The woman in the window

She’d always liked the house, from as far back as she could recall. End of terrace, with it’s own little front garden, that housed an array of rose bushes that smelled divine to the passer by. It’s location good, set opposite the park, and on quiet road, that saw little passing traffic.

It had first caught her attention, upon one of the first solo walks home from school, after moving up into the juniors. It had been one of those glorious Indian summer September afternoons, when she had paused to look longingly at the park, drawn by the sounds of distant laughter. How she’d longed to cross the road and enter its gates, longed to feel the whiz of air passing by, as she soared high up on a swing. But not in her uniform, and most definitely not in her new, un-scuffed school shoes.

A movement in the upper window caught her eye, and glancing up, she saw an old woman seated there, watching the world float past. She smiled, but doubted the woman saw her, so intent was her gaze upon park opposite. As Kay moved on, she couldn’t help but wonder if the woman also longed to feel herself afloat upon a wooden swing.

The years rolled by, and before Kay knew it, she was walking home, taking the familiar route one last time. It was the last day of term, and after the holidays she would be heading in a different direction, to catch the bus to her new secondary school. As was now her habit she slowed as she approached the house, ready to wave to its occupant. She had never found out the woman’s name, but thought of her as a friend now. As they often greeted one another with a smile and wave of the hand. She’d even made a habit of coming by on a weekend during the winter to clear the woman’s path, although she wasn’t certain that the woman even used it, she seemed to exist entirely within the confinement of the bay window. Only the occasional bar of chocolate, left lying on the doorstep alerted Kay that her effort’s were appreciated. But on this last day of term as she drew closer, she saw a movement in the tiny garden, a stranger, a man. Then came the banging, as he quickly erected a for sale board. Glancing up at the window, Kay was surprised to find it vacant. It seemed on that day, term was not the only thing that had ended.

More years passed, and Kay grew from child to woman. She had long since traded parks with their swings, for nightclubs with dance floors. Her family had long since moved up market to the next town on, and she herself had moved down market to share a tiny bedsit with her best friend. But as she was learning everything came to pass, and even this chapter drew to a close with the acceptance of a proposal, a lavish church wedding, and the excitement of moving into her first flat with the man of her dreams. As career flourished and then halted, as her stomach expanded, and over time Kay forgot about the house. Although she never forgot about the elderly resident and found herself often dropping coins into the Age concern buckets at her local supermarket, eager to do her bit to combat loneliness in the elderly. She even suggested one year, that they invite an old dear to share their Christmas table, to which her normally complacent husband objected, stating that with three under fives at the table, their hands were already full enough.

Nothing can halt the march of time, and what is once new, becomes old and tarnished. The flat that she’d once loved had turned into a battle ground. Now three pre -teens jostled for space at the table to study. Queued with seething frustration outside the one bathroom. And bemoaned that their childhood’s were being blighted by the absence of a dog. She tried to make amends by drawing up rotas, and even bought a cat, but when the cat failed to learn the art of fetch, she threw her hands up in despair and faced the uncomfortable truth that is was time to pack up and move.

For months they searched. With each offering falling short in one way or another. They argued over location, trying to evaluate what was more important, good schools, or an easy commute. They anticipated the horror of parking wars, and neighbours from hell, as they stood outside various properties with brochures in hand. They quickly learnt the art of photo deception, that taken at an angle even the smallest of box rooms could have potential. Disheartened and with Christmas fast approaching they decided to leave it to the Year New. Again the familiar pattern, nothing felt right, nothing matched the idea inside her head. Spring rolled into summer, another school year loomed, and this one would be peppered with exams. Not wishing to uproot their darlings, they gritted their teeth, stuck the bathroom Rota to the door, and settled in for another year of cramped living.

As she cleared away the piles of school books from the kitchen table, Kay dreamt of space, of having a separate dinning room. She dreamt of the kids not crammed into a single room, and berated herself yet again for not producing male offspring. A boy in the mix would have elevated them at least to a three bed property. As it was her girls were doomed to spend their childhoods void of space and sleeping in bunk beds. She wanted more for her children, more for herself if truth be told. They had the mortgage agreed on paper, they just needed to find the perfect house, in their catchment and everything would fall into place. Deciding she couldn’t be bothered to spend her only day off moving round piles of belongings from one surface to another, she gave up and made herself a brew. Settling down with the local paper, she read the local news, then without much hope turned to the property pages. There it was, in the center of the page, a house so familiar to her, yet so unfamiliar as to be barely recognizable.

