Andrew
Today, my son came home surprisingly late.
I must have called him a hundred times on his mobile, but Andrew wasnt picking up.
Yes, when hes driving he doesnt answer calls. I know this. Years ago, Andrews father died in a car crashhed been foolish enough to answer his phone. My son doesnt want to repeat his fathers fate. But well, even so…
Finally, when I spotted the beam of Andrews Range Rover slipping behind the fence, and heard the creak of the gate, I shivered, wrapping myself tighter in the poncho. Its a warm one, mindthe very same one Andrew brought me four years ago, right about the time I retired and moved in to our cottage outside Oxford. I think he got it in Spain or maybe France, I cant quite recall. Not that it matters.
August evenings here are cold, often wet, the scent of cut grass and fallen apples soaking into the ground. No amount of films or good books could cheer me up. And we have a whole room set aside as a library, our beautiful modern house with metal railings and black window frames.
We each have our own room, plus three spare for guestsbut fewer and fewer visitors come each year. I tire of fuss easily, never much cared for cooking, andwell. The two of us get along just fine. Well spend the evening in the sitting room, listen to apples thumping down in the orchard, say nothing, then drink teaalways with honey and lemon or mint, for a good sleep. Then a peck on the cheek, wishes for sweet dreams, and the gentle creak of bedroom doors.
Hed go to bed, Id tuck in, everything just as it should be.
Not even a cat with usthough my parents always had cats. But now, animals are nothing but trouble for my delicate blueberry bushes. The neighbours cheeky moggies are forever digging under themmy fussed-over, fussy bushes, my pride and soft spot.
I cant put traps out, can I? Id mutter, half-seriously. Why dont people look after their pets? Its just basic decency!
When I was small, we had a catSammy. Hed roam the garden at all hours, only coming in for food or a scratch, dragging in mice, and sleeping wherever he fancied. No one thought for a second about keeping him watched.
But now I get it, and we dont keep pets. Andrewboys will be boys!he bought a spider at some pet shop. That creature now lives in a glass tank, munching on crickets, its hairy legs twitching whenever I peer in at it.
Disgusting, Andrew! Why on earth do you need that? Id say, shuddering.
He always replied, Just for fun, Mum. Its cool.
There hadnt been much fun in our home for a while, truth be told.
When Andrew was younger, and his grandad Victor and grandma Elizabeth were alive, his university and school mates would descend upon the cottage. Theyd have barbecues, crank up the music, squeeze into our old rickety bungalow, smoke so the house was thick with haze. Plates never got washedtheyd bought disposable ones. Laughter would echo till three in the morning before everyone crashed out, sprawled everywhere.
Thats when Molly would come roundAndrews so-called future wife. Molly was high maintenancelong-legged, big blue eyes, batting her lashes, laughing liltingly, hand on Andrews shoulder, him tossing his denim jacket across her and apologising that the nights here were freezing.
I caught them in bed, the fifth time shed stayed. She blushed, Andrew stammered, protesting at my bursting in without knocking.
My darling, honestly! I did knock, but you were far too busy I cast a pointed look at the flailing lump under the duvet. Forgot my headphones in here. Popped in for them. Apologies if I barged in
I swanned from the room, pursed my lips, marched downstairs, and lost myself pacing from the house to the gate and back again.
Andrew saw me pacing, but soon switched off, closed his eyes, and they never did come down for breakfast.
Then came little Simon, a month early, constant rows and Mollys outbursts By then, Andrew had started building a new house for his familysetting up independently but on the same patch of landexcept the job never finished. Lightning struck a nearby spruce, set the house ablaze, and by the time help arrived it was lost.
Its a sign, Andrew. A sign Id mutter, frowning.
Oh, dont spout nonsense, Mum! Enough! Ive got no time for this! Well build another, Ill earn the money, just stop! Andrew would slam boot lids, gathering Mollys things.
Molly had just rung again, shouting for him to come back to LondonSimon was crying, she was fed up…
They werent even married. She left for Manchester with the boy, nursing a lifelong grudge.
For what? You brought this on yourself, silly woman! If youd held your tongue, lived a little differently, youd be set upnever wanted for anything. Hes a good man, earns well, why were you such a fool? her mother would scold as Molly sat in the hall, while the toddler gawked up at the unfamiliar, stern woman.
Mum, thats not what I wantedI wasnt born to change nappies, cook for a man, and be scolded by his mother because he turns up hungry. Who does she think she is, to ring and lecture me about her little Andrew turning up haggard?
