Helen - a short story

"I remember when you were around fourteen months old I used to drop you in to playgroup for an hour or two," said Helen. "When I arrived to pick you up I'd come in quietly and you wouldn't see me at first. I'd watch you walking around, nodding seriously because you'd just learned how to, watching the bigger children or playing in the toy car. Then I'd say something to Louise and you'd hear my voice. You'd look up and shout and come running over to me and grab my legs."

"Was I cute?" asked Brian.

"You were the cutest toddler in there! I'd pick you up and squeeze you hard. You'd wrap your arms tight around my neck and kick your little feet and squeeze back."

"What did I say?"

"You couldn't talk, you were one!" said Helen. "You only had a few words. 'Mama mama mama mama' would be the most you could manage. I'd say 'We're going home now, Brian. We're going home in the car.' You'd lean back and pat my cheek. I knew you understood even though you couldn't answer. "

"Already a little genius," said Brian, grinning.

"Indeed. I'd put you down to find the money to pay Louise. You'd think I was going off without you. You'd grab my legs again and scream. I'd root the money out of my pocket quickly, then pick you back up. I'd hug you tight and you'd hug me. All the playgroup ladies would laugh. Louise would say 'He gives great hugs!'...

Helen's voice trailed off. She was wondering how long it was since she'd had a hug. Since around the time John died, she thought. Twenty years then. Twenty-one in May.

She gave herself a mental shake. It was important to stay cheerful. "You'd fall asleep in the car on the way home. I'd have the key in my hand and I'd pick you up and carry you in to your cot. You'd hang on tight, still asleep, your head against my chin. I'd smell your little toddler smells; smeared food and baby shampoo. Your hair was so soft!"

Brian rubbed his bald head ruefully.

"When you woke up I'd give you a drink and a biscuit and you'd play near the window until you saw John's car. Then you'd say 'Dada dada dada' and run to the door. He'd be thrilled to see you there when he came in; he'd pick you up and swing you through the air. He'd play with you while I was getting dinner. I remember the first time he crawled around the floor with you on his back. You kept falling off, first one side and then the other. He'd reach his arm up behind him to catch you. You were shrieking with delight and he was laughing and I was laughing. It was so funny!"

"My recollection is that I was an excellent jockey."

"You were when you got older. If John'd been away for a while, sometimes he and I would have a hug while I was cooking. You'd come running over and throw your arms around our legs. We'd see your eager little face looking up from knee height. John'd reach down and lift you and you'd be in the hug too. Later, when Amelia arrived --"

"I remember Dad used to throw us up in the air and catch us."

"He loved that. My Dad – your Grandpa Jim - used to do it too when I was small. He called it throwing us at the ceiling. He'd throw us up up up and we'd scream and Mum would say 'Oh Jim, be careful!' but she'd be laughing."

"Happy days" said Brian.

"Happy days," said Helen, smiling at him.

#

That night Helen woke herself up in the small hours, laughing.

She'd dreamt that Brian came to visit her again.

"Come on Mum, we're off!" he said. He pushed open the heavy door that was such a stupid door to have in a place like this because no-one over seventy could manage it. Amelia was outside standing beside her car. She smiled at Helen as she always did, but this time she gave her a hug before she helped her into the car.

"We're going home Mum. We're going home in the car," she said.

She was laughing and Brian was laughing and Helen started laughing too and she laughed so much that she woke herself up.

She thought about her dream for a while. It was a lovely dream but so unrealistic. Amelia hadn't room in her one-bedroom apartment to swing a cat let alone an elderly mother. Brian was a pilot; he wasn't at home enough to take care of her. Anyway, no matter where she was on this earth, big comfortable John wouldn't be there. Her Mum and Dad wouldn't be there either.

She realised she was crying and tried to stop. It was important to stay cheerful.

Ruth was doing her rounds when she heard Helen. There'd been a report recently saying people in these places had no-one to talk to. She'd always known that, but since the report she'd made an extra effort to be kind. She had plenty of time to finish her rounds. Anyway she liked Helen, who was funny and good-humoured and rarely complained.

"Are you ok love?" she asked. She pulled up a chair beside Helen's bed and took her hand.

"I want to go home," said Helen.

Ruth thought of Ted on the sofa, reading the sports pages and half-watching the TV. Amy and Nick would be tucked into bed upstairs. She wished she was finishing early.

Helen was still trying to stop crying. Her whole body was rigid with the effort. Ruth could feel Helen's hand clutching hers as she tried to suppress the great racking sob that was growing inside her.

"I want to go home."