Small Steps
Why, my son? Why you and not me? Margaret Evans opened her eyes, once again whispering her question into the emptiness, and heaved a sigh, pulling the duvet over her head.
Mornings brought her no joy. In truth, little ever did now. How does a mother live when her son is gone? Breathing itself was painfulliving was something else entirely.
Another sleepless night had slipped away, lost forever to Margaret. Shed have followed it willingly, disappearing beneath that dark river just to forget her pain and never remember again.
The cat who slept beside her nudged her with his pawsonce, twicethen began to purr, demanding attention, making it clear that the morning had come.
All right, Im up, Im up Margaret cast off the duvet, giving in to the fluffy ruler of her mornings.
The cat was all Margaret had left to remind her of her late son. It was a spindly kitten Mark found near his barracks, and it was Marks friend, Ian, who brought it to her after everything happened.
Here. Mark asked me, if anything happened, to bring him to you
How did it happen? Margaret had accepted the odd little gift from Ian without thinking. I never really found out
Mark was a hero He saved all of us. A good son you raised, Mrs Evans.
That was the first time Margaret cried.
She didnt weep when she heard the news her son was gone. Nor when she said her final goodbye, watched by others who whispered behind her back, unable to fathom how a mother could shed not a single tear over her only child. She didnt even flinch when her sister chided her for not sharing the compensation shed received with the rest of the family.
No one understoodshe simply couldnt cry. Her soul was frozen solid, locked away. She didnt breathe, didnt live, no longer felt the worlds noise around her. There was no reason to; everything had left with Mark
At least, thats what she believeduntil she received his final gift. A scruffy, flea-bitten, noisy but affectionate little creature. It was brought to her by the very friend who stood by Mark the day he rose to draw away the enemys attention from his wounded mates and sacrificed his life for others.
And what do I do with you, little one? Margaret had stroked the kittenand at last, the tears burst forth, washing some of the heavy sorrow blackened in her soul.
She realised Mark could never have acted differently. Even as a boy, hed understood the value of a lifehad watched his parents work around the clock at the hospital, had admired his father for those healing hands that had saved so many people that the old man had lost count. Mark had once dreamt of being a surgeon, too, but made a choice Margaret had at first resisted, pleading for him to reconsider.
It has to be, Mum! Im needed there.
Even then, she hadnt wept. She only crossed him for luck, begging he take care and steer clear of danger.
But holding that kitten, sobbing helplessly into the shirt of a nearly-stranger, reminded of her son by that tentative smile and ever-so-familiar, rough-edged Ma!
Oddly enough, Mark always called her Ma. Not Mum, never Mummyjust Ma.
Youre the only one Ive got, Maone and only, like home. Its something proud. Imagine a queen standing at the river, gazing outthats how grand it is, Ma.
Mark loved history, and Margaret treasured this comparison and, perhaps even more, the affection hidden in each use of Ma.
Ian understood. He held her as she wept, comforting her, only releasing his grip when the kitten let out a demanding squeak.
Hes starving, Ian apologised, wiping tears from Margarets cheeks. It was a long journey
Margaret busied herself setting the table, warming milk, distracted at last by something to do.
Ian ate like Markquickly, as if there were somewhere else to be, but with such appetite that Margaret couldnt help but tear off some bread herself, the first time in ages shed felt a glimmer of hunger. Since losing her son, eating had been a duty, nothing more.
The two hours until Ians departure werent nearly enough. Again and again, Margaret asked about Marks last moments, holding the kitten close without knowing life was about to change.
The furry alarm clock woke her early the very next day, and there and then, a new ritual was bornshe now rose at first light to nourish her rambunctious guest. The cat wouldnt eat alone, for some reason; he circled Margaret, mewing, refusing to settle until she made herself breakfast, too. Once she sat down, hed dart to his bowl, skidding across the kitchen floor.
Quiet, Toby! The neighbours are still sleeping!
Margaret adjusted quickly to the new regime. Surprisingly, it did her good. The mornings filled with new routines, the days taken by chores, and each evening she was so fatigued that there was little room left for dark thoughts.
Yet living in the flat where Mark grew up, amongst all those memories, was difficult. And now, even her distant relatives had suddenly remembered her existence, dropping in to visit with suspicious regularitybut the joy was hollow; Margaret knew why they came. Money.
