Cuckoos Tears
Dad, Im home! And Im absolutely starving!
Julia flung her backpack into the hallway corner, kicked off her shoes, and sang, Is anyone here? Or am I the last living soul in this house?
The chubby, stripy cat poked his head out of the kitchen, tail swishing in grumpy circles.
Oscar, hello, darling! And wheres Dad? Julia scratched him behind the ear and padded after him towards her fathers office.
But the office was empty and for her father, who usually spent this time deeply engrossed in his beloved physics research, this was downright mysterious.
Oscar! Explain yourself. Wheres the old brainbox? She fixed the cat with a questioning glare.
If her dad had planned to leave the house, he wouldve warned her for sure. They had a pact: one always knew where the other was. Excellent policy, given the worlds tendency for melodrama.
Her father, David Williamson, was a brilliant man at least, thats what all the scientific journals seemed to agree on but his practical sense was sometimes, well theory at best. Forgetting which bus stop to get off at? Childs play! Buying half a kilo of sausages without checking the fridge? A weekly event. Oscar didnt seem to mind.
But Julias school timetable, her classmates phone numbers, and the name of her form tutor David could recite backwards, at 3 am, with no coffee required. Wake him up and hed hammer it out without blinking.
Julia understood that for her father, life centred around two things: herself, and (just barely lagging behind) physics.
She suspected he loved her more than quantum equations simply because when her mother decided that motherhood was stifling her artistic flame, David ditched academia and single-handedly ran Operation Baby.
Julia barely remembered her mother. She left when Julia was a year old. Even before then, her mother only visited sporadically, kissing Julia on the cheek and bringing expensive dolls which Grandma would immediately stash out of sight, muttering about age-appropriate toys. Julias mother was a singer with a glorious soprano, fierce ambition, and not the faintest wish to spend life among nappies and nursery rhymes.
Her talent was recognised, offers poured in from London, and off she went. She left Julia with David, promising anyone whod listen that it was for her daughters future.
And so Julia grew up: bruising knees, hosting concerts while teething, learning to walk On more than one occasion, she tried to call someone Mum. Grandma put a stop to it, her dad showed no interest in a new romance, and Julia devised a perfectly logical solution she started calling Dad MumDad.
It seemed sensible. After all, he was the one hovering above her cot at dawn, encouraging her to eat her porridge (despite her perpetual outrage) with the sly use of a banana.
Julia loathed porridge! At nursery, while the other kids dutifully sculpted spoonfuls, she displayed innovation on a national scale, stashing porridge in toy drums, playhouses, even behind the radiator. The caregivers, having traced these culinary crimes, convened with her father, who swiftly solved the problem: from that day on Julia arrived at nursery well-fed, thanks to Dads endless parade of pancakes, chocolate sponge, and crumpets. The teachers grumbled about spoiling, but David wouldnt budge if the child hated porridge, there were other things to eat.
Surprisingly, Julias devotion to her father meant she never once took advantage. No punishments were necessary: a disappointed sigh and regretful headshake, and Julia felt the weight of a small-scale Armageddon. Shed apologise and do her best never to repeat the offence.
Grandma, while she was alive, thought David was turning Julia into a marshmallow.
Youll spoil her, David, you really will!
But Mum, you never caned me either.
There was that one time, when you snuck off swimming and didnt tell me. Thought youd drowned!
Mum! You hit the broom to pieces over Tom, not me.
Except Tom remembers, and hes captain of a ship now, so clearly it worked. Still, your Julias mother took on too much. Talking friends into arguments, abandoning families. Not right.
I know, Mum. Lets not.
Oh, let the kid listen. Children arent daft.
No, Mum no bad words about her mother. She deserves the truth, but without the drama.
Grandma didnt exactly agree but kept silent. Questions about Julias mother would be met with a Go ask your Dad, dear! Hell know. Have a scone!
Grandma passed away when Julia was four. Since then, it was just Julia and Dad, echoing around a cavernous five-bedroom flat right in the London city centre. The flat came from Grandpa, who managed a factory until his very last day which also happened to be his last board meeting. The business survived thanks to Grandpas half-baked, napkin-scrawled plan. David, meanwhile, was left to rally his demoralised mother.
Grandma never quite recovered; she pined away, certain shed failed to give her granddaughter the affection children needed.
By seven, Julia was making eggs and mopping floors. By eight, she packed her own bag for school and made breakfast for both herself and her father. At ten, she operated as a fully independent unit, complete with a detailed daily schedule, chores she split with Dad, and her own rotating menu. She tidied the lounge and bedrooms, Dad took care of the kitchen and bathrooms, and they alternated dinner with one exception: the cat. As soon as Julia rescued Oscar, flea-ridden and skeletal, from the bins, she insisted all cat duties were to be hers. Anything less would have felt like shirking fate. Dad occasionally splurged on fancy cat food (for which Julia scolded him Oscar was getting tubby!), but day-to-day, Oscar was her charge.
