A Basket of Cherries
“Valerie, if you don’t trim those cherry tree branches hanging over my fence, I’ll pick the lot and make myself a huge batch of jam!” Patricia stands with hands on her hips, glaring in outrage at her neighbour.
“Pat, help yourself! Honestly, look how much there is this year. I can’t keep up! And cutting the branches backIll have to wait for Michael or Dominic. Whoever turns up first will help.”
“Your son-in-law and son are always too busy, arent they? By the time they get round to it, my fence will have collapsed!”
“I really dont understand whats got into you. That cherry tree’s been there for donkey’s years, it’s never bothered you before. Besides, the branches dont even touch your fence. Pat, whats really the problem?”
“I dont owe you any explanations!” Patricia snaps, adding a sharp word. “Think youre in charge of the whole world, dont you!”
Valerie raises her eyebrows in surprise, watching her neighbour and old friend storm back home. What on earths got into her? They’ve never had a cross word before, always got on perfectly well.
Their two cottages stand side by side, separated by an old ramshackle fence that Patricias father once put up to keep the neighbours dogs off his garden. Valeries mum loved dogs, and Valerie grew up with at least two of them in the house at any time.
Their parents were given the plots at the same time, and the houses were built together. Valerie and Patricia were just three back then and fast became inseparable. Under the huge honeysuckle bush they spent every summer afternoon concocting soup in toy pans out of leaves and petals, feeding their dolls in a row and giggling all day. Later came walks round the village with their friends, secret chats about boys and their first kisses beneath the willow tree on the quiet riverside. Throughout all the ups and downs, they never lost touch. Once they moved to London, they kept in touch, meeting up at weekends whenever they could. They married within a year of each other, and their eldest children were born just months apart. When their children turned two, life forced them down different paths. Valerie moved with her husband to Oxford for work. Letters, phone calls, visits to her parents kept their friendship alive. Valerie returned to her hometown when her son was thirteen and her daughter was due any time. By then, Patricia had two more boys.
The first time she saw her friend again after so long, Valerie was shocked. Where was her Patty? The vibrant, lively girl who used to turn heads on the street? There was only a tired, faded woman with streaks of early grey, a shadow of her former self.
“Why are you staring? Try keeping up with my lotthree lads and a husband” The word “husband” comes out almost as a hiss, her eyes flashing and then fading again. Valerie doesnt ask any questions; shell talk if she wants to. Getting determined, she stands and waves Patricia out of the café.
“Come on then.”
“Where exactly?”
“Youll see. Trust me.”
Patricia reluctantly follows. “I havent got all day. The lads will be back from school soon and the little one’s got to be picked up from nursery.”
“Youll manage. Come on.”
Valerie bundles her grumbling friend onto the bus, chuckling, peppering her with questions about the boys. The bus trundles over the bridge towards the city centre. Patricia stares out, baffled.
“This stop!” Valerie helps her off, steadying Patricia as she wobbles on the steps. “You alright?”
“Fine, just dizzy sometimes. My blood pressures always low.”
Valerie links arms and leads her to the doors of the fanciest beauty salon in town.
“Where are you dragging me now? I cant afford these places, and you know you usually have to book months ahead! Val!”
Valerie just grins and pushes open the salon door. Minutes later, Patricia is in the chair with Valerie fussing round her hair.
“You now know where I work.” Valerie mutters, examining Patricia’s lifeless, dull hair.
“But your degree? You studied so hard, all for nothing?”
“Not for nothing. Im a chemist, just the field has changed. When we moved with Michael, I lasted a couple of months at the plant, then fell ill. Doctors said I had to change my life, but where could I go? Two kids, always off sick, who would hire me? Then my mother-in-law dragged me to her favourite hairdresser for her birthday. As soon as I saw that stylist mixing colour, I thought, this is my calling! So I did courses, learned the lot, and it just worked out. They hired me straight away, my old boss gave me a brilliant reference. I even did the salon managers hair and she was gobsmacked. She said I made her look ten years youngerand youll look just as lovely!”
“Val, I cant”
“Dont you dare argue. Let me spoil my friend for once. Call it a belated birthday gift.”
“But my birthdays in six months.”
“Consider it for last year, then! Now shush or Ill make your hair green to shock your husband!”
“Hes already shocked enough” Patricia slumps in the chair and closes her eyes.
“Whats wrong, Pat? I can see it Whats going on?”
Patricia says nothing. She hates spewing out her private life, but there’s hardly any strength left not to. Valeries her oldest friend, after all.
“Hes got a bit on the side, Val. Been seeing her nearly a year now. Not leaving, mindall that, and still here, making my life miserable. Im exhausted.”
Valeries hands stop for a heartbeat, then get to work again.
“So why not throw him out yourself?”
“Where would I go? He’d never split the flat, and there’s nothing to share anywayjust a couple of box rooms. You know Ive nowhere else. And the boys”
“And what about the boys?”
“They only listen to him. Dont value me at all. If he says it, its gospel. Even the youngesthe loves me, but copies his dad and brothers all the same.”
Valerie catches Patricias reflection in the mirror and hides any pityPatricia doesn’t need it now. She needs something else.
“Wait here a moment.”
Valerie steps away while Patricia stares at her tired face in the mirror. Where had she gone? Just a couple of years ago, shed looked so differentno wrinkles, no dark circles, no rough, thin skin. Most of all, she was free of the look of a beaten-down animal that now haunted her eyes Patricia turns away bitterly. Shed leave, but Valeries put dye on her hairshed walk out bald! Almost laughs at the thought.
Valerie returns and helps her up.
“Come with me.”
A manicure, facials, a pedicure and a fresh new haircut follow.
“So?!” Valerie whips off the gown and turns her to the mirror. “Just look at you now!”
Patricia spots herself and her lips tremble uncontrollably. Where did this old lady look come from! Butno, shes not too far gone yet.
She stands, wraps her arms round Valerie.
“Thank you. How much do I owe? I cant pay all at once”
“Oh do hush! Once a month, Im all yours. For everything else, ring me whenever your hairs desperate. Dont ever hesitate.”
“I cant!”
“You can, and youre going to! I need you, too, you know. My mums ill and Im terrible at dripscould you help?”
“You didnt have to ask.”
On her way home, Patricia catches her reflection in the bus window, half smiling, half scolding herself for being such a pushover. She was never like thisshe chose her own path, found her own place at nursing college, worked from the bottom up to senior nurse at the hospital. Brought up her boys herselfher mum gone, her mother-in-law refusing help.
“No one did my job for meyoull cope the same.”
And she did. The older ones were tough, but with her youngest, at least, she understood what being a mum really was. If only it werent for her husband Stop it! No more self-pity, time to act!
That night, she packs up her husbands things, every last sock, leaves the bag by the door. The boys, sensing trouble, are quietly pretending not to notice. Patricia feeds them, sits them at the table, and hears the key in the lock. Husband swears as he trips on the bag and roars,
“What the?! Tricia!”
“Thats Patricia at the market. No need to shout!”
“Youre talkative tonight!”
“You havent even heard me yet! Actually, let me save your timetake your things and leave.”
“What? Where am I supposed to go?”
“Anywhere you like, I dont care. Im filing for divorce. Ive had enough.”
“Youve gone mad! Youll never get a divorce!”
“I wont ask your permission. After all youve put me through? No more.”
“You think you can keep the kids from me?”
“If you want, take all three. Your new woman may appreciate a ready-made family.”
She’s not afraidshes thought it through, waiting for him. As he steps towards her, Patricia speaks softly but firmly:
“Try it, and Ill call the police. And dont think the boys will back you up.”
The kitchen door opens and little Ben peeks out.
“Mum, can I have a biscuit?”
“You can, love.”
Patricia keeps her eyes on her husband, who hesitates, looks away, then grumbles and slams out.
“Well see! This isnt the end!”