Shed always known how her relatives faredwho needed help, who was marrying, whod had children. Shed helped when she could. Now, though, they wanted more. Youre alone, Margaret, why do you need so much money? We have children to raise! Her youngest sister had blurted out.
Stunned, Margaret could find no reply. She was happy her nieces and nephews were safe and well, but as for her Mark
No! She couldnt say itit would have been cruel, so she kept silent, earning not only her sisters anger, but the ire of others.
Youre such an odd one! Could have done so much for your own kin, and you hoard what was given for your son! Mark would never have understood!
Those words felt like a slap, and with them, Margaret withdrew. She turned off her phone, locked the doors, and refused all contact with anyone who couldnt understand the heart of a woman who had buried her only child.
Her first thought had been to give everything away to a childrens home or charity, but her friend convinced her otherwise.
Dont, Margaret. Give it some time, dont act on feelings alone. Decisions like that rarely end well. Let yourself quiet down, and then youll know what to do. Remember what Mark always said? All in good time.
Yes He did
Just remember that! Small steps, Margaretsmall steps. I know its hard, but Mark wouldnt want you to grieve forever.
Oh, Olivia, how I miss him! If only I could see him, even for a moment, just to exchange a word and ask if hes all right! I cant believe hes simply gone! How can a boy vanish from the world so completely? What of his dreams, his hopes? No, I cant believe it! Hes alive, somewherehe must be!
He is, as long as you remember him.
And if I forget? Margarets voice trembled. If I go, toowhat happens then?
Olivia pointed in silence to Marks old desk, still covered in letters from his friends and those hed rescued. It was enough to soothe Margarets heart.
Her son had not lived in vainhed be remembered.
Still, why did it all have to hurt so much
Life in limbo continued. Margaret got up, went to work, fed the cat, busied herself about the flat, and convinced herself nothing would ever change. But she was wrong: fate had already scheduled the meeting to alter everything.
That day, Margaret came home from work later than usual. Shed lost track of time over paperwork after another operation. It was so late that, for once, she took a cab home.
The driver, a young, chatty chap, entertained her the whole way back, telling tall tales about how driving was just a hobbyhe was actually a big-shot businessman who found life a bit dull otherwise.
Margaret hid a smile, played along, and thought of Toby waiting impatiently at home. Shed not been out so late since shed adopted the cat.
Paying the fare outside her building, she was about to leave when she noticed a peculiar scenea woman seated on a bench, with suitcases, a pram, and a little boy standing at her side.
How odd Margaret mumbled. The cabbie asked if she needed any further help.
No, no, thats quite all right. Off you go.
One moment! the driver sprang out, opened her door with a flourish. Exclusive service for you! Youre a marvel!
Margaret smiled, getting out, and couldnt help asking, Because I kept up the conversation?
Because you let me ramble on! he replied, more seriously. Mum says I never knew when to pipe down.
Well, a little imagination never hurt anyone. Food for thought! Thank you for getting me home safe.
She waved him off, making her way toward her entrance, but she couldnt help peeking at the woman on the bench.
What made Margaret stop in that moment?
Perhaps it was the womans postureshoulders hunched, shielding her child. Or maybe it was the way the little boy watchednot whining like most tired children, just leaning trustingly against his mother, wide-eyed.
Later, Margaret wouldnt recall exactly what drew her over to the bench to ask:
Are you waiting for someone? Did no one meet you?
The woman slowly, almost reluctantly, looked up at her.
No. No ones coming, she answered simply.
Surely you have somewhere to stay? Youve got children!
No, the woman shook her head, soothing her sleeping baby almost unconsciously, and then, quite suddenly, she began to cry.
Those helpless, silent tearsso familiar to Margaretspurred her into action.
Come on now! You must be freezing, and the little ones are overtired. Come along with me!
The woman tensed, automatically shifting to shield her older child, as if to block Margarets way.
That single small act told Margaret enough about the midnight visitor on her doorstep.
Dont worry! I live alone. You can stay the night with me. Its not right for children to sleep on a bench.
Arent you afraid? the woman sniffled, studying Margaret anxiously.
