A Mother’s Heart
An illustration. Created with the help of a neural network.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Harper!” called the neighbour as she waved at Edith, only to quickly seize the handle of her pram again, taming the wild wails of her grandson.
“Good afternoon,” Edith nodded, immediately turning away.
Why is it some people get everything, and others nothing? How utterly unfair! SheEdith Harpercould be wheeling her own grandchild round the green right this moment, if only her son remembered his duty and agreed to start a family.
Start a family the very words rattled like loose change in her head. You start a washing machine or a car, she thought, not a family. Family was meant to be the highest blessing, a circle of kin, hearts in tune with your own.
But Edith found hers empty and echoing these last years. Bereft, her mind sank under the scratchy, smothering shawl of loneliness. At the flats entrance, she jabbed the unyielding door with her foot.
Edie, love, why battle with that old door? Whats done you in this time? crooned a too-familiar, cloyingly sweet voice, as a slim, polished hand settled on her shoulder, forcing a shudder.
Jenny or, to be more precise, Jennifer Charlotte Hill. Once her best friend, now her sharpest adversary.
Id meant to pop by for a proper chat, but you know how it isalways something! Jennifers hands fluttered like sparrows. Charlottes married now. Expecting her first! Can you imagine? The excitement! Were all on tenterhooks.
Jennifer clapped her hands theatrically, as if posing for a Pre-Raphaelite painter. Edith nearly bit her tongue.
Sorry, Jen, must dash.
But where, really? Youve only the bakery run to concern you. No little ones, no kittens Does Victor at least write? Or has he dropped off the face of the earth?
Edith froze. Her heart skipped, then hammered with that old, dreadful ache.
He writes, Jenny. Writes every other day, what time he can spare. Hes in such demandan invaluable man in his field, now. And a title to match. Takes all his hours. Sorry, but I truly must hurry. My student will arrive in half an hour.
Oh, a student! Why all the extra work? Is Victors help not enough?
Whatever gives you that idea?
Otherwise, you wouldnt take up tutoring! Its plain as a pikestaff.
Edith bristled, then reined it in. Noshed not offer her old friend that satisfaction.
Irritation scraped her insides raw. Edith, remember everythingdont forgive. Theyre not worthy, those people!
Once inside her flat, the closing door was a heavy full stop after her reluctant daily foray outdoors.
Home, finally! Safetyno one to judge her, or her son. Quiet, sealed off from unkind tongues.
And in that silence, she wanted nothing more than to howl.
The shopping bag thudded to the floor, and Edith wept, her tears old and familiar.
Enough now! Its been three years since it happenedthree years, and she still lived tangled in memories. Grief coiled in her, denying her sleep
You cannot forget the wounds dealt to your own child. Especially not the ones that forced him away. Victor didnt leave because he suffered with herno! He, too, ran from a pain, from broken hopes and a dream that never arrived.
Her Victor dreamt of lovea great, honest English love, the kind sung in old ballads. Shed told him stories all his life, borrowed from the Romantics shed secretly idolised. Her hope: that one day hed encounter a love as fierce and luminous as her own had been.
She imagined that love with the face of the Madonna and a note as pure as a cathedral choirs.
Edith met Victors father at the National Gallery.
As a university student, shed stand for hours gazing at Raphaels Madonna, wishing her threadbare, solitary existence would someday bloom into such happiness. A child. A man whose heart beat for hers alone. Children, she believed, must be born only of true loveelse their happiness would always slip through their fingers.
Who put such notions in her head, she couldnt name. Shed hardly known her own father, and her mother passed away the day Edith received her university acceptance. The wind that day flung open the windows, billowing the white curtains like sails. Edith fancied she saw a slender figure gently pushing the folds aside, then vanishing, ever so quietly.
That imagevivid, ephemeralhelped her bear the loss of her last family. Even as she aged and accepted her world as solid and practical, she never stopped believing that, at the end, her mother sent her a sign: that beyond this frightening threshold there was more than simply oblivion
Her mothers early death came suddenlyheart failure. Edith decided it was because her mothers heart had been too vast and generous, pouring out warmth until, in the end, it simply emptied itself.
Watching the torrent of students, colleagues, and friends who came to say farewell, Edith reasoned that perhaps going like that wasnt the worst possible thing. To be remembered even by those youd long forgottenthat, surely, meant your life was worthwhile?
The good and the sorrow mingled with frightshe would now have to live as an island, with no escape route. She had no relatives, and borrowing from her mothers friends felt wrongafter all, they had families and their own webs of love and care. She knew her mother would frown at that train of thought, but could not steer herself away from it. She already believed a person must carry their own life.
She dredged up everything her mother had taught, but fell desperately short. Shed never learned to fill out forms or properly budget. When money ran low, she declared empty daysscavenging in the cupboard and keeping busy with chores, anything to stay standing.
