Viola's Recalling

She moves slowly these days. Her soft skin folding more loosely now over her old, weakened bones, which creak with every step she takes. 

Harry, still always closeby, is older these days too. But he has aged very well; he has not lost his hair in the same way...perhaps a little bit around his tail. 

He performs his usual feeding time dance. Weaving in and out of her legs, as she shuffles towards the cupboard where the cat food is kept. She laughs every time. It is their little ritual, each morning and each evening, in their little home, just for them.

"Now just you be patient my little man. I am going as fast as I can."

The fire crackles loudly. It warms them enough to distract from the howling winds outside. Another year, another bitter winter. How many would survive this time, she wonders to herself. Viola had always counted herself as one of the lucky ones. She knew nothing else really.

She opens the cupboard door above the sink. There are just a few tins left now. She will need to remind herself to buy some next time. When the storm passes. For now though, there is enough for another few days. The trip can wait.

"Hmm... we only have chicken this evening, Harry."

Harry is sat in his usual spot on the worktop just next to the sink. He frowns back at her.

"Now dear, you can't be too fussy. I know you had chicken for breakfast, but..." she puts her arm back into the cupboard. "Oh well aren't you a lucky boy! Here you are, I’ve found some tuna!"

Harry licks his lips and rises on to all fours. Viola reaches for the tin opener as he brushes up against her arm; a warm furry nudge in the right direction. He is always his most affectionate when she has the tin opener in hand.

But at that moment, the phone starts to ring.

"Hmmm... who could that be?" She puts down the tin opener, which is now attached to the tin of cat food by several small holes pierced through the metal. The smell of tuna seeps through the little crack. 

"Meowwwwwwwwwwww!"

"Oh be patient now dear, you know it takes me a while to get to the phone these days," she says in response to the distressed Harry. "Hold on, hold on, I'm coming!"

She reaches it just in time.

"Hello?"

There is a delayed response, but eventually she hears a man's voice on the other end.

"Hello, umm, is that Viola Limb?" 

"Speaking."

"It's me...Nick."

The line is quite bad, she doesn't recognise the voice at all.

"Nick who dear?" 

"Nicky, grandma."

A great whirlwind takes hold of her stomach. As if the storm outside has raged in through the window and straight into her mouth. She says nothing.

"Grandma, are you there?" he asks.

"Yes. Yes, I am here." She reaches for the armchair next to the phone, and lowers herself into it, trying to catch her breath.

"I know, it's been a while hasn't it. I'm so sorry for that."

"My Nicky? Is it really you? It has been so long, I didn't recognise your voice." Her eyes began to fill with tears. "We didn't even know if you were still alive."

"Yes it's really me. I'm alive, and I'm safe... actually... we're safe."

Viola is in such a state of shock she barely notices as a very hungry Harry digs his claws into her leg. 

"Where are you? Are you OK? Are you eating?"

"We're in the UK. It took us a long time to get here, but we're OK now. We’re OK. Anyway, enough about me, how are you? I have missed you very much you know."

"Oh Nicky, I have missed you too my darling... so very much," she wipes her eyes, before brushing Harry off from her leg. He saunters off in a huff, tail whipping side to side in protest. "What happened? How did you do it? How did you get away?"

"It's a very long story, and it's not important. The point is we are here now. And what a place it is, grandma, you wouldn’t believe it! It’s really so different, so amazing. Life can be difficult, sure, particularly in our circumstances, but it is so much better here. You can’t imagine how they live here, grandma, it's like nothing I could have ever imagined. People are free, people are happy... really happy. No one has to queue for food. No one gets stopped in the street. People matter here."

She closes her eyes and is silent.

"Grandma?"

"I'm here."

"What's wrong?" Even all these miles between them, he can still detect the quiver in her voice.

"There is happiness here too Nicky. And there is love, so much love. You don't know how lucky you were."

"Grandma, you don’t understand.”

“I do understand, I do, Nicky, but…” she is interrupted.

“Grandma, they locked me away. They locked me away damn it! How could you understand?! Do you know what they do to people in those centres? Do you have any idea what they did to me? And for what?! For helping people?! For trying to keep people alive?!"

