Olivias Horse
We prepared for Mrs. Olivia Parsons arrival with the utmost care. Well, in truth, Mary took care, while her husband, Richard, either did the opposite of what was needed or simply avoided any effort, claiming he was exhausted.
Oh, but what are you so tired from, Richard! Mary would exclaim, flinging her hands up, dropping the cloth shed been dusting with, bending over always bumping her elbow against some corner and wincing in pain, yet doggedly continuing to polish every surface, shelf, wall and cabinet in the house. She paid extra attention to the ornaments: shepherdesses, ponies, dogs and cats, ballerinas, stags, cupids all because she knew Mrs. Parsons would pick up each figurine and regale the family with stories of this delightful thing and where it was found.
Olivia adored porcelain figures. In the sixties, shed roamed car boot sales and flea markets, haggling and building her collection with real expertise, knowing every pieces worth.
Dad, whats up with Mum? young Robert, their twelve-year-old son, asked his father. Shes brought back this junk again, hasnt she? Shes not putting any of it in my room, Im serious! Stuff your own room with these ceramics, ceiling to floor if you want, but mines off limits!
He would always slam the door behind him for effect.
The shepherds, ballerinas, reclining huntsmen, little scout with a bugle, and a toadstool with a chipped cap would all sigh together. Olivia would sigh as well.
Michael, would you put up a few more shelves, please? shed plead, averting her gaze modestly. I have to put these beautiful things somewhere
Her collection was something of a local legend for a time. Strange old men whom Richard called bore-bags would come just to see it. Theyd drone on about ceramics and storage, tutting and blowing their noses loudly into checkered handkerchiefs.
Mum, where do you find these old fossils? Richard would ask after another guests departure, politely bowing at the entryway. What for? Your ceramics look fine where they are. Whats the point of a viewing parade?
Oh, son! You and your father know nothing! Absolutely nothing! Youre both so unimaginative, so ordinary! For you, a heap of metal you call a motorbike is more precious than art! These, shed wave her hand adorned in rings at the shelves, these are everlasting! Our legacy! And if Im right, youll never make it into university, not the way you skive off, but at least we can pay your way in with these ceramics, as you call them. Smart people will see potential in you yet, and thats the end of it!
Shed clutch her head, Michael would fetch her water and valerian drops, Richard would watch the scene for a few minutes before escaping to prepare for his entrance exams.
He made it in the end, with high enough marks for an easy acceptance. He studied well, slacked off at times, but graduated with first-class honours, worked at a factory for a while, then thanks to Michael moved to a private firm, and as Olivia boasted, moved money around as much as one could in those days.
He never visits, has his own flat, never invites us over. Probably found someone already. All I can do is hope hell cherish my collection when I give him our home shed say in conclusion, bowing her head and sighing.
It had long been decided that, once Robert married, he and his wife would move from their rented flat into the Parsons home near Richmond. The parents waited for that wedding announcement.
Finally, one day, he brought home a skinny young woman for tea.
Michael, who is that? Olivia whispered while Robert showed his new girlfriend the figurine collection.
How should I know? He said her names Mary. Mary Elizabeth, then. Let me go, I want to meet her. Those bright pink hair tips are intriguing; Id love to know what dye does that to hair!
So, rubbing his hands, Michael entered the lounge, where Mary was already giving the shepherds a thorough inspection.
Tell me, Mary, what do you do? asked her future father-in-law. Careful with that one, please my wife found that horse at a car boot sale. Note the missing tail just joking, it was a gift from work. Not a story Im fond of. The tail was broken off later, at a New Years party.
Michael paused, remembering the unpleasant fellow Mr. Campbell, Olivias old boss, always wheezy and unctuous, who would regularly look in to check on the prized horse.
Olivia, just give him the wretched mare! How long must I endure it staring at me? Michael would protest.
For as long as it takes to get me onto the management board. Yes, Michael, its odious, but Ill put up with it. Let him come and gawk. Michael, Ive only ever loved you! Olivia would swat his worries away.