They didnt get married. There was nothing between them except the boy. Andrew paid child support, saw his son now and then, Molly made things difficultnever let him close.
It was hard on him. Id never thought hed become so attached to the lad. Still so young himself, life ahead of him, but something about it He suffered, struggled, tried to talk to Molly but she froze him out.
Well, let go then! Enough with the playing house. You have a good job, youll work your way up, find a wife, have a family. I tried to encourage him.
But what about Simon, Mum? Hes my boy, dont you understand? When I held him for the first time, I cried. I really did
Andrew would often visit then, coming either to the city flat or the cottage after the breakup with Molly, sitting silent in the kitchen, getting through five cups of tea without a word. Or if hed been drinking, hed lock himself away, wouldnt let me in.
Time heals. Simon grew up, went to school, wanted to be a pilot.
Who doesnt at that age? Firefighter, copper, diver, ships captain you name it. With Molly as a mum, hell be working before hes eighteen! I know these things. Ive lived through a lot, raised a son in the 90sno time for rose-tinted dreams.
Mum, hes your grandson Dont you care? Andrew once asked.
I pretended to be busy cutting back roses, turned after a while, shrugged.
Oh, Andrew! I keep telling you, its not our problem anymore. Let go, as they say! If Molly had at least spoken to me decently, not been so standoffish, Id have helped with the boyI’ve still got contacts! But as it stands Lets just live, shall we? Whats so bad about your life now? Peace, freedom, you can travel, rebuild the house Youre a wonderful man, Andrew!
Id kiss his forehead, like when he was a child, then wave him off at the gate, handing over containers of homemade food. I did hate that, as a businessman, Andrew ate on the go and started to put on weight.
No great tragedy, I like him whatever he looks like, even if the belly strains beneath a trendy branded t-shirt. But, his heart
Andrew has a touch of heart trouble, and I worry that weight might make it worse. So since retiring, Ive thrown myself into cooking, hunting up recipes, checking with nutritionists, made him get medical checkups, keep an eye on cholesterol, bought vitamins.
Enough, Mum! he snapped one time, as I handed over three tubs of stuffed courgettes. I want to eat meat! Proper, fatty stuff. I want beer with my mates, whisky, the lot. Thishe tossed the boxes back onto the custom table with the resin top and iron legskeep it for yourself. Sort out your own health, get a holiday, see your friends. Speaking of, Mum, where are your friends? Invite them over, theres space! And eat your courgettes, mind the digestion!
Im not sure why I snapped at herI left, didnt even close the gate behind me. The newly painted burgundy gates sat wide open, groaning and creaking.
She locked them herself, crushed her finger fiddling with the bolt. But she forgave me. Boys will be boys. The main thing is, he will always come back to me, everything will be right again.
Its true, I have no friends leftwell, not proper ones. Theyre all on the phone, on the line, but in real life, its only my son I can hold. Hes unhappy, struggling. Ill save him.
Andrew made up with me. Not right away, of coursehe waited it out, stuck to terse texts: Im fine, Mum.
Then, out of the blue, mid-August, he showed up at the cottage lugging bags and boxescake, pickles, meat for a barbecue, all my favourite treats, sushi, exotic fruit.
Andrew! I gasped, delighted and a little alarmed, wiping my knees as I got up from the pumpkin patchthose would be ready soon, but what to do with them if my son wont eat Are we celebrating? Are guests arriving? I babbled.
He pecked my cheek and headed inside.
No, just wanted to be here. Ive taken three days off, he called from the porch.
I was delighted. No guests, no chaos. Just the two of us and the fireplace. Proper, too, logs and allbut I never manage to light it properly myself. Andrew always sorts it out. How good it is, him being here!
And from that day, everything moved apace. The house got finished, and Andrew set to work on the veranda. The workers irritated me at times, always about the place, but so long as Andrew was hereor, if not, was always back by the eveningI didnt mind.
Alright, Irene! a neighbour called once. Banging about again? Andrew thinking of getting married?
Whered you get that idea? Just finishing the extension, I shook my head.
Dont know. Hes glowinghavent you noticed? She winked.
But I shrugged. Andrew was just happy to be here with me, thats all.
Today, though, he was late, though wed agreed to peel the apples together for jam. Id gathered three whole basketsbumper yearand waited for his help.
Instead, he brought a woman. She sat in the car forever, still as a statue. Blinded by the headlights, I squinted out at her.
Who is that? Whats she doing here? Molly? It couldnt be Molly; shed never show up now.
