MOTHER’S DAY
Chapter 1
In recent years Sally hadn’t given much thought to Mother’s Day, or Mothering Sunday as her own mother had insisted it should be called.
Life had had its ups and downs for her, and one of her ‘downs’ had been three babes who had never known life, had never fulfilled her hopes and dreams of motherhood. But she firmly believed you made your own luck, and you lived the life destiny allocated to you to the full. Len, her first and only love, had worked for a major oil company and had gone to the four corners of the earth, well those that were oil producing, and Sally had enjoyed travelling with him, living in first one country then another, and only coming home on leave once or twice a year. The ex-pat life had suited her easy-going nature and confident sociability.
Retirement, when it came, gave them the chance to put down proper roots for the first time in over forty years. They bought a bungalow with a nice garden in a largish village, close to open countryside, the coast and, best of all for Sally, a large town with a thriving community of artists, authors and a first-class rep company. She’d always loved the theatre and it had been one pleasure that had often been in short supply in barren, oil-rich communities. She joined the Friends of the theatre and happily volunteered for any duties they thought she could do. The monthly book club encouraged her to read more widely than she had ever done, and her days were busy and pleasurable.
The local bakery, with its seductive wafts of freshly-baked bread spilling out on to the pavement, was the village meeting spot. Life, loves and the proverbial universe were discussed in the queue that formed daily and Sally got to know the regulars very quickly, everyone from Ted, the ex-Army major who gave her cuttings from his large and well-stocked garden, Millie, a retired piano teacher, Greta, who like Sally had travelled the world with her musician husband, Dolly, who was just Dolly and had been born two streets away, Sarah and Katie who always seemed to be together, because, as Sally soon realised, they had just dropped off their various children at the village school. They were welcoming and friendly and ever ready to share the village gossip.
Len joined the Golf Club, and in spite of Sally’s teasing about it being an old man’s game, the Bowling Club as well. Golf of course, was a fair weather game, but the Bowling Club has both indoor and outdoor facilities, and became his regular place to go in winter.
A couple of years slipped by easily and enjoyably. Nothing earth-shaking, nothing newsworthy, nothing to write home about (as her mother had been fond of saying). If Len thought Sally was spending a little too much time at the theatre, or Sally thought Len was devoting a great deal of time to the Bowling Club, even when the sun was shining, neither of them commented. They were independent adults who didn’t need to live in each other’s pockets.
But destiny has a way of rudely putting up two fingers to carefully constructed lives, and its victims don’t see it coming. It was a sunny morning in early March. One of those days which hold promise of better weather to come after the long, dreary winter. Sally got to the bakery a little later than usual, and the queue was right up to the door. She hovered in the doorway, waiting patiently for the slowly shuffling queue to progress in the shop. She was just about to say hello to the person in front of her, when she heard her name being mentioned.
“Poor Sally. Who would have thought it!” murmured Dolly, shaking her grey permed curls sadly.
The Major harrumphed and shook his head in disbelief. Katie, who always thought the best of everybody said “Perhaps there’s an innocent explanation”.
“Oh, there’s an explanation all right”, replied Dolly, “but it’s not innocent. I saw them with my own eyes, Len and a young woman who could have been his daughter in the car. The car was rocking fit to turn over, and parked off the road like that behind the Common, well …. they weren’t playing chess, that’s for sure. What’s more ……” Her voice trailed away as Katie, seeing Sally, hushed her up. But it was too late. Sally, rooted to the spot for interminable seconds, found her feet and fled back to the sanctuary of home.
Her hand was shaking as she tried to put her key in the lock, and her breath was coming in short gasps. She sank into the chair in the hallway and buried her head in her hands. Could she have imagined the whole conversation, or misheard. Perhaps it was another Sally …. and Len. Not her at all, not her Len. The sobs came slowly at first and then harder, faster … she couldn’t remember the last time she cried for herself, but she knew in that moment that it was true. Several puzzling small things suddenly slotted into place - Len’s insistence that she had better things to do than watch him play in a bowls match, the times he quickly put down his phone, switching it off carefully, even that new aftershave which he seemed devoted to. Devoted to some other woman seemed more likely.
She hardly heard the tapping at the still open door.
“Sally, it’s me, can I come in?” Katie pushed the door a little further open. “I’m so sorry you overheard that. It’s horrible and, and …” She knelt down beside Sally and gave her a hug. Sally sobbed and sobbed.
“I’m ….. such a …… fool” she gulped between heart rending sobs. “It’s obvious now I know. I even know who she is. Her Dad’s the President of the Bowls Club, and yes, she’s young enough to be …..” her voice strangled on his name, “L,l,l, His, daughter”.
She didn’t know how long she and Katie sat there, one racked with grief, and other with concern, when the sound of wheels crunching on the gravel made them jump to their feet, as Len shouted “Hello, darling, where are ….” He stopped in horror and looked from Sally to Katie and back to Sally. His face paled to the colour of putty.
“You know”. It wasn’t a question.
