Cherry Jam
Helen, wheres Mums mixing bowl? You know, the big one she always used for making jam? Olivia rummaged through every tiny cupboard in the cramped cottage kitchen, opening doors one after another. I cant find it anywhere! Ive looked absolutely everywhere.
She probably put it up in the loft. She always said, after Dad left, there was no one to make jam for anymore.
As if we dont count Olivia groaned as she rose from her knees, having just checked the last cupboard.
You alright, Liv? Helen looked at her sister with concern.
Just my back, nothing to worry about. I just seized up a bit kneeling like that.
You really should see a doctor.
Whats the point? Theyll only tell me what I already know.
Thats exactly what you always told Mum! Helen spluttered, shaking water off her hands from washing cherries. Drops went everywhere, some landing on the family tomcat, Marmalade, who was snoozing on a chair next to her. The cat grumbled and cracked open an eye as yellow as a daffodil petal, gave the sisters a wary look, then covered his nose with his paw and drifted off again. At least theyre not having a row, he seemed to think. You always nagged her about doctors yourself, and look what happened when she wouldnt listen.
Helen, can we not? My backs been bad for ages; it always will be. No point talking about it now. Lets just find that bowl. Ive tried making jam in other pans, but it never tastes the same. Nice, but not quite right.
Maybe Mum knew some secret.
She never mentioned any. We always made it together, nothing fancy at all.
Helen got up and left the kitchen.
Where are you off to? Olivia called after her.
Up to the loft.
Id go myself.
Sit tight, love. If your back goes up there, well need a crane to get you down.
Olivia chuckled. The sisters werent ones for soft words or sugar-coating. They were very different to look at, but alike in temperament like a pair of cherries on one stalk. Helen, tall and thin as a willow, would often tease petite, round-faced Olivia. Genetics had dealt them curiously. Olivia just about looked like their parents, with Mums clear blue eyes and Dads dark curls, but that was it. The rest her soft plumpness and strong will was pure Gran. Gran Edna was a family legend. Widowed at twenty-three, left alone with twin babies and no family support, Gran didn’t wallow. She quickly realised her typing job wouldnt keep two little ones, so she went next door.
Mrs. Wilkinson, you know half the town. Is there anyone who could use a cleaner or house help? Ill do anything. You know me, Im not afraid of hard work.
I do know, boomed Mrs. Wilkinson.
Tall and sturdy, shed been the local primary headteacher for over a decade, respected and feared by all, from littluns to the caretakers. She had contacts everywhere.
Mind you, she said, pouring tea for Edna, can you cope if your employers a bit mad? Some of those ladies can be tricky.
I cant afford to be picky.
No, you cant. Why dont you send your babies to care for a bit? You could collect them once youre on your feet.
Edna paused, then answered quietly:
I wasn’t brought up that way, to hand my children over like stray kittens. Thank you, but Ill manage.
Good girl Mrs. Wilkinson nodded. Youve enough grit, but also sense. Ill help you, then.
And she did. She found Edna a job with Miss Millie, an opera singer, eccentric and scattered, but kind-hearted.
Darling Edna! Where are your precious little ones? I see you walking them in their pram.
My neighbours keeping an eye on them.
Nonsense! Bring them here. Youd be happier, and they wont disturb me. How could they? Ive got so many rooms, I get lost myself. And if I am home, let them listen to music its good for the soul!
At first, Edna was hesitant why would a woman with so much want two noisy babies about? But she soon understood. For all her glamour, Miss Millie was lonely. At Christmas, a little tipsy, she confided,
You see, dear, music took everything. Or maybe I let it. Now Im childless, alone. Even if I did find someone, it wouldnt be any use now. A woman’s worth isn’t only in children, but oh, isn’t it central, too? For me, at least. Now theres only the music
Millie doted on Ednas twins and asked to be godmother, though it wasnt the fashion anymore. Edna couldn’t say no. And so the girls had music from infancy. When Edna got a better job and didnt need Miss Millies help, she still stayed close, coming over to look after her when she grew ill. The twins, now schoolgirls, would rush round after school to sweep Millies flat and plead with her to eat just a little more.
Please, one more spoonful, its Mums soup, Millie! You always liked it.
But Millie would only ask them to play or sing something. That made her smile.
When Millie died that winter, she left her flat and cottage to the twins and Edna. The solicitor, whod known Millie for years, said gently,
Take it as she meant it. Those who gave her a bit of mothering in return deserved thanks, not suspicion. Just say thank you.
