The Colour Red

                       The  Colour Red.

Leanne always enjoyed helping her mother in the kitchen as a child. She remembered helping mother to roll out the pastry with her small rolling pin. At four years of age it was all an adventure. Learning new skills her mother had always been patient with Leanne even when she ate the fruit before it went in the pies. A tear came to her eye there were so many happy memories.  There to cherish as if it was yesterday, now a grown-up woman herself she had to come to terms with her loss and move on with her life. Be glad for what her mother had taught her over the years. The love that they had shared together had helped her to become the kind caring person she was.

One of the favourite dish’s Leanne and her mother had prepared together, had been fruit crumble. Leanne always enjoyed mashing up the rich red raspberries for apple and raspberry crumble. Served up special weekends after they had collected the fresh raspberries from one of their many country walks together. How good that crumble had tasted served with the rich milky custard and there was always a slice left for supper the next day. They had been so lucky to live in the country spending many sunny days together. Living in their small rented cottage. Overlooking rich green fields with the odd squirrel clambering through the oak trees overlooking their small neat lawn.

 When the acorns fell from the trees, they were always open suggesting more sunny days. The noise of the hens cackling farm the nearby farm early mornings one may say, better than any alarm clock. Leanne wiped a tear from her eye she must stop tormenting herself like this. Her mother would not want this?

Leanne’s mother worked has a cook during the week. So, weekends were really special going for walks in the country to collect the rich red fruit. There had always been the two of them? Leanne had been told that her father had been killed during the Vietnam war. Her granny Ruth looked after her during the week. When her mother had to go out to work. This had not worried Leanne, as a child she liked having her Granny Ruth around to read her many funny stories. Over the years she had often wondered about her father her mother and Granny Ruth had not said a lot about him only that he had got himself killed during the Vietnam war. She had imagined him with blond hair like herself riding high in the clouds in his plane, before being shot down.

One day she had come home from school and found music playing on the record player and a photograph of a fair-haired gentleman in a magazine lying on the dining room table. Granny had told her the gentle man was known as Billy Fury and that her father had looked like the singer Billie Fury. Wen her mother had come home from work, they had danced together and listened to more of Billy Fury’s music with his deep rich voice. Mother had then said, that she and daddy had not been married long when daddy’s plane had been shot down. That she was a special baby daddy’s last gift to her. After their talk together Leanne did want to upset her mother by keep asking questions about her father. She was doing well at school and hoped to be a ballerina one day.

It had cost her Brenda Louise most of her savings to send her daughter to a private school and pay for ballet lessons. Her mother never complained about the cost. She was so proud to see Leanne perform in class. Leanne remembered wearing her first pure white tutu with satin ballet pumps. She had rewarded her mother by becoming a dance teacher.

When she had met her fiancé Steve who was five years older than Leanne and worked as an account her mother had welcomed Steve with his warm brown eyes, brown hair, and fantastic smile. They had met at a local Disco where Steve did deejay work weekends. Leanne had been surprised when he had asked her friend for her phone number. With so many attractive mini skirted girls Steve had chosen Leanne. The rest was history with a whirl wind romance and engagement party. Her mother looking so proud on the photos standing between the couple, at the engagement party.

  Some months later at Steve and Leanne’s wedding her mother had felt unwell. She had insisted on making Leanne’s going away outfit a fine cream two piece edged with red. Leanne now looked at Brenda Louise lying in the bed at the hospice, she was still a remarkable woman. The best Leanne could do to make her mother feel proud was manicure Brenda Louise’s nails regularly in bright red nail polish. Steve touched Leanne’s shoulder, they had each other. Watching they saw Brenda Louise smile and close her eyes.

   Brenda Louise may have come to the end of her life she had been surrounded by love, of those who cared for her. Knowing that her only daughter had married a good man had meant a lot to her. The wedding preparations had kept her busy. So that she did not think or dwell on her illness. Not wanting to spoil the wedding day for the young couple. Life had not always been easy for Brenda Louise as a single mother in the sixties she had survived to see her daughter through college and marry a fine man.  She would not have wanted things to be different.

   Now Leanne must do her mother proud by taking what life had to offer? Memories of her mother would come and go these would be replaced by new memories over time. Stories to tell her children about their grandmother. Slowly Leanne let Steve led her away from the hospice, after kissing her mother goodbye for the last time. Steve opened the car door for Leanne.