Anne
My dear, this is absolutely not what I wanted!
Mrs Anne Worthington turned in front of the mirror once, then again, her frown deepening.
Heavens! Has everyone completely forgotten how to make a decent dressor, perhaps, they never managed it in the first place?
Emily bit her lip, adjusting the hem of the new dress on her fussy client.
Bite your tongue! No outbursts!
If Mrs Worthington left unhappy, thered be no way to pay the rent this month. Everything left in the tin box would vanish on Grans medication. The drugs that her new doctor prescribed were painfully expensive. But at least they were making a differenceGrans speech was slowly returning after her second stroke. A little glimmer of hope.
Mrs Worthington sighed, turning yet again before the mirror.
Well, theres nothing for it. I must make do. Theres simply no time to sew anothermy reception at the embassy is the day after tomorrow, and Ill end up looking like a provincial schoolmistress. This lace was a totally misguided idea! Emily, why on earth didnt you talk me out of it?
Emily rose lightly from her knees and smoothed the dress sleeves with practiced hands.
I think your handmade work and such beauty will be admired by those who know anything about fashion at all. Have you seen the latest collections? Its all theremotifs, albeit rather badly executed, but there nonetheless.
Do you truly think so? said Mrs Worthington, still wary. Actually, you may well be right. At least itd be entirely unique. Ill be the only one with anything like this. Yes, Ill be the first!
Emily let out a small sigh. Always the sameMrs Worthington invented, then fussed and complained. Yet there was no denying she knew more about fashion than Emily herself, perhaps even more than some established designers.
Emily understood her quirks well. Shed been making clothes for this difficult woman for years.
Thank you, Gran.
Mrs Worthington had been one of Grans clients when she worked at the exclusive dressmakers, back when both of them were young and lively. Emily had seen the photographsAnne posing confidently, showing off her long legs and low neckline.
Now there was little trace of all that beauty. Emily did her best, whenever Anne appeared on her doorstep, to dream up something that might please herfor Gran had asked.
Emily love, dont turn her away. Shes had a ghastly time of it, poor creature! Acts the grand lady, but really, shes been through so much pain no one could imagine.
Tell me, Gran!
Oh, you knowshe came down from Yorkshire, or somewhere out North, hoping to conquer London. Striking beauty, a captivating singing voiceprofessors at the Royal College were speechless when she auditioned. And shed no proper schooling, none of those luxurious lessons. Still, she got in, of course. Two years in, marriednot so wisely. Husbands family were society types; didnt think she was good enough for their darling boy, but he insisted. They went along with it in their own way. Claimed they didnt care about her background, so tolerant of them.
And in reality?
In reality, her mother-in-law dragged her round to every clinic for five years while Anne was married. Not Anne then, just Annie, Annabel to her familystrict Yorkshire Methodists, old-fashioned as they come. When she ran away to London, her family cut her off. Shed nowhere else to go. She had it drummed into herstick with your marriage, dont disgrace the family. So she stuck it out. Listened to her elders. Mother-in-law said, Not the right time for children, and Annie went docile as a lamb to the clinic. There were tears, tantrums, she even lost her voice for a spell. But she had nowhere to turn. Certainly not back hometheyd never take her. I still wonder where she found the courage to run in the first place, and how it all vanished once she wed. Guess its upbringingtaught from birth to suffer and endure. Hows a person meant to know you dont actually have to?
And her husband?
He was a blessed ninny! Had his flings, and that brief love wore off after six months. Pressure from his parents kept them together. He couldnt divorce herwouldve ruined his prospects. So on they went.
Did Anne ever leave him?
She did, in the end, with great difficulty. Came to me, curled up in the old armchair, knees to her chest. Wouldnt talk, sometimes just wept, then shed stand before the mirror, and ta-da! Back to herself. She always had enviable taste. Ordered new dresses or impossible skirtsnot that she was showing off, but my word, what a figure! The girls would go green with envy.
Whats an invisible skirt, Gran?
One of thosebarely more than a waistband. Mini, as short as you like. At first, only the daring ones wore such outrage. These days, everyone does, but Anne was among the first.
And what happened next, Gran?
Nothing good. Anne married twice again. Managed, by some miracle, to have a son.
A miracle?
After what happened with her first husbands family, she was lucky she could have children at all. It mustve been fate. In hindsight… maybe better if it hadnt happened.
Gran!
Oh yes, I knowsounds harsh. But not everyone should pass on their troubles. Not Anne, I mean her third husbandthe boys father.
Why?
