Miriam Miriam Minsky looked at her watch as the train pulled away from Kings Cross Station. She had been told she'd be in Edinburgh by three o'clock that afternoon; that meant a four and a half hour journey lay ahead of her. She could have gone by car, but she hadn't wanted to drive that far, not in the mood she was in, not in the mood she would possibly return in. She sat back in the seat and viewed, impassively, the passing scene out of the window. She wondered what mood her mother would be in when she arrived to visit her at the care home on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Sara would no doubt be there, hovering round, as she did, like some worker bee around its queen. Miriam was not looking forward to the visit; she seldom did. Her mother always seemed to find fault no matter what she said or did. But Sara, her younger sister, seemed to do no wrong, even when she made mistakes or said the wrong thing. She couldn't understand why Sara was the apple of her mother's eye, but when Sara was a child she had nearly died, and since then Marlene had treated her like a Prodigal daughter. - Sara always does it this way, Marlene Marco would say in that voice of her's that grated on Miriam's ear, as much she tried not to let it show. Sara knows how I feel, Marlene would add, with a gesture of her head. Miriam closed her eyes for a few moments and attempted to keep the echo of her mother's voice from her mind, but failed, as it echoed still, making her sigh. Since your father died, I find things hard to come to terms with. I didn't want to come to this place. It wasn't my idea, Marlene would state accusingly. Sara would stand distraught, but it was Miriam that Marlene looked at as she moaned. Miriam opened her eyes and peered out of the window. It seemed to take ages to get out of London. Even as a child she had loathed the place, but her parents didn't seem to mind. Then when her father retired, both of them went to Scotland to live, to be close to Sara who had gone there when she had married Alistair Burns, leaving her behind in London to cope with a then disintegrating marriage with Ashley. That was all over now. She'd moved on since then and, until she'd met Lloyd, had not been lucky with the men she'd been with, either being betrayed or deceived, ill used and occasionally battered. Lloyd was different and she was glad that at least one relationship seemed to be going right. Opening her bag on her lap, she took out a book. Maybe reading will make the journey pass quicker, she mused, letting the book fall open at the page where her marker lay. Even as she read, her mother's voice entered her consciousness. - Everything happens to me. I don't know why I'm here in this place. We had a nice place of our own, Marlene had moaned over the phone when Miriam rang her mother the night before. At least, Miriam mused, I can hold the phone away when it grates too much. But face to face was different; there was no hiding place. And Lloyd, for all his good ways, just didn't understand how her mother got to her. Sara says you've got yourself another man, Marlene had said over the phone sometime back when her husband Hiram was still alive. Hope this one's better than those others, Marlene added acidly. Miriam slammed the book shut. Sighing she put the book back in her bag and glanced around the carriage. As Miriam alighted from the train at Waverly station in Edinburgh, she emitted a sigh of relief. She felt stiff and stale after sitting so long in the carriage and needed, she felt, a chance to freshen up, but, she mused with a sign, it will have to wait, as she spotted her brother-in-law, Alistair waiting for her, seemingly bored, at the far end of the platform. - Train late? Alistair enquired glumly. - Possibly, Miriam replied, they usually are. Alistair reached for her small suitcase and weighted it in his hand. - Staying long? Alistair asked, lifting the suitcase mid-air. - As long as it takes to see mother and Sara, Miriam informed, following Alistair to his car. And Ben and Tamara, of course, she added, visualizing her nephew and niece as she last saw them. The car journey to the care home was traversed in silence and at as high a speed as was legally permitted. Miriam waited for her brother-in-law to comment on something or other, but he said nothing, and so, in silent relief, she too, said nothing. - Miriam, her mother, Marlene, uttered in mock surprise, how good of you to come. The elderly woman walked precariously towards her daughter with one hand on her hip and the other held out in welcome. Miriam had heard and seen it all before: the act, the voice, the tone. She moved towards her mother and took her mother's hand gently in her own. Sara said you might be in today, Marlene informed standing at her daughter's side. But you can't count on these things, she added, looking down at the carpeted floor. I count on nothing these days, not since your