Chapter 1
In recent years Sally hadn’t given much thought to Mother’s Day, or Mothering Sunday as her own mother had insisted it should be called.
Life had had its ups and downs for her, and one of her ‘downs’ had been three babes who had never known life, had never fulfilled her hopes and dreams of motherhood. But she firmly believed you made your own luck, and you lived the life destiny allocated to you to the full. Len, her first and only love, had worked for a major oil company and had gone to the four corners of the earth, well those that were oil producing, and Sally had enjoyed travelling with him, living in first one country then another, and only coming home on leave once or twice a year. The ex-pat life had suited her easy-going nature and confident sociability.
Retirement, when it came, gave them the chance to put down proper roots for the first time in over forty years. They bought a bungalow with a nice garden in a largish village, close to open countryside, the coast and, best of all for Sally, a large town with a thriving community of artists, authors and a first-class rep company. She’d always loved the theatre and it had been one pleasure that had often been in short supply in barren, oil-rich communities. She joined the Friends of the theatre and happily volunteered for any duties they thought she could do. The monthly book club encouraged her to read more widely than she had ever done, and her days were busy and pleasurable.
The local bakery, with its seductive wafts of freshly-baked bread spilling out on to the pavement, was the village meeting spot. Life, loves and the proverbial universe were discussed in the queue that formed daily and Sally got to know the regulars very quickly, everyone from Ted, the ex-Army major who gave her cuttings from his large and well-stocked garden, Millie, a retired piano teacher, Greta, who like Sally had travelled the world with her musician husband, Dolly, who was just Dolly and had been born two streets away, Sarah and Katie who always seemed to be together, because, as Sally soon realised, they had just dropped off their various children at the village school. They were welcoming and friendly and ever ready to share the village gossip.
Len joined the Golf Club, and in spite of Sally’s teasing about it being an old man’s game, the Bowling Club as well. Golf of course, was a fair weather game, but the Bowling Club has both indoor and outdoor facilities, and became his regular place to go in winter.
A couple of years slipped by easily and enjoyably. Nothing earth-shaking, nothing newsworthy, nothing to write home about (as her mother had been fond of saying). If Len thought Sally was spending a little too much time at the theatre, or Sally thought Len was devoting a great deal of time to the Bowling Club, even when the sun was shining, neither of them commented. They were independent adults who didn’t need to live in each other’s pockets.
But destiny has a way of rudely putting up two fingers to carefully constructed lives, and its victims don’t see it coming. It was a sunny morning in early March. One of those days which hold promise of better weather to come after the long, dreary winter. Sally got to the bakery a little later than usual, and the queue was right up to the door. She hovered in the doorway, waiting patiently for the slowly shuffling queue to progress in the shop. She was just about to say hello to the person in front of her, when she heard her name being mentioned.
“Poor Sally. Who would have thought it!” murmured Dolly, shaking her grey permed curls sadly.
The Major harrumphed and shook his head in disbelief. Katie, who always thought the best of everybody said “Perhaps there’s an innocent explanation”.
“Oh, there’s an explanation all right”, replied Dolly, “but it’s not innocent. I saw them with my own eyes, Len and a young woman who could have been his daughter in the car. The car was rocking fit to turn over, and parked off the road like that behind the Common, well …. they weren’t playing chess, that’s for sure. What’s more ……” Her voice trailed away as Katie, seeing Sally, hushed her up. But it was too late. Sally, rooted to the spot for interminable seconds, found her feet and fled back to the sanctuary of home.
Her hand was shaking as she tried to put her key in the lock, and her breath was coming in short gasps. She sank into the chair in the hallway and buried her head in her hands. Could she have imagined the whole conversation, or misheard. Perhaps it was another Sally …. and Len. Not her at all, not her Len. The sobs came slowly at first and then harder, faster … she couldn’t remember the last time she cried for herself, but she knew in that moment that it was true. Several puzzling small things suddenly slotted into place - Len’s insistence that she had better things to do than watch him play in a bowls match, the times he quickly put down his phone, switching it off carefully, even that new aftershave which he seemed devoted to. Devoted to some other woman seemed more likely.
She hardly heard the tapping at the still open door.
“Sally, it’s me, can I come in?” Katie pushed the door a little further open. “I’m so sorry you overheard that. It’s horrible and, and …” She knelt down beside Sally and gave her a hug. Sally sobbed and sobbed.
“I’m ….. such a …… fool” she gulped between heart rending sobs. “It’s obvious now I know. I even know who she is. Her Dad’s the President of the Bowls Club, and yes, she’s young enough to be …..” her voice strangled on his name, “L,l,l, His, daughter”.
She didn’t know how long she and Katie sat there, one racked with grief, and other with concern, when the sound of wheels crunching on the gravel made them jump to their feet, as Len shouted “Hello, darling, where are ….” He stopped in horror and looked from Sally to Katie and back to Sally. His face paled to the colour of putty.
“You know”. It wasn’t a question.
xxx
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