Of what? Margaret managed a sad smile. Or whom? You? Believe me, I have nothing left to fear in this life. The worst has already happened. Now, up you get, and follow me. Morning brings wisdom.
The next hour was filled with kindly chaossettling her guests, feeding them, bathing the children, granting their mother a moment in the shower. Only when the house stilled and Margaret curled up with Toby did she realiseshe hadnt even asked the womans or childrens names.
Oh well, well get acquainted in the morning, Margaret decided, closing her weary eyes.
For the first time since losing Mark, she slept without pills, without dreams, without dread. Even Toby, curled against her side, stopped purring in surprise at the steady, calm breathing of a woman who, since his arrival, had sought sleep only through tears.
Margarets morning began with a shocka little boys face right above her own. For a split second, she thought shed lost her mind and Mark had returned, this tousled-headed child looked so much like her Mark as a boy.
Are you my grandma? the child asked earnestly, scratching Toby under the chin.
No, sweetheart, Margaret recovered, gently patting his head. Why are you up so early? Its not time yet.
Mums awake. And me too. Do you have cartoons?
Reluctantly, Margaret rose and busied herself distracting the lad. Not that he needed much helponce she handed him Tobys favourite feather toy, the pair busied themselves while the grown-ups sorted things out in the kitchen.
Margaret found her guest at the hob.
Sorry, she began nervously. I needed to make up a feed for the baby I hope you dont mind mewell, taking over
Not in the least! Margaret stopped any apology at once. Of course notchildren cant go hungry! I never did ask your name, nor gave you mine. Lets introduce ourselves, shall we? Im Margaret Evans.
Im HelenHelen Parker. The boys are Harry and Thomas.
May I ask, Helenhow did you end up outside with your children in the middle of the night?
Helen turned away for a moment, steadying herself, then sat beside Margaret at the table.
Ill tell you. Ive not told anyone else, but I feel like you might understand. I was thrown out.
Thrown out? By whom? Why?
Mymy ex-mother-in-law. Well, ex now.
Ex? Did you and your husband separate?
No, its He was a lorry driver, my husband
Helen faltered, choking back tears.
Why was, Helen? Margaret asked quietly.
He crashed Fell asleep at the wheel. I asked him not to take risks, to get more rest, but he just wouldnt listen. We even argued about it! Two children, and he wont look after himself! Is that right?
No, of course not.
Well, there you go. Its complicated
Whats complicated, love?
I dont even know how to explain. Im a mum, tootwo sons. Who knows, maybe Ill ache for them one day when theyre grown. I cant swear Id act any differently than my mother-in-law. After we moved out on our own, she changed. Shed always been kind, but thensomething happened. When my husband came off a run, he needed rest, but she was always callinginsisting he ran errands for her. If I sent him to bed instead, shed ring and have a go at me. I tried to help, offered to ferry her aroundno; she wanted her son, her attention. I tried, honestly. Just let him sleep a bit, then ask away.
So you blame her for what happened? Margaret decided bluntness might not be a mistake.
No! Not exactly. Its justexhaustion piles up. I know that myself. Harry, my eldest, was an easy baby. Not like Thomashe cries a lot, clings to me. Honestly, just now with him sleeping is the first breather Ive had in ages.
Did your mother-in-law help?
Oh yes, shed take Harry when I needed, but with Thomas she said noshe didnt know him well, afraid of making a mistake. I understand. I had Harry while we still lived with the family; Thomas after wed moved to a rented flat, other side of the city. Its not an easy trip, so I didnt ask often.
But Helen, love, why were you and the boys outside last night? Margaret took her hand. Just tell me everything, no need to hide.
I wouldnt dream of it now. Helen smiled ruefully. You brought us in, middle of the night, without fear or question. I couldnt hide anything from you. After my husband died, I just couldnt make rent. My mother-in-law told me to put the boys under my name, stay singlesaid Id get more help as a single mum. But we got quietly married anywaywe wanted the boys to be properly his, you see.
Thats a good thing.
I tried to save a little, thought wed have a family trip by the sea one day. Now Different priorities. Landlady found out I was on my own, tossed us out. She said nothing, but I could tell. Marked neighbourhood, school nearbymy husband and I thought, work a bit, maybe buy a place. So we tried to keep on good terms. But
Never mind the landlady. Where are your parents?
