mammy’s no here. And naebody’s talkin aboot it.’
‘Maybe they don’t know whit tae say.’
‘She was only buried three weeks ago and it’s as if that’s it, it’s all over.’
‘Like you have tae just get on wi your life.’
‘Aye.’
‘But you’re no the same, your life’s no the same.’
‘That’s it, it’s like ah’m no the same person but ah’m kiddin on ah’m are, playin a part.’
‘Is there naebody you could talk to?’
‘Ah don’t know, it’s as if ah’m waitin for them tae speak first. Ah don’t like tae talk tae Anne Marie aboot it; ah’m her mammy, have tae be strong for her. And she’s been a bit distant.’
‘Maybe it’s just her way of dealin wi it. Or maybe she doesnae want tae upset you.’
‘Aye, mibbe, ah hope no. We’ve always been able tae talk aboot things.’
‘That’s good. That was the trouble wi m
a faimly, we’d never been able tae talk aboot anythin, so when ma mammy died, it all just got swept under the carpet.’
‘Ah don’t want that tae happen tae me and Anne Marie, but ah don’t want tae poke and pry and try tae get her tae talk if she doesnae want tae either.’
‘Naw, it’s findin a balance, isn’t it?’
‘Aye.’
‘And you need tae talk tae somebody aboot yer feelins. when ma mammy died ah was always made tae feel ah should think aboot everybody else’s feelins, be strong. It wasnae till ah was aboot twenty that ah finally let it all oot. Ah went tae a counsellor and that helped. That’s a counsellor wi an “s”, by the way. Ah don’t think the City Chambers is the place tae go if you’ve got a problem.’ He smiled and sipped his coffee.
‘Who did you talk tae?’
‘Somebody at the student health service, but you can get counsellin all sorts a places, it’s practically the only growth area for jobs; work in a call centre or train as a counsellor. Everybody’s got problems and naebody’s got anybody tae talk tae.’
‘Ah guess.’
‘Ah’m serious, though. It might help you, maybe no the now, it’s too soon, but later when things have settled doon. Yer doctor could tell you if there was anybody available in the practice. Or gie you a phone number.’
‘Aye. Ah’ve never thought aboot it – always thought there’d be somebody in ma ain faimly ah could talk tae. Never thought things’d be like this.’
‘And of course, you can always turn to the world famous David Cameron Counsellin Services. Based in the Grosvenor Café.’
Ah smiled. ‘Ah’m sorry, ah know ah’ve been gaun on.’
‘It’s OK. Really.’
‘Anyway, ah’d better go. Back tae work.’
‘Aye, me too.’
We paid the bill and went ootside into the lane. It was a lovely sunny day, dead mild for March all of a sudden, and we stood in fronty the picture hoose opposite the café. There was posters ootside, advertisin next week’s films.
‘Have you seen that Ratcatcher yet?’ he said.
‘Naw, missed it when it was oot the first time. It’s supposed tae be brilliant.’
‘D’you fancy gaun this weekend?’
‘Ah don’t know if ah can manage.’
‘Look, ah’ll mail you the morra and you can let me know. Any night except Sunday suits me.’
‘OK.’
Then he bent doon and gied me a kiss on the cheek and was off, stridin doon the lane towards the uni.
It was just as well everythin at work was dead routine that efternoon as ma mind kept returnin tae David. Couldnae figure it oot. Ah wasnae even sure it was a date he was askin me on. He’d been that friendly and we’d talked as if we really knew each other. But it was wan thing meetin him for lunch or a coffee and another gaun tae the pictures wi him. Then again, mibbe ah was readin too much intae it. Mibbe wi him bein a student he’d a different way a lookin at it, it never meant anythin. Anyway, a young guy like that wouldnae be interested in me; separated, seven year aulder than him. Ah was just kiddin masel on. He probably just felt sorry for me. Maybe he was lookin for a mother figure – efter all he’d lost his ain. He’d kissed me though. On the cheek right enough, meant nothin.
Ah went tae the toilet, washed ma hauns and face, looked at masel in the mirror. This was daft. Ah was still merriet, even though Jimmy and me were apart. There was Anne Marie tae think aboot. It was too soon for me tae start seein somebody else. Havin lunch was fine, it was nice tae talk tae him. But that was enough.
He emailed me the next mornin. ‘hiya – how bout the movies – can you make it? lv david.’
‘Dear David, Sorry I won’t be able to come. I need to make a start on clearing Mammy’s house so won’t have much time. Thanks for asking. It helped to talk to you the other day. Best wishes, Liz.’
The reply came back right away. ‘nae bother – another time, glad y’re making a start on the house, its all part of the process. lv david. ps are you free for lunch next week?’
Ah put off answering him, didnae know whit tae say. Ah wanted tae meet him again, but should ah? Was ah gonnae get masel in deeper than was wise? In the end ah emailed back. ‘Dear David, not sure about Thursday. Will get back to you. All the best, Liz.’
‘i’ll be in the grosvenor at quarter to one anyway, see you if i see you. lv. d.’
A sour smell hit me when ah opened the door. Ah lifted the mail fae the mat and put it on the hall table; ah’d need tae go through it at some point, but no the day. The day ah wanted tae dae practical stuff; clean up, chuck oot, get ma haunds dirty.