Thank you whispered Edna.
The girls grew up in a flash one minute they were clutching rattles, and next theyd finished university and were off across the country with their husbands in tow. Soon, Olivia and Helen were born just months apart, and Edna, now Nana, was in her element. When she visited her daughters, she saw Zinas marriage was steady, but Kaths well, Gen, her husband, was a gentle soul not cut out to weather tough times. They never had enough money and still lived with Kays mother-in-law. Edna offered them Millies flat.
Zinas happy where she is, you need a break, or youll lose both husband and child. Thats final.
Olivia remembered their first day in Millies old flat. As a five-year-old, she was mesmerised by the grand piano it was like a creature dozing in the corner. When the grownups were busy, she quietly lifted the lid and touched a key. The poor old thing sighed and sang out, note after note. It wasnt music, but she was entranced.
Olivia! Mums shout made her jump. The lid crashed down on her fingers, and then Mum slapped her as well: Dont you ever touch that instrument!
Olivia ran, screaming, to Nana, who tutted at her daughter’s harshness.
Kay! Millie never stopped you playing when you were little.
Im not Millie, and I dont want Olivia damaging it. We might need it.
Maybe shes got some talent. You did, and so did Zina.
Nonsense! Kay waved her off. Shes tone deaf, youd have noticed by now.
And just like that, doors to music closed for Olivia. Kay was unmovable. Music lessons were for Helen only. Edna tried to change her mind, but when baby Helen came along soon after, everything became clear.
My beautiful girl! Kay cooed over her second daughter. The prettiest, cleverest, and best!
Kay
Oh, Mum, I waited so long for another baby. Just think, now theres one all my own, and I can live how I want, with no one interfering. Im happier than ever, you cant imagine!
Edna watched quietly and took Olivia to the cottage as often as she could, seeing how lost she felt after Helen was born, no longer the only child, now possibly an extra.
Nana, does Mum not love me anymore? Shes got her new baby.
Dont be daft, darling. Helen just needs her mum right now. She cant feed herself or get dressed like you can. Shell grow, and soon shell need her big sister to teach her everything.
Olivia decided she couldnt change things, but perhaps she could at least make herself noticed. She did brilliantly in school, drew, and did gymnastics. But Mum only ever nodded:
Well done!
As Helen grew, it was only Helen, all Helen. Everything she did was a triumph; Mum was giddy with pride.
Shes only six and already reading!
Olivia read from five.
Oh do stop! Im talking about Helen. Besides, shes been accepted at music school! Shes got my ear for music!
Edna wept inside for her eldest granddaughter, but arguing with Kay was useless. She decided the most important thing was that the girls didnt lose each other. That was easier said than done, until, by chance, Zina said she was coming back home.
Here, Mum, you and Kay are here, but up north Ive no one. No friends at all.
Whys that then, love? Kay sneered, but Zina only looked sad.
Just unlucky, maybe. And it doesnt help that my husbands a bit of a ladies’ man.
Gosh, you do let your standards slide! Men ought to be kept on a tight leash, you know!
Kay let the flat be split, and she and Zina moved into their own places, agreeing the cottage would be shared. The big, rambling place had plenty of space for everyone.
Edna grew older, surrounded by her granddaughters. Olivia and Helen Kays girls; Nina and Polly Zinas. She thought herself like a mother hen with her beloved chicks.
Ive got the whole flock, she laughed, gathering them together.
But her dream of seeing their weddings and great-grandchildren wasnt to be. That autumn, Edna went to winterise the cottage. A dead branch from the neighbours old walnut, never felled, came down as she passed and she was found too late; even the doctors could only shake their heads.
Suddenly, everyone was orphaned. There were no more Ednas cakes, no one to give heartfelt advice just when it was needed.
Six months after Edna passed, Gen told Kay he was leaving.
Why? She raged, unable to understand.
I cant do this anymore. Ill provide, but I cant live here.
Youve found someone else!
No, Kay. Just tired.
Kay blamed everyone but herself Olivia and even Helen got it.
Dont you dare see your father! Defy me and dont come home.
Mum, listen to yourself, Olivia said in disbelief. Were not kids anymore. Ill see Dad, and if you have a problem with that, I can stop talking to you altogether.
Kay was stunned, but seeing Helen side with Olivia, realised she couldnt push much further. If she lost Helen, that would be the end for her.
Do what you like! No one cares about their mother anymore!
She tried to win Helen back but gave up quickly.
