Mum
Oi! Furry one! Who do you belong to? Lizzie stood stock-still, staring at the large ginger tomcat sitting bold as brass outside her front door.
The cat, of course, didnt bother responding. He didnt so much as flick a whisker at Lizzies appearance; just sat there, looking as if he ruled the entire hallway. Only his ragged left ear twitched a bit, as if to say, Yes, I can hear you, thank you very much, but youll have to do without a reply.
Fine, be like that! Lizzie huffed, digging in her bag for her keys.
The ginger, getting her drift, shuffled over a fraction on the doormat to make room but stayed put, still watching Lizzies every move like she might produce a tin of tuna from her pocket at any moment.
Finally finding her keys, Lizzie fiddled with the lock and kept glancing at the uninvited guest with suspicion.
She and her husband Harry had only bought this flat a couple of months ago. A cosy, two-bedroomtiny, really, and not what you might see in glossy lifestyle magazines, but for them? It was home. Some folks would say theres no sense in settling for a musty little flat in a battered sixties block, that you must always strive for more. But Lizzie and Harry would have laughed out loud at that. Six months ago they could barely have dreamt of owning anywhere. Theyd squeezed into Lizzies grandads box room in a run-down house-share and been content just to have the chance to live on their own.
Just try not to row with the neighbours, Lizzie! Harrys mum, Barbara Potter, said as she helped scrub the walls before the wedding. Theyre good people. Even if they are fond of the odd tipple.
Good people? Even when they drink a bit too much? Lizzie snorted, wringing out the cloth and flicking her wild mane out of her face.
Her lions mane delighted Harry, but drove Lizzie to distraction, especially when cleaning. She could pin and twist her stubborn curls all morningten minutes in, theyd escape, dance round her forehead, and shed resemble a dandelion gone berserk.
Its complicated, sighed Barbara, shaking her head. Lifes thrown so much at them. Not everyone copes in a constructive way.
This, Lizzie could understand. Being an orphan, whod been taken in by foster parents only to be packed off the very moment she turned eighteen, she knew how easily people dissolve into their own misery, neglecting those who depend on them.
Her mother had left her, for heavens sake, when Lizzie was barely three. Abandoned at Reading station, with just a note in her pocket and a battered one-eared toy rabbit for company. Lizzie sat dutifully on a bench, exactly as told, clutching her floppy-eared friend Stanley to her chest, waiting for Mum to come back. Her trousers felt damp, but she sat and wriggled, eyes scanning the crowd, because she knewstand up, and shed be in for a telling-off, maybe worse.
Mum, of course, never returned. Instead, a large man in a shiny hat appeared. He said something, but Lizzie fiercely shook her head, determined not to answer. She was too cold, too hungry, too tired to even cry. It wasnt until he fiddled with Stanleys one ear and asked, Whats this ones name, then? that she finally whispered back:
Stanley
He stroked the bunny, then gently patted Lizzie on the head. Has Mummy been gone for long?
At that, Lizzie broke the sound barrier with her sobs, alarming not just the man but the entire waiting room, who seemed surprised to notice the childs existence at all. Funny how adults can ignore a little girl sitting quietly for hours in a crowd.
Lizzie didnt find out why her mother had done it until years later. A very odd woman approached her outside school just before her leavers assembly, arms outstretched, wailing, My darling! Ive found you at last! Come give Mum a hug, Ive missed you so!
By then, Lizzie was already with her foster family; there were seven of them all crammed together, their parents more custodians than anything. No one went hungry or barefoot, mind you. But once you hit eighteen, you moved onyour bed was needed for the next child in need.
No one really hugged or cooed; caring was more a practical than emotional affair. So Lizzie didnt rush towards this weeping stranger calling herself Mum. She longed for it, of coursewho wouldnt? To finally have someone whod hold you close at night when only Stanley and the sound of distant trains kept you company. But by then she knew: when your only reliable family is a scruffy soft toy, somethings gone awry.
Still, Lizzie had fantasised about Mum non-stopa proper family, someone to fetch her home, say she loved her, take care of her. Shed seen enough of her friends to know those miracles did happen.
Yet, when Mum did appear, sobbing and reaching for her, Lizzie didnt believe a word of it. You cant remember the station, adults told her, you were too little. Eventually, she stopped arguing. Fineif you say so. But she kept her memories tucked away. She knew they were real: noisy, terrifying, and coldand shed been left behind.
One of her sisters, Nataliewho was in Lizzies classintervened when the weeping woman tried to grab her.
Liz, who is this? Natalie demanded, stepping between them.
I dont know Lizzies head spun. The whole world was out of focus.
Lady, youve got the wrong girl! Off you go! Liz is my sister, and we dont know you! Natalie grabbed Lizzies hand and dragged her home, promising to tell their carer. That was the start of their sisterhoodgrudging gratitude that evolved into secret, awkward solidarity.
Natalie, abandoned by a drunken father rather than a mother, wanted a found family as badly as Lizzie, even if not by blood.
