Fiction: Lost & found
Angela filled a bowl with hot water, then knelt down and began washing her kitchen floor vigorously. An hour or two of this self-inflicted penance would make her feel better than a strong gin and tonic. It had always been her way of cheering herself up – and it always worked.
There were good reasons for her despondency. She had lost two irreplaceable possessions. – her valuable silver bracelet, Paul’s present to her on their wedding day, had gone missing. It had seldom left her wrist, and she’d turned the house upside-down trying to find it, the mission becoming an obsession – her last thought before sleep, and often her first on waking.
The other, far more important loss was that of Paul’s mother – Ellen – who had died in her sleep a month ago. A good, kind, motherin-law, and Angela’s sense of bereavement was a gritting, grinding, painful lump of rock in her heart, throwing up life’s great unanswered question could there, some day, be a Grand Reunion? Or had science and common sense ruled that out completely, once and for all? End of, literally?
A silent tear dripped from the end of her nose and added itself to the grey suds in the bowl as she wrung out the floor cloth.
She’d never describe herself as religious, yet neither could she deny the feeling that there had to be something.
Surely all the years of an average life couldn’t amount to nothing in the end? She was hooked like an unhappy fish on the end of this life-line of tentative belief.
Paul was a scientist, believing only that which could be proven. No mysteries for him. No miseries, either. Everything had a logical answer. And in all these years, they’d never once talked about What Might Happen Next. Well, she wouldn’t have dared interrupt her husband’s intellectual flow, or insulted him by suggesting that there were mysteries beyond his comprehension. Oh dear me, no.
Angela picked up the bowl and emptied the last of the water into the sink. The kitchen shone. She felt better.
Later as they sat reading, Paul glanced at her. ‘ What have you done today?’ ‘The kitchen.’ ‘Interesting things, I mean.’ ‘Nothing much, really,’ Angela said slowly.
But I’ve been grieving for your mother, Paul, she wanted to blurt out. Don’t you miss her too? Don’t you wonder where she is… not her body, but her quick-silver mind, her sense of humour? All that has to be somewhere, doesn’t it? It couldn’t just dissolve, disappear. Or, in the end, are we all just a pointless bundle of matter?
Instead, Angela said: ‘I’ve taken the last of your mother’s clothes to the charity shop. They were pleased to have them.’
He turned a page. ‘ Yes, Mama was always a snappy dresser.’ He sighed, then added cheerily – ‘She had a good life, but when it’s time to go, you’ve gotta go.’
Quite. Neat and tidy. Paul didn’t know how lucky he was.
Presently, she said ‘I still can’t find my bracelet.’
He didn’t look up from the paper he was preparing for next week’s important lecture. ‘ Which bracelet’s that?’ Honestly, Paul…
‘The silver one. Your wedding present to me. The one I always wear.’
‘Never mind, I’ll buy you another one.’
You don’t get it, Paul, do you…
‘I don’t want another one. I want that one.’
She looked across, but Paul
‘She was happy, dear. Content. It was uplifting’
was busy annotating.
A few days later, her mother-in-law’s home-help rang to enquire how Angela and Paul were, after their sad bereavement.
‘How kind, Mrs Bourne,’ Angela said. ‘ We’re… well, you know, we’re coping.’
The woman sighed.
‘It makes you think, doesn’t it, when another one goes. Your mother-in-law was a lovely lady. And her husband, a nice gentleman… only a year since he went, isn’t it?’ ‘That’s right.’
There was a pause. ‘ You know… she… Ellen… she knew her time was up.’
Angela frowned. It had been a sudden, unexpected death. ‘Oh? Really?’
Mrs Bourne cleared her throat. ‘Her husband, your father-in-law – he came for her, you know. She saw him in the front room on that last morning.’
Angela swallowed. ‘She – saw – him?’
‘I was in the kitchen, and I heard her talking and really laughing, like she did when she was excited. And when I went in, her face was a picture! And she said “Harry was here, Mrs Bourne. And he said ‘Come on, it’s time to go, Ellen’ and he caught hold of my hand”.’ Mrs Bourne blew her nose. ‘That was all, but she was happy, dear. Content. It was – uplifting to witness.’
