Time for a Cuppa!

The Magazine

For all the Family

Have a Cuppa! with Mike

Not long now…

By

Jim McConnell

Not long now; Sarah sat in the front room gazed out the window, “Where are the kids?” “Jack! Where are the kