Jack climbed into his car, ready to leave the office, when his phone started ringing. The number wasnt familiar. He sighed and pressed the green button.
Hello? Whos this?
Its me Hello, replied a womans voice, one Jack didnt recognise.
Whos *me*? he tensed up. Can you tell me who you are?
There was silence. Then the barely audible voice again:
Its me your mother.
Jack froze, his fingers gripping the steering wheel as his heart raced.
Dont be ridiculous. My mother died nearly thirty years ago.
No Im Evelyn I gave birth to you. Jack, its really me
He hung up. His heart was pounding and his palms were slick with sweat. It felt like someone had flung open the gates to a part of his past hed locked away forevera part he never wanted to face again.
A few minutes later, the phone rang again. Same number.
I dont want to speak to you, he snapped. I havent got a mother. The woman who gave birth to me left me when I was nine. Ive been an orphan ever since.
Just five minutes. Please, Im begging you
Why? So you can tell me more lies?
I only want to see youjust once. Ill explain everything.
Jack refused, but deep down he knew she wouldnt stop. Shed find out where he lived, show up at his door, upset his wife, frighten their daughters.
Two days later, they met in a small park on the edge of Oxford.
Evelyn sat on a bench, stooped and grey-haired, but still clinging to traces of past beauty. Her hands shook.
Hello, Johnny
Jack, he corrected coldly.
She looked upher eyes full of desperation.
I know, I know I did wrong But I honestly had no other choice
He stayed silent. Memories flooded in: her shouting, smashing plates, swanning off to meet boyfriends and leaving him alone.
You left me with Aunt Margaret. You said, Ill be back in a month. But you ran off to Spain with some businessman.
I thought hed help both of us But he didnt want you. And I
You picked him. Not me.
She sobbed quietly.
Ive got no one now. My husbands dead, his children threw me out. Ive nowhere to go. I cant even afford food. Im utterly alone.
Are you feeling sorry for yourself? he asked, tilting his head. When I was nine, who felt sorry for me?
Im sorry I never knew how to ask for forgiveness. I kept hoping youd come to me yourself
You never even sent a birthday card. Not once.
Silence. Then Evelyn whispered:
But you became a good man You turned out just fine.
I grew up thanks to the people you couldnt stand. Aunt Margaret. My wife. My mates. But not you.
She reached out to him, but he pulled away.
Im not judging you. But youre a stranger to me. Not even an enemy. Just nothing.
Im dying she whispered.
Then you should make your peace But not with me.
He stood up and walked away without looking back.
And for the first time in years, he felt a sense of relief in his chest. The past had finally let him go. And life simply carried on.