She says nothing. As the door closes, Patricia slides down the wall, crying and laughing all at once. The boys rush out, crowding round her, confused. She calms herself, stands and hugs them all tight.
“Listen. Your dad and I are done. Youll live with me if you behaveotherwise, off to your dad. If you go, forget about the existence of your mother. Never again will I let anyone treat me with such contempt.”
They choose her. Not one of them leaves for their dad. Why? Patricia doesnt knowthe only thing she sees is Andrew, the eldest, taking charge, the house clean, the youngest picked up from nursery, and a meal waiting when she comes home from her extra jobs.
One advantagethe ex vanishes and never makes contact.
But its not easy. Patricia hustles for work, giving injections and IVs, doing bits and bobs to make ends meet. Keeping up with school is hard. Andrew tries his best, but at parents evenings for the middle son, Marcus, Patricia blushes with embarrassment, sitting far at the back.
“When will your conscience wake up, son?” she sighs, drinking her tea as Marcus fusses around. “I wont be here forever, you know.”
“Mum, Ill try, really!”
Patricia doesnt know Marcus has fallen in with a bad crowd. The moment he finishes school, he gets into trouble, and the only thing she can do is visit him with parcels.
Andrew passes his course, heads off for work. They keep in touch with the odd phone callhes never been one for writing. Visits are rare, and Patricia doesn’t meet her first grandchild until the boy turns three.
Ben, unlike his brothers, is calm and thoughtful. Patricia holds out hope that hell be the one to care for her in old agebut life has other plans. One sticky July day, Ben heads with his mates to swim in the Thames. A girl, a newcomer to their group, swims out too far and starts to struggle; only Ben leaps in and pushes her towards the bank before vanishing beneath the surface himself. Hes found the next day.
Patricia is hollowed out by grief. She is numb, unable to cry, think or act. The only thing she hears is a bell tolling in her head, drowning out everything anyone says. Valerie arranges everything, phones the hospital where Patricia worked, and gets someone from the staff to sit with her friend, who is as lost from the sedatives as from sorrow. When Andrew flies back for the funeral and finds his dad at the house, he throws him out.
“Get out! Say a word against mum again and I swear”
Valerie gasps as Patricia’s ex claims, “Its her fault Bens dead!”
Valerie drags Andrew away and hugs him.
“Let him go. Dont carry that angeryoure needed by your mum now.”
“But Auntie Val, how could he? Where was he himself? Why does everything go wrong?”
“I dont know, love. Its all so unfairno one knows whats written for us. We cant change it.”
Andrew thinks and decides to move his family back home. His wife, Emily, at first understands why, but the longer she lives with her mother-in-law, the harder it gets.
“Andrew, I can’t go on. She either ignores me or picks at everything I do. We need to do somethingthis isnt working. The children are on edge whenever she comes near. Cant we live nearby, but apart?”
“Emily, Id love to, but I cant leave her aloneyou can see just how lost she is!”
Patricia is entirely adrift, only her work keeping her from sinking. She leaves the hospital and gets a job at a care home for the elderly. She tells herself that, by caring for the old folk, shes atoning for Ben, for not saving him, for the life hell now never have.
“Patricia, these hands are magic! No one gives an injection like you.”
The residents appreciate her quiet, gentle careeven if she rarely smiles or talks, she works with such compassionate attention that everyone softens towards her.
At home, though, she locks herself away, doesnt want to see her grandchildren, and winces every time she comes across Emily. Sometimes, Patricia wonders who these people even areapart from Andrew, nobody in her flat seems real anymore.
Valerie visits, worried and frustrated, not knowing how to help. She cant bring Ben back. Nothing else will do any good. So, as spring approaches and shes heading to her cottage, she invites Patricia with her.
“Come on! You havent been for ages.”
“The place must be falling down by now, Val.”
“Its still standing. Needs work, but still your house. Come and see it.”
Eventually, she persuades Patricia. She bustles about, telling her family, “Dont come up this weekend. I need time off from everyone. Its important!”
