A Television for Mother
“Tom, oh Tom! Mothers lost her senses entirely. We nearly left without the bacon. She said put it in the black bag, but then she shoved it into a sack with the onions, also black. Tom! I looked and wondered what was in that bagit was our bacon. Imagine, we nearly left it behind Tom!”
Tom just waved her off, full with worries of his own. “You lot can sort it out yourselves…”
The Everson household was a hive of bustle. The family was preparing for a trip to Londonnot just for pleasure, but to the great Exhibition of National Achievements at Earls Court. Their farming collective, named after Lord Wellington, had been honoured with a place. The whole management was going, and the pig women too; they had an entire pavilion to themselves.
Tom enlisted his wife as a pig woman, though she was really a nursery school teacher. But London! Free travel and accommodation, all thanks to the regional council. They had bred spectacular boars and sows, winning prizes not just locally but across the whole county. And now London awaited them.
Old Mrs. Annie, Toms mother, was in a flurry as well. Her son had to receive officials from the county and district; they were even more anxious than he, the weight of representing the region resting on their shoulders.
His mother beamed with pride.
Annie herself was a slight, frail woman with a face like a sweet shrivelled apple. She lived both with and apart from themher home now the old summer kitchen at the end of the courtyard, where shed settled with her late husband long ago. Shed watched over the grandchildren for years and drifted through her days quietly, now alone as Granddad had long since passed.
She was content. Even if the wallpaper bubbled from damp, and all her furniture was handed down, she liked it there. It made her feel part of thingsable to help out where needed, but not underfoot.
What did it matter? Her son was clever, her daughter-in-law resourcefultheyd laid a stone floor in the house, added a couple of box rooms and a veranda; it was more a manor now than a country cottage.
And they had all the modern contraptions. Even the television was colour. Sometimes Annie would pop in and stare, taken aback by the wonders on the screen, though she always left before outstaying her welcomedidnt want to trouble them. She never did linger; she was far too modest.
Shed always been that way. Quiet, timid, hardworking and selfless. All her life shed worked as a dairymaid on the farmnot the sort to stand out or lead.
How shed ended up with a son like Tom she never could fathom.
Her grandson Jamie had once found her sobbing behind the barn and ran to his father. Tom rushed over. “Mum, whats happened? Has someone upset you?”
Shed leapt up, dabbing her eyes hurriedly. “No, no, Tommy, Im just so happy. Never thought my son would be chairman of the farm. Shame your father cant see it…”
Now, Annie was well and truly old. Tom was a late child, and the only one. Her legs felt like logs, heart fluttering every day, and that autumn her back went so badly she had to bend as she walked.
Tom was now managing the whole farm. And nowLondon!
Those special days she kept herself busy, helping her daughter-in-law pack, and keeping an eye on the grown-up grandchildren. Lizzie especially was nearly a young lady herself, but still needed watching.
“Why cant we go too!” Lizzie sulked, pouting. “I want to go to London.”
“Oh, Liz, dont be upset. Ill buy you everything you want: trainers, blouses, maybe a new winter coat. Jamie needs a jacket too,” Mary, Toms wife, worried over missing anything.
“And tights, Mum, you promised! The ones with the pattern.”
“And tights, of course. And your Aunt Sylvia, and cousin Grace, and Auntie Ruththey all need something. Ive made a listoh, my goodness, did I pack my notebook? Thank goodness we sold the motorbike; now well have enough money for everything…”
Everyone wanted to visit London; it was quite the event! Orders poured in for everything under the sun. There was even a day scheduled specifically for sight-seeing and shopping.
Excursion or not, the shopping was sacred.
“All right, everyone behave while were away! And look after Gran!”
They piled into the collectives new Ford Cortina, recently awarded for special services, and made for the station.
Neighbours and friends crowded round to see them off.
Mother stood slightly apart, small, nearly invisible and leaning forward.
Tom came over. “Come on, Mum! Dont let them misbehave. You have my permission…”
Annie was fretting about her earlier slip. Mary had told her off. “Im sorry, Tom, about the bacon. Nearly let you down. Silly old woman…”
“Never mind. Therell be enough food to feed an army.”