I never thought youd do this! I lived for you, and now…
What did I do, Mum?
Kay had no answer. Every argument ran aground on Helens calm:
Hes my dad. Olivias my sister. Were family whether you like it or not.
In time, things calmed. Kays goal was to get Helen back on her side.
Found it! Helens voice echoed from the loft.
Is it the copper one?
Yep! Hold on, just trying to get down from here, then we can start on the jam.
Olivia rushed over, worried about the creaky loft ladder.
Careful, Helen. Dont hurry!
No rush with me Helen grinned, making her way down, covered in dust. Here, get it washed! Ill change and be right down. When the girls arrive, we can make them clean up there.
A few hours later, the sisters sat having tea in the kitchen. In the centre of the table was the old copper bowl, gleaming with fresh cherry jam that filled the air with its sweet scent. Marmalade had slipped away to nap on the porch, unimpressed if only it were something more exciting, like Kays homemade potted beef. Jam was wasted on him!
Helen, do you remember how Mum used to make jam by the dozen jars? Every shelf packed.
Of course! Dad loved cherry jam, used to spoon it straight out the jar.
Mum hated that, always moaning at him for it.
And yet shes the one who ended up alone. Were still here for Dad, but all shes got is us. Wont even speak to Zina or see the nephews. Shes chased off her friends too. Why, Helen?
If only I knew Helen sighed, topping up their tea. I never understood Mum, really.
Funny, because she always said you were the only one who ever did.
Hardly. Shed say things like Helen, dont get too close to Olivia, shes not your friend. Who else is there if not her? Why did she want to turn us against each other? Jealous, maybe?
Perhaps.
Silly, really.
Remember when youd sneak all my old toys back to me after Mum took them for you? Claiming Youre too old for these now! Helen laughed But they never felt like mine, not like Dolly or your old Teddy.
And how she always booted you out when I had music practice?
Oh, yes. Olivia! Out! Youre a distraction! Helen, darling, practice now!
Little did she know you were secretly teaching me to play too. All your music lessons, we worked through together.
You always loved the piano more than I ever did. You play better than me, still.
Rubbish! Olivia waved her off, but the compliment warmed her.
Shame you didnt go to music college.
Never mind. Numbers are a sort of music too. Getting my annual tax returns submitted what a symphony that is!
They sat quietly, sipping tea, before Helen asked,
Do you think Zinas right? She says if Kay ever comes round, she wont bring up the past. Says its better to have a strained peace than endless grudges.
Olivia paused, rearranging the cups and the old toffee tin on the table.
I think she is, Helen. If youd asked me when I was younger, Id have said differently. But now, I get it. Time doesnt wait around. One minute, people are right there, and the next, youll wish youd had a chance simply to say sorry.
Thats wise. Did you think of that yourself?
Olivia smiled and shook her head.
No. Gran Edna always told me theres nothing more precious than family. Even if they dont love you quite how youd hope, no one can stop you loving them the way you want.
Zinas doing just that.
Maybe Mum will figure it out one day. Shes not getting any younger. Oh! Olivia glanced at the clock. What are we doing sitting here? The whole gangs nearly here and weve done nothing! You make the salad, Ill get the pies sorted quick as you can.
A couple hours later, a battered minibus pulled up by the garden gate, Zinas son-in-law at the wheel, and out tumbled a torrent of children.
Gran-nnniiiiies! Their voices rose into the evening, and Marmalade bolted for the bushes.
He knew what chaos was coming Zinas great-grandkids, Olivias granddaughters, Helens only precious grandson. From the safety of the shrubs, the old cat watched the porch fill with lights, and children gathered round the big old round table, heirloom from Miss Millie, all excited for their special mugs, each saved just for these visits.
Olivia brought in the great copper bowl, full of jam, and that meant, as always, thered be nothing left for the cupboards by morning every last spoonful would be demolished now, with pits surreptitiously flung into the bushes. If the adults caught them, wide eyes and innocent looks would follow:
Were growing a tree, so we can make jam when were grown up too! Arent we, Gran?
Later, theyd all scatter, supposedly to bed, but instead sit out on the warm porch steps, singing softly together into the night, until little ones nodded off in older arms. Only then would Marmalade pad inside, through the hushed, happy house, to curl up beside one of the sleeping children. A tiny hand would thump his side and stroke his fur, and hed purr them through their dreams and, listening to the gentle breathing all around him, drift off himself, knowing he was finally surrounded by happiness.
