Marmalade or honey was the first
decision of the day, she chose marmalade because the jar was nearly empty and
needed using up, the struggle with arthritic fingers to reach the last blob
compensated for by a feeling of triumph as she spread it on her toast.
The paperboy was late, but
he was usually late now, if he turned up at all, and the luxury of a newspaper
to read over breakfast had joined the ever-growing list of things, that were no
longer to be taken for granted.
But the post arrived early,
her noisy letterbox startling heron the way back from making more tea, and as
she stooped to gather her mail a squeal of brakes followed by a familiar thud on
the door, meant her newspaper had arrived and was no doubt in disarray on the
porch tiles.
She had complained at one
time to Mr Singh on a regular basis and he was always apologetic.
“I do tell them to push the
papers through the letterboxes, Missus. They don’t listen,” he’d say shaking his
head and holding his hands up. As mystified by the youth of today as she was
herself
The boy had long gone of
course by the time she unlocked the door and unlatched the chain, but the state
of the newspaper was the last thing on her mind for once, as she hurried back
into the kitchen clutching two envelopes, one a vivid pink and the other much
larger in cream.
The pink one was from her
cousin Mary and contained a birthday card with the most beautiful tabby cat on
the front.
“Oh look Tom, just like
you,” she said smiling and showing the card to a large brown tabby cat, sitting
in the window by the door. Annie read aloud the writing on the card and the
short note inside, that her cousin had obviously struggled to write, before
standing it in the middle of the table.
The second letter she was
more reluctant to open, and she sat in silence running her fingers backwards and
forwards over the handwritten address, until suddenly, almost too quickly she
opened it with her knife.
She’d never been fond of
roses, much preferring spring flowers, or even wild ones, but the huge red roses
on the card which surrounded the words ‘Happy Birthday Mum,’ forced tears from
her eyes, which she quickly wiped away. Inside her only son’s card there was the
usual cheque, this time for two hundred and fifty pounds, with a scribbled,
‘Busy as always, love you, get a few flowers.’ And she wondered, not for the
first time if he knew her at all, and if he had any idea how many flowers she
could buy for such a huge sum Not that she would but anything but daffodils or
tulips, and the rest would go to one of her charities.
Soon the pots were washed
and the kitchen tidied, there was little housework to do since Millie came in
three times a week.
Tom had been out for his
early morning stroll, come back in, finished his breakfast, and was cleaning
himself on the chair by the radiator, where he’d no doubt stay till lunch
Time for her second decision
of the day, which was to go shopping or manage with what she had in., shopping
being one of the things she refused point blank to let Millie do for her at all.
Annie liked to go out most
days, always patronising the few small businesses on the High Street that were
still going, if she could, but usually ending up like everyone else in
Miggleston’s, supermarket
So studying the special
offers in the local press as usual, she found that Miggleston’s had the only cat
food that Tom would eat on offer. So that decided it.
Locking the door and
checking twice before moving away she set off towards the town centre pulling
her trolley and singing under her breath, soon glad of the good quality raincoat
she’d bought from a local charity shop, as it started to rain.
She reached Miggleston’s and collected
a wire basket, which she rested on top of her trolley lid, and began making her
way slowly along the aisles; she always walked each aisle, despite knowing every
item she was likey to buy and never deviating from her mental list.
Soon there were six tins of
cat food and a small brown loaf in her wire basket, and a medium sized tin of
red salmon and a small carton of full cream in the bottom of her trolley under a
scarf.
She chose Tracey’s till; she
always did if the girl was working because they talked cats, usually taking it
in turns to share their pets latest exploits or complaining about how fussy they
could be with their food
Today, surprising even
herself, Annie mentioned that it was her birthday, and Tracey and the girl on
the next till wished her many happy returns as she secured the lid of her
trolley and headed towards the automatic door, feeling good about things.
Outside she began thinking
about the cat, and how he’d enjoy sharing the salmon, when a voice broke into
her reverie
“Excuse me dear,” it said,
as a hand rested on her shoulder. “Haven’t you forgotten something Will you come
back inside?”
And Annie froze, she’d
always known this was bound to happen one day, gone through what she’d do and
say many times in her mind, but she’d never thought about it happening on her
birthday; no not her birthday surely? And she turned slowly to come face to face
with one of the store detectives; she knew all of the regulars.
Following the woman with the
bright red hair back into the store, Annie’s mind was in turmoil as she realised
she couldn’t do as she’d always intended, she couldn’t simply ask them to get in
touch with her son. He’d ask too many questions, ask where the money he gave her
went to. Besides, she couldn’t shame him like that, not let everyone know She’d
better give a false name…
But walking past the office
and towards Tracey who was holding out a brown umbrella, the store detective
took it and turned back towards Annie, grinning.
“You’d be surprised how many
people forget these, and it’s pouring down with rain outside.”
Oh…thank you,” Annie said
automatically taking the umbrella before realising what she was doing. “But no,
this isn’t mine, sorry I didn’t bring mine today.”
“Oh…no damage done, Tracey
asked me to call you back, she thought it was yours,” the woman said smiling, as
Annie nodded in understanding and waved towards the tills as she made her way
out again So relieved.
It was raining quite hard,
the umbrella would have been handy, but it wasn’t hers and Annie Miggleston was
no thief. The little luxuries she took from the store were different, because
the supermarket belonged to her son and he’d give his mother anything… if she
asked…and some things like Millie the cleaner, even if she didn’t ask…anything
except his time.
Her third decision of the
day was easy, after a special tea with Tom she’d phone her son, not wait for him
to call her and risk being disappointed. No, she’d call him, and tell him how
much she missed seeing him, and she’d also tell him once and for all that she
didn’t like roses, and to forget about flowers altogether in future, and get her
a card with a cat on it, he couldn’t go wrong there.