Angela gripped the phone. ‘Go on,’ she said faintly.
‘ Well, that was it really…. but there was a presence in that room. I don’t care what anyone says. I didn’t see him, of course, not like she did, but I felt it – and I smelt his pipe tobacco! Oh yes. It was weird, really weird. And I shan’t ever forget it,’ Mrs Bourne sighed deeply. ‘Shook me up for a bit. Course, I’m not religious, but it’s made me think, and it would have made you think, too.’
I’m always thinking. ‘And she loved you dear, like her own daughter,’ the woman went on. ‘Thought the world of you.’
‘ Yes, we were close,’ Angela said, trying to stifle the lump in her throat. ‘ Well… thank you, so much, for ringing me. You… you don’t know how much I appreciate it.’ (How much I need it).
‘Oh, I knew you would,
‘There was a presence in that room. I don’t care what anyone says’
dear,’ the woman said. ‘But, well – life’s a funny old thing, isn’t it.’ There was a long pause. ‘But duty calls, so I must go… Oh…. there was just one thing, dear… I hardly like to mention it, but um, you know your mother-inlaw’s three-piece in the front room? I always admired it, such a pretty shade, that upholstery…
‘The three-piece?’
Mrs Bourne cleared her throat. ‘Ellen did say that in the event of… when she no longer needed it – I should approach you, and if no one else wanted it, I could have first refusal.’
In the moment’s silence which followed, a shiver ran right down Angela’s spine, making her toes curl. ‘I have no idea, yet, of what my husband intends to do,’ she said coolly. ‘It hasn’t been discussed.’
‘Of course – of course – it’s early days,’ the woman said soothingly, ‘ but you didn’t mind me mentioning it, did you?’
But I do mind. I mind a lot. All this has been nothing to do with a meeting of devoted souls, nothing to do with a loving hand to lead Ellen across the great Divide. Ellen could have imagined everything, anything… She’d been an old lady, sometimes confused. And as for the smell of tobacco… a simple, cruel embellishment to add to Mrs Bourne’s narrative.
Angela counted up to 10. The purpose of the call was painfully obvious, and it was pain that Angela was feeling now. That fleeting, so recently inspired hope was a mirage, and she’d fallen for it, if only for a few moments. She felt sick.
Next day, as they sipped their morning tea, Paul said – ‘I had such a curious dream last night.’
‘ You never dream, Paul!’ ‘ Well, I did. I dreamt about Mum.’
‘That’s natural. You must be missing her.’
‘But it was so strange – so real and… in technicolour – no – really it was. She was wearing that blue floral dress you made for her last year.’ Angela smiled kindly. ‘Don’t let it upset you, Paul. It’s just the mind playing tricks. What was it all about, anyway?’
‘I just remember this dress and her laughing, throwing her head back like she did when something really amused her.’ He frowned briefly. ‘I think she said something about roses… that’s right, definitely roses. And Christmas. That’s all.’
Later, Angela wandered out to inspect her plants, bending to pick a few sprigs of lavender to put in her small finger glass, and pulling out a few dead leaves from the base of the hellebores which Ellen had planted there for her – cuttings from her own garden.
It always amazed Angela that at the most unyielding point of the year she was able to add several of the dainty white Christmas roses to her festive table decoration. Always such a beautiful combination with the blood-red holly berries…
Suddenly, frowning, she spotted something glinting in the earth. Catching her breath, her fingers prized out her beloved bracelet, partly hidden in the mud.
Why hadn’t she thought of looking outside for it! She must have snagged it on something when she’d been weeding, weeks ago! And it had been here, all the time!
She stared at it in her palm, curling her fingers around it.
Going back into the house, she washed it under the tap, dried it on a tea towel, and buffed it up briskly until it shone. Then she clipped it back on to her wrist, where it belonged.
Thank you, Ellen. Glancing around at her immaculate kitchen, a slow smile creased her lips.
Everything was neat and tidy. The kitchen shone. She felt better.
‘Next day, Paul said – “I had such a curious dream last night”’