He was a bad egg. Knew how to charmyoud chat with him and think he was delightful. But behind closed doors God help her. An utter sadist. He tormented Annethats all you need to know. Never spoke about the half of it, never one for scandal. Would mumble something in passing, then instantly stiffenDont you dare pity me! None of you can imagine! Kept up appearances, but why bother, really? A few years straight she wore only trouser suitsnot because it was fashionable, but to hide what hed done. Her skin marks easily, you see. Shed walk about bruised, but never complained. Were odd, arent we? If we have so much as a glimmer of love left, or even a habit of it, we put up and shut up. But whats the point?
How did she carry the child in all that misery?
Good question. Truth is, Anne left him about four months in, hid away. He had connections, he couldve found her if he really tried, but for some reason, he let her go. She was overjoyedthere are no words. And the boy was the image of her; not a trace of his father. It was almost as if fate intended to spare her the reminders. Unfortunately, all her care still couldnt be enoughwhen he hit adolescence, he tracked down his father. And, well, the next nightmare began. She called it her new circle of hell.
Dante?
ExactlyAnne is ever so well-read now. Took up study late in life and became a respected art historian, especially after her voice failed for good. Discovered another hidden talentantiques. She can appraise something by instinct, honestly rarely gets it wrong. Still, despite her standing, while her son was at home, I always worried for her. He was his fathers sonat first, afraid to cross her, but after a while, it began. She forgave him everythinghe was her son, after all. The things he did, no normal person would. Wont recount it all, but heres one for you: Anne had a little Maltese dog, a gift from a friend for her birthday. She adored it. Her son hated the creature. One day, when he didnt like the way it yapped at him, he threw it out of the sixth-floor window. After two years in their home! He wasnt capable of any ordinary attachment, let alone pity for a helpless thing.
And Anne didnt throw him out after that?
Where could she send him? He flatly refused to go to his fatherno one there to torment. His younger half-sister was off-limits. Ironic, really: one time, he tried to hurt her and his father battered him so thoroughly it kept him bedridden for a week. Maybe thats when he truly broke, resented itall those years unwanted, and here was his sister with everything: a personal pool, a pony. You see, it wasnt Anne who kept him from his fatherjust didnt push. She was frightened; knew what the man was like. Even when his ex started a new family, Anne was anxious enough.
How awful, Gran.
Not half as awful as what came next. When the boy grew up, all his fathers darkness bubbled to the surface.
He did something dreadful?
Yes. Tried to destroy those he blamed for his unhappiness. Didnt want to work, didnt want to studyjust live the good life, as his father did, with no thought to how it was earned. Annes ex-husband wasnt a good man by any measure, but he was clever and worked hardbuilt his fortune himself, not always honestly, but show me anyone at the top whos blameless. In his own home, few knew what a swine he was. Workers praised him. Son never understoodjust assumed money grew on trees. Thought Anne was some silly woman whod wasted her chances.
So what did he do?
Begged his father to take him on a hunting trip, talked him into bringing his stepmum and half-sister. Went on about family, togetherness. Then he tried to shoot the girl. Made it look like an accident, but his father saw through it immediately. The little girl was unharmed, but Annes son went to prison, and deservedly. No matter Anne’s connections, there was nothing she could do.
What did Anne do?
She went to her ex-husband and begged. Hed dreamt of her on her knees one day, but shed never given him the satisfaction before. Afterwards, Anne was beside herself. She returned to us, spat at her own reflection, and said: I hate myself! Locked herself in the loo and collapsed. We had to call an ambulance. She recovered, and later told me everything. It made us all sick to the stomach.
And then?
There was a trialher son was jailed for eight years. Her ex threw the papers at her feet after sentencing and ordered her out of his life. She had no desire to stay. Went home, locked herself in the bathroom, did herself some harmbut pulled through and, before passing out, managed to call her closest friend. Later, she checked herself into a clinic.
From that time, Anne was never the same. Changed her name, opened an account for her son, hired someone to see to lawyers and parcels for him. But cut all personal ties. She had nothing left. It tormented her no end.
Why?
Her son never left prison alive. Lacked the skills to survive. Stood up for his rightsno one forgave him for that. Couldnt adapt.
Gran, does such a story really happen?
Stranger things happen in life than any novelist could invent.
And after all that?
She survived it, barely. But fate showed her mercy at last, gave her a second chance.
Anne couldnt bring herself to stay in the flat where shed raised her son. Too many reminders. Even walking past the flower beds where shed once found her dog was agony. The flat was left to her by her first husbands grandmotherwho, on seeing all that had happened to Annie, believed the girl deserved some peace after all. Not all mothers-in-law are cruel, you see. Anne came to understand the pain that woman had carried, knowing her own son was the cause of so much misery.
Did Anne finally understand, Gran?
Of course. Until you walk in someones shoes, you dont know what its like. We judge too easily.
True
AnywayAnne sold the flat in Kensington, which was big, central, just by the Tube. She bought a smaller place in a neighbourly part of Clapham, had enough left over to renovate and live comfortably for a while. But she spent the bulk of it almost immediately.
