Moving On

CW Mention of death

My New Year's resolutions.

Margery underlined the words, then went over them again with her black biro, as though making the words more dominant would make them harder to refute. She sat at the dining table, with a mat under her writing pad to not scratch the wood. You can't do anything important in a comfortable chair, or in slippers, she thought.

1 Take down all the cards, before twelfth night.

I’m being organised, Margery told herself, not ungrateful. There weren't that many cards, not as many as she'd expected, although expected wasn't quite the right word. She’d learned not to expect anything of anyone, not anymore. Nowadays everyone sends messages on Facebook. Even the W.I.  She shook her head in sorrow. Of course, it saved time, but it wasn't personal. Not like the round-robins she’d hand-written to her friends for so many years. It occurred to her, that there wasn't anyone to share her news with, many of her friends being either dead, senile, or moved to a gated community in southern Spain, and she wasn't spending three pounds on postage. Her husband, Geoff, was always a bit tightfisted, but this time she was on his side. 

Now there was a great-granddaughter to tell her friends about; five weeks old, with a lovely head of raven-black hair and the bluest eyes Margery had ever seen. Xanadu smelled of talcum powder and occasionally of undigested baby formula, but Margery didn't mind; although she struggled to spell the name. She had always been happy to babysit; it was something to fill her time when Geoff went to the club and she loved and spoiled the little ones. They always got on so well, but she wondered if she would get to spend much time with the new baby. She was sure it had been a misunderstanding when she wasn't invited to the baby shower; Geoff wouldn't have minded her going, and she would have got a taxi home, so no one would have to drive her. They all liked a drink, or two. Expectant mums shouldn't drink; Margery tried not to show her disapproval, but she saw the eye-rolling, heard the, 'Oh that's just nan.' There wasn't even a thank you note for the present she sent, although her son said he’d passed it on. ‘She’s busy with the baby,’ he’d said when Margery asked. It was hand-knitted, a pink matinee jacket, just like her daughter's, fifty years before. Her fingers ached for hours when she finished knitting, but it was something to do as she sat at Geoff’s bedside. 

Margery picked up her pen again. This exercise wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be done. She’d promised her son to take the bull, or in her case, life, by the horns and to get on with it.

2 Be positive

Well, that was her son's idea too. What exactly he meant, she wasn't sure. ‘You need to be positive, Mum. Look on the bright side.’ What on Earth was the ‘bright side?’ There had been dark times over the last six months with all the appointments and uncertainty. Christmas had been difficult with so much going on, but she wanted to keep everything as normal as possible for the grandchildren's sake. The family arrived late on the 22nd; traffic they said, and her daughter-in-law, Mandy, was wearing a hat Margery thought inappropriate and reminded her of the saying, ‘red hat, no knickers,’ and she’d given an inadvertent giggle that left her feeling guilty. Sitting in the front of the car on the way to church, she heard them whispering. They're probably wondering if they'll have to visit more often. 

Margery pondered what she might do. She could go out whenever she wanted now if the number forty-seven bus turned up and there was a seat downstairs. Sitting upstairs was out of the question, because the driver would insist on going so fast she almost ran from front to back when he slammed on the brakes. And that man from Wilson Close liked to stand at the bottom of the stairs and look up women's skirts as they climbed to the upper level. She might buy a pair of trousers, that would thwart him. Geoff didn't like her in trousers; he said she had lovely legs and he liked to see them. Well, the man from Wilson Close wasn't getting an eyeful. Now, that's positive action, Margery, well done.

There would be things to look forward to: her birthday in February and a new jumper from Geoff, oh, no, she forgot for a moment, how strange. The family would all be there for dinner on Easter Sunday. Only three months away. They always came, except for the year when she and Geoff had to stay in all the time, and everyone ran out of toilet rolls. Geoff said that was a ‘flash in the pan,’ and they both laughed. They always laughed a lot. 

3 Do something purposeful every day

The first thing would be to take all the excess food out of the fridge. She’d catered for forty people but only twenty-seven turned up and the others hadn't let her know, although the weather had been awful and old people couldn’t be expected to stand around in the rain. But it was thoughtless and wasteful, as most of it was out of date by the 27th, and Geoff would hate that But, I don't have to worry about what Geoff thinks, do I? The family took some home on Boxing Day, but she would freeze the spare sausage rolls for Easter. Momentary doubts lingered: had they been frozen before? Did the chicken vol-au-vents look frivolous, given the circumstances? Would the family still come, just to see her? 

Clearing out wardrobes and taking things to the charity shop on the corner would keep her occupied for several weeks. There was a red suit right at the back of the closet. It had long black lapels, and she could picture Geoff wearing it, his hair slicked back, and his sideburns trimmed like all the other Teddy-boys. She’d taken it out and spread it on the bed; Geoff’s side, then laid down beside it, stroking the fabric and falling asleep with her arm across the jacket, waking at two o’clock with a stiff shoulder.  

Geoff was a handsome and slim young man, and when he’d knocked on the front door he’d handed her a corsage and mumbled something she took to be complimentary. She'd had a cream dress with four net petticoats under it and they’d danced all night at the Roxy, and Bill Turner had tried to chat her up, until Geoff said, ‘She’s my girl, keep your hands off,’ which was as close to a declaration of love as he’d ever got. 

It was too soon to let go. You can do this Marge, she told herself, just not all at once.

4 Meet someone

It shocked her to even think about it and writing it down looked so brazen, she wished she’d used pencil, but it was what Geoff told her to do. ‘When I'm gone love, don't be on your own. There's too many folks on their own.’ She knew that. Her friend Judith used to pop in every Wednesday afternoon for a cup of tea and a natter until Geoff got sick. She thought she was in the way, but I miss our chats. What do I want with another man at my age? Fifty years of shared memories weren't to be put aside lightly. Every picture on the sideboard was a reminder; holidays at the seaside, Geoff, in black and white, leaning against a Ford Capri he'd been so proud of, the two of them, Margery cuddling the new baby while Geoff clasped her hand. Judith would go to bingo with her, she was sure. And she would book in with the chiropodist every third Thursday and the window cleaner never said no to a cup of coffee, although he put his earphones in. It might make him uneasy if she struck up a conversation. And where do you meet someone when you're seventy-six? I don't want to meet someone Geoff, you old bugger, I miss you.

Christmas day was exhausting; trying to make it special still for the grandchildren, her head pounding at the arguments over who watched what on television and which bedroom the youngest grandson slept in; heating leftovers in the microwave and unwrapping presents half-heartedly, Margery was glad when it was over.

The family went home and back to work. That’s it then, is it? The house was empty and quiet, just cardboard reminders on the mantelpiece.

A tear ran unheeded down her cheek and blotted the paper on the dining table. Margery stood and switched off the light. It was time for bed. She’d finish the list and take down the condolence cards in the morning. It was positive and purposeful and she could do it alone, which suited her fine.