YesBut who are they? - Part 2

Continued from yesterday

For YesBut's Image on 28th June 2007, Chewy posted the caption

“We're not the first in line to buy concert tickets, but we're sure to get great seats.”


The photo and caption suggested the following story to me (continued from yesterday) :-


After retiring she took here time to make plans. The first decision was to decide where to live. She finally decided to return to the seaside town where she had attended university. Her few friends thought she was returning there because it was a place where she had been happy, but that was far from the case. She didn’t know why she felt she had to return there, she knew it would bring back painful memories, streets and parks would be peopled by ghosts from her past. But uncharacteristically defying logic she went ahead and sold her house and bought a two bedroom flat in the seaside town. She thought the spare bedroom could be used by friends visiting her.

It was 2005, the television news was dominated by reports of the forthcoming General election. She wasn’t particularly interested, the Conservative Party were incompetent and unelectable while the Labour Party couldn’t be trusted. She had already decided she wouldn’t vote. Party political leaflets pushed through her letter box were dumped unread in her waste bin.

One evening she had just settled down to reading a book when the front door bell rang. “Who could that be?”. She had few visitors, and when she did they would always phone beforehand to check it was convenient to call. When she opened the door she was greeted by the smiling face of a woman canvassing for the Labour Party. Her first reaction was to make an excuse, possibly say she hadn’t registered for a vote. But the woman’s appearance seemed very familiar. Could she possibly be one of her former pupils? Perhaps from the time when she was doing teacher practice, nearly 35 years ago. The woman looked in her mid thirties.

“Good evening, I hope we can rely on you to vote for Labour.”
“Actually I‘m not sure if I’ll bother to vote”.
”Oh you got to vote. Please give me five minutes of your time”.

She felt like having company so she invited her in.

“Before you start trying to convince me to vote for Labour, I must ask which primary school did you go to?”

The visitor was startled by the question, “um St Mary’s, why?”

”Oh I am sorry for asking it’s just your face seems familiar and I thought I might have taught you, but I never taught at St Mary’s”
“Well I must confess when you opened the door, I thought I knew you. Perhaps I‘ve seen you around town”.
“No I don’t think so, I’ve only recently moved back to live here.”
“Oh, you’re originally from here?”
“No I spent four years here in the late sixties at the university.”
“In which case you might have known my mother.”
“What was her name?”
“I don’t know; I should explain, I’m adopted. All I know about my birth mother is she was a student who gave me away at birth”

Now Pat was becoming uneasy, she debated whether to ask the young woman her age, but was fearful she’d say 13th August 1967.

“You’ve never tried to find her?”.
”There was a time when the boys were born, but not since. Now it wouldn’t be right.”
“Not right?”
“My Mom, that’s my adopted Mom has Alzimours, I feel if I asked Dad for more information, I would be betraying Mom.”
“You said boys.”.
“Yes, David and Peter, they’re thirteen. Just before they were born their father did a runner, couldn‘t face up to the responsibility . I was worried about having to bring up twins by myself, but never considered getting rid of them. It was then I wanted to know why my mother got rid of me”.

There was a silence, the thought “let sleeping dogs lie” passed through Pat’s mind.

“Yes well they were different times then. Look its been nice talking to you, but I’m sure you want to carry on with your conversing.”
“Yes, somehow I feel. . . Well relieved that I’ve spoken to you. I know it’s a stupid question, but can I call again?“

Pat was fearful, she was going to places best left far in the past.

“I don’t know . . . you don’t want to hang around an old biddie like me.”
“It’s just, with Mom as she is I can’t talk to her and I so miss our chats.”
“Well ok. Perhaps you could bring the boys for tea one day”.
“How about Saturday?”

That was sooner than Pat had thought, but why not. “Yes, that would be nice”.

An immediate rapport was formed between Pat and the two boys. Like their mother they too had missed the relationship they had with their grandmother; but in Pat, they seemed to have found another. For her part Pat was delighted to have their company. She loved taking them to London for the day, to visit museums and see the sights. They even introduced her to the joys of watching football. Sometimes she would catch herself looking at them and thinking:

“Look at their nose and eyes, the spiting image of my fathers; surely the sons I never had would look like them. Also the grandchildren I never had. How things would have been different; if only my daughter hadn’t been stillborn; or so the midwife had told me. But I swear I saw her move as she was taken away”.