"You had a good life here, a safe home, a family to come back to.” She is calm in her composure, but her heart is racing as she continues to unpack the pile of heavy words boxed up inside her for all these years. “You don't know what you put us through here, Nick. We were so heartbroken. So very heartbroken. To top it off, they never left us alone, not for a long time afterwards. And your brother. Your poor, innocent brother was so badly beaten, nearly killed even when they realised you had gone. They were convinced he was involved." 

She pauses for breath, expecting him to jump in with more rushed excuses, more angry unburdening, but he is silent for a moment. She can hear his deep, elongated sigh that gathers him back together. 

“I am so sorry. You will never know how sorry I am. But, there was no coming back, you know that. No one comes back from there."

Viola is lost for words. She searches desperately for them, searching deep down into her gut. But her heart has dropped so low that they can’t get passed.

Nick recognises this, so continues cautiously. "How... how is Will?" he says.

"He is fine. He survived. He had to survive. We all had to."

"Grandma, please listen. I will never be able to make up for what I put you through. What I put you all through. Please understand that I had no other option. You know deep down I would never have made it out of there alive. I had to survive too."

"You never even called, Nicky."

"How could I, grandma? You think they were bad when I kept my distance? Imagine how much worse it would have been for you all if they knew we were in contact? I know I put you through a lot. I couldn't risk making it any worse than it already was. Even now this is still risky, but when I heard yesterday of the assassination, I knew I had to take the chance."

There is a loud clash from the kitchen. The sound of metal hitting stone. Viola leans forward in the chair and realises what has happened. Harry has knocked the tinned can off the worktop to the hard floor. Either in an attempt to open it himself, or simply to make a point. She ignores him.

“I do understand,” she says. With the bad line, she can only just make out what sounds to be a baby’s cry on the other end of the phone. “Is that a…?”

“It is, grandma. That’s our little girl, Delilah. She’s just turned two months today actually. Layla and I decided now we were in a good place to start a family, after all these years.”

“Delilah, like your mother, how wonderful!” the angst she has just felt is quickly dissipated at the thought of this little child. Viola is blown away by how much her heart was warmed just at the simplicity of just knowing her. “My first great grandchild,” she adds.

“Did Will… did he never…?”

“No, they never did. He and his wife have had many difficulties over the years.”

“Oh no, I am so sorry to hear that. He always wanted to have a family.”

“They are OK, you don’t need to worry about your brother. They have made a good life. One full of love. They have helped so many of the orphans, bringing them up as if they were their own. They are happy.”

“Good. That is very good,” he says. Viola can hear his smile through the phone. It moves her, and suddenly she finds that she is also smiling now.

“And dad? How is dad?”, he continues. At this question, the sinking feeling in Viola’s stomach reaches up from nowhere, grabbing her smile by each corner of her mouth, dragging it down, further and further. She had hoped this question would never come, but it was inevitable.  

“Oh Nicky, your dad... your dad didn’t make it.”

“What? Why not? What happened to him?”

“There was a very bad accident at the factory. They had all been working for too many hours, everyone was exhausted,” she sighs, saddened by the memory of it. “Your father forgot to check whether the machine was turned off before he went to clean it… it was a bloodbath. They couldn’t help him fast enough. He lost a lot of blood… my darling boy, your darling father, he… he didn’t make it.”

Nick was silent. Viola knew he was still on the line because she could hear her sweet granddaughter in the background chuckling in blissful ignorance of the cruel world around her. Viola wiped her eyes. Seldom did she allow herself to indulge in the memory of her only child, taken from this world far too soon. 

“I feel sick. Poor, poor dad. He didn’t deserve that. Those fucking pigs. Working them all so hard. Greed killed him, grandma, it was greed. How could this happen?!”

“I have been over it many times too, Nicky. But there is no point in being angry anymore, it achieves nothing. And things have become much better around here since then, conditions have really improved.”

“When did this happen?”

“Oh Nicky, this was a long time ago now. Around a year or so after you left, it must have been. Yes, that’s right it was because the cherry blossoms were out again… it was a beautiful spring that year. Goodness, yes, so it must have been 14 years ago now.”

“I know I can’t expect everything to just have stood still, I accept that. I understood at the time what I was giving up, I gave up my right for last goodbyes. But it feels very different now, before I had the comfort of knowing you were all still here. I really took comfort in that. This is very, very surreal. And knowing the tragedy of it all too… I am sorry, I just wish I could have had a way of lightening the load for you all then.” He pauses, before asking, “... is... is there anything else I should know?”