Lizzie did finally talk to her mother a week later. The woman hung around near the school but dialled down the drama, now just asking, almost shyly, Please, darling, just talk to me?
That darling made Lizzies teeth itch, but Natalie shrugged it off: Let her call you what she likes. Its just words.
Natalie nudged Lizzie into a chat: Just ask directlywhy did she leave? Maybe then youll finally stop wondering if you were to blame.
How do you know I think that? Lizzie asked, gaping.
Please, Natalie said wryly. All of us think it. “What was so wrong with me that they left?”
I never guessed you did too.
We all do. None of us talk about it, Liz. We keep it inside and cry at night. I still dobut Ill stop. Growing up, right?
Talking changed nothing much; Mum, sobbing, pleaded for forgiveness, blurted out a muddled tale of rows, rejections, rash decisions.
I told your father you werent his. A lie. I just got angry and lashed out. One thing led to another Then I fell out with my mum and decided to go. Where with a child? I left you, but I wrote a note saying Id come back!
You thought a scribbled letter was enough? What kind of person are you?
Let me make it up to you!
How? Will you give me back my childhood?
You dont remember
Just because I was small, doesnt mean I dont remember!
After that, Lizzie stopped letting anyone tell her what she could or could not feel.
Natalie nodded approval. You do you, Lizzie. Dont look back.
Youre so wise, Nat
Not yet. Im working on it. I want to be a psychologistmaybe thatll help me work out how to live life properly.
Years later, with Natalie a mum herself, they laughed about it. No one knows the right way, Liz. Not you, not me, not anyone.
So how do you live, then?
You live in a way that makes your people feel warm, content, and doesnt make strangers binge-watch soap operas just to escape their own lives, said Natalie, deftly wrapping her baby in a blanket.
Watching Natalie made Lizzie gentler with her own troubles. So what if the room was tiny? The location was cracking and work was walkable. Their DIY efforts helped, and life was almost good! Barbara turned out to be right: their neighbours, while sometimes sad and fond of a gin, never disturbed anyone.
It was a hard lesson for Lizzieaccepting that sometimes you have to pity other people, even when youre not sure how.
It was Barbara and Grandad who helped Lizzie learn. Barbara was a whirlwind: loud, stubborn, but warm. Shed taken Lizzie into the family without a second thought, an act which Natalie called nothing short of heroic.
Dont expect a red carpet, mind, Natalie warned as she did Lizzies hair before the dreaded meet-the-inlaws. Theyve got no reason to love you. You dont own anything; the council didnt give you a flat, did they?
But Im on the list! Lizzie argued.
You remember your number? Dont hold your breathitll snow in August before you get anything. Dont mention it to Barbarashe wont want to hear it until theres actual paperwork. And whatever you do, dont act prickly around her.
What do you take me for, Nat?
Just remember: people need time. She doesnt have to like youyoure only here because Harrys besotted. Thats all you need to understand.
This, Lizzie could grasp, though Barbara did overwhelm her at firsther booming voice, her six-foot presence, her bustling love of making things better for her family. No one had ever gone out of their way for Lizzie before, and she found herself suspicious of Barbaras attempts to help.
Lizzie, come shopping with me? I need a new coat, and Id ask Harry but the man flees down the next aisle if he so much as glimpses a haberdashery. And you, young woman, have half a clue about fashion. What do you say?
Lizzie reluctantly agreed. Next thing she knew, she was heading home carting more bags than Barbara, and most of the haul was for her: a new jacket, boots, a bag shed only dared to admire from afar. If Lizzie so much as looked at a window display, Barbara would drag her inside. Resistance was futile.
Strange woman, Lizzie thoughtbut, well, who was she to argue? She was only the almost-daughter-in-law, after all. This wasnt a fairy tale, where the mother-in-law pulls you into her bosom on day one. So Lizzie kept polite, distant, always remembering Natalies advice: say thank you, but keep your guard.
Barbara seemed to understandno forced heart-to-hearts. And when Lizzie mentioned wanting to live separately, Barbara arranged matters without a word.
Dads getting on now. He needs more help around the place. Harry, youll have to move out of the box room.
Mum, where do we go?
Take Dads old flat, swap over. Youre young, youll manage. Dad needs more care.
Grandad would just grin beneath his moustache, and after they moved, hed wake Barbara for a jog in the park and a cold shower, insisting the change was for the best.
Did I do the right thing, Dad?
Course you did! Young ones need space to make mistakes. Only help when asked. As for Lizzie, be gentle. Shes proud, you know. Offer, but dont smother.
Barbara listened. She left the kids alone unless needed, remembering her own wobbly start as a new mum. Youre the mother, her own mother-in-law said, when her hands trembled as she wrapped tiny Harry in a blanket. No one knows what to do first go. Youll learnyou always do. The main thing: a mum never harms her baby, not on purpose. You just carried him, didnt you? So, you know what he needs. Where you dontask. Theres no shame in it. I could use the exercise anyway.
Harry grew up with only faint memories of either grandparent, but Barbara made sure to remind him how loved hed been.
