Jane Gilley - The Woman Who Kept Everything

What if that was his plan? They’d never really got on, mother and son, had they? Not really. It’d been much better and easier when Arthur was alive. Clegg had respected Arthur. But since then …

Or maybe that was his plan? To put her in an old people’s home – sitting there, alongside moaning old folk, just like in that Waiting for God programme, and visited even less by her family. They had busy lives; Clegg was always telling her that. And then, eventually, she’d be forgotten …

No, Clegg! Surely not that !

How she used to laugh at that show! But it didn’t seem quite so funny now she might end up in that same situation.

Realisation suddenly dawned that she was nearly eighty. She would eventually become a bind to her son and his family, so it would definitely be something they’d be discussing with her in the not-too-distant future, of that she was sure. It also hit her that they might be contemplating where to put her at this very moment in time, especially with this new problem of her house. Gloria knew she didn’t feel ready for that kind of conversation. She was still able-bodied and, as far as she knew, she wasn’t starting to lose her marbles just yet. And even though she could see she was seventy-nine on the outside, she certainly didn’t feel like an old woman on the inside.

‘You okay, Glor?’ asked Jocelyn in a small, worried voice.

No, Gloria Frensham was not okay. A tear dripped slowly down her cheek. She thanked Jocelyn, with a watery, ‘Yeah but I, I gotta go now. So ta-ra, love. We’ll speak soon.’ And she put the phone down.

She simply couldn’t believe what Jocelyn was suggesting, but Jocelyn wasn’t prone to lying. Yet it really didn’t seem feasible that Clegg would go behind her back and sell her property or get rid of all her belongings, without her knowledge. Would he? Did he really care so little for her feelings? Her mind was buzzing with all the questions, flying around inside her brain.

She desperately hoped that Jocelyn had got it completely wrong.

Gloria slumped onto the stool by the phone in Clegg’s hall, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of Jocelyn’s news. She wiped her tears away, on the back of her sleeve.

She had to think this through.

She didn’t want to jump to the wrong conclusion about her son. Relations between them were strained at best and, anyway, she had to live with him and his wife for the moment. But the more she thought about it she realised that no one had actually mentioned anything to her about her either returning to her own home, after the electrics had been fixed, or staying with them on a more permanent basis. They hadn’t had any meaningful conversations with her about anything relating to her future. Or were things still being decided between them. Maybe that’s what all the pussyfooting around was about?

Right, well, she had to get to grips with this. She had to get things clear in her own mind. She had to look at the facts. Fact One, she thought, taking a deep breath.

Her ruddy, difficult and annoying yet occasionally affable son; the son Arthur and she had tried to guide and love, despite his failings, had now, supposedly, in some wild turn of events decided to get rid of everything she’d ever owned. What? Even her jewellery? And what about all her precious photo albums? Some of her most valuable possessions were what she could see in those albums.

And there was lots of other stuff she really wanted to hold on to. There was Cleggy’s little red three-wheeler tricycle that she’d kept, for starters, and the old Singer sewing machine for stitching Arthur’s work shirts. Oh yes and then there was Cleggy’s little finger paintings he did when he was at school and all those Plasticine models he made. And there was Arthur’s collection of World War I planes and oh, there were lots of things she wanted to keep. Memories were attached to all of them. And memories were all she had left now. No! He couldn’t have! He wouldn’t have done all that, surely?

Would he?

Fact Two …

Jocelyn had said that Clegg had cleared everything else away too. Everything clogging up the rooms. All the crap, as Clegg always called it. Taken away in lorries! Well yes. If Gloria was honest she’d known that, one day, at some point, everything would have to be sorted out and most of it dumped; there’d been a vast amount of rubbish. Even Green’s Nursing Home had given her some new clothes. They’d realised the blouses and skirts they’d found in her wardrobes, once they’d cleared everything out, were damp and would be too small for her now. The dresses Green’s had given her, however, didn’t fit her very well so she wanted to get some new ones when Val could take her.

Probably donated by families of people who died, Gloria thought, jokingly, and then stopped, realising that – oh my God – that could actually have been the truth.

Nonetheless, even though Gloria knew Clegg could be bloody-minded, she didn’t really believe he’d get rid of all her personal belongings and knick-knacks, without telling her about it first. Or perhaps he didn’t realise how important all that stuff was to her? It had been part and parcel of her and Arthur’s life together. So surely he wouldn’t be that inconsiderate, would he?

Fact Three …

By all accounts, Clegg had even got rid of dear Tilsbury, and told him never to come back! Well, how ridiculous! As if Tilsbury would do what her bully of a son told him. But to top it all off she’d also been told that Clegg was getting rid of her house as well now!

Gloria let out a deep sigh. The facts were alarmingly clear. It didn’t look good, whatever Clegg was doing. Plus he’d discussed none of it with her beforehand.

So Jocelyn’s news had been totally shattering – to the extent that Gloria didn’t want to believe it was true. But Gloria had lived with her son long enough to realise that Cleggy was a force to be reckoned with. She knew that much, as his mother. And so, consequently, the facts seemed to stack up against him. Therefore, it was highly probable that Jocelyn’s take on the situation was correct.

Nonetheless, she could see, on the other hand, that she’d never really know what was going on unless she confronted Clegg and Val about her suspicions. And that was something she certainly didn’t want to face or do, right now.

Oh dear.

Why were things starting to go horribly wrong for her? How had her life suddenly turned out like this?

The next day a despondent Gloria paced her bedroom until Clegg and Val went to work. Then she picked up their hall telephone to speak to Tilsbury. Jocelyn had kept her promise and Tilsbury had briefly rung Gloria back yesterday afternoon.

‘Here, Glor, ring me back tomorrow at Jocelyn’s, when the coast’s clear and we can have a proper talk,’ he’d said.

But, today, the last thing she wanted was for either Clegg or Val to come home, unexpectedly, and catch her on the phone to Clegg’s dreaded nemesis, Tilsbury. All hell would break loose if they did. Of that she was sure.

Gloria hesitated before dialling Jocelyn’s number and took a deep breath.

It was such a shame it all had to be like this, tiptoeing around everybody’s personalities, for fear of reprisals, she thought. Why was family life so darned complicated sometimes?

If Adam and Jessie had been home instead of on their extended holiday with their respective friends, everything would’ve been so much better. In fact, staying with her son would’ve been far more bearable if her grandchildren had been home, despite the recent bad news from Jocelyn. Gloria also despised the fact that Clegg and Val seemed to be walking on eggshells around her and always whispering. Too much whispering was going on.