But for one thing, she always found the pounds: entry to her beloved museum. There, she never felt hunger or thirst. She could wander for hours, every exhibit a bead on her rosary, recalling her mothers history lecturesher mother had been one of Londons finest teachers.
It was there, standing before the Madonna yet again, that a curious, rumpled young man struck up conversation. Not tall, a little stooped, hardly presentable, but with a voice deep and musical, and a knack for chatting that charmed her. They wandered together, hands entwined, forging a new and gentle path.
Their happiness was brief but so rich that Edith, even as a widow, never felt truly alone. She had her memory, and her son.
Her hope. Her golden boy.
If perfect children existed in England, hers was surely one. She had seen enough children to know how uniquely wonderful Victor wasit was not just a mothers blinkered love.
Mum, cant we take him in? Please? No one loves him, not at all!
The cat Victor dragged in was frightfulpatchy, scruffy, his eyes crusted and puffy. More banshee than tabby.
But Victors pleading, and Ediths longing to escape her sorrow, won out. The cat moved in, and Edith gained enough chores to busy herself for months.
Victor had rescued him from a skip.
Edith wasnt allowed to take the rubbish down anymore.
Im the man, arent I? Mum! Its my job!
Victor remembered how his father never split chores into mens and womens. No, his father helped constantly, never asking if it was necessary.
Son, women are wondrous thingslike ants, theyll haul weights many times their size. It doesnt mean they should. Ease her burden, and youll seeshe might become a rose, fragrant and delicate, instead of a pack mule, moping with head bowed.
At first, Victor laughed, picturing a donkey in a rose gardenbut he would snatch the mop away from Edith all the same.
Ill do it!
You havent a clue, love!
Show me how! Dad could, so can I!
Edith relented, secretly sniffling with pride for her son.
After his father died, Victor tried all the harder to help.
Sorry, Mum He watched as she delicately scrubbed the cat in a basin of warm water. Hes really filthy, isnt he?
What did you expect, Victor? Street life.
And on a skip!
All the worse! Imagine the germs and mischief hes picked up! Hell need lots of attention to get right. But well do it. Hes ours nowwere responsible.
The cat sat perfectly still, drinking in Ediths words as if he understood. He bore the bath, the feeding, the pills shoved down by the vet.
Are you certain you want to keep him? Hell be hard work, and honestly, Im not sure we can fix him, the vet warned.
Its exactly what we need right now, Edith replied, sweeping the cat from the table. Hand him overno point dithering.
A years effort transformed the ragged goblin into a respectable, fluffy gentleman, doting on his little family.
Well, mostly. He was hardly a model of grace; perhaps it was the boxers name Victor had given himhe was christened Blackbeard, but Edith soon softened it to Barney. Yet, every now and then, pirate instincts flashed out, much to the dismay of unsuspecting visitors.
Each new arrival was sniffed and scrutinised. If Barney took a dislike, woe betide! Hed turn into a ginger lightning bolt, claws and thunder, scattering all before him.
It was Barney who first smelt trouble on the wind, though neither Edith nor Victor interpreted his message properlyleast of all the day he launched at Victors schoolmate, Catherine, shredding her new tights in a swipe.
Oi! Catherine squeakedblue-eyed, curly-haired, doll-likehurling the cat away until he knocked himself dizzy against a wall. Take him away! He bit me!
Victor dragged him from the fray, and Edith apologised profusely.
No bother! Catherine smiled like a TV advert. Mumll buy morethats easy! Now, wont you take me home, Victor? You, not the monster cat.
Edith watched from her threshold as Catherine chirped nonsense, dragging her son by the handher fingers too tight, too possessive.
Catherine led Victor thus for years: through the final years at school and straight through university.
When asked why shed chosen her course, Catherine would laugh.
Mum, dont you see? I wont have to do a thing! Victor will do all the work! Double, even! Besides, lots of boys in Engineering. Why settle for Education and be penned up with all those girls? Id die of boredom!
Victor knew none of these backroom chats. Edith could sense the power this willowy, pretty girl had over him, but saw it wasnt love. He was enthralled, utterly dependent.
Victor, are you sure Catherines your destiny?
Mum, how could she not be? Weve been together for years! Ive got to marry her nowits the honourable thing, hed grin, but the glee rang false.
Barney, locked away every time Catherine visited, would wail and claw, sulking at Edith for hours, their misery a shared comfort.
I just dont know what she wants from Victor She doesnt love him, its plain! Edith whispered to Barney, stroking his back. How do we protect him, Barney? Shell only wound himI feel it; but if I say a word, hell only turn away, or misunderstand. Oh, Barney, what can I do?
Barney could do nothing but nuzzle her palms and purr, his own form of comfort.