Mr. Campbell would visit, drink their tea, joke, and, eventually, Olivia would usher him out and throw open the windows to air the flat. He smoked old-fashioned cigarettes.
Mary, meanwhile, was holding the porcelain horse, a bit startled, almost dropping it.
Sorry, Ill put it back. This horse has certainly seen rough times! Those legs she started, Im a vet myself. Not often do I see horses, mostly hamsters, cats, and dogs, but I have examined a few in my time. Work experience at
Suppers on! Olivia called, bringing chicken thighs to the table. Come on, before it all goes cold
Michael hustled everyone to their seats, took care of the ladies, poured champagne for the girls and something stronger for the men. They toasted and, elbowing each other around the modest table, enjoyed dinner. Mary regaled them with stories from her equestrian work placement: birthing foals, tending injuries and the like.
This horse was definitely modelled after one with arthritis, concluded Mary, the pink-haired.
Richard nudged her under the table, she nudged back, but hit Olivia instead, who rolled her eyes and let out a loud sigh.
Sorry! Mary blushed.
This isnt a stable; theres no need to start kicking here! Olivia retorted. Lets do the tea, Mary, you can help me.
Once in the kitchen, Michael winked at his son and ran his fingers through his hair.
Maybe I should dye mine pink as well. What do you think?
It wont suit you, grumbled Richard.
Later, with strained smiles, they drank tea and ate eclairs and brought out Olivias favourite toffee sweets.
What was that whispering about? Mum looked awfully sour after, Richard asked his bride-to-be.
Its nothing Your mum is lovely, a rock, really! But why does she collect those figurines? Ive only seen a collection like that in a museum.
Mum? No idea. She just likes them, always has. She hardly brings any new ones home nowadays. But you really shouldnt have mentioned the horse, Richard said, sounding almost offended. I warned you it was sensitive.
Whats wrong with the horse? Anyone can see its got joint problems
Mum will tell you its a rare antique, thats what. Just leave it alone in future, alright?
Mary kept a lower profile after that. She married Richard, and Richards parents gave up their flat to the newlyweds and moved to Michaels smaller place much farther out, in a peaceful suburb.
Perhaps we shouldnt? Well manage, honestly! Makes us feel like were kicking you out, Mary worried.
Kicking out is what I did when I moved in with Michaels parents, pregnant and with nowhere else to go, asking for a roof and Michael loitering behind me, blushing. Every couple starts somewhere, Mary. I just dont want you two under other peoples feet. Stay here. Just look after my figurines, wont you? Ill keep them here; theres no space at Michaels, but once we finish the cottage, Ill move my collection there. The horse too, but not yet.
And so they left, Olivia driving, Michael beside her, quiet and thoughtful. What next, indeed?
His wifes generous gesture surprised and pleased Michael. Olivia had never quite warmed to Mary, thinking her too excitable, too soppy with animals, and a bit impractical.
Shes fine, Olivia! Youll see! Michael would brush off his wifes concerns.
Shes not abnormal, just I expected something a bit more scholarly for our son. And the hair
At least shes not ruthlessly ambitious! Michael defended.
She does love stepping on toes! Never mind. Lets not dwell on it, Olivia sighed, setting off to pour coffee, staring out the window, reflecting on how noisy and cheerful life had been back in their bedsit days, cramped but carefree and calm. As newlyweds, they had a little room the size of a pencil case with a whole-wall window. Olivia decorated it with pop star posters, painted her nails, and sang. It had been ages since she sang. Once pregnant, though, their burrow felt suffocating, so the doctors insisted they move.
Living with Michaels parents was tricky at first, all different habits and routines. Her father-in-law would forget the new lady in the house and parade around the kitchen in his underpants, until his wife bought him loud synthetic palm-print shorts. They crinkled whenever he sashayed down the hall, which irritated him endlessly.
There were kitchen spats over recipes, biting silences, and whispers in the corridor.