Mum, Harry said once, why are things the way they are? Dad was a good driver, you said?
Barbara sighed. He was. But that day was foggy, and your aunt was ill. He drove her, as family does wrong place, wrong time. You kept me going, love. So did Gramps.
Did he love you?
More than anything. Im sure of it.
How?
When you love, you know. When lifes convenient, people just cohabit. I wanted more for you. So wait for someone you want to spend every day with, and love will follow.
Maybe thats why, when Lizzie appeared, Barbara didnt object. If Harry wanted this girl, so would sheeven if it took time to soften the barbs.
When Grandad suggested selling the room, Lizzie was crestfallen.
You all right? he asked, stacking paperwork while she sorted his tea and biscuits. Worried about where you two will go?
Not really, she said. Were adults. Well make do. We might rent a place, or another room, depending on what we have left over after bills. Harry just changed jobs and things are tight. My salary will just about stretch to a room.
Whats wrong with this one then?
Nothing! If I had the money, Id buy it from you myself. But thats just wishful thinking. Well get our own place eventually. Weve even started savinga few pounds here and there. Nat says even a small savings account makes you feel the future is possible, and you know, shes right. Well be fine!
Grandad chuckled. That so?
Did I say something funny?
He patted her cheek and sent her to put the kettle on. Well have a natter. Its my one remaining pleasure at my agetea and a good chinwag. Are you cross with Barb?
No! Of course not! Shes never been anything but kind.
There you go, worked up again! Deep breaths now
Why tease me?
He arched his eyebrows innocently. Shes your mother-in-law! Arent they supposed to be villains? Thats what the old stories say. Or are people just making it up?
They are. At least, with me, its not true. You know that.
Course I do. And Barb thinks of you as a daughter. Dont be afraid to let her close. Shes a softie. Whos going to spoil you if not her?
I dont need anyones pity! I can take care of myselfand anyone else!
Theres nothing wrong with being cared for sometimes. People used to use pity to mean all kinds of feelings for family. When youre ill, what do you wantgrand gestures and serenades, or someone to make you soup?
Soup, obviously.
Exactly. And if your soul hurts, what do you need?
Someone to care.
You catch on quick. Still, care is best when rationed. Dont smother people who dont want it. Its no help to spoil a drunk or let a naughty child off every time because you care. Use your head.
I care about you.
I know, and I care about you too. Thats the family way.
Who else should I care for?
Whoever tugs at your heart. Your family, your friends, your catwhen you get one. But properly, mind. Dont feed a stray just once because it makes you feel kind. Take it in if you mean toone good deeds always repaid in the end.
Which brings us back to the present. Staring at the cat on the doormata cat who, thanks to Barbara and Grandad, might just have found his humansLizzie patted his head. He let her, but when she held the door open he bounded up the stairs and vanished.
Fine. Suit yourself. Lizzie sniffed, getting ready to close the door, when there he was againnow lugging a tiny ginger kitten in his mouth.
Well, I never! Lizzie cradled the yowling fluff ball. The tom disappeared again and reappeared, this time dragging kitten number two, every bit as ginger but much more boisterous. He dropped the kitten, picked him up, dropped him again in exasperation, then looked at Lizzie for help.
Oh, youre hopeless! Some mum you are! Laughing, Lizzie scooped up the second kitten, opened the door wide. Come on thenbring the lot! Is that all, or have you a few more hidden away?
The tomcat sidled in, glancing anxiously at Lizzie and the kittens.
No one will hurt you here. But wheres their real mum, eh?
No answer. Just a business-like flick of the tail as he herded the kittens into the hall.
Hang on, hang on Lizzie fetched an old tray, making a makeshift bed, and watched amused as the cat earnestly demonstrated the litter tray.
Honestlyyoure as fussy as a young mum yourself! Lizzie chuckled, but kept her voice low, not to scare the babies. Right, time to raid the fridgegot to feed you all, I expect?
The tom made it clear hed no objection to that plan and Lizzie went straight to the kitchen.
That evening, during the regular Potter Family Summit, Lizzie made an announcement.
Barbara, if you say no, Ill find them somewhere, but I cant send them back out. The kittens are tiny. Dont know what happened to their mum or why its the tom whos caught on to parenting, but its all a bit out of the ordinary.
Why are you asking me, Lizzie? asked Barbara, scratching a sleepy kitten behind its ear. Its your (and Harrys) flat. You both decide who lives here. What are you waiting for? You know the answer! Now, what did you feed them?
Milk. Luckily they know how to drink it already.
Ill claim this one when its bigger. The rest
Ill find homes for the kittens, but the toms staying, I think. I have a lot to learn from him.
Oh? Barbara raised an eyebrow.
Harry grinned, nodded at Lizzie, and let her deliver the latest family secret (they had kept it under wraps until Barbaras birthday).
How to be a good mum Now Ive got myself two teachers. You and this furry nanny here
Lizzie stroked the toms battered ear. And when Barbara hugged her close, Lizzie couldnt help but finally have a bit of a cry.
