Mum Katie

Mum Catherine

– What are you sniffling about? Sort yourself out! Its damp enough outside, and now youre making it worse in here!

A large, broad womanalmost as big as a houselowered herself next to me on the bench.

– Sweltering today! And, of course, rain since morning. Feels like a ruddy sauna! It’s only half past twelve and Im already soaked through, could wring myself out!

She pulled a bottle of water from her bag, fussed with the lid, and handed it over.

– Fancy some? I hear water helps you calm down. Not that it ever works for me. I could drink a bucket and it wouldnt make a difference.

I eyed her warily, unsettled by my odd bench companion. What had I done to deserve this, on top of everything else? The endless misfortune and now, her.

Ive never cared much for large people, reallyalways found it hard to understand. How could someone let themselves go like that? Is it really so difficult to do a bit of exercise, stop overeating, and think of others occasionally? It just isnt nice to look at: folds, oversized jumpers, sweat, smells Ugh. I remembered how, at a spa with my mate Lizzie, wed seen a woman of her size bobbing about in the pool.

– Im not swimming with her, girls! And thats me done for today, honestly! Lizzie, tall and tanned as always, stretched her flawless gym-toned arms. All those hours with a personal trainer clearly paid off.

– Why not? We came here to relax.

– With that in the water? Lizzie sneered, glancing over her shoulder. I cant even bring myself to look, let alone get in beside her. Its revolting!

The rest of Lizzies rant Id rather forget. Her words jarred me somewhat, but Ive never been one for false modesty and, deep down, I had to admit I agreed. If you cant be presentable, best stay at home. No two ways about it.

And now, here I was, next to a woman nearly three times larger than the one at the pool. Worse, she didn’t stop talking! I could barely move from the bench, having spent hours there crying at first and then just staring at the wall. I had nowhere else to go other than the station, so I drifted into her world, just listening, when she jolted me back.

– Such a pretty thing! No suitcase, not even a handbag. So where are you off to? Waiting, or nowhere to go?

I glanced away, but curiosity got the better of me and I looked her full in the face.

Her cheeks, round and rosy like in some Victorian painting, beamed at meuntil I suddenly choked on a sob and embarrassingly burst into tears. There was something about her thatwhile hugging memade me feel safe, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I sobbed into her soft, floral-smelling blouse, which quickly became sodden, and realised with surprise I couldn’t detect any sweat or odour, just clean flowers. I wondered if it was her washing powder or if she really did soak her things in herbs, the scent was so strong and delicate. As I pressed my cheek in again, a surge of memory brought me up shortthe exact smell of my mothers hands. I hardly remembered my mum; she died in a car accident when I was five. All I recalled was a small meadow full of wildflowers, my mother weaving a garland and putting it on my head, her hands exactly like this strangers.

– Whats got you so jumpy? Has someone upset you?

I wanted to deny it, but instead, I nodded.

– Theyre real rotters! Picking on a little thing like you! She pulled out a package of sandwiches and a shiny red apple. Here, love! Eat up!

When she unwrapped the food, the smell made my stomach clench in hungerI hadnt eaten for nearly a day and had no money.

– Take this! Chicken ham. I made it myself. Eat up! Youre so thin its frightening!

– I I dont eat meat, I tried, swallowing the saliva painfully as I turned away.

– Nonsense! she said, pressing the sandwich into my hand as if she hadnt heard, and split the apple in two.

– Nothing I murmured, before cramming the sandwich into my mouth and groaning with pleasure.

– Tasty, isnt it? Thats all that matters! The rest is just silliness.

She shifted around to get comfortable, watching me eye the second sandwich hopefully.

– Go on, eat properly! Now, tell mewhats happened for you to be here, alone, with not even a bag or, correct me if Im wrong, a penny to your name?

I nodded, dabbing at fresh tears.

– Hold the tears, love. Tell me your tale and well cry and, God willing, even laugh together after.

I didnt want to speak, but I had little choice. My story wasnt worth much to anyone but it was mine, my only one.