Then came the move to the co-op flat that very one they now gifted to Robert and his wife. Hallelujah! Roman grew up, Michael and Olivias marriage thrived, and so did the porcelain collection.
Why did Olivia become a collector? She wanted something elegant and refined. She was no longer the simple girl who lived off tinned stew and sang without shame. She grew up, stood taller, became ambitious. It started with just three figurines: a toadstool cluster, a ballerina tying her slippers, and a tiger.
She kept them behind glass in the sideboard. Once, some of Michaels new colleagues came to supper, as hed changed jobs and wanted to impress them at home. Olivia outdid herself hosting, and when someone asked if she was a ceramophile, she blushed, thinking it was something rude, but then nodded eagerly when they admired her ballerina. From then, collecting became her calling. She devoured books, learned the trade, amazed even herself. She gathered a lot before the economy went sideways after that, porcelain was too dear, especially considering Roberts threadbare trousers.
Sometimes, she bartered figurines for necessities, though she preferred not to dwell on it.
Now, Olivia and Michael moved on, leaving the flat that had felt their love, their memories, and their figurines, so the new marriage with luck could also grow, blossom and bear grandchildren.
Robert and Marys marriage did bear fruit in little Dennis, who would reach for the toadstools and ballerinas, no matter Marys protests.
What have you done, Dennis! shed scold if he managed to snatch and nearly smash a figurine. Thats your grans your grans!
A couple of times, Denniss tiny hands failed him: the collection lost a plump merchant in a long winter coat and a jolly girl destined for the fields.
But why a cowherd? Mary mused.
Because Mum bought her in Oakendown, and the vendor claimed the girl was a famous local cowherd. But I suspect they just pulled my leg.
Oh, if she really is famous, what a shame Right, we need a proper cabinet. For the collections sake!
So they built one, with lockable doors; Dennis tried to get in but the figurines eluded him.
Its like visiting the British Museum rarities and antiques everywhere! Marys friends exclaimed during visits, before sharing tales about their cats, dogs and hamsters
Mary, now with her pink hair long gone, would sigh, smile and think up what shed tell Olivia when Gran noticed the missing cowherd. Somehow, Olivia took that loss in stride.
Well, if its Dennis I wont scold him! she said, pouring herself another cup of tea.
But today there was no comfort to be given. Mary, dusting that horse from the boss, dropped and shattered it.
Richard, Im so sorry! It just slipped! I really didnt mean to! What are we going to do? I cant glue it back together. This isnt a plaster cast
Mary was on hands and knees scooping up shards when Dennis rushed to help her.
Hmmm Mums always said shell take that horse. It even has a special spot, its an antique! Richard fanned the flames. Mary tried to piece the horse together like a puzzle, but it was beyond repair.
I could nip down to John Lewis, pick up something similar? Maybe she wont notice? Keep an eye on Dennis back soon! she declared, and again the shards hit the floor.
At that moment, the doorbell rang. Olivia never entered with her own key, though she had one.
Mum, why dont you just come in? her son would say, but she insisted.
Its Marys house now And yours too, shed add. I wont meddle. I just cant enter without leave.
So today, too, she politely rang first.
I have to answer Shell be waiting, fretting. Shes early, Mary whispered.
Richard answered the door; the familiar sounds followed the creak of the door, the metallic jangle of Olivias handbag, kisses, and the rustle of shopping bags. But not today Olivia didnt start moaning about the street, the lack of parking, or the latest gossip while unzipping her boots.
Hello, dear Mary, good evening Dennis, come here to Gran! she called.
The boy dashed over for a cuddle.
Not too cold for you? The heatings still off, isnt it. You should come to ours in the country, Dennis would love it. Mary, maybe get some holiday time? she asked, collapsing wearily into a chair.
Mary had never seen Olivia like this. Normally, she was full of energy, but now
Mum, are you alright? You look like somethings wrong Richard frowned. Or have you noticed already? Mum, thing is he faltered. Mum, the horse
Mrs. Parsons, Im so sorry! I was dusting it like you asked, with a dry cloth, and the horse the one with the dodgy legs slipped. I Ill buy another. Ill find one there must be more! I didnt mean to, honestly.
