Mums Blusher
I dont know what to do with her anymore. She asked if your father often goes to the pub alone, for heavens sake.
Claire stood in the kitchen window, watching her mother move slowly between the raised vegetable beds in a summer dress far too loud for the English countryside. Her husband, David, didnt look up from his copy of *The Times*.
Maybe shes just curious. Your mum always did have a nose for other peoples business.
You dont understand, Dave. Its the way she said it. That smile. And thenshe put on blusher! In this heat. Who puts on blusher during a heatwave?
Claire tore herself from the window and slumped opposite him at their tiny kitchen table. The July sun outside turned the Kentish garden into a shimmering mirage; bees hummed between rosebushes; the air above the tarmac lane wobbled with invisible heat. Three weeks ago, shed invited her mum out to her in-laws place in the countryside, hoping it would be a distraction from the bleak one-bedroom flat in Croydon that had been so empty since her mum lost her last friend, Dorothy, earlier that spring.
Since then, her motherAudreyhad withdrawn, going mute on the phone, barely responding to texts, and sitting by her window as though waiting for a sign. Claire had thought a stint in the countryside, with its tomatoes to nurse and Jenny and Arthurs inviting, rambling garden, would do wonders. Her mother-in-law, Jenny, was generous to a fault; and Arthur, Jennys husband, pottered around his shed and veg patch, happy as a lark. It should have been easy, domesticquiet.
But nothing had gone to plan.
Audrey had arrived in mid-June with a single battered suitcase, and set right to work: laying the table, washing up, attacking the strawberry patch with military precision. Jenny was delighted at firstshe even told Claire, Your mums a proper grafter! Puts some of my other visitors to shame, always lounging about with their Pimms. Arthur nodded politely, deferential whenever Audrey offered help.
The first week was blissful.
But soon Audrey was everywhere Arthur was. If he was patching the fence, she fetched him lemonade. If he was weeding the carrots, she was suddenly beside him with a basket. Claire brushed it aside at firsther mum always liked to be usefulbut her view changed the evening she and Dave strolled along the lane and spotted Audrey loitering by Arthurs shed. He was sanding something, wood shavings falling in golden curls, and Audrey gazed at him as if witnessing a miracle.
Mum, what on earth are you doing? Claire called out.
Audrey flinched, her cheeks bloomingnot from the sunlight.
Oh, just looking. Arthurs making a stool. Its marvellous to watch someone who knows their craft.
She smiled, a girlish, almost dewy-eyed smile that seemed misplaced on a woman of fifty-six. A cold pinch of worry took root inside Claire.
A few days later, Jenny cornered her in the kitchen, pouring out blackcurrant cordial.
Claire, darling, your mum she must be terribly lonely in London, isnt she? Maybe she just needs someone to talk to
In what way?
Jenny hesitated, drying her hands on her apron. Its just shes always around Arthur. Bringing him tea, offering to help. I mean, I understandshe wants to be helpfulbut hes a busy man, and its, well, its a little distracting for him.
Shame prickled through Claire. She knew her mums historyher erratic searching for anything or anyone to fill the emptiness, since her dad died ten years before. But to be so obvious about it, here, with her in-laws, in the middle of the pristine English countryside?
Ill talk to her, Claire promised.
But the conversation didnt go as planned. She tried gently, that evening, as they sat together on the veranda.
Mum, are you all right here? Youre not bored, are you?
Oh, Claire, its wonderfulfresh air, a lovely garden and Arthurs such an interesting man, knows so much about everything.
Yes, buthe works hard all day. He needs to concentrate. Itd really help if you spent more time with Jenny. She loves your companyshes been dying to try new scone recipes with you, or plant the sweetpeas.
Audrey nodded, looking more like a scolded schoolgirl than a grown woman. But Claire doubted her words had registered. The next morning, Audrey came to the breakfast table in a powder-blue blouse so fitted it looked like it belonged to a different generation. Jennys eyebrows arched, but she said nothing. Arthur, lost in his paper, was oblivious.
After breakfast, another trip to the shedmore hair tucking, more smiling. Arthur emerged with a chisel, said something, and Audreys laughter rang outbright, bubbling, too much.
Oh, for goodness sake, Claire muttered, scrubbing a stubborn plate.
Week two was absurd. Audrey began wearing makeupbold lipstick, thick lashes, more and more blusheras if she were at a cocktail party, not an English country garden. Her dresses were brighter, her presence beside Arthur more persistent, while she slowly withdrew from Jenny, the kitchen, the scones.
One evening Claire, slipping out for her phone, overheard her mothers voice around the side of the house.