Ah went through tae the kitchen and opened the fridge door. Ah’d brought a pint of milk wi me for a cuppa tea and it looked weird sittin in the empty fridge. Tricia’d cleared efter the funeral and there was only a bottle of tomato ketchup and a jar of honey left. Suppose ah could of taken them hame tae use but ah lifted them oot and chucked them intae the bin, where they clattered against the metal. Ah’d always hated that bin. It was wanny they pedal bins, a pattern a beige flowers on it. It was that wee you’d tae keep emptyin it all the time intae the wheelie bin. Ah was always on at her tae use proper bin liners in it but she kept usin the poly bags fae the supermarket.
‘They’re free aren’t they, why pay for bin liners?’
But the wans fae the supermarket sometimes had wee holes in them and the bits of rubbish would escape and make a mess. Ah hated that. It was the same wi the scourers, they foam wans you get for washin up. She used tae use them till they were a health hazard. Ah never keep them longer than a week; she thought ah was dead extravagant but ah cannae bear things that are dirty. Wanst she was ill and ah started daein her messages, ah bought a jumbo pack of sponges and chucked oot all the auld wans.
Ah stood at the door of the livin room and looked round. Ah couldnae dae anythin aboot the furniture the noo. Ah didnae want any of it masel but ah’d need tae see if Paul did. Couldnae see Angie lettin any of it in the hoose though. What was left could go tae the St Vincent de Paul. They were good, they were comin on Thursday tae pick it up and gie it tae somebody that needed it, and they’d take dishes and kitchen stuff too. But ah’d need tae go through everythin else.
Ah lifted the ornaments on her mantelpiece, wrapped each wan in newspaper and put them in a cardboard box. China birds all different kinds, different colours, sittin on bits a logs or poppin their heids oot of wee hooses. When ah was wee she’d just had the wan, sittin on the right side ae the mantelpiece, a robin wi a red breast and mad stary eyes, but then ah bought her another wan for her birthday when ah was ten, saved ma pocket money for weeks, and then it started bein a kind of ritual that we’d bring her wan back fae holiday. Anne Marie always used tae get her wan when she was away on a trip fae the school.
In a stool wi a black plastic lid on it she kept cuttins oot of magazines; knittin patterns, recipes, handy hints. Ah lifted them and flung them in a bin bag. Her knittin bag wi Aran wool and the latest jumper still on its needles was sittin in a corner. Ah don’t know anybody who has time for knittin noo but mibbe some auld dear could use it so ah stuck it in the bag for the charity shop. Maisty the books went in a box for charity too. No that Mammy had many books. She was a great reader but she always went tae the library, rarely bought a book.
There wasnae much left. Mammy’d had a big clearoot afore she came here – the rooms in this wee flat were a lot smaller than in her auld hoose – and ah’d already taken all her bank books and papers round tae ma ain hoose. But ah’d need tae redd oot her claes.
Ah went intae the bedroom and that’s when it hit me. Ah’d forgotten Jimmy’d moved her bed intae the spare room so’s they could get the coffin in and it hadnae been moved back. The room was practically empty. Movin through the rest of the hoose it could of been that she was oot, on holiday maybe, but here, in the bedroom wi nae bed, it was final. She was gone.
Ah opened the wardrobe and went tae take oot her claes, sort the wans that could be given tae the c
harity shop and the wans tae be thrown oot, but ah was caught by the smell again, a musty smell, an auld lady smell. Ah’d never realised ma mammy was gettin that smell, never smelled it aff her. She was always dead clean and wore perfume – Rive Gauche she liked – but here in the wardrobe, among the claes, there it was; the smell of auld age. No the smell of a nursin hame or a geriatric ward; ah’d had tae visit ma granny often enough and that was different, that was the smell of urine and unwashed skin. Naw, this was somethin you couldnae put a word tae. Why would somebody smell different because they were auld? If they werenae neglected and could look efter theirsels why would they smell different fae somebody young? Ah imagined the dry skin flakin aff ma mammy, powderin and workin itsel intae the folds of the claes. These claes hangin up here infused wi the skin of ma mammy, moulderin away inside this wardrobe. Ah buried ma face in the claes, feelin the nylon, polyester, unnatual fabrics that washed easy and hardly needed ironin, and ah smelled the scent of auld, auld skin. Ah wanted tae greet, tae get right intae that wardrobe, hide masel inside it and howl ma heid aff, but ah couldnae. The tears were stuck somewhere between ma chest and ma throat.
Ah felt angry and ah didnae know how. Why was ah angry? It wasnae her fault she’d died. It wasnae anybody’s. People died, and as lives go, her life had been a good wan; she’d been happy, loved her grandweans. And her children. At least ah supposed she’d loved us for it wasnae her way tae say it. Her and all her generation. They werenae brung up tae say they loved you. Ah wasnae brung up tae say it either.
What difference would it have made if ah could of said the words? Mammy, ah love you. If ah could of said it every day when ah was leavin. Mammy, ah love you. And for her tae say it back. Ah love you. Ah used tae say it tae Anne Marie. Ah used tae say it every day when she was wee. You know ah love you, you know yer mammy loves you. Always, then noo she’s a teenager and when ah turn up at the school gate it’s you should of phoned me.
It’s no that simple either. How come if ah loved ma mammy that much ah resented her too? How come ah didnae really want tae spend that much time wi her? Everybody said ah was a good daughter cos ah came round and tidied up for her every night, but ah was in and oot of here as quick as ah could, barely an hour ah spent, never sat doon and talked tae her. What was there tae talk aboot? What was there tae say? We never even done anythin thegether the last few year, never even went shoppin thegether hardly, ah used tae get so fed up wi her she was that slow, ah never had the time. What if Anne Marie feels like that aboot me when ah’m auld?