The horse? There was hardly a herd, Mary Oh well, never mind! Olivia waved a hand, defeated.
And Mary felt terrible. Olivia really was the perfect mother-in-law never critical, never intrusive, always there to help with Dennis. And now Mary had let her down so badly; thered be no horse in the display anymore.
Sometimes, Olivia had even chatted to the horse more than with any shepherdess or ballerina. It was special.
Well find an even better one! Mary promised, as if comforting Dennis over a lost toy car. Dont be so upset, its just a horse. Look, theres a makers mark well track another down
Oh Mary, I couldnt care less about that horse Olivia interrupted. If I never saw it again Id live. My boss gave it to me, I kept it because hed look in and check it was still there. Its gone, and Im glad. But you know Olivia let her hands fall into her lap.
Richard and Mary looked at her, alarmed. Something terrible had happened.
Mum, just say it! Is Dad ill? Did you get a loan? Was there a scam? What happened? Richard stood over her; she looked up, miserable.
Im sorry, love, but I scratched your car. Tried to park, but my back twinged, it was such a tight spot, honestly, and now theres a great big scratch. Thats it. And Im not mad about the horse, truly! Ill take Dennis for the summer to the country, and
But Richard was already out the door, racing down to the car park.
Hed only bought the car a week ago, not yet used to the new-car smell, hadnt broken in the steering wheel leather or filled the glovebox with junk. Hed just started to savour it, checking it over every morning and night when out with Dennis. Hed admire it, and admire it, and admire it
Out Richard dashed, down the close, startling the old ladies he usually greeted, but not today.
Goodness! Wheres he off to like that? said one.
Left his wallet at the shops, probably. I ran like that once well, sort of. Turned out mine was in my coat pocket all along, said the other.
In the dusk, Richard peered at his car, getting down close, running his hands over it, muttering. Unable to see, he used his phone torch. There! A fat, rusty streak
Mum, how could you? Theres room here for a bus to park! How’d you scuff it like that? he fussed, petting his steeds wound, face twisted with worry. But as he brushed at it, the mark began to crumble, then disappeared entirely. Just a patch of mud the paint was untouched. His car was fine.
Richard went back inside. The flat was quiet, only the lounge light glowed; Dennis rolled cars across the carpet while Olivia and Mary sat whispering at the table.
So? What are we doing? Selling off the porcelain lot to pay for repairs? he asked sternly.
“Dearest, Ill sell. Ill sell them all. Well except maybe this girl with the knot, that lion, the cockerel, and the bears. Oh, and this dog, said Olivia, already sorting through the display, recounting tales of the old market traders and how shed haggled them down, the thrill of returning home with each find. Im never driving again Never, Richard! Please dont be angry.
Not be angry? Do you remember, Mum, how I broke your favourite pink crystal vase? You grounded me for it and I missed Kirkys birthday party, remember?
I do. I was harsh, sorry.
And when I spilled ink on your dress? That drama
I remember. Forgive me.
Well now I I Richard inhaled, Mary gestured at him to stop as Olivias palms were already sweaty. I
Oh, just get to the point. Im ready, Olivia said, as if facing a firing squad, and moved towards the door. Shall I go, then?
Mum! Mary called.
Gran! piped Dennis.
Everyone looked at Richard.
He sat, made tea, put in three heaped sugars, and finally said, It was nothing, Mum, just a dirty smear. Dont give it another thought. Would you like the figurines packed for you? Come on, have some cake, youre family. Mary, your pie is excellent. Pass the jam?
Mary gave him a mock slap. She asked Olivia if she needed her heart drops, poured everyone more tea, and then they all packed up the porcelain, wrapping it in newspaper and tying with string. Olivia and Michael had finished their cottage at last, and Michael made a special alcove for Olivias collection under the stairs, with glass shelves and lights. There was even a place ready for the horse.