Arthur, do you ever feel as if youre missing something? Like there should be more, excitement, companysomeone to talk to?
Arthurs reply was flat, not unkind, but baffled. What do you mean? Ive had plenty of excitement. Work is my rest, in fact.
But surely, sometimes, itd be nice to have a heart-to-heart?
I have Jenny. Weve been married forty years. We always manage to talk.
His tone was measured, almost chilly. Audrey, apparently, sensed this. Of course, I just meant
Claire fled inside, her heart thudding. She wanted to pack her mothers bags herself and put her straight on the next train to Londonbut how was she to explain this humiliation to Daves parents, or even to Audrey, without breaking something precious forever?
The next breakfast, Jenny was glacial, dishing Audreys porridge in stony silence. Audrey pretended not to notice, but Claire watched her hands tremble as she raised her spoon.
Arthur retreated to his shed; Audrey started after him. This time Jennys voice stopped her.
Could you help me with the jam, MrsAudrey? The blackcurrants are at their peak.
It wasnt a question, but an order dressed as politeness. Disappointment flashed in Audreys eyes, but she nodded and followed Jenny to the garden.
Relief. But it didnt last. At lunch, in full view of all, Audrey said suddenly, You know, my dad was handy too. Hed fix anything. I could watch him for hours. Theres something so captivating about a man who crafts with his hands.
Arthur, ever polite, nodded. Jenny dropped her fork. David choked on his water. Claire stared at her plate. Only Arthur seemed untouchedWell, each to their own, he said, and wandered off. But Audreys gaze clung to him with embarrassing hope.
After lunch, Claire intercepted her mother outside the loo.
Mum, we need a word. This has to stop.
Stop what? Audrey looked lost, then heated.
This! Youre acting like a lovesick teenager. Jennys noticed, Davids noticed. The only one who hasnt is Arthur himselfand if you keep going, hell work it out, and none of us will be able to look each other in the eye.
Audreys face crumpled. I just wanted to be seen. To know Im still alive. That Im not invisible.
Pity softened Claires anger; she hugged her mother tight. I get it. But not like this, Mum. Not here. Not him.
Audrey nodded, tears soaking Claires blouse.
Maybe you should go home. Take some time. Start a new class or something. Well find somethingthere are book clubs, art classes
No, I promised to help Jenny with the preserves. I cant just run offwhat would they think?
Claire didnt argue. She hoped the talk had worked; and for two days, it looked like it had. Audrey left Arthur alone, spent time with Jenny. The makeup faded, the dresses grew shyer.
It was just calm before the storm.
A week later was Jennys birthday. Family poured in, neighbours from up the lane, the garden filled with laughter and the clink of glasses. Audrey stayed in the background, chopping veg, decorating the trifle. Claire relaxed; it seemed safe.
By six, the table was bending under pork pies and Victoria sponge. Jenny glowed in a new frock, accepting best wishes. Arthur, in a crisp shirt and sweater vest, poured wine.
Audrey appeared last. Claire froze in the doorway.
Her mother had transformed herself: harsh pink lipstick, a mask of foundation, thick blue eyeshadow, false lashes clinging precariously, emerald-green dress so tight and low-cut it made Claires breath catch, and, heaven help her, heels on the lawn.
Everything stopped. Jennys smile vanished. Arthur merely nodded, distracted, turning again to a debate on fly-fishing.
People ate, drank, tried to laugh. Audrey said little, but her stare followed Arthurs every movementwhen he picked up his fork, she watched his hands; when he smiled, she smiled back; when he spoke, she hung on each word as if he were broadcasting the shipping forecast.
Jenny started to bristle, interrupting constantly. Audrey responded in polite monosyllables, then returned to her longing gaze.
Eventually came the toasts. Neighbour after neighbour offered kind words, raising glasses. When it was Audreys turn, Claire instinctively tensed.
Jenny, I wish you the happiest birthday. Youre truly wonderful. And so lucky to have Arthursuch skill, such steadiness. Real men like that are rare. Treasure him.
She fixed Arthur with a look so loaded the table fell silent. Not admiration. Not gratitude. Something elsesomething off-key.
Glasses were raised reluctantly. Jenny set hers down with a definite clink.
Thank you, Audrey, she said, icicles in her voice.
But Audrey was not finished. She hovered around Arthur, feeding him seconds, pouring him more wine, fanning his broweager, insistent, ignoring his discomfort. Jenny rose, crossed the lawn, her voice crackling.
Thank you, Audrey. I can manage. Please, sit down. Arthur is quite capable of looking after himself.
But I was onlyhelping.