Id left home the night beforerun out, ratherafter my father announced I wasn’t his daughter, that hed soon have his own child. I still couldnt get my head round it. The man whod raised me and who I’d called Dad all my lifewasnt my father at all. Madness. He hadnt once given it away in all those years.

With my stepmum, Carol, Id never got along. Hardly surprisingshe was only a few years older than me. From our first meeting, she pursed her lips and faked a niceness I knew was false.

– Arent you sweet! shed sung, and I knew my quiet life was over.

Little digs, tears, getting Dad on her sideit was all rather like a cheap soap. I was helpless to stop it, really. Id always counted on my dads protection and was too late realising the world had changed, and so had I.

The last straw was when Dad laid out documents in his study and invited me to read them. Only afterwards did he tell me the truthhed adopted me when I was three months old. Who my real dad was, I never learnedhe either didnt know or didnt care to say. And Mum, of course, was gone

Id spent much of the night just staring at the wall, then pulled on my jacket and left the house. I didnt know where to go, but by morning, thought to head to the stationand thats how I ended up on that bench. My phone was dead, and I had no desire to speak to anyone anyway. Id never made true friends, with all the constant moving about, and those I was in touch with now certainly wouldn’t have bothered helping. Their entire outlook seemed summed up by that old cartoon I once caught: Love yourself, to hell with the rest, and youll succeed! Id liked the rebel devil so much, Id even bought a keyring of him, though I lost it ages ago.

The woman listened to me quietly, never interrupting. When I finished, she handed over a pack of tissues.

– Dry your eyes, love.

She dug around in her bag and produced a large purse.

– Listen, dear. Youll have to speak to your dad, but that can wait. Is your phone working?

– Flat.

– Right, then. Here!

She passed me a battered old brick of a mobile.

– Dont look at me like that, I know its not the latest thing. My daughter gave it me. Marvellousbig buttons, good and loud. Call him. Or, at least, text him to say youre alright. He might be a rubbish parent but no need to have him worry more than necessary.

She watched me type out a text, thinking. Then, straightening her blouse, crumpled and damp with my tears, she got up.

– Im Catherine, love. I live out in a village, not far from here. Why dont you come with me? No need for you to be out here all alone, is there?

– Why are you doing this?

– Why not? No such thing as other peoples children. A child should never be left to fend for themselves.

– Im not a child, though

– Arent you just! On your feet now, come on. Got to get you a ticket before the next train or well be here all afternoon.

And so I found myself at Catherines house.

On the way, she said little more, explaining later that she believed in waiting for someone to confide on their own.

– Its no good barging into someones soul. Some want to share, and others arent readyor ever might be. Give them time, and theyll tell you everything.

Exhausted, I slept all the way on the train, waking only when Catherine nudged me:

– Wake up, love, were here.

On the platform, a tall, slim woman came striding over to us, almost knocking Catherine over.

– Mum Catherine! Ive missed two trains! Thought youd never get here. Hows Nina?

– Shes alright. Sorted her and Harry out. Ill check on them in a few days.

– Talked to the doctor?

– Promised hell do all he can young, but knows his stuff.

– Whos this? she eyed me curiously.

– Less questions, Sarah. Were hungry and just arrived.

– Fine, then! Lets get going!

Their battered old Ford was so ridiculous it made me giggle.

– Oi! Thats got custom paintwork! My brother John did it.

– You mean airbrush art, I corrected, studying the doodled cat on the side.

– Whered you find this smart one, Mum Catherine? Sarah opened the door and helped Catherine in.

– At the station.

– Just like me Sarah gave me a closer look. Can you draw?

– Yes, finished art school.

– Johnll love that! Hes never studied, self-taught.

– Really? Your cars as neat as a pros!

– Tell him that yourself. Get in, were off.

– Where to?

– You’ll see.

Sarah drove like a maniac and I squeezed my eyes shut at every bend.

– No need to race, Sarahshes not used to your style, Catherine laughed, nodding at me in the back.

– Oh, shell get used to it! Sarah grinned, halting sharply at the gate of a big house. Here we are!

Looking at the swarm of children running out to greet us, I gaped.