father died. And not wanting to be here. Miriam gazed around the room trying to let her mother's words pass over her like gloomy clouds. Sara had to go off for a while, Marlene said, releasing a tone of disappointment, but said she'd be back later. A few seconds of silence came down as the two women made their way across the room to a small light-blue sofa against the far end wall. - I did telephone Sara this morning and said I would definitely be up today, Miriam said as she watched her mother sit down on the sofa hesitantly. Sara obviously never told her, Miriam mused to herself exasperated and piqued, trying not to let it show in her face, but not succeeding, she felt, as her face reddened and her breathing grew tighter. - She never said it was definite, Marlene replied. Said you may come, work permitting, or some such thing, she added pushing her fingers through her greying hair as if tired already from the visit. - How are you settling in now? Miriam asked. She noticed her mother's eyes wander around the room coldly. - It’s hell, here, Marlene countered with rancour. She brought her wrinkled hands together as if beginning to pray, but instead squeezed them so that the knuckles became white and the thin fingers dark-pink like strangled piglets. Never should have come, here, she continued, releasing the hands, letting them lay open on her lap. - It seemed for the best, Miriam suggested. At least, so Sara and Alistair thought, she added quietly. She watched her mother stiffen. - Shouldn’t blame others, Marlene replied with peevishness. She turned and stared at Miriam, her eyes searching, exploring the windows into Miriam's soul. We should always reap what we sow. Miriam lowered her head and studied the pale-blue carpet. It seemed pointless to counter, to let fall the truth again. - Whatever, Mum. You're here now and you'll have to make the best of it; unless Sara and Alistair can come up with an answer. She let the words float awhile like caged birds set loose after years of capture. Marlene sighed deeply and rose up slowly from the sofa, but sat down again. - Always was the way with you, Miriam, Marlene informed. Always let others take the load and responsibility, she adjoined. The room became soundless. A chill set itself between the two women and motionless they sat like two statues chiselled by Rodin. Why she had invited them all out to dinner that evening to a restaurant suggested by Alistair, Miriam couldn't fathom, unless it was some kind of veiled masochism, she mused, sitting next to Sara and opposite her mother and Alistair. Her mother's features seemed set in stone at that moment, and her eyes avoided her eldest daughter by studying the table and brushing her fingers across the cloth. - How’s that book you're writing coming along? Alistair enquired rending the silence. Mary, Queen of Scots, isn't it? - Yes, Miriam replied, the book's coming along fine. She never revealed to them that the book was complete and awaiting the publisher's final proofs, out of modesty. - Is it true that it took three blows of the axe to separate Mary's head from her body? Alistair asked casually. Miriam nodded. - Yes, so it's recorded, she replied. Sara looked across at her husband frowning. Marlene still gazed at the table. - And is it true, that her lips still moved fifteen minutes afterwards? Alistair said with a sly smile, staring at Miriam. - Alistair, Sara interrupted, it’s not a subject to talk about just before dinner. Alistair glared at his wife and then turned his eyes back to Miriam. Miriam looked at Sara and Alistair in turn. Marlene lifted her eyes from the table and sighed. - Who’s looking after Ben and Tamara? Marlene asked. - Babysitter, Alistair replied. - Should have brought them along, Marlene suggested. Children add excitement to family gatherings. She looked at Miriam, then added, Don’t see much of them as it is. Sara moved uncomfortably in her chair and looked downwards at the tablecloth and contents. No one wants to know you when you get old, Marlene continued, her voice almost like white noise. - You should visit Holyroodhouse, while you're here, Alistair interjected as if his mother-in-law's voice hadn't spoken. Full of Mary, Queen of Scots history. And the Castle too, he adjoined smiling as if a lewd suggestion had been made. - Can we forget about bloody Queens and things for the night, Sara interrupted timidly, avoiding her husband's eyes, gazing at her mother opposite who was studying Alistair coolly. - What would suggest, Sara? Something on your level? Alistair countered coldly. They all became silent as a waiter approached the table. Each gave, after much thought, their order, and, nodding, smiling, the waiter went off to leave the four of them contemplating awhile in silence. Sara looked at her mother fretfully. Alistair stared at his wife with contemptuous darkness in his eyes. Miriam, examining indifferently her brother-in-law's