That helped, but not for long.
The blow arrived as Edith was resigning herself to Catherine as a daugher-in-law. Victor, finally graduated, landed himself a solid job and proposed. Catherine agreedbut asked for a delay before the wedding.
Why? Ediths hands kneaded the cat, who tensed, sharing her nerves.
I dont know, Mum. She just said shes not ready.
Well, at least shes honest But Ediths heart throbbed with dread.
That night, when she very nearly lost Victor, Barney acted wildtwitching, mewling, leaping from the sill, staring out into the winter night.
Stop it, you devil! They’ll be home soon and Ive nothing cooked. Get out from under my feet!
He wouldnt, ricocheting round the kitchen and braying at the window, as if desperate to warn her.
Furious, Edith was about to shoo him out, but then Barney launched his whole body at the glasshowling like something torn in two.
What in Gods name? Edith snatched up the struggling catand through the pane, caught a shadow upon the roof opposite, limned by snow, dark and solitary.
Why she flung open the window, she couldnt have said. Why she suddenly somehow knew, disaster hovered?
She thrust Barney out of the kitchen, slammed the door, and ran to the window, her voiceclear, anguishedrang through the cold:
Victor! No, please! Dont!
It was impossible in that dark to see his face. She couldnt even tell if it was really human. But she knew she was rightsomething needed stopping.
The figure swayed in the dizzying night. Edith gasped
But a second later, she was breathing again, relief waterfalls through her veins. The roof was white and empty once more.
Victor returned only in the pale birth of morning. Edith asked nothing, only hugging him close, drawing the jumper over his head, tucking him in as in childhood.
Just like old times, Mum Thank you
Victor weptno, sobbed, childlike, deep and raw. Edith hadnt seen him weep since the night Barney had nearly faded away, breathing rasps as only Victors pleas kept him earthbound.
Now, it was Barneys turn to nudge him, paw to hand; each time, his hand roused just enough for a gentle strokethen fell limp, the cat beginning again, reminding: love still lives.
Im sorry
No need, son. I understand.
She lied, Mum. Shes had someone else all along.
It happens.
How do you lie when you love? Mum, is it possible?
No. Love doesnt lie, son. If she deceived you, then she never loved at all.
Do you think so?
I know.
What do I do, Mum?
Suffer. Its right. Its needed. Let goits necessary. For you as much as anyone. Forgive but not yet. One day. Someday. And if, one day, you wish her happiness, Ill know youve learned what loving means.
I cant.
Cant let go?
The rest? Easy. I can wish her well
Then that, my love, is love.
And on they talkedlong, into the failing dark. As they never had before, nor would again.
The next morning, Edith woke her son and announced:
Pack your bag.
Why?
Youre leaving.
Where, Mum?
To build your own life, son. You only get one. Remember always: youve got a home here. Me, and Barney. And we will always be waiting.
Mum
Itll be fine, son. This is the right wayI know it is.
Victor leftnot immediately, but soon enough, finding work in another town and untangling his affairs.
Ediths loneliness thickened, and she took to sitting in her mothers old chair by the window, stroking Barney and praying for her son to find his way.
In time, her wish was granted. Victor found solace, pouring himself into his job, rising quickly. Colleagues marvelled at his rare integrity in a world grown slippery. The reason was simple: Victor never forgot that icy roof nor the voice that called him back from the edge. He remembered his mothers trembling hands tucking him in, her calm, unwavering faith:
Itll all be well, son. I know it.
Her certainty gave him strength, and her teaching shaped his every deed. Soon, his life righted itself.
Only one absence remained: the companion who might truly understand and share everything.
Edith, comforted a little, hefted the dropped shopping bag, giving Barney a knowing look.
Well, Blackbeard. Not seen a good ladys tantrum in a while? Enjoying the show?
Not much, Mum! Victors voice, oddly real, floated through the quiet. Edith nearly sank to the floor.
Mum! Are you alright? Shall I ring for help?
No, you silly thing! She clung to him fiercely. When did you get here? Why no call?
Wanted to surprise you
You did!
Mum, listenabout the rest Ive found someone. And youll meet her.
Of course, darling! Oh, thank heaven, Ediths heart soared, casting bitterness and grievance to the wind. When do we meet?
Ive come to fetch youboth you and Barney! Mum, lets all live together.
Oh, no, son! Youd make prisoners of me and the cat? Well visit, youll visitbut living all togetherno thank you! Thats not for us, is it, Barney?
She looked at Victor and smiled, easy, assured.
In a year, Edith will promenade round the green pushing a pram, nodding regally to the neighbours.
Afternoon! Hows tricks? Were just out for a stroll
And in the window above, the great ginger Barney purrs his lullaby, knowing full well that his most beloved is, at last, truly happy.