Oscar, trying his best to look pitiful, gently prodded Julias leg.
Whats up, Oscar? Hungry again? Alright, lets see Maybe Dads popped out to the shops? Where on earths he gone?
Her question was quickly answered. On the kitchen table a note read:
Julia called in to uni, be late. Oscars been fed. If he begs, ignore him hes a liar. Dad.
Crisis averted. Time to eat, finish homework, and dash to swim practice.
Julia grabbed her drying swimsuit off the balcony rack, stuffed it into her swim bag, and checked the time.
No problem
The letter had arrived the night before, but Julia hadnt read it yet. She booted up her computer, evicted Oscar from the keyboard, and clicked her email. But just as she was about to open it, a sharp knock sent her jumping.
Dad had disconnected the doorbell yonks ago Julia, as a toddler, was terrified of the piercing sound, and Dad and Grandma decided knocks were more civilised. Turns out, Oscar had become their unofficial door sentinel, racing to the hallway at the first sign of a visitor.
Today was no exception. Oscar leapt off the table and padded into the corridor with Julia right behind.
On the doorstep stood their neighbour, Mrs Banks Julias honorary agony aunt, unofficial babysitter, and best friend (despite the forty-year age gap).
Julia-bear! Your dad legged it off in a state Im under strict orders to see you fed and pampered before swim training.
Mrs Banks! Too late already ate! Julia laughed, hugging her.
Mrs Banks had helped raise Julia from nursery disasters through every round of chickenpox. She braided her hair for school (a skill David never mastered) and handled all the girly stuff Julias dad didnt dare touch. No secrets, no awkwardness.
Youre a star! Mrs Banks kissed Julias mop of hair and stepped back to look her over. Hows life? Hows Ben?
Oh, dont start! Julia rolled her eyes, putting the kettle on. If Mrs Banks was asking, she’d obviously got time, so homework could wait.
Mrs Banks, peering into a leftover soup pot, asked, Whats your dad having for tea?
Plenty of dumplings in the freezer.
Right. You tell me about Ben, and Ill peel potatoes. Tea always tastes better with a gossip.
Fried potatoes Dads favourite. Julia made the tea and was about to recount how shed whacked Ben with her swimming cap for trying to kiss her after school, when someone hammered at the door loud and impatient.
Oh my! Whos that? Mrs Banks wiped her hands and went to answer.
Julia recognised the woman who barged in instantly.
Mum
David never hid who Julias mother was or her current occupation. Two photos a laughing, impossibly glamorous woman lingered in the family album. Sometimes Julia would study them, searching for similarities.
Her mother, elegant suitcase in tow, collapsed to her knees and wailed: Darling! Its me! Dont you recognise your own mother?!
The whole scene was pure low-budget soap: Julia and Mrs Banks exchanged glances, barely suppressing laughter.
Of course I recognise you. Get up the floors freezing, and I havent mopped today.
Heavens you clean? Since when?! We always could afford a cleaner, but never bothered. Is your father in?
Hell be home soon.
Marvellous! Its you I wanted to see, dear. Did you get my letter? Never mind just hug your mum! I brought so many presents!
Mrs Banks quietly stepped aside, letting the storm in, and Mum breezed past without even acknowledging her. Certainly no questions as to who this mysterious woman fussing over her child happened to be.
Julia watched as Mum hung up her coat, glanced in the mirror, and huffed at Oscar, who immediately attached himself to her legs with the intent to sabotage her tights.
Go away! she shooed him with her foot, ignoring Julias gaze.
Come here, Oscar, Julia scooped up the cat, retreating until she was pressed against Mrs Banks. Mrs Banks slipped a protective arm around Julias shoulders.
Easy there, sweetheart. Im staying.
Mum chattered non-stop, unzipping her suitcase to reveal gift-wrapped packages.
I had no idea what size! Your fathers entirely useless for details, says only youre healthy and clever. So, I guessed and bought everything in London. If you dont like anything, well exchange it on our shopping spree! And wheres Granny? Still not home? She always disliked me, but I can be mature for your sake.
Julia froze solid. Oscar yowled, and Mrs Banks gently prised the cat from her, ushering him into the kitchen.
No Granny. She shes gone, Julia croaked, but Mum was on a roll.
So Julia simply yelled, as loud as she could:
Grannys dead! She died years ago! And you werent here either! Why are you here now?!
Mum faltered for a second, but quickly recovered. I missed you!
Really?! Only took a decade, Mum! How old was I when you left?
Oh, love, I didnt leave you! I just Circumstances! My career Id worked so hard and couldnt waste my only chance because of
Mum trailed off, but Julia, with a wry smile, finished: Because of a little girl who ruined everything, right? Well, you thought, let her live with Dad and Granny! Family can cope! Thats what you thought!
Julia, please! I came back
And what? Julia pressed her cheek against Mrs Banks hand, drawing strength. What do you want?
Her knees knocked together. Mrs Banks, sensing the tremors, hugged her tighter.
