Return to 1998 SPRING Index
My home rose up before me in familiar and comforting lines. The Cedar tree stood, as always, squarely before the French windows of the dining room. The dark green of the tree's branches contrasted with the yellow brick of the house which glowed in the setting sun.
There was a warning clack from the blackbird as I walked up the path. I glimpsed a figure behind the windows. Its youthful form turned quickly away when it saw it had been noticed. I quickened my step. I lifted my bag onto the step and put my key to the lock.
I noticed it at once. Of course you would:the key not turning and the force which was needed in order to get it to enter the lock at all. I struggled and struggled with it, but at last, fearing I would break the key altogether, I stopped. I felt absurdly like crying. But this was nonsense of course. Of course it is. Why should I be shut out by my own front door? People always say I am not practical, but there must be a practical solution for this. Naturally there would be. Calmed, I thought, of rain. Yes the rain would cause the door to stick. Yes. How silly I am to be worrying over the smallest thing. But, as I looked out into the sunset and saw the golden colour of the lawn - I knew. When had it last rained? Even the other day, had I not seen an anxious young man on the television. Not enough water, he had said, bad news for farmers he said. But, then, if he wanted rain, he shouldn't cover his map with gold suns should he? Well. I thought so at the time. Still, it didn't explain the door did it? However, I am not practical. People always say so and there must be a perfectly sensible explanation. So I did what I should have done from the first really. How silly I am. I reached up and rang the front doorbell with all my force. Here I am, I thought. Let me IN.
I recognised the figure which answered the door at once. It was the same I had seen earlier at the French Windows. She was very young and very striking. The last rays of the sun caught and caused her auburn hair to flame around her face. Brown eyes regarded me steadily.
“Silly of me, of course,” I said, “ I couldn't get the key to turn.”
But already I was irritated by myself. It's not what I meant at all. What wanted to say was “Who are you?” and “Let me in and get off my front doorstep AT ONCE.”
Fortunately her reply released my anger.
“Why should you have a key?” she said.
Well! I was shocked. I said coldly.
“I don't know who you think you are young woman, but I happen to live here. Get out of my way.”
At this her eyes widened and then became anxious. As though she really wanted to do the right thing. I knew then she was basically good hearted. But I was worried now and fretted after my family.
“My dear,” I said. “If this is a joke, it isn't very kind.”
At this she turned her head and called down the hall. At last, I thought, now mother will come down the passage and tell me I am an old silly as she always does. I worry too much of course. Yes. I do - but it will be all right. It will.
But it was a man who came down the hall. Older than the girl, he looked cross.
“Yes?” he said curtly.
The fear began to grow in me but my anger also held.
“I want to know,” I said - as firmly as I could - “ I want to know what you are doing in my house” but my voice shook at the next sentence, “ And where's my mum?”
I saw the same sense of shock as I had seen in the girl's eyes. But, behind the tiredness in his eyes, there was a recognition and sympathy. I saw then the resemblance between them.
“You had better come in", he said.
The front door shut out the remains of the day behind me. It was dark. I turned to my right automatically and entered the sitting room I knew of old. I saw at once how cunning they were. I had not been away long, but already they had changed it entirely. Even in my confusion I thought. How odd to put the sofa there. Not at all right. But the house recognised me and calmed me. I knew the sounds it made. I heard the footsteps echo in the passage and stood in the middle of the room and straightened my back. I held my chin up high when the man entered the room.
“This is outrageous,” I said. “How dare you take over my house and where is my family. Are you kidnappers? I am not very rich you know.”
Although even as I said this, I wasn't sure. Once I had had money. I was fairly certain. I pushed the thought away. I must keep calm. I must concentrate.
I sat down and waited for an explanation.
All the man said though was
“Would you like some tea?” and the girl looked ready to head for the kitchen with all possible speed.
All my life I have been offering people tea in a crisis. Now, though, I saw how futile this was.
“Not at all," I said suddenly, “I would prefer a strong brandy”.
If he was surprised, he did not say so. He turned to the decanter and poured out a generous finger. But it wasn't nearly enough as I wanted. I took a sip. The warmth spread outwards and I stopped feeling quite so shaky.
The man was looking at me intently. He squatted down in front of me. “How old are you my love?” he asked. Absurdly I wanted to giggle. I gave him a big look over the top of my glass. “You shouldn't ask me that question,” I said. He smiled. “No, but seriously.”He was persistent in his query.
Stupidly I was frightened by the inquiry. I couldn't quite think what the answer was. I saw myself quite clearly playing as a child and then older and then... the thought eluded me and then I caught it.
“Forty,” I said triumphantly. Life begins at ... was the thought and I had got it.
The man stood up abruptly and poured himself a drink. I felt my answer had scared him. Caught him off balance. The moment when I wanted to like him had gone. When he was off guard, I should have confronted him. Where was my family and how had the girl and the man taken over the house so completely that I was lost in my most safest place?
I took a breath and then another. I must think. But as I thought the glass fell from my hands. My hands raised to my face and hid my eyes. I cried “I want my mum, where is my mum.” I rocked back and forth, forward and back. And as I rocked, I saw the last rays of the sun move over the carpet from the window. Against it the Cedar stood black as the on coming night. But there, at its foot, I saw my mother, standing as she always stood - her long dress and large hat stiffly correct as always. Then she had gone. But I knew now what to do - as clearly as if I had heard her, “Stupid girl to be so afraid.”
I stood up and walked to the telephone. I picked up the receiver and dialed carefully the emergency number. The man watched me. I glared at him and tossed my head. Soon the dry tone of the receptionist replied. “Police,” I said firmly. I was pleased how strong I felt. I gave the address and told my story: how my home was invaded and my mother vanished or captured. The young constable on the end of the line seemed suitably impressed and I started to put the phone down with a smile. But the man came up behind me and took the receiver out of my hand. He spoke briefly into it and replaced it back onto its cradle.
“They won't listen to you,” I said, "I live here. I always have. This is where I grew up. You will go to prison forever and ever.”
The man sat down with a sigh. The girl waited by the window watching and listening.
A long time later - or so it seemed - the car pulled up. Through the window I saw its headlamps cut through the dark. As the young woman officer got out, the car's lights snapped off. The door opened to admit her. The man walked towards her. The light fell on the young policewoman's face. She was not alone. Behind her stood a young PC. He spoke briefly into his radio. It snackled and cracked as he relayed some of the conversation between the man and the girl. I strained to hear but the light was gone from the hall and sound seemed lost in the dark.
I got up and moved towards the door. At this they stopped talking and looked at me from the darkness. I stood under the lamp of the sitting room. I stood stupidly in its light.
“He has taken my mother," I said, “Arrest them at once.”
I kept my voice firm but I felt cold. I felt great fear. It pressed me around and down so that I felt faint. I am so stupid I thought furious with myself. It's not I that have done wrong.
But the WPC smiled and came towards me.
“I know where your mother is,” she said, “If you come with me, I'll take you.”
I felt a great sense of peace.
“You will?” I asked.
“I will”, She said.
But as I followed her out into the hall the light from the room fell on the hall mirror and reflected me fully. I was shocked to see how the last few hours had aged me for it was a frail old lady who looked back out of the frame. I stepped back and looked around in confusion. But the policewoman stepped forward and taking me by the hand led me gently out into the waiting dark.