28 July
Ive been reminded again that life must go on, no matter how many doors slam shut. My mother once told me, Run on, run on. If you cant find a decent man, at least be a decent person. Well raise the child ourselves, dont worry. Those words echo in my mind as I sit at the kitchen table, the kettle sighing on the stove.
I was five when my grandmotherMrs. Whitakerpassed away. I remember only the scent of her buttery scones, warm from the oven, and the way her hands would dust the cottage with flour. My mother, Teresa, raised me with the help of my grandfather, Arthur. I never saw my father; he vanished before I was even born, slipping away from the village of Loxley with Teresa when they arrived here.
Teresas own parents had once arranged a marriage for her, but the groom fled on the wedding day. No one searched for him; Teresa wept bitterly, already carrying my sibling on her swollen belly.
Your tears wont bring him back, my grandmother had said, but theyll drown you. Keep moving. If you cant find a good man, be a good one yourself.
I grew up without wanting anything, yet I never became a spoiled brat. School was a refuge; I learned well, and Granddad was stern, teaching me to respect elders and cherish what I have. I could manage anything I set my mind to. By thirty I was the envy of manya handsome bloke, a steady career as a civil engineer, a salary of about £62000, and a spacious threebedroom flat in Leeds.
Women were never in short supply, but I wasnt in a rush. Weekends I drove back to Loxley to see my mother, whose health was waning. She still tended to the garden, though lately the chores grew harder.
I urged her to move in with me, but she balked. Why should I leave? shed say. Youll never see me again, and I wont outlive my grandchildren. Ill stay here, quietly, and be my own lady.
I tried to convince her: Live out the summer, then go to the convalescent home and visit us. You need rest, and Ill travel home with you.
Your work! she snapped. What business have you in a village?
People work everywhere, I shrugged.
At that point I was dating two women, and I couldnt decide. The first, Eleanor, was a modest country girlpractical, sweet, and always ready with a pot of tea. The second, Catherine, was striking, vivacious, and laughed like she owned the world. She seemed the sort whod never manage a household, but she dazzled me.
I never invited them to live with me; our meetings stayed neutral, in pubs or at the park. Yet the time for a decision loomed, and I couldnt bring myself to choose which one to leave behind.
I thought the easiest way was to introduce each to my mother. She had just returned from a weekend at the spa, looking refreshed. Eleanor arrived first, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Its lovely, Paul, so spacious, she said, glancing around the flat.
Yes, its roomy. Mum likes it too; shes a bit under the weather.
Why does she live here with you? I thought she was just visiting.
Shes staying for a while, I replied.
Eleanor blinked. I wont be looking after her.
Dont worry about that, I said. Ill handle it.
She shrugged, Fine, I suppose well each have our own space. You said your mum lives in the village, right? Shell be better off there, and so will we.
Mother will always be with me. Thats not up for debate.
She laughed, I thought you were serious, not just a mothers boy! Change your mind, give me a ring!
She slipped out before even sipping tea. I sighed, She fled fast. Catherine will probably beat her to it, and Ill be left without a bride.
I decided to be blunt with Catherine. My mother will always be part of my life, I said.
She frowned, Why are you telling me that? I get it, shell be with you, but
If we live together, how do you feel about sharing the house with her?
Fine by me. Are you proposing?
I smiled. Perhaps. Lets go see my mum, meet her properly.
Will she like me? Right now? she asked.
Shell like you. What are you scared of?
Im not sure. Just nervous.
Catherine and my mother got along instantly, strolling together by the garden wall while waiting for me to finish work. Later the three of us drove to Loxley, and surprisingly the city girl loved the countryside. My mother decided to stay there permanently.
Summers ending, Im feeling better, she told me after a few weeks.
Six months later we were married.
Now Ill finally see my grandchildren, Teresa whispered at the wedding, and she didfirst a granddaughter, then a grandson.
Catherine and I raised our children in Leeds. They grew up, ready for university, while Teresa moved back to Loxley for holidays. She could never part with her little cottage.
One evening Catherine asked, Paul, could we move back to the village? Im missing the house.
Of course, I replied. Just wait for Paul; hell be home soon.
Lets go straight away. Tell him, we need to.
The village remained as quiet as ever, its population dwindling each year.
Looks like Im finally home for good, Teresa said one day. Sell the house, thoughit wont fetch much, and itll fall apart.
Mom, what are you saying? I burst out. Were leaving now?
Catherine tried to calm me, Whats she talking about?
Teresa waved her hand, Fine, bring the kettle, Id like a cup of tea.
After tea she retired to her room for a short rest. Catherine and I lingered at the kitchen table.
Mom, we should be going, I called.
No answer.
I stepped into her bedroom and frozeTeresa was gone. We laid her to rest in the village churchyard.
She felt it coming, didnt she? Catherine sobbed. She came one last time I loved your mother as my own.
I noticed, I whispered. For a long time. What shall we do with the cottage?
Selling it seems a waste
It is a piece of the past. Let it stand for now.
We agreed to keep the old family cottage. Children would still visit, and perhaps one day grandchildren would run through its garden once more.