“Oh Nicky, a lot has happened in this time. I’m sure there is much that I need update you on. But I am old now and my memory likes to dance with the details. Now the present, well that is much more important. And what a wonderful present you have!”

“I know grandma, you are right. You are. I am very…”

The line goes dead. 

Viola, realising what has happened, quickly scrambles through the drawer next to the chair for the piece of paper on which her dear Will has scribbled out the instructions for how to dial the last number received. It is a valuable piece of advice with the lines as unreliable as they are in the town. 

She finds it, crumbled inside a notebook. The faded pencil markings become less and less legible each passing day. Obediently she follows the meticulous instructions step by step, dialling the four numbers that promise to reunite her once again with her darling Nicky.

“The last number received is unrecognised. Please return to menu,” says the automated voice.

Of course he would be calling from a private number. He couldn’t risk being traced back. 

Viola sits still in the chair, staring at nothing in particular. She closes her eyes. As she does, she sees him, her beautiful Nicky standing before her. She has not pictured him in a long time. Unchanged by the 15 years that have gone by, exactly as he once was with his thick, dark hair scraped halfway back from his forehead with his orange headband. His favourite colour then and his favourite colour now. 

But there is something that has changed. Now he is holding a swaddle of blankets close to his chest. He has a beaming smile across his face. He walks closer to her, and as he does, it becomes clear what he is holding. Her lovely Delilah, sleeping so peacefully. So blissfully unaware of the troubles her mother and father must have gone through in order for her to be here on this earth. Viola cannot quite make out her face, she never did have a great imagination. Either that, or because deep in her heart of hearts, she knows that the fabricated image of her infant granddaughter, could never do justice to the reality of her perfect face. 

Viola keeps her eyes closed. Resigned to keeping them closed forever so as to reject the heartbreaking fact her Nicky has just slipped away from her again, that little Delilah went from her life as quickly as she came into it. She feels the warmth of Harry’s soft fur brush up against her leg. He is purring loudly. It is the first time in as long as she can remember that she resists the urge to reach out and give him the tickle behind his ear he so desperately craves. Instead, she just sits there with her eyes closed still.  

But she does open them again. Because the phone starts to ring for one last time that night.

She answers immediately, “Hello?”

The line is crackled even more now, but she hears his voice again. This time it is much more frantic. 

“Oh grandma I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. I was so desperate to call you back, but the line had gone completely dead. I was so worried I wouldn’t get a chance to say goodbye to you.”

“Do you have to go now?” she asks, not wanting to know the answer.

“I do. I’m so sorry, I have to go to work now, I am very late, but I had to call you back. I couldn’t not say goodbye to you. Not again.”

Not again.

She really feels the full gravitas of these two words. Of their potential to break her already old and beaten heart. Despite this, she summons her strength to reply to her beloved grandson.

“Thank you, Nicky. That means a lot to me,” she says.

“You mean a lot to me grandma. I am sorry that you might have ever doubted that in these fifteen years.”

She feels the dam behind her eyelids break, and a waterfall of tears bursts through and down her face. She makes no effort this time to wipe them away. She wants to feel their unrelenting trail. Their cold, wet reminder that this is all beyond her control. She has no say in this matter. She cannot change or stop it. Even if she could, she has no right to do so. It is not just her that it would impact. She has been through enough heartache to know that it will pass too. That the only way to cope is to breathe it all in. Feel it all in its entirety. 

It is either that, or be numb to it all, and what good is that really? 

“Goodbye my darling boy,” she says, “you take good care of yourself and your little family ok? I love you very much.”

“I love you too grandma… I will try to call again as soon as I can, I promise.”

And with that, he is gone. Maybe or maybe not for the last time.

She sits for a moment, in the silence that fills the place of Nicky’s voice. She takes a long, deep breath, as she reaches for the stick she keeps next to the chair to hoist herself up.

Harry runs over to her, commencing his little dance once again, more determinedly this time so as not to lose her attention. 

“Sorry little one, I wasn’t expecting that at all,” she says to him. “Goodness look at the time, you were waiting a while!”