The Old Lady

It was a dream move for Libby. A three bed semi in the suburbs, very low crime rates and a great catchment area for the kids when the time came for them to go to school. Not that they were ready for that yet. Her little twins were only two so they had a while yet before she had to give them up to the system and decide what she wanted to do next. On the day they moved in, I guess you could say she was feeling pretty smug with herself.  life was as close to perfection as she had always imagined. 

The neighbours to the left, were nice. They were pretty much a carbon copy of Libby and her family, young married professionals with a couple of kids in tow, striving to make the best of their lives. They hit it off straight away. Sonja, the wife/mother, came round to introduce herself, Libby invited her in for coffee. That’s where this whole sorry saga began. Sonja felt it was only right for her to warn Libby about her other neighbour.  The old lady, she informed her, who she informed her, thought she owned the street, hated kids, complained incessantly about the noise they made whilst playing, watch out for her, was her parting gift to Libby.

Later that day Libby had her first encounter with the old lady. The twins were in the back garden playing on a trampoline left by the previous owner when she heard them scream. She ran to them immediately, berating herself for leaving them to play on it alone. Outside she found the kids, still on the trampoline but sat in the corner crying, covered in dirt. Taking up the rest of the space were three terracotta plant pots smashed, and their contents strewn everywhere. She grabbed the kids and checked them over to make sure they weren’t harmed. They were ok thank god they were just a little shocked.

That’s when she saw her for the first time, peering over the wall, obviously standing on some unseen object to get a good view. It was obvious by her frame, she was tiny. Libby surveyed her without speaking, the old lady, grey hair tied back in a severe bun, heavy dark glasses too big for her face with lenses so thick she guessed she was as blind as a bat but the hearing aid suggested she didn’t have the hearing of one. If she was honest with herself the old lady gave her the creeps. She looked like a thinly veiled skeleton, covered only in skin so translucent that when the sunlight hit it the only thing visible was  blue veins and bones. Libby was in a trance, lost in her own thoughts and opinions about what was in front of her, she couldn’t stop looking at this specimen of advancing years and decay yet she could think of nothing to say to her. It fell to the old lady to break the silence.

“I told the other lot that it was dangerous putting the trampoline there,” she said.

“What happened?” Libby queried.

“I have had pots on that wall for decades and I am not about to move them now, not for you or anyone else, so, like I told the other lot, if your kids get hurt that is your problem.”

“Did they fall off?” She asked, bringing herself back to the conversation.

“Oh, and you owe me three pots, and I won’t accept the cheap plastic ones either.” She disappeared back behind the wall muttering to herself.

Libby was furious when she went back inside. Those pots could have hurt her children and she felt like she was the one who had been berated. She made a mental note to check for any health and safety regulations pertaining to loose pots on adjoining walls, she was sure there must be some sort of law against it. Furthermore, as much as she wanted to move the trampoline, in fact she had already planned on getting rid of it as it took up too much space, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It felt like backing down and she just couldn’t do it on account of the old lady being so rude. 

Obviously she told Sonja all about it when she popped around to see how she was getting on later that day and she was suitably horrified by the events that had taken place.

“Who the hell does she think she is threatening your kids like that?” Sonja said indignantly

“I know.” Libby purred

“I told you what she is like, I don’t know why her family doesn't just stick her in a home out of the way somewhere so she can’t bother decent families like us anymore.” Sonja continued.

“To be honest I have no idea why she would want to be rattling around in that house on her own. It is obviously better suited to a family, well, more like us.” Libby commented feeling emboldened by Sonja

“She is obviously getting worse, I’ll have to have a word with the other mums in the street to let them know to keep an eye on her before it gets worse.” Sonja added feeling just as egged on by Libby.

By the time her husband got home from work that night Libby had blown the situation well and truly out of proportion. In her version of events the old lady deliberately put those pots there to teach her and her children a lesson.

“I never saw any pots there before.” she protested. “Have you?”

“I can’t really say to be honest, I never really took much notice,” he replied.

“Well I have,” she embellished, a little upset that he wasn’t making the right noises and matching her mood. “And I can tell you for a fact that she put them up there on purpose to scare the kids away and I’m not having it.”

He backed down and agreed with her, mostly because he was tired and hungry but also because they were a team and they always had each other's backs.

Sonja had already set to work at the school gates that afternoon. As she gathered with her fellow mums, she shared the tale of the old lady who they knew all too well and the new arrivals who she could personally vouch for as a wonderful family and one of their own. In Sonja's retelling not only did the old lady put the pots there deliberately and try to intimidate the poor family into moving the trampoline she also put them so close to the edge that they were unstable and were sure they would fall off. 

“Now I’m not saying that she threw the pots over but she did give them a push in the right direction, in my opinion.” Sonja's opinion had weight on that street; she was a mother of all mothers and was always ready to lend a hand or stick her nose into other people’s business, regardless of whether it was asked for or not. So when she told them that the pots missed the children only by millimetres and that their poor frantic mother found them with dirt in their eyes and was worried that they would end up blind, the rest of the gang recoiled in horror.

Ellie from down the street couldn't wait to get home and tell Meghan, whose kids went to a different school on account of them being Catholic. Meghan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The old lady threw terracotta pots at two innocent toddlers for making too much noise on the trampoline, almost knocking them out and blinding them. What kind of person would do something so wicked to innocent children? Something had to be done about her. She was obviously losing her marbles. It wasn’t safe for her to be on her own anymore. One of these days she would do one of the children serious damage. This was a street for families after all, everyone had kids except for her, they wouldn’t let this one old bat ruin the area for everyone else. As they sat in the garden drinking a well earned glass of wine, they continued to muse over the day's events and what should be done about it.