Mum, are you heating the whole house? Ill need a room upstairs for her. Id have put her up in my place, but its too cold he mumbled, moving round the car, opening the passenger side, muttering something I didnt catch.
Out came a woman, thin, her hair in a ponytail, drowned in an oversized jumper and skinny jeans, chunky wooden bangles on her wrist, beads round her neck.
Come on in, its freezing! That way. This is my mum, Irene Walker. Mum, this is Holly, my colleague. Kettle on, pleaseI need a bite and then Im dashing off. Work things. Holly just needs a rest.
I raised my eyebrows. Well then, so bold! Kettle, rest
First things first, hello to you, son. And Id prefer it if you told me in advance before bringing guests round. The kitchens all apples, we had plans I whispered at him in the hall.
I know. No time now. Holly, what are you doing? Come in! he led her in, flipped all the lights on.
I was briefly struck by how caring he lookedbut then I saw it, all this was fuss for her, not for me!
There! Found it! Hollyhere, have a drink! He thrust a glass at her.
She shook her head and pushed his hand aside.
Could I just lie down? My heads spinning, she whispered.
All right. Mum, were upstairs. Ill explain later. No time! Holly, this way. Carefulheadache, you need sugar, yeah? Tea?
He was still fussing as he led her away, her voice and his echoing on the staircase, leaving me alone in the sitting room with his rejected glass. I stared at it, tossed it back, grimacedtoo sharp.
I heard movement overhead as Andrew banged about. Finally, he came back down.
I sat at the table, hands folded.
Are you going to explain who that is and why Im to stay here with her while you dash off? Yes, your house, your rules, but I brushed an invisible crumb away.
He sat, scratched his thinning scalp, sighed.
Mum, thats Holly. We work togetherand, well, I really like her. Properly. Didnt tell you before because you overreact. Shes in trouble. Her sonwell, its awful, but hes gone missing. They found something. Ill go identify, then shell do it if neededeasier that way We got the call at the office; I have to go check with Victoryou remember Miles Victor? Hes dealing with it. Ill be quick, Mum. Try not to eat Holly alive while Im gone.
He grabbed his keys.
Whats with the cryptic instructions? Andrew, dont get drawn into things! For heavens sake! I sprang up, but he was gone.
No way I was sleeping now, Id simply wait for Andrew. But how to pass the time?
Tried a TV drama, but couldnt focus, kept listening out for a car instead. Made tea, but it tasted too strong, bitter like wormwood. Walked circles round the living room, adjusting blankets, ornaments, the rug.
By three I was exhausted, my eyes closing, but nerves in pieces. So I sat to peel apples.
Pared curls fell in neat ribbons into the glass bowl, and as soon as the apples were bare they began to brown.
I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned abruptly, nicked my finger.
Oh! Bloodmakes my head spin.
Once, Andrew gashed his brow here at the cottage; blood everywhere. I nearly fainted, honestly. Thankfully the neighbour patched him up and whisked us to A&E…
Now it started again, legs weak, I paled and toppled sideways.
But Holly was at my side in a blink, sat me back down, angled the chair towards her, told me to lean forward.
What are youGet your hands off I mumbled feebly.
Im helping. Wheres the first aid kit? she asked gently.
I nodded in the right direction.
In five minutes I was sitting, finger all plastered up, and Holly set a mug of hot, sweet tea before me.
Dont take over my kitchen, I said, suddenly stern.
I wont. I just want to help, she replied again.
Then pour yourself one. Im not drinking alone, I muttered.
Thats when I noticedshe looks a little like me. In build, maybe, or face, or hair. Or all together
Men always marry women like their mums, I remembered someone once saying. Oh, is it true?
We sipped in silence. The smell of apples, mint and autumn curled in from the window, hung like mist in the air.
Are you making jam? Holly broke the quiet. Her voice, slightly hoarse, suited the room.
Yes. Andrew was supposed to help, but I trailed off.
Ill helpthat is, if you dont mind. I have to keep busy or Ill lose my mind sleep tablets dont work, every nights a nightmare, mornings are numb Without waiting, Holly picked up a knife, slid the bowls over and started peeling. I throw myself into things so I dont think for a secondotherwise it all crashes back
She rambled, not waiting for me to respond, telling how her son went missing, how they searched, found out hed got in with a bad crowd, stolen cash from herhe knew where she kept spare notes. And now this
They rang my office. After that its all a blur. Just now coming to, she finished, shivering.
I stared at her, hard, then, all bristling and wound tight, said, You shouldnt drag my son into all this. Hes good, decent, hes suffered enoughfinally getting his life back, and now you bring this hell to him! How dare you?