Having crossed herself, Annie watched the dust rise behind the departing Cortina before heading home. Best not to tidythe children were still on the way, at least until tomorrow.
The grandchildren had just finished lunch.
Annie settled on the sofa and listened as Lizzie and her friend Grace dreamed aloud about new clothes mum would bring back. Lovely dreams… shed had the same herself once. Only now
She didnt need furnitureher children had given her their old things: a dressing table, a sideboard, some kitchen cupboards. But Annie wouldnt trade her own bed for the world, even if the silver had worn off the round knobs and the mattress sagged a bit.
Shed grown used to it, and cherished her pillows covered in battered lace shams.
As for shoes, Annie wore her old slippers through the summer, rubber wellies for autumn, felt boots in winter.
Most of her clothes came from Mary, ever the fashion plate. Mary never wore anything more than a season or two before discarding it, and the clothes were excellent quality. Annie could hardly remember when shed last bought anything for herself. Why would she?
With the girls chatter in her ears, she dozed.
Tom and Mary, meanwhile, were swept up by the capital. They tended to the pigs like infantswhat with so many county officials travelling with them, there was no room for error.
Finally, when the exhibition drew to a close, and the shopping day arrived, the pig women became wild with anticipation. The tours barely mattered; all they could think about was dashing round Harrods and Selfridges. Even the chaperone understood, letting them loose early.
Tom spent ages in queues, helping Mary buy sausages, tins of condensed milk, rice, and oranges. By the time they got to clothes and shoes, he was exhausted. They shopped for themselves, the children, their kin and neighbours.
“Tom, look at this red check coat. What do you think? Is it better than the grey one with buttons for Lizzie?”
“And there arent any trainers, can you believe it? None! What shall we do, Tom? Maybe buy them plimsolls instead?”
“Well have to get to Seven Sistersapparently theyve got the patterned tights in a shop there.”
They dragged heavy bags all across London, hunting for the rarest things.
“Shall we get Jamie a hat as well, since there arent any tape recorders? Look at these…”
He just couldnt decide anymore, or offer advice. They even quarrelled.
Later, Tom had to accompany their officials to another station, arriving at Euston nearly ninety minutes early for their train.
In the waiting room, the women compared their purchases, showing off.
“Look at these socks with pom-poms I nabbed,” a friend bragged to Mary.
“Where did you find those?”
“On the market over by Kings Cross.”
“And you didnt get me a pair! You know Liz loves them.”
“Oh, you cant remember everyone! Im shopping for four families as it is.”
Mary was crestfallen.
“Tom, did you see what Mrs. Jackson grabbed? And Mrs. Williams, she managed to get a tape recorderimported, too. Must have known someone. Didnt tell a soul! Jamied have loved one…” Mary trailed off, pouting, then tried to perk herself up, “Never mind! We did well. You got yourself those boots, Lizzie got genuine Levis jeans, and a coat, and all sorts. I love the green dress I foundby Montana. And I got myself some Bulgarian boots, Jamies all sorted… Got Sylvia a blouse with patch pocketslovely gift”
Mary rattled on, proudly listing her bounty.
“And for Mother?” Tom interrupted.
“What about her?”
“What did you get her?”
“Well, she didnt ask for anything.”
“But a present! She watches the kids, milks the cow, keeps the place running when were gone, and we get her nothing?” The force in his voice cut through the waiting hall.
Villagers turned to stare.
“Oh, dont fuss, Tom. What does she need? If you really want, I can give her the blue chiffon scarf. Goes with my coat, but Ill give it over. Or a wooden doll from the kiosk…”
“A doll?” he asked, almost accusingly.
“Why are you like this? You walked around with me, couldve reminded me. I just forgot…”
Tom remembered his motherhow shed stood to one side, in her old cardigan and boots, worried over the bacon, looking so small and flustered.
Theyd bought gifts for friends and neighbours, but for his own mother only a doll? His wife was right. It was his fault too. His mother
“Give me the money.”
“Tom, the trains nearly here. And its so dear at the stations”
“Give me the money!”