I said, sit.
Audrey obeyed, but fury darkened her face. The party fizzled; guests trickled away. All that remained was the family and a taste of frost on the summer night.
Sundown painted the garden peach and gold. Arthur stretched, excused himself to check the shed. At once, Audrey leapt up.
Ill join youmight be a bit slippery in the dark!
Claire moved to intervene, too late. Audrey was already at Arthurs side, babbling. They reached his shed; Arthur unlocked the door and stepped inside. Audrey lingered, then followed.
Jenny stood, face set, and walked after them. David and Claire trailed behind, every step a drumbeat. They stopped outside the shed; light bled through chinks in the timber. Audrey was inside, far too close to Arthur, talking in a hushed tone that sent shivers down Claires spine.
Arthur, you really do have magic hands. Show me how you use that chisel?
Arthur stepped back. I think its time to call it a night.
But she pressed on, touching his hand, desperate.
ArthurI see you. Were both so alone, arent we? With Jenny busy. I can give you what youre missing
His hand withdrew as if bitten. What on earth are you talking about?
Audrey faltered. And then Jenny was there, silent as doom, stepping between them.
Mrs. Davis. Go pack your things. Youll be gone by morning.
I didnt mean it Audrey began, but Jenny raised a hand.
No? Youve circled my husband for weeks, all made up, batting your lashes. Dont you think I see? Everyone does. Only Arthur doesnt, because hes too decent to imagine it. But youve shamed yourself, your daughter, and you know it. Go inside.
Audreys composure cracked; she stumbled out, tears streaking her mascara, Claire reaching for her as she passed but David stopped her.
Arthur remained in the shed, gnarled hands over his face. Claire sat beside him.
Im so sorry. Shes been so lost since her friends died, since Dad passed.
Arthur, looking older than ever, mumbled, I never understood. Just thought she was lonely. Helping hands and all that. But He trailed off, shaking his head.
Its not you, Arthurits her loneliness. She misread your kindness.
He nodded, looking weary.
Jennys furious. Shell not forget this in a hurry.
Well go first thing in the morning, Claire whispered.
Back in the guest room, Audrey sobbed on the bed, face crumpled and raw, all make-up surrendered.
Mum, Claire said softly.
Nothing.
Mum, please
I know what I am, Claire. Fool. Embarrassment. Destroyed everything you built here.
Why, Mum? After we talked?
Audrey stared at the floor. Im so lonely, Claire. I wake up and wonder why I bother. The days are endless, silent. My friends are gone, you have your familyI see you out of duty. Thats all. I sit and wait forwhat? Nothing but the end, I suppose.
Claire squeezed her hand, fighting tears.
Mum, I love you. But not like this. Not married men. And not my father-in-law.
I just wanted to be noticed. Not as an old woman who tidies up, but as a woman. Id forgotten what it felt like until Arthur thanked me, and smiled. For a moment, I believed someone saw me again. It was stupid. I see that now.
She broke down. Claire wrapped her in arms, rocked her as she had as a little girl.
Tomorrow, well go home. Well find you something newa class, some volunteering. Anything but this.
Already too late, Audrey whispered.
Claire barely slept that night, listening to her mums footsteps pace the spare room. Over breakfast, the silence thudded. Jenny stayed away, Arthur was monosyllabic. Audrey appeared in a plain grey dress, suitcase in hand, face aged ten years in a night.
Is Jenny here? she murmured, eyes down.
Yes, Arthur said gruffly.
Tell her… Im so terribly sorry.
David loaded the suitcase. Claire went to say goodbye to Jenny, who stood at the bedroom window, back ramrod straight.
Mums leaving. Shes… very ashamed. Claires voice quavered.
She ought to be. At her age, behaving like a silly girl. Ive seen plenty in my sixty-five years, but thats more than lonelinessits selfishness, Claire. No respect for my home, my marriage, or you.
She wasnt herself, Jenny. Shes lost everyone she loved.
Weve all lost, Claire. Doesnt mean we turn on our families.
I know. She wont be back.
Jenny was silent, then sighed. Im not angry at you. Youre a good soul. But dont expect me to forgive.
I understand.
In the car, Audrey stared out at the rolling fields, hedgerows blurring by, villages and service stations a flickering kaleidoscope. As they reached Croydon, she spoke, voice papery.
Ive ruined it all, havent I?
Yes, Mum. You have.
Will Jenny ever forgive me?
Doubt it.
And Arthur?
He never really understood, I think. But Jenny will make sure he does.
Audrey nodded, turning away.
Back in her tiny flat, David pulled the suitcase inside. Claire hovered by the door.