On what? She lived alone, didnt she?
Not exactly. Only a couple months after moving in, there was a fire in Annes new building. The top two floors gutted. Only one person was hurtthe flats tenant, a hopeless drunk, whod fallen asleep after a bender. His partner managed to crawl out, leaving him behind.
Annes own flat was a couple of doors awayshe was fine. But thats when she met Sara and her children.
Saras the one Anne brought to you for a new wardrobe. I think you wondered how they were related, right? Well, they werent. When the fire happened, Sara had a baby girl and a five-year-old son. Her husband was a fireman, a decent chap and first-rate climber.
Was, Gran?
Died absurdly. Was lowered from the roof of a tower block to rescue a child locked on a balcony. But a disturbed man upstairs cut the rope. For some reason the safety didnt hold, and he fellnothing the doctors could do. Sara was left a widow with two children. The flat was ruined by fire. She sat in the courtyard, baby screaming, son sobbing, and Anne simply asked if she needed anything. That was itthey were family from that moment on. Sara reminded Anne of her own mothersame eyes, hair, warmth. After all shed been through, there wasnt a trace of bitterness in her.
And Anne helped them?
She did. For months, Sara lived with Anne while repairs were done, everything paid for by Anne without a word of complaint. Chose the wallpaper and tiles, just asked Sara if she liked them.
Can you imagine such kindness to strangers? I used to think it didnt exist, until your mother was born.
Whats that got to do with Mum?
Well, who do you think helped with your mothers heart operation, and found the best doctors, and saw to all the rehabilitation? It was Anne, of courseshe never wanted thanks. She said it was her absolution.
I still dont know how much money she spent. Your mothers pregnancy was difficult, tooAnne found the right consultant, paid for everything again. Youre here because of Anne. She was always like thatselfless, giving.
You never told me any of this.
You never asked. And Anne forbade itshe doesnt like being thanked. She believes this is how she atones for her life.
For what, Gran? After all shes been through?
I dont know, Emily. Guilt is a strange thingsometimes, even with nothing to apologise for, it eats you alive. People with a sense of responsibility sometimes cant accept that not everything can be fixed by sheer effort. Some burdens are too heavy. Annes was nearly too much for anyone. But shes received her reward nownot through family, but from the kindness of strangers. Tell Anne or Sara they arent family and theyll only laugh. Anne has a daughter, and Saras children have a grandmother. Life deals odd hands, doesnt it?
As I finished hemming Annes dress, I only half-noticed when a thick envelope landed on my worktable.
No, Emily dear, I was wrongthis style suits me perfectly! Everyone will gasp when I arrive in this splendid new dress! Do stop staring, my lambIm full of surprises, arent I? And yes, terribly troublesome. A lady my age must have her amusements. Forgive me, wont you?
I nodded quickly, smoothing the fabric. Like this?
Yes! Just how I wanted. Now, my dear, Ill say hello to your gran and then leave you in peace. Has the doctor been?
Yes, said shes better!
Well, I should hope so! The mans a rising star. And your gran has a stubborn willno little illness can frighten her! I do hope, Emily, that you turn out like hershes a grand example. Ah, I nearly forgotIll bring Sara to you later this week. Shes finally handing in her thesis, can you believe it? All that hard work, and now shell have two degrees and aim for a better post. A new job calls for a new wardrobe, and Ill keep you busy for ages!
And Ill always be grateful for it!
Oh, dont be silly! Thank yourself, for those magical hands and your clever mind. Anyone can sew; only an artist can create. You take after your gran, thats why I value you. Enough chitchatI must dash!
Only after Mrs Worthington left did I spot the envelope. Opening it, I gasped.
Gran! Theres far too much in here! I should return it!
Dont you dareshed be offended. Sometimes, youve got to let someone be generous, Emily. She needs to give as much as you need to receive.
She knows were having a tough time now, doesnt she?
Of course, thats why she helps. She always has. Think how you can make Sara smileand thatll be the best thanks you could give Anne. What can we do? Shes just made that way.
But Gran, is it right?
Who can say, love? All I know for certain is that people like her are rare. Like treasure dug up by chanceunless you know what youre holding, you might not realise its worth. Life will polish them, refine and facet, until everyone admires the brilliance. But remember: the light isnt theirs alone. Even the finest diamond cant sparkle in the darkit needs a little gleam from somewhere else. I think Anne knows that. Shes learned not to grow bitter, not to turn away from the world. She seeks out that light in others, and gives back all she can. Do you think she succeeds?
I think, Gran, that Ive never seen a jewel more precious, nor a lamp that shines brighter.
And today, writing this, I know: we treasure people not only for what they endure, but for the light they sharehowever battered they may be. Thats what I hope to remember, always.
