Answer Me was published in Chat - Its Fate in November 2004.
Answer Me
"I'm getting rid of the Holly bush," I say.
My daughter Lizzie wrinkles her forehead. She's busying herself arranging a fresh vase of roses on the coffee table.
"What about dad?"
I smile. "I'm sure he'll be happy with whatever I decide."
She shakes her head, "but you always loved that bush. I remember you told me the story about when you two met."
I look out at the garden, at the unsteady curve and dip of the lawn, the bald patches where moss has set up home.
"I know, and that won't change."
"Well I guess it's up to you mum." She sighs, tips her head on one side to examine her handy work. "Do you fancy another cup of tea?"
Tea. That's always been the answer in our house. End an awkward silence; change the wind of complicated conversation by a simple cuppa.
"Yes love. That would be nice."
It was 1953 when I first met Ted. I'd moved to a new estate on the outskirts of the city. I was fifteen and developing fast. All curves and curls my dad used to say. I was quiet, conscientious all the things expected in polite conversation. I don't know why Ted noticed me, this mousy brown eye-d girl with her head stuck in a book. He said it was a challenge to get me to smile. Not that I didn't enjoy smiling, more that I was afraid of saying the wrong thing. I thought boys were some kind of alien species. Ted said it was like talking to a set of traffic lights. Sometimes I would just freeze mid-sentence. Luckily it never put him off. He took to hanging out his bedroom window, playing Frankie Laine's 'Answer Me'. He knew that was my favourite.
I remember our first kiss. I can still feel the warm weighty presence of his lips on mine; the papery brush of freshly shaved chin. It was almost Christmas and we'd been to the pictures. We were just about to turn the corner onto my road when he stopped, fiddled endlessly in his jacket pocket.
"Ta da!" He said, producing a sprig of Holly.
"Now you have to kiss me!"
I grinned. Bless him. Didn't he know it was holly not mistletoe that he dangled above our heads? It didn't matter. I was too far gone to care. My heart swelled and my knees buckled. This was love and I didn't want it to end.
"I'll get John to bring around some of his gardening tools if you're really sure." Lizzie says.
There's a hint of warning to her voice.
"It's okay; I won't try and do anything. I know my limitations."
"Good." She plants a chaste kiss on my cheek, before checking her reflection in the mirror. Always so perfect my Lizzie; I wonder where she gets it from? She waits in the doorway; trying to choose her words carefully.
"You are going to think about the Holly bush aren't you? I mean, I'd hate you to just get rid of it.…."
"Of course," I say stopping her dead. "Don't worry."
She blows another kiss and then she's out of the door.
"So what do you think then?" I ask the empty room.
"The garden's too much for me, and well the Holly bush nice as it is, it just reminds me, and sometimes that's hard." I stop; shake my head, "What am I saying? I don't expect you to answer, not really."
It's getting worse, the pain inside, the space between the silences. Yes, the furniture wraps it up, the rugs and the blankets, the cushions we used when sitting became such an agony for him. Even TV is an interruption of sorts. But no one answers, no one fills the gaps, how could they? Ted is gone. I am that little girl again, head bowed to the world, hiding behind the chores and habits of everyday life.
How I miss our conversations. The way he used to turn everything around and make me laugh at my own misgivings.
The phone rings. Don't you just hate it when someone disrupts your stream of self-pity?
"Hello?"
"Mum it's me."
"I'd never have guessed." I smile.
"You are okay aren't you? I just got home and well I wanted to check. You seemed really distant today."
"I'm fine."
I try to force a happy tone into my voice.
"You really must stop flapping."
"You sound like dad." She pauses, and I can tell she thinks she's said the wrong thing.
"I suppose I do, and that's no bad thing. Your dad always kept me in check."
"I know he did and you must miss him, we all miss him."
I take a breath, "now then dear, is there anything else? Only I promised Eileen next door that I'd pop over for some of her wonderful walnut cake."
I hear the confusion in her voice, she wants to believe me, but knows it's likely to be a tale to get her off the phone.
"Okay then, I'll speak to you tomorrow," she decides.
I hear the click of the receiver and congratulate myself on being such an excellent liar.
The sun has entered the living room when I walk back in. Its crisp post-winter glare dances on the French doors. I can almost smell its freshness. My lungs sigh at the memory of days when taking a deep breath would fill you with a burst of energy and make you feel good the bone. The flowers draw my attention. Lizzie loves roses and always brings me a fresh bloom every Saturday. These are golden yellow and that's what makes me notice it. There, in the centre twisting over the edge, a fat sprig of Holly. That hadn't been there before. I couldn't have missed those bright gleaming berries, the spatulate deep green leaves.
"Ted?" I say. I lift the holly high above my head, twisting it through each finger.
"Now you have to kiss me." I smile.
And it's funny, because I'm sure I feel the soft touch of lips and skin; the smell of youth and age, and a million other memories that make my eyes water. Then comes music just like the notes that would rush from his window when I walked by. Answer me my love.
"So the Holly is staying after all?" Asks Lizzie when she stops by the following week.
"Yes, I've decided. It's good to be reminded of the past."
She nods, "it's like Dad is with us, when I see the holly bush. I remember what it meant to him."
"And me. It means a lot to me too."
She smiles, "it's a family thing. Dad would be proud."
"Yes," I say. "I know he would."
At that moment I feel his arms caress me; a reminder from the spirit world that I am never alone.
THE END
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