Ill ring tomorrow, Mum. Well sort out something. Evening classes, maybe.
Audrey paused in the hallway, a ghost. Dont bother, darling. I think its safest I stay in. I cant be trusted, can I?
Mum
But the door was already closing. Claire stood out in the silent corridor, listening for the padded shuffle of slippers, the scrape of a chair, any sign of life. Nothing.
Back in the car, David glanced at her. Will she be all right?
I hope so, Claire replied. But she didnt believe it.
For the next week, Claire rang every evening. Audreys replies were flat, minimalyes, shed eaten, yes, shed slept. No, she hadnt left the house. There was nothing new. No plans.
As the days blurred by, Claire lost patience. She drove out, let herself in with the spare key. The curtains were drawn, Audrey in her housecoat, staring into the blank television.
Mum, you cant go on like this.
Audrey turned, her face vacant. Why not? What else is there?
You deserve to live, Mum. One mistake isnt the end. Everyone makes them.
Not everyone makes mistakes this humiliating. I should have stayed away from everyone. Then no one else could get hurt.
Claire took her hand gently. Youre grieving. No one blames you for being sad. But you can still try. There are things out there for you. Lets start with a walk.
Audrey shook her head. Im tired, Claire. Tired of chasing after people who dont want me. Its natural, whats happening. People age, grow alone, fade away. Thats whats meant to happen.
Claire bit her lip, fighting the ache inside. She opened the curtains. Sunlight splashed across the flat. Come on. Lets go to the park. Well get a coffee, watch people. Ill stay in tonight. Please, Mum.
Audrey blinked, then slowly rose and nodded.
They walked slowly side by side, Audrey uncertain on her feet. The park was baking under the sun; children shrieked by the fountain, old couples sat with their papers, feeding pigeons, dogs barked at nothing. Life surged on.
Mum, you knowJenny might never forgive you.
I know. Audreys smile was bitter. I ruined something pure, didnt I?
Maybe, but that doesnt mean you stop living.
They sat, shoulders pressed, on a bench by the water. Eventually Audrey murmured, If only Id stayed away from his shed. Or kept my mouth shut. I could have just been the helpful guest. A friend. But I was greedy for warmth, and I lost perspective completely. I thought Arthur I was an idiot.
Claire squeezed her hand. You were lonely. Thats all. Loneliness makes fools of us all.
Weeks passed; summer faded to autumn, then winter. Claire coaxed her mother into a computing class for older adults. Audrey went, did the assignments, even managed a faint smile after making her first PowerPoint, but inside nothing changed. She was going through the motions.
One visit, Claire found her mum in the usual spot, looking out the window at the sodden London street.
Do you ever feel totally alone, Claire? Even when the house is full?
Sometimes. Not often. I have Dave, and friends. I have you.
You have everyone. I have no one, not really. I got desperate for someone to see me. And I mistook kindness for more than it was. Thats all. A sad, lonely old woman chasing shadows.
No, Mum. You made a mess. Its happened to everyone, in different ways.
Audrey shrugged, unconvinced. The seasons crawled by; Claire kept visiting, kept hoping for life to creep back into the flat. Sometimes shed catch a brief spark in Audreys eyes, but it faded quickly.
Almost a year later, a new spring arrived. Claire found herself driving through the Kentish lanes to Jenny and Arthurs again, solo. Jenny was calm but answered questions stiffly. Hows your mother? she asked as they stood in the garden of blossoming apple and cherry trees.
She exists. Not much more.
Its hard, for someone so lost, Jenny said, a rare note of sympathy entering her voice. Maybe I was too harsh. I dont regret protecting my family but I wish Id found more kindness for her.
You did what you had to. Shell never forget it, though.
Jenny shrugged, silent again.
When Claire arrived at Audreys later that day, she found her, as always, staring from the window.
Lovely day in Kent, Claire offered. The gardens in bloom.
Audrey nodded, faint, a fragile smile teasing her lips.
Was it beautiful? she asked quietly.
Yes, Mum. Still is. But things are different now. Some things dont heal.
Audrey turned back to the window, her silhouette framed by sunlight and passing clouds. Below, children laughed in the courtyard. Someone pushed a pram. Life continued. But for Audrey, something had broken the previous summer, and she had yet to find the courageif she ever wouldto mend it.
Claire sat with her for a long time that afternoon, just holding her hand. There were no wordsforgiveness was elusive, and hope felt like a frayed thread. Yet, outside, the world pulsed with life, insistent and heedlessa gentle, indifferent reminder that, whatever we lose, tomorrow always comes.