features, wondered what had attracted Sara to this boorish Scot some years back. Marlene picked up her cutlery and scrutinized each in turn for cleanliness, wishing that Hiram was there, and angry inside because he wasn't. - Your Father would not have come here, Marlene stated suddenly as if inspired. Look at this knife; how is one meant to cut with this kind of thing? Miriam took an intake of breath, but said nothing. Alistair raised his eyebrows, then lowered them into a frown, but did not reply. - Maybe somewhere else may have been better, Sara suggested quietly. But no one replied and her words fell on stony ground. - Some of the best people come here, Alistair said eventually. Marlene sniffed and gazed at Sara. Sara smiled meekly at her mother like a child fearing it might be punished. I come here frequently, he added. Miriam studied each one in turn as Alistair spoke, then interjected: - Dad wasn't a snob. He would have accepted anywhere out of good manners and out of a sense of love. - And I don't? Marlene said. Sara moved nervously in her chair. Her hands clutched each other tightly under the table anxiously. - Never mentioned you, Miriam replied softly. I just said Dad would have been here tonight no matter what. Sara's hands clutched tighter still. - I’m sure he's here in spirit, Sara said, shyly. None of the others commented on this statement and it too fell on stony ground. Sara looked over at Alistair and her eyes almost pleaded for him to speak and break the silence. - You seem to have lost your usual talent for small talk, Sara, Alistair remarked cruelly. Sara smiled weakly. Marlene sighed again. Miriam, breaking her usual habit of avoiding small talk, asked about the children's school work; this led on to other matters, and before long the conversation was keeping the silence at bay, although it lingered on the periphery of the conversation awaiting it's chance to return. Sara was in her element. Marlene opened up and her iciness thawed a little allowing her even to smile. Alistair made the odd comment, but inwardly felt it all beneath him, and mostly he just stared and looked bored. Miriam, hoping to avoid any more silences, joined in when and where she could, but still felt, even though she made conversation, like an outsider looking in. - What will you write about once your book is finished? Alistair asked in a pause in the small talk, studying Miriam. - I’ve not thought about it, Miriam replied, not revealing her plans for a book on Queen Elizabeth I, out of reserve. Maybe on the exploitation of women, she said with a smile. Alistair laughed. - Why not the folly of women? he suggested. Sara shifted on her chair. Marlene glared. Miriam masked her irritation with a thin smile. I count on the fingers of one hand the wise women of history, he added, staring at his wife. - I’m surprised you can count at all, Marlene said frostily. Alistair raised his brows as if to comment, but let them fall in a mute chill. Sara felt her stomach churn. She looked at Miriam beside her nervously, then, feeling weakness invade her, gazed at her mother. Silence, seeing its chance, returned and settled down to dine. The evening dragged on with only the odd comment interrupting the silence until all had finished their meal. Alistair drove his mother-in-law back to the care home. Sara and Miriam sat in the back of the car drained by the evening. Marlene seemed subdued like Cinderella after the ball, and except for the odd monosyllabic reply, sat stiffly at the front. In her room Marlene did her best to delay her guest's departure, but Alistair insisted they must leave as the babysitter would be waiting. Sara concurred with her husband from fear, but her eyes betrayed her. - I’ll stay awhile, Miriam stated, I’ll get a taxi when I need to leave. Alistair nodded. but made no comment. Sara said her goodbyes like a schoolgirl leaving for boarding school with tears in her eyes. Once they had gone, silence momentarily entered the room. Marlene sat in her armchair with a sigh. - You didn't have to stay, Marlene said. I don't want people feeling sorry for me because I'm all alone here. - Would you rather I went? Miriam asked. - No, Marlene replied. Just don't want you staying for the wrong reasons. Miriam sat on the sofa and studied her mother for a few moments. Her mother looked old and tired, and for the first time in years felt the need for her mother's love to show. But her mother looked down at the carpet in contemplation, her hands together as if she were praying. Minutes passed. A sense of unease filled Miriam's mind and she rose to leave. - Don’t go just yet, Marlene said, lifting her eyes from the carpet. She stood, and walking slowly to the sofa, placed her wrinkled hand on her daughter's head. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, Marlene whispered. Her voice filled the room like a gentle, long awaited, benediction.
Copyright © 2000 Terry Collett |