– Theyre all mine, love! Catherine heaved herself out with difficulty. But dont worry, I live on my own. They just like hanging about. My doors always open. Come along, dont be shy.

The children bustled around her, Catherines big hands ruffling their hair.

– My darlings!

Over the next week, I became acquainted with Catherines huge extended family. It took me ages to work out who was related to whom until Sarah brought her youngest round, asking Catherine to watch himthen, while doing her chores, gave me a tour and laid out the family tree.

– Look there, Sarah waved down the street. Three of us live along here: Anna, Michael, Jane, all with kidsthose you saw earlier. Next street, two more: Olivia and Vera. Olivias got two, and we married Vera off last month. On the far end, its me, my lot, my brother John, and Ninathats who Mum went to see. Shes got a son, Harry, with a dodgy heart. Hospital checks, might need surgery.

– Theres so many! Catherines a real heroine, having so many children.

Sarah burst out laughing.

– Oh, she didnt give birth to us. Were all foundlings, you seelike you.

I stumbled.

– Really?

– Long story. Come in!

Sarahs house was snug. On the kitchen table, a fat cat sprawled. Sarah shooed it off and nodded for me to sit.

– Make yourself at home. Ill settle little George and join you.

While waiting, I admired the neat kitchen. Everything in place, lacy curtains at the windows, each blossom hand-embroidered.

– Admiring them? My Vicky made them. Shes my daughter. I did all this sewing when I was expectingwas sent off to hospital for all three. Bored silly, so I embroidered. Vickys with forget-me-nots, Georges with poppies and Lizzies with daisies.

– Your mum taught you?

– Yes! Id never done anything practical before she took me in.

– Took you in?

– Like you! My real parents were hopelesscouldnt look after me. I hardly remember my own childhood. Mum used to say that, if youre in pain long enough, your mind blanks it out. Stops you from losing your head.

– Dissociative amnesia.

– Eh?

– Memory loss. I read a lot about it, wanted to study psychology.

– What stopped you?

– Illness, last two years at school. Had to go private, Dad paid until now. But I cant afford it on my own.

– What sort of illness?

– Back problemshad surgery. Much better now.

– I see. But go on; tell me your story.

– Right. So, as a kid, I got walloped so bad Id be in bed for a week.

– Didnt the council do anything?

– Who cared? Neighbours complained, never helped. I ran away at thirteen. Had nowhere to go but the station. A couple of coins, nothing else. Thats where Mum Catherine found me, took me in.

– Like me

– Exactly. Shes got a knack, finding us. She tried to foster me, couldnt, so adopted me. Then took in John as a babyshe gave everything for him. None of us are her biological children.

– You ever wonder why shes so big?

– Diabetes, love. For years. And a dodgy heart as well. She kept quiet so she could keep taking in kids. Would never have been given responsibility otherwise. Began proper treatment when it got seriousher sisters a doctor. Its complicated, Sarah lowered her voice, so dont mention it to Mum, ok?

I nodded.

– In her youth, she was beautifulloads of suitors. But she wanted to study medicine. Didnt get into university the first go, missed the cut by a whisker, so planned to reapply. Fell in love, married a stranger, and left with him. Whatever happened, she never went into detailsa doctor once found all sorts of old injuries: ribs, fingers. She just muttered, My husband, and left it at that. I later heard from Aunt Mary, her sister, that he did time for what he did to her. She ran from him, came home, cared for her elderly parents, lost them, and was left alone. Her sisters far away. Couldnt have kids after what shed been through. Got ill. Then I showed up, then Anna, the rest. She says she never searched for us, we found her. Shes helped us get homes, paperwork, support. The council knew all about her. If someone wanted to sell a house, they’d go to her first.

– How does she manage for money?

– Smart, arent you? Some help from the stateshes a whiz with legal matters, fought for every penny. But a big chunk comes from Paul.

– Paul?