“What have they done to you” she cried as she took in the wanton neglect. With a shaking hand, she reached for her phone and arranged a viewing. Hours later, standing outside the property with her husband in tow, she studied the house and repeated her cry. Gone were the roses, in fact now gone also was the wall that had once surrounded the house. Gone was the path, she’d cleared snow from to reveal it’s original orange, blue and faded white terracotta Victorian tiles. And in their place lay a bed of cracked in places, concrete. On the wall, a white box that housed the electricity meter looked alien and out of place. Gone was the shiny black wooden door, adorned with its gleaming brass and in its place a cracked white plastic thing, that looked far from secure. But somewhere, beneath all of the neglect, she saw the house, the real house, the house she’d always liked. She glanced upwards, half expecting to see the familiar figure sitting in the window, and felt a stab of disappointment at the greyness of drab nets that now hung there. Like a dirty shroud to the woman who had once been but was no more.

Inside was worse than she’d expected. For one thing it stunk, and she was certain someone had been using it as a urinal. The house had been converted for multiply occupancy, and in some ways reminded her of the bedsit she had once shared with her friend. Each of the rooms was now a contained unit, with everyone sharing the communal kitchen and bathroom. Thinking of the squabbles back home, it hardly surprised Kay that some former impatient tenant had given up and squatted in the hallway. Still as they passed from one sorry room to the next, they could both see that it was nothing that couldn’t be put right. The neglect worked in their favour, as the price was beyond reasonable. Looking out back, to the large overgrown garden, Kay could already envision a nutty Springer, or two, as they tended to come in pairs, bounding around the restored lawn. With a smile, she knew in that moment, she’d found home.

They moved in, mid school year. But it didn’t matter as the girl’s school was only a short bus ride away. When they moaned she simply stated she’d done it, and no harm had come to her. They soon quit moaning and started arguing about who would share and who would have their own room. Her husband always the diplomat, decided it only fair that the eldest who had exams first would have it, besides it was her birth right. And with a promise that once she moved out to Uni the next in line could have her room it was settled. The renovations ran smoothly or as smoothly as these things do. By Christmas they could see the light, and the house was beginning to feel like a home. But it wasn’t until the spring, when Rex and Jasper moved in, tails wagging and slobber flying that it really felt like a home.

Sometimes Kay found herself, standing in the bay window in her bedroom, staring out to the park opposite. She could see why the former resident had chosen the spot, and refused to have any furniture placed there to obstruct the space. She was too busy finishing the house and rebuilding her career as dental hygienist to spend much time there, just the occasional glance to ensure that all was well with the world outside. They’d compromised with the actual outside space, her husband, wanting to leave the concrete as it provided parking space. She saw the sense of this but was nostalgic for what had been. And so they’d met in the middle and created space for rose bushes to flourish once more, and serve the added purpose of hiding the unsightly meter box. They’d even replaced the street door with a brand new shiny black wooden one, that much resembled its original.

Happy and content in her life, Kay hardly noticed the years slipping by. She smiled happily, as they celebrated exam results, university acceptances, and cried as the girls departed one by one. She worked hard and established her own clientèle within several local practices and appreciated the parking space when she finally purchased her own car. She didn’t notice the silver now interspersing her once dark hair, as she had it coiled up elegantly for each of her girls weddings. She didn’t notice the spare ring of flesh around her middle, that her latest grandchild rested against. She cried when Rex and Jasper ran over the rainbow bridge, and even more so when their replacements destroyed her new sofa. The house became a memorial to family living, of past, present and future, all there displayed in silver photo frames, and an assortment of ornaments amassed over time.

She watched her husband step out the door one cold brisk October morning and thought nothing of it. She was still distracted a couple of hours later, when the phone rang to inform her he’d been rushed to the local hospital. She returned with her eldest daughter to the house a few days later, knowing he’d never walk through their door again. Time was starting to catch up with her now. The past seemed more significant than the present and future suddenly unimportant. She retired, saying she wanted to spend more time with the dogs, but that was only half true. She was tired, and really just wanted to be left alone. Christmas passed, a hard one, the girls gathered round her with families of their own. The table was loud and joyous, but her eyes were drawn to the empty seat. Spring came and went, and so did summer. Or sort of, as that September opened in the blaze of an Indian summer. The sun in the afternoon was golden, and she took to the habit of placing a chair in the bay window upstairs and watching as the world floated past. A child, a girl, stopped in front of the house. Her uniform way too big on her, and her shoes so shiny she might have been able to see her reflection in them. The girl was looking away from the house, towards the park, and Kay thought she would bet her last pound on what the girl was thinking. In the distance she could hear the sound of laughter coming from the playground. She could envision the children there, rising up on their swings, flying if oh so briefly. In that moment, she wished she’d cared less about uniforms and swung a little more. In that moment, she knew after all those years what the former woman in the window had been thinking. She wasn’t longing to be on a swing, but longing to rewind time. Longing to relive what had been and wishing she could warn her younger self that time would move all too swiftly.

The girl looked up, and the Kay smiled, lifting a wrinkled hand in greeting. The girl smiled and lifted her hand in return, then carried on down the road. No doubt she’d be back, Kay thought, as she acknowledged that the wheel of life, just kept on turning, regardless of who was sitting in the window looking out.