I was shouting by now, eyes bulging, poncho on the floor.
He decided to help himself, Holly shook her head.
He did? Yes, Andrews kind, a good lad! You took advantage. Wheres he gone? Why is he sorting out your mess while you wait here? Look, dont think hell marry you. God, all you women are sly! Hes had anothershe claimed to love him, but only cared about his money. We went through five court cases over child support! It was never enough for her! I barely got Andrew back on his feet, he loved his son so much Yes, he has a son tooSimon. And my boy really suffered, nearly drank himself to ruin, yes! I begged him not to give up; I pulled him through. Now were together, looking after each other
Against whom? Holly interrupted.
Her question hit me like a slap.
Against whom? Life! People out to live off my son. Like you I jabbed a plastered finger at her.
You dont need fear me. Yes, I do like Andrew, and he likes me, but I know well enough my problems would ruin his life. He just helped me survive the first awful moments But nothing more. Dont worry. There wont be anything more.
In that case, Ill call you a taxi, and you can leave. Right now. Call Andrew and tell him to stop getting involved. That will be best for everyone.
The taxi took forever. Holly sat on the steps, crying quietly, hurting so badly it must have felt like burning. But she couldnt shout, didnt want to wake me. She bit her hand till it blossomed with bruises.
I sat the other side of the door, like a dog, listening.
I was about to lose my son. He had always been closeif I stretched out my hand, there hed be. Even when Molly lived with him, Andrew came whenever I called. Id won that fight, built a private world for us, doted, fussed, felt proud.
But it turned outhes changed. Hes his own man now, off at all hours, helping this woman, skipping dinner.
And HollyHolly had lost her son, properly lost. He was gone for goodforever.
I felt the cold growing within me. What if something happened to Andrew too? How would I go on? Whats the point then?
First, I seethedit was Hollys fault. Now she sat there, not even coming in, growling like an animal in a trap
Then came pity. Im not cruel, not unmoved by others troublesId just wrapped myself in a poncho so small it left space for nothing but me and my son. I have a sister, but we no longer speak. I have friends, emails from them now and then
But those friends and invitations dont fit under this poncho.
I remembered how, after yet another court date, drunk, Andrew beat his head against the wall and Id had to pull him away. He once shoved me, I cried, then we sobbed together. But I still have my boyand this woman, she has no son. None.
“Come in. Its cold. You neednt leave. Here, put this on, I offered Holly the poncho. Itll suit you.
She nodded gratefully. Id acknowledged her, allowed her in.
We cancelled the taxi, brewed more tea and sat in silence. But this time, a shared one.
Andrew came home just before dawn, quietly. Mum and Holly were on the sofa, pressed together, fast asleep. She snored a bit, muttering.
“Shes getting old,” Andrew thought as he looked at us. “Old, and scared to be alone.”
A little pile of tissues lay nearby.
Under the lid of a big saucepan, Andrew found the apples, dusted with sugar.
He started eating them just like that, forgetting to wash his hands. The sugar crunched, apples tart against the sweetness, jaw aching with the taste.
Holly woke first, looked at him hopelessly.
He shook his head. Not him. It was his papers, but it wasnt him.
She burst into tears.
I stirred under the blanket and opened my eyes.
And then I cried too.
It wasnt him, Mrs Walker! Not my boy! Not him Holly sobbed, mopping tears with her sleeve.
Thank God! Oh, darling, thank God! I stroked her back, then rose and embraced my son.
Hed been a man for years, grown out of courgettes and jam, mostly humoured his fussing old mum. But perhaps its time I make room, under this warm house-poncho, for someone else. Andrews house will glow, another woman will bustle at his kitchen, eager to please her husband.
And thats good. It gives life meaning.
Theyd find Hollys son later, thered be a trialwhere, in the public gallery, sitting beside his mother, hed recognise a half-familiar man, someone who used to come by at Christmas with presents for Michael, used to walk Holly home but never came in.
Michael, just a bit older than Simon, had made mistakeshurt and betrayed everyone. But he was glad his mother would have someone to heal her wounds.
Grownups deserve happiness too.
Now, I do not live alone at the cottageHolly moved in. Shes lively, well read, and Andrew, with her, is renewed, almost youthful again.
And the poncho hangs in the hallready for anybody to take and warm themselves when it gets chilly. It belongs to all of us now.
Simon put it on one time, caught his fathers eye and blushed. Andrew smiled. Everyone in this house ought to feel warm. It was never about things, really.