Just my dadand I cant stay with him. His drinking is worse than ever. Tiny room, not safe for the kids.
And your mother-in-law?
She threw me out too. Told me I was to blame for her son being gone Helen finally broke, sobbing aloud. Is that fair? Maybe she hates me, but the boystheyre her grandsons!
Margaret asked nothing more. She poured Helen a glass of water and wrapped her arms around the young mother, holding her like a child.
There now, love. Everyone deals with loss differently. Your former mother-in-laws just not copingthats all. Let her be; shell come around in time.
And if not?
Margaret shrugged. Then who suffers most? Youve your sons. But her? Its her loss in the end. Tell me, why were you hereoutside my home?
Id arranged to rent a room nearby. The lady changed her mind when I arrived. Id nowhere else to go
Well, thats all over. Youll stay with me for now. Well see about the rest later.
I cant
You can and you will! Your boys need you to look after them, Helen.
And so Margaret Evans came to have not only company, but a new purpose.
She set Helen and the boys up, giving them Marks old room and helping them to settle in. Eventually, she gathered her courage and went to Helens mother-in-law to talk things through.
It wasnt an easy conversation, but Margaret found the words for a woman whod lost her son, reminding her she still had grandsons. She refused, though, to let Helen move back just yet.
Let things calm down firstvisit through the children, give it time.
The wisdom proved sound. Within two years, Helen was back at work, able to leave Thomas with his granny until his nursery place opened. She pushed herself, keen to cover the mortgage shed taken outMargaret offered to buy her a flat outright, but Helen refused.
Ill take a loan for the deposit, not a gift. Youve done enough alreadyhelped me find work, given us a home! The rest Ill manage.
Youre stubborn!
Learnt from the best, Helen would laugh. My boys have two grannies nowthats plenty! I wont tempt fateshes gifted me enough.
Margaret didnt argue. She knew when the time came, Harry and Thomas would have every chancea good education, maybe their own home in the future. Shed make sure of itno objections accepted.
Now, mornings were no longer filled with tears. Margaret stroked Toby, gazed at Marks photograph and nodded, as if answering that silent question in his eyes:
Im living, my boy. Im living well. Im trying, step by step, those little steps towards you. Not crying anymorealright, maybe just a little! Helen tells me off, but she snivels herself when she remembers her husband. The boys are growingHarrys so bright, just as you were! Hes endlessly curious, full of questionsand thats a good thing, isnt it? Thomas is affectionate as anythingToby loves him best of all! So yes, love, Im living. Dont you worry. When my time comes, well meet againI believe that.
Toby would tap her cheek with his paw, calling her to order, and Margaret would smile, ready to greet another new day.
All right, Toby, Im up, Im upOne Sunday morning, as sunlight spilled golden across the table, Margaret set out plates for breakfast. The flat echoed with laughter: Harry reciting knock-knock jokes, Thomas babbling new words, Helen hunting for school shoes that had vanished behind the sofa. Even Toby dashed back and forth, chasing after cereal flakes that tumbled to the floor.
Margaret paused, a mug in her hand, and let the chaos wash over her. She felt Mark everywhere: in the way Harry swung his feet as he thought, in the warmth that filled rooms once chilled by memory. She remembered a letter she found once, stuffed in Marks desk drawernot formal, just a scrap, his handwriting looping and young. Dont be lonely, Ma. Fill the house with noise and stories for me.
She understood, finally, that love could bend but never break, and that grief, carefully tended, could grow into roots for something new.
Later, as Helen packed the boys for an outingtwo bikes wobbling down the path, shouts echoing into the soft airMargaret joined them on the steps, smoothing Harrys hair, hugging Thomas tight. Helen caught her eye and said, Its a good day, isnt it?
Margaret nodded, blinking away tears that were no longer heavy, but clean and bright as spring rain. It is. It really is.
With that, she closed the door behind her. The flat was quiet, but not emptynever empty again. There was laughter waiting to return, and hope curled asleep in the corners. She pressed her palm to Marks photograph and whispered, Thank you, my boy. Then she turned, letting the sunlight lead her forward, step by small step, into the life waiting right thereher own brave, beautiful tomorrow.