That Friday evening, after a quick supper, they both collapse into bed. Valerie, tired after a long shift.
“Tomorrow, Pat. All tomorrow.”
Patricia lies awake in the dark, listening to forgotten night soundsthinking of Andrew, of Marcus, preparing to return, the squeeze of the small flat with Emily and their kids. How will they all manage? She drifts off and wakes at dawn, not immediately sure where she is. Lingering in bed, then stepping onto the porch, shes greeted by the scent of damp earth and new life. Patricia sits on the steps, dizzy but feeling alive for the first time in ages. She listens inwardly. It hasn’t felt this good in years. She tries not to think of Bennot now. Pain wont lessen; she just wants a moments rest.
Valerie finds her next door, pruning the apple tree, already making lists in her head of all the things that need fixing.
Valerie smiles secretly and heads in to make breakfast. Maybe, just maybe, somethings shifting.
A week later, Patricia moves back to her cottage with Marcus, tells Andrew and Emily, “It makes more sense this way. Marcus and I at the cottageyou here. Theres space for both. Just needs some insulation. And you can come on weekends with the kids.”
Emily watches Patricia, for the first time since they moved in, pick up her youngest grandson. Maybe itll work out after all?
Marcus puts the place right with Andrews helpeverything is working and cosy. Patricia sees her son pressing on, but hes fragile, still haunted. She wonders how to help him heal, not sure how to help him forget the past. He doesnt want to go back to the citydoesnt want to run into bad company again. But he loves village life. Most of the old neighbours are gone; almost nobody remembers him. Gradually people ask him to fix this or mend thathe has “golden hands”. Patricia sees him easing, bit by bit, his smile returning.
Half a year later, Marcus brings Daisy home. Patricias heart aches in warning, but she tries her best to push away the gloomy feeling. Daisys a newcomerrented the house round the corner. Her two children are shy and oddly well behavedthe six-year-old boy clutching his tiny sisters hand tight. Patricia finds out the little girl is three, though she looks barely eighteen months. When asked if they’re hungry, both children quietly nod and clear their plates. When Patricia nips round to the shed, she comes back to see the boy stuffing biscuits from the table into his pocket. She says nothingpulls out a tin of sweets and some honey. Later, the children are regulars, arriving each morning, sitting on the porch until Patricia comes out to call,
“Good morning! Breakfasts ready.”
Quickly, Patricia puts things together. The boy, Jake, doesn’t speak much because of a bad stammer. When Patricia asks why Daisy hasnt taken him to the doctor, Daisy shrugs.
“What for? Took him once and it costs a fortune to do anything! Not even NHS referrals any moreyou beg and beg and get nowhere, and I dont have time anyway, not with the little one always needing attention.”
Patricia understands its a mess. With Daisys blessingshe only shrugsPatricia brings the children to town.
“Your little girls more than just quiet. Work with her, and youll see improvement. For your boy, itll be a tougher road.”
Patricia notes everything carefully, for the first time in ages feeling energised and alerta familiar surge of determination washing over her.
A few months later, Marcus tells her Daisys moving in. Renting is dreadful, and theres plenty of space at Patricia’s. Patricia isnt thrilled but at least the children are under her nose. She follows doctors orders, gets the children fully assessednothing majorly wrong, just neglect. She takes charge, working with them every day. The first time Lucy says “gran” instead of “mum”, Daisy snorts,
“Say mummy, not ‘gran’!”
Lucy looks at her mum, frightened, and buries her face in Patricias apron.
“Shell get there! First ‘gran’, next ‘mummy’. Dont scare her.”
“When have I ever scared my own child? Lucy, go to your room. Do as you’re told.
Jake silently shepherds Lucy out, then helps clear the dishes. After tea, this is their ritualhe clears, she dries, Patricia praises him,
“Good lad! Youre so careful, I trust you with the best china!”
Jake grins, trying to reply, and Patricia, remembering the speech therapists advice, waits patiently.
But not tonight.
“Leave it, thats womens work. Go and check on your sister! You hear?”