– Mum found him after Anna. She picked him up off the street, starving, sick, lost. He has difficulties, you knowbit different in the head. Hed been missing over a week when she found him; his own Dad couldnt find him. But Paul clung to Mum, wouldnt let her go. Dad came the next day in a black car, looking like something off the telly. Turns out, hes loadedowns businesses, estates, has lawyers for everything. Paul lives there now, cared for all hours. But he visits, especially when he wants to see Mum Catherine. His dad tried to hire her to work for him, but she couldnt leave us. Now were all friends, and he helps a lot. Brill lawyers, keeps us sorted, and Mum says shes finally got a king, not a princegood and fair like in the fairy tales. He’s got his own reasons, but his help’s made such a difference.

– Its all so much

– Yeah, a mad soap opera! But this is our life, and its all down to Mum. Without her, I dont think any of us would be here.

Sarah glanced at the clock and jumped up.

– Blimey! Im late! John and my husband Simon will be round for lunch.

– I should go

– Not yet. Lay the table for me, then have lunch. Mums out sewing with Anna. No sense you sitting home alone.

For me, it was like a dreamsitting at a crowded table, children, men coming in, joke-kissing Sarah, dodging the dishcloth. Id never eaten at a family table like this. At home, Dad and I rarely matched schedules, and when Carol moved in, Id eat elsewhere or in my room to avoid trouble. Now, I wanted this sort of lifea home, children, people who care. Tears slipped from my eyes into my soup.

– Now, now, I seasoned that already! Sarah hugged me, grabbing a towel. That’s enough, love. Youre home now. Nobodys hurting you.

That was the first day I fully opened up about everything: Mum, Dad, Carolall of it. With each word it felt lighter, as if the pain was draining away. Sarah listened, only interrupting to ask the necessary questions.

– You know what I think? Sarah said at last.

– What?

– Dont blame your dad too much. He raised youcalled you his own. Hes not coping well with joy, thats all. Am I right, he always thought he couldn’t have children of his own?

I nodded.

– So there you are. Now hes over the moon, but not everyone celebrates well. Has he done a paternity test yet?

– How did you know?

– Hes businesslike, that sort, right? They act on what they thinks best and that’s that. Sorry to put it that way.

– But why say not everyone handles joy well?

– Sometimes happiness is so big it tips folks over, they act daft. Made a mess of it.

I learned a lot from the stories: how Nina lost control when her benefactor helped buy her house, why she nearly lost Harry, how Catherine had rescued them both, and even Ninas dog. I heard how family bonds can be forged even where blood isnt involved, and, above all, that love and belonging is not about biology.

Later, when Dad turned up to fetch me, he looked sheepish, not knowing what to say. What I didnt know then was Catherine had found him, spoken at length, and that their conversation had led him here to ask me back home.

– No, Dad, I told him. Ill be alright. I wont get in your way anymore.

– How about I rent you a flat?

– Id appreciate a bit of help getting sorted. I need to transfer my studies and find a job.

– Ill take care of it.

– No, Dad. I will. Time to take responsibility for my own lifelike you always taught me.

He agreed to pay my tuition, and I finished university, becoming one of the citys best child psychologists. My appointments booked weeks in advance. Carol had her baby, a boy, and I was truly happy for them, though we rarely saw much of each other after that. Not out of resentmentjust that my real family, found through Catherine, became much dearer.

When CatherineMum, as I now called herfell ill, I dropped everything and came to care for her. The six months after her stroke were the hardest, and yet somehow the happiest, of my life. All around me were people who wanted me, who accepted me as I was.

The family pulled together and, in time, Catherine began to recover. Shed never walk far, her speech was never quite the same, but the bench John and Simon built for her by the garden gate became her throne. There, shed laugh at the childrens bowing and teasing:

– Hows the throne, Your Majesty? Cup of tea?

The children darted about her, calling:

– Gran, did you see how high I got on the swing? Ed scored his first goal! Hell play for England before you know it!

I only returned to the city once I was sure Catherine was as settled and happy as could beand for my own wedding, she was the first person I invited.

– Mum Catherine, will you be by my side?

– Always, my dear girl, always.

Looking back, those trials gave me my family, my confidence and, above all, a sense of belonging I never knew I could have. The lesson I learned? That sometimes, it’s not blood that makes the strongest family, but kindness, acceptance and love. And I was lucky enough to find all three.