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“Muuum! Muuum! Muuum!”
I sit bolt upright in bed, Isaac’s scream dragging me out of a deep sleep. I fight my way out from under the cover, battling my way to get to my son. My eyes focus, far slower than they should in an emergency, and by the time I’ve made it to the top of the stairs, I’ve noticed two clear things. Freddy is in front of me, dragging a T-shirt over his head, and it is daylight.
Ah damn, I’ve overslept again. Isaac’s probably set light to something in the kitchen, and Elliot turned up to collect him for the day while the house is in chaos and I’m lying in bed with my boyfriend.Yes, my boyfriend.
“What is it, Isaac? Freddy calls when he gets down the stairs.
“I need my mum.” Isaac states simply. This gets me moving. I slip down the first five steps in a bid to find out what’s wrong.
“Why can’t I help?” Freddy never backs down from Isaac, ever.
“Believe me, it’s something you don’t want to see.” Isaac tells him knowingly.
"What?” I tightly clutch my robe around me, as my new sexy nightie is not appropriate for my son to witness.
“Nan’s in the garden again.”
My stomach sinks. “How bad is it?”
"It’s pretty bad, Mum.” With despair spreading through my still waking body, I walk into the kitchen and peer through the double glass doors.
Freddy has hung back in the hallway, and I turn to Isaac who has followed me. “Go upstairs with Freddy.” Leaning in, I lower my voice. “Don’t forget to wish him a happy birthday.”
It’s Freddy’s thirty first birthday, and this wasn’t the start I had planned.
Slipping my feet into a pair of wellies by the back door, I wrap my robe even tighter and step out into the crisp November morning.
“Morning, Mum,” I call, as I walk over the wet grass. Totally naked apart from the Wellington boots, she turns to face me. They are Isaac’s boots, and I doubt he will wear them again. She waves a pair of secateurs at me.
“The roses need pruning.”
I nod understandingly. The doctor has told me it’s very important that we take all her trains of thought, no matter how random or erratic, very seriously. “They do, but maybe you should come in for a bite of breakfast first and I’ll find you your coat?”
We also mustn’t point out when she’s made mistakes, such as forgotten to put all her clothes on. She looks up at the sky. “No time, dear. It’s going to rain and your father will be home soon and will want to know why I haven’t done it.”
Now this is the thing. I don’t ever remember my dad questioning her about anything she did. He was always too scared she was going to bite his head off and spit it out with the trash. But now she is obsessed that he is going to find fault with everything she has or hasn’t done.
“I don’t think he will mind; I’ll tell him we were busy.”
“Here he comes now.” She looks worried and so am I considering my dad’s dead and has been for a fair while. Turning, I see Freddy coming out of the house holding the patchwork dressing gown that Mum’s had forever.
Bless him. You’ve just got to love that man.
“Here you go, Barb.” He hands her the gown and then helps her tie it.
“You’re home early from work. I’m sorry I didn’t get the roses done.”
Freddy’s eyes flick over to me, but he’s quick to play along. “Work? I’m about to cook you some breakfast. I haven’t been to work yet. Come on, we can do the roses together later, that will be nice, won’t it?”
Tears spring to my eyes.
“Yes, that will be nice,” says Mum, as she slides her hand through his outstretched arm. Together, they walk back into the house and I trail behind.
By the timeI’ve managed to get Mum upstairs and into some clothes, we are heading more for a birthday brunch, than breakfast. Isaac’s gone. As usual, Elliot is always impeccable with his collection timing, just not so much with his drop offs. I shake the thought away and concentrate on the day ahead. Freddy’s day. I’ve never spent his birthday with him before and I’m determined to make it special.