Patricia feels slapped by the words. Womens work. Shes heard that before.
She stiffens, feeling a wave of anger rising.
“And why arent you doing the dishes, Daisy? Im not your maid! Ive an early shift tomorrowif you wont let the children help, then you bloody well do it yourself. Goodnight!”
She throws her apron on the chair and leaves. She expects a rowbut the next morning, the dishes are clean. Daisy even makes dinner for her. Peace lasts only brieflytwo weeks, and Daisy vanishes. Marcus is frantic. He searches the village, scours the town, but hears nothing until a friend finally brings newsDaisy’s taken off for work.
“She just left her kids? How could she? You werent even married! Youre nothing to her!”
“Mum, I understand. But what now?”
“I wish I knew,” sighs Patricia, watching the two kids digging in the garden.
She waits another fortnight, hoping Daisy will appear. She watches Marcus, coming and going, then, at last, he packs up.
“Im leaving, mum.”
“Where?”
“Heading up north, signed on for a job. Got to get on with my life, cant hide under your wing forever.”
“And the children? What if Daisy comes back?”
“I doubt it. And the kidssorry, mum, but they’re not mine.”
The day after Marcus leaves, Patricia goes to Social Services. She cant put it off any longer. Dreading losing the children, she returns home and ends up having words with Valerie out of sheer stressenvying her friend who, it seems, has everything on track. Good kids, good grandchildrenunlike herself. Patricia hangs her head, listening to Lucy babble as she plays with Jake in the garden. What will become of them? Will all her hard work be for nothing, the studies, the care? If they’re taken away, what hope will they have? If only someone good finds thembut things rarely turn out so well.
Valerie settles next to her on the steps.
“Whats scaring you, Pat?” Valerie smooths her skirt. “Come onwhat’s happened? I can see somethings wrong. Were friends, arent we?”
Patricia exhales, spills everythingMarcus, Daisy, the children.
“So muchs happened since I was last here,” Valerie muses. “What do you want?”
“I want to keep the children.”
“Can you manage?”
“I dont know. But while Im still able, Ill do my best. Maybe its the one truly good thing I’ll do in my life.”
“Oh, Patricia!” Valerie hugs her tight. “Youre a wonderful person, and youve done so much good. Stop blaming yourselffor everything! Fate chooses us, we dont choose it. Im not sure its right, but Ill do what I can. Ive got connections nowIll find help. Do you have any documents for them?”
“Yes.” Patricias spirits lift. “Took them to all the appointmentsall the forms are safe with me.”
“Good. Get ready to go to town tomorrow. Ill call who I need to. Well get this sorted, not sit moaning!”
A year passes
“Jake, pick some from that branchtheres half a bucketful left.” Patricia stands under the cherry tree, keeping a watchful eye.
“Gran, they’re so sweet!”
“Well, that’s a bonus! We wont need too much sugar. Tomorrow, Auntie Vals coming upwell make jam and compote. And therell be the froth for both of you.”
“Is it tasty?” Lucy, cheeks smeared with cherry juice, wipes her mouth and beams.
“Youll have to try to tell me! For now, let’s take your little basket, help Jake down, and go wash for supper. Nursery tomorrow, and youre grubby as anything. Take the basket, put it on the table.”
Lucy grabs the tiny basket, brimming with ripe, glossy cherries, pops one in her mouth, spits the stone and skips down the garden path.
“Youll drop them, you rascal.”
“No, I wont. Is Auntie Val coming on her own?”
“No, shell bring her lot. Andrews bringing his kids too, but only in the evening. Therell be loads of you to play with. Whole weekend ahead.”
“Thats great!” Lucy laughs. Shes nearly mastered all her letters, only the r still catches. No worrysoon shell keep up with Jake. Hes almost stopped stammering and sings at the music school nowbetter than he ever speaks, Patricia reckons. Lucys turn will come; just needs to grow a bit more.
She glances back and sees Jake jump down, and squeals, pelting towards the house.
“Im first to the door!”