Mary knew not to argue when Toms face grew so stern. The others quieted, glancing nervously at their boss and his wife, as she drew out her purse and passed it over. Tom took the lot.
“Thats a lot, Tom its everything…”
He strode off towards the exit.
Tom, not really knowing where to go, circled the station and set out for the square. There must be shops nearby. But only trinkets, wigs, cheap bits and bobs. He looked for proper shoes or a fine coat, but found nothing suitable.
Announcements rang outtheir train had arrived. Mary watched the doors anxiously.
Laden with their bags and mesh sacks, the villagers helped her to the platform.
“Dont fret, Mary. Theres still time; Tomll make it,” said Mrs. Jackson.
Tom strayed further from the station. Then he spotted a shop”Radio & Electricals”and in the window, televisions.
Just the thing!
He recalled how his mother had sat, mouth agape, watching “Tomorrows World” the other night. Hed been surprised she found such things interesting.
But theyd waited half a year for a colour television themselves. Surely, you couldnt just walk in and buy one.
He was right. The saleswoman barely looked at him. “No televisions for general sale,” she said.
He marvelled at the tech, then tried to negotiate.
“If I pay extra?” he offered.
She looked at him, wide-eyed, false lashes fluttering. “This isnt a street market, sir. Were a shop, not spivs.”
He inquired after tape recorders, radiosnot a hope. Still, a television for Mother! That would be a true gift.
He stepped back outside, checked his watch. No time left.
He drifted back towards the station, thoughts full of his mother. Hed helped so many families, overseen the building of homes, made speeches about respecting veteransyet hed always been brusque with his own mother.
She, in truth, lived in a shabby hut. Hed never even considered repairs.
Now, after all the praise and attention of late, Tom felt a hollow, as if nothing could match the simple love and gratitude owed his mother.
Before he got far, he heard a shout.
“Wait up, sir!”
A short, stout fellow hurried behind him. Tom vaguely recalled him from the shop.
“You need a television?”
“Yes, very mucha colour one.”
“Someones just refused a set. Brand new, top quality, no paperwork, though. But you wont regret it. Honestits a beauty”
“Ill take it!” Tom cut him off. “How much?”
The sum was steep, but thanks to the motorbike sale, and because they hadnt found all theyd wanted, he had enough.
It truly was a new set. The man offered to show him it worked but Tom was in too much of a hurry.
“If this is a trickbe warnedIm buying it for my mother. I wont forgive”
The vendor included instructions and cordsbut no receipt. Tom knew he was being fleeced. He glanced at the shop-girl”not spivs, you say?” She was nowhere to be found.
The man even offered Tom a lift to the station.
Meanwhile, Mary was frantic. Tom was nowhere in sight. The train was about to leave, his seat empty.
The guards whistle blew once. The train hissed and began to move, wheels groaning.
Mary pressed her cheek to the window, searchingbut no Tom.
“He mustve missed it. Dont fret, Mary. Hell follow on the next. Hes not a child anymore,” Mrs. Williams tried to comfort her.
Mary was inconsolable. Shed never grasped just how deep Toms love for his mother ran.
But fifteen minutes later, Tom appeareda huge box in his arms, with a couple of young soldiers trudging behind, helping. Dripping with sweat and pride.
The box barely fit; they stored it under the table.
“A television?” Mary read off the label.
“Yes,” Tom dropped into his seat, drained but pleased.
“A colour one?”
“I hope so”
“For your mother?” she ventured.
Judging by the size, even their own set was smaller.
“Of course.”
“But she doesnt even have an aerial.”
“She will now. And as for redoing Lizzies room, well wait. First, we fix up Mothers place. Its nearly falling apart.”
Mary stared, eyes wide. Her daughter had been counting on her redecorated room.
“Lizzie will be heartbroken,” she said gently.
“Shell live. She has time. Mother doesnt have so much. She can be glad for her granshes not selfish”
That was the last word on it. Mary eyed the television at her feet without pleasure, fretting all the while. If only shed thought to buy Mother at least something, they might have afforded both, and Lizzie wouldnt have to wait for her roomshe would certainly sulk.
Oh dear!