Michael, the horse wont be coming, Olivia announced late that night. Mary broke it.
So what, did you incinerate her? asked Michael sleepily.
I just waved it off. The thing was always odd, anyway. Ill put the ballerina in its place. Ah, Im tired Not a single parking spot at their place again! And someone scratched Richards car, or so we thought, but in the end it was fine. And Olivia rattled on.
Im fining you, Liv Richard already told me everything. This weekend, were off to the symphony.
You know I hate those things and Ive nothing to wear! she protested.
Thats your punishment. Youll go as you are, Michael retorted, yawning and settling down to sleep
At the concert, Olivia peered through binoculars at the orchestra when someone gave her a companionable pat on the shoulder.
“Hmm?” She turned, binoculars still glued to her face.
Right in front of her, tripled in size, was her former boss.
“Olivia! Youre looking well! Still looking after that horse I picked out just for you? It took me forever to find I know you love those things. I must drop by sometime” he boomed, shoving her elbow with his bloated stomach.
“Mr. Campbell? Well, how about that Olivia pursed her lips. Didnt expect to find you here. Oh, the horse got smashed. Just as well. No point visiting.”
Mr. Campbell looked befuddled. Really? But that was a precious piece
It cost me pennies at B&Q, love. Did you really believe it was an antique? Youre a treat! he chuckled, but then, seeing Michael appear in stern dinner suit, he slipped away.
Cant leave you alone for a second, theres always some man sniffing about, Michael grumbled, handing Olivia a packet of nuts. Here, keep these, my dear! Its starting! Quiet now shh!
He dropped into his seat, the house lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to play something mournful and squeaky. Oh well, Olivia would bear it, even if the music set her teeth on edge. Everyone had their interests, and Olivia respected that.
“Michael, shall we start collecting tea sets? I saw a gorgeous one at Debenhams” she whispered, but Michael just waved her off. He had his own interests tonight the music.
For some its porcelain, for others its a car, but for Michael it was the music, and that was that. Tea sets would wait. Yes, hed allow it. Let Olivia collect whatever she wanted, and hed fit as many shelves and display cases as she wished. That must be love, Mary mused, and she dearly hoped she and Richard would be just the sameAs the orchestra swelled, Olivia leaned her head on Michaels shoulder, her fingers knotting and unknotting the wrapper from the packet of nuts. She watched the violinists delicate handsso precise, so fragileand thought about all her figurines, gathered over the years, each one a small song in porcelain.
After the music, they walked out under the city lights, Michael gallantly offering his arm. The streets shimmered with drizzle, glancing off car roofs and puddling in the gutter, and Olivias reflection followed her in the shop window, a little older, but still upright, still searching for beauty.
Lets go home, Liv, Michael said softly. Cup of tea before bed?
Mmm. With all the sugar. She squeezed his arm. Lets light the alcove when we get in. I want you to see the ballerina in her new spot. She glows beautifullylike a jewel.
They returned to the cottage, the scent of dust and lilies floating in the warmed hallway. Olivia moved to the alcove, fingers lingering over each small, glassy form, as Michael switched on the light. A thousand tiny reflections sparkled back, crowding togetherhuntsmen and ballerinas, toadstools and cowherds, a bear, a lion, the looping dogand in the centre, beneath the gentle glow, stood the ballerina tying her slippers, elegant, self-contained.
Olivia smiled, heart full but peaceful, and though that horse was gone, she hardly felt its absence. There would always be something fragile to guard, to remember, to pass along. And in the laughter of family, in the gentle teasing and the shared tea, her true collection sang brightest of all.
Do you need space for more? Michael asked quietly.
Olivia laughed, her voice clear as porcelain. Theres always room, my love. Not just for teapots, or horses, or cupsbut for whatever we find next.
And in the golden alcove, with the music lingering in their ears and the warmth of home about them, Olivia and Michaelcollectors of small wonderssettled in for the night, the shelves ready for whatever treasures tomorrow might bring.