I I Mum reached for Julias hair, but Julia recoiled so sharply she nearly knocked Mrs Banks over.
Dont touch me! Her voice, suddenly steady, gave Mrs Banks a moments alarm.
Julia
Its fine, she told her.
Mummy, you
Please, Mrs Banks, can you not interfere? Mum snapped. Who are you anyway? Davids new wife? You ought to make yourself useful this place is filthy. My old mother-in-law never allowed mess like this!
Mrs Banks snorted, and Julia managed a faint smile.
See? Youre smiling at me! Mum perked up.
Not at you. Julias gaze was icy. Im laughing at your nerve.
Nerve Darling, where did you hear such grown-up words?
Im not five, Mum. Dad took my education seriously I know plenty youll find surprising.
Enlighten me! Mum performed a little-girl pose.
For starters, you cant take me away, Julia replied, stepping boldly forward. Dad sorted all that years ago. I live with him, I only see you if I choose.
But surely you want to?!
Mum looked around, searching for support, but found only Mrs Banks. Julia had someone in her corner.
I think thats enough, Mrs Banks said firmly, pushing Julia towards the kitchen. Oscars peckish. Go look after him well finish here.
Julia nodded, obeyed, and despite her mothers protests, did exactly as Mrs Banks asked.
Once the door closed behind Julia, Mrs Banks stood her ground.
Lets be clear. Any discussions about Julias family life happen with David present from now on.
And who are you to dictate?!
Im the one whos been here for her. The one who, with David, raised this child you abandoned. Do you really think Ill let you waltz back and wreck everything? Drag her to London? Did you ask what Julia wants? Does that even matter to you?
Shell thank me! Shell have a better life money, connections, privilege
Shes happy, Marina. But how would you know? You havent a clue what she likes or loves. She was a baby when you left! And you think some presents bought in Oxford Street will buy her? Not a chance. Out! You can wait for David on the bench downstairs. I have a child to feed!
Mrs Banks paused by the door but stopped at a strange sound. She turned to see Mum sobbing noisily, mascara streaks running down her cheeks.
What am I supposed to do? Mum sniffled. Shell never forgive me, will she?
Mrs Banks hesitated, then sighed. From her apron pocket she produced a handkerchief. Oh, do pull yourself together! Show up out of nowhere and expect a family reunion? She doesnt know you youre a stranger! You want to be her mum, then be prepared for hard work and years of setbacks. And if you ever put her ahead of yourself, there might be hope. Now tidy up David will be home soon. And try not to traumatise Julia any further, will you? For the record, why are you here, anyway?
Mum looked ready to argue, but Mrs Banks stare froze her. Im getting married. My fiancé is a good man, but cant have children. He knows about Julia. We could give her the world private schools, top universities I just want her to be happy.
She already is, Marina, Mrs Banks answered. But you wouldnt know.
No… I suppose I wouldnt Mum said, and trudged off to the bathroom.
David arrived an hour later to find Mum sitting on Julias floor, holding an ancient rattle a family keepsake, Julias race-day lucky charm.
You kept it… Mum stared at David, Shes beautiful.
I know, Marina. Why are you here?
I thought it was for one reason, but now Im not sure. Who is that fierce Mrs Banks, shielding Julia like a lioness?
A friend. Mine, Julias, ours.
Are you involved? Does Julia call her Mum?
David groaned, Honestly, Marina, do you ever think before you speak? Mrs Banks is married, with three children of her own. She just helps us because some people He didnt finish.
Because some people are good? Mum attempted a smile.
Thats right.
And Im not.
I didnt say that.
Will you let me see Julia?
When did I ever stop you? David replied. Youre always welcome. Maybe, one day, shell want to talk.
Thats all I can hope for Mum handed him the rattle. I should go
This time, she didnt force a farewell. On her next visit, Julia barely spoke. She escaped to the woods with Mrs Banks, where, finding a small blue flower her grandmother once showed her, she asked:
Did you know these are called Cuckoos Tears?
Mrs Banks blinked. I did. Why do you ask?
Do you reckon she wants to talk to me? Julias expression was so open that there was only one possible answer.
I think she does.
Julia turned the flower stem thoughtfully, then said, Give it a shot. If it doesnt work out, Ill always have Dad. And you. Right?
You will, always.
Julia gently placed the flower on the grass, listening for cuckoo calls, then wailed in comic despair:
Typical now theres not a single cuckoo in the whole wood! Mrs Banks, how long will I live?
Oh, heavens, for ages! Mrs Banks laughed. Long and wonderfully! No cuckoo needed to tell you that, my girl!
Got it!
Eventually, Julia did talk to her mother. It took years to build any true connection.
But on her wedding day, Julia will for the first time, and without hesitation hug her mother tightly, matching her look, face to face.
Be happy, my darling!
I will! Julia will spot her Dad and Mrs Banks in the crowd, smile, and give them a little nod all is well.