But on the way home, things smoothed over. There was laughter about their London adventures, stories to share all the way home.
When they finally got back and carted in the television, Lizzie clapped her hands.
“A new telly! Hooray! Oh, its huge! Can I have the old one in my room when we fix it, Dad?”
Tom and Mary said nothing.
Annie was bustling by the stove. Soup was ready, but she hadnt finished the salads. Her hands were slow, her thoughts rushing. Everyone would sit for dinner, and thered barely be anything ready. She needed to hurry, to hurry.
Suddenly Tom was there, gently turning her round. She didnt have time for distractions…
“Mum, heres a gift, from London itself.”
“For me! Thank you, dear. What sort of gift is it?” she asked, peering at her son and daughter-in-law.
“This herea television. For you.”
Annie blinked in disbelief. Why her? She didnt need such a costly thing, nor did she deserve it…
“Dad, really? Why would Gran need one so big?”
“Her eyesights poorits exactly what she needs. And, Mum, well start on your repairs shortly. Room by room. Well fix your house up properly.”
Annie fussed over her cucumbers as her eyes filled. She could barely see to finish them.
But who would finish the salad? Or lunch?
She wiped her face on her apron.
Tom couldnt stand to wait. He dashed off for the repair man to set the TV up that very evening. On the step, Mary was comforting Lizzie, who was left in tears.
Those tears hardly touched Tom. Or rather, they were nothing to the tears hed seen in his mother moments before.
He remembered her crying behind the barn when he was chosen as farm chairmanhow for the first time he truly understood the importance of that step in his life, as it meant so much even to his mother.
The television was a marvel. Even the repair man gaped.
“Dont see many like this round here, Mr. Everson. Will it live here, then?” He surveyed the plain, sparse cottage.
“Yes, right here. The telly first. Well get to the rest.”
They ate. Lizzie still sniffled, Mary recounted their London conquests, distracting her daughter from the disappointment.
Mother never went to her house yet; she was too absorbed in the meal and helping with the family. She felt so embarrassed in front of her granddaughter and Mary.
Later, Tom and Jamie went to teach Annie how to use the television. She hardly absorbed it, still insistingmove it into their house, she didnt need it, wasnt good for her, too loud, poor eyesight.
But Tom wasnt having any of it. All her life, shed asked for nothing. Now he was firm, going through the steps again and again.
In the evening, Tom slipped out for a smoke in the yard. His mother’s window glowed blue. He tapped out his cigarette and shuffled over, peering through the glass.
Mother, hair down and face aglow in the televisions light, sat on her bed in a faded cotton nightdress, clutching her old hairbrush. Shed frozen in place, her face looking young once again.
She never wore her hair loose; it spread long over the covers. Eyes wide, she drank in the television, legs dangling from the high bed, too short to reach the floor. In that moment, she seemed a childa little girl entranced by the world ahead.
Lizzie came through the gate, gathering washing.
“Come here a minute,” Tom beckoned.
She stood beside him, arms full of linen, and watched her grandmother for a long moment. Then she turned, pressed her cheek to her fathers chest.
“Sorry, Dad. Im such a silly girl”
“Youre just young, thats all. But I shouldve known bettertook me far too long…”
Lizzie knocked, went in to Annie, hugged her tight, and recommended a different channel. There was a film startingshe ran off to watch it in the house.
Annie watched “The Snow Goose” for the first time, legs swinging off the bed. Shed never seen anything like it; scarcely understood it was only a film, not real. She worried for the girl in the story, certain she was too hopeful, poor thing.
“Oh, sweetheart, dont be sillyno good will come of it,” she murmured at the television.
But when the story turned, and the white goose took to the skies, Annie leapt from her bed, clapping her knees. So it really happened after all! That Philip, what an imagination!
When it ended, she turned the television off carefully, lay down and weptnot out of sorrow for the girl, but for the sudden wave of happiness in herself.
She remembered when Mike came back from the Navyhis cap, his proud step. The grass along the lane was so green when they went walking. How he dashed to her when she was unwell, brought her honey, nursed her back to health.
He was a good husband, her son was the best, her grandchildren dear.
She had her own white sails nowher very own.