Georgina’s house was next door to Meghan's at the end of the road. She was older than the rest of them and had never been one of the gang. Her kids were teenagers now and although they were in high demand from the rest of the mum’s on the street for their babysitting skills, they had very little contact with each other except to say hello when passing. 

On this occasion however, Georgina couldn’t help but to react to the conversation she had overheard in the garden. She couldn’t imagine what she would have done if her children had been subjected to such an ordeal. She wouldn’t have been responsible for her own actions. Things were obviously worse than they looked at the old lady’s house and she felt duty bound to call the old lady’s son to let him know what had been going on in his absence.

Georgina explained to him that the children were playing on the trampoline minding their own business when the old lady appeared out of nowhere and started yelling at the kids to be quiet. Their mother came out to see what was going on and she was verbally abused by the old lady, the poor mother then ran to get her children and take them inside where they would be safe. The old lady then grabbed the terracotta pots and threw them directly at the children. The mother had to use herself as a human shield to protect the children from the incoming missiles, she must have been injured herself in the process.

“She did what any other mother would.” The old lady’s son remarked.

“The point is, she shouldn’t have to. Something has to be done, don’t you think?”

“Leave it to me.” The old lady’s son sighed. “I know exactly the right person to speak to at work about this.”

The following day the old lady’s son made the call he had been dreading for years now, to social services. He agreed to drive down and meet the social worker at the old lady’s house the following day.

Roy, the social worker in question, was prompt and professional. Although he conceded that the lady was very independent, he could see that she was struggling to maintain her home and that made it a risky environment for her to live in. Her only son lived miles away and very rarely visited except on special occasions such as Easter and Christmas etc. She didn’t go out much, her mobility wasn’t what it used to be and her eyesight was failing as well as her hearing. He struggled to understand how she had managed on her own for so long. He wasn’t sure himself how well she was performing mentally, she was a proud woman who came across as obnoxious and she freely admitted that the kids annoyed her, especially when they came in her front garden or banged balls against the wall etc. she didn’t deny the allegations made against her but he wasn’t sure if she heard or understood what he was saying. He concluded that the best course of action was to take her into residential care for assessment.

The neighbours, all at their front gates, watched as the ambulance pulled up at the end of the street and as its doors opened, the old lady slowly made her way accompanied by her son. He was gentle and kind and this moved the old lady. If the mums had cared to look close enough they would have seen the single teardrop sliding down the side of that well worn face. This was the first act of human kindness she had experienced in a long time. As she passed, she noticed the sea of smug faces almost cheering her out of the street that she had loved for more than six decades. 

It was bumpy navigating the cobbles that she had fought so hard to replace the road that carried the car and its driver who didn’t look that day, hitting her eight year old daughter at speed injuring her fatally. They went to war with the local council to pedestrianise the street, adamant that she would not see another family go through the pain that hers had. The wound in her heart was still as fresh as the day that it had happened. Her husband had urged her to move from this place many times over but she couldn’t bear the thought. All of her memories, good and bad, were wrapped up in the same place and she had always vowed that she would stay there until her dying day. 

She was wrong though. She was being driven out by those who didn’t understand that she was once exactly like them. If they’d bothered to get to know her, they would have known that their children play safely in the street and in the park, thanks to her efforts built in memorial to her dear daughter whose life was cut so cruelly short. She wondered if any of them even took the time to read the plaque on the gate dedicating the area to a little girl named Elisabeth and if they ever wondered who she was and where she was now. 

“You are all very welcome ladies.” She whispered as she climbed into the back of the waiting ambulance with the aid of her son and took one last look at the old place. She knew that she would never return.

After settling his mother, the old lady’s son returned to the street to give the house the once over before the long drive home. He felt obliged to call on the newest members of the community to offer his apologies for his mothers behaviour. He straightened himself up, cleared his throat and rang the doorbell which Libby was prompt in answering. She invited him inside and he was met by what could only be described as an old school mothers meeting.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said uncomfortably, knowing only too that his mother would have been their main topic of conversation. “I’d just like to apologise for what happened to your children.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s not your fault” Libby cooed generously, over the moon that she was having such a conversation in front of an audience of her peers. Inside she could hardly contain the excitement.

“She is in the best place, I am sure she will be well looked after,” she added.

“I just don’t know what got into her, attacking children. I would never have believed in a million years she was capable of such a thing. She was such a valuable member of the community back in the day, she would have done anything for the children of this neighbourhood. After what happened to Elisabeth she was driven to protect other people's kids.” The mum’s looked at each other blankly. They had no idea what he was talking about but felt rude asking them about Elisabeth when it was blatantly obvious that he assumed they knew who she was. He wasn’t finished.

“The final straw came when Georgina told me about the terracotta pots. There is no excuse throwing anything at anyone, let alone a child, but those pots were all she had left of my father. They were his pots. She had moved them from the front garden years ago when the others all got smashed by footballs and the like by the kids being kids. She put them up on the wall at the back out of the way so that they wouldn’t come to any harm. I was going to move them the last time I visited because of the trampoline but the neighbours were moving out and we assumed they would take it with them.” He stopped, drained by the events of the last 24 hours.

The room fell silent. For once the mother’s were speechless. They couldn’t even look at each other as it slowly sunk in what he was saying. Sonja was the first to make her excuses and leave, quickly followed by the others. Libby was left alone with this exhausted man she had never met before in her living room. The shame she felt as she offered him a coffee praying that he would refuse, was almost too much to bear. They both took a seat at the kitchen table and as she blew on the scalding hot cup of liquid she asked him the only question she could think of. Who is Elisabeth? As she sat and listened intently to the story of a heroically strong woman who she had never bothered to give the time of day too, a single tear slid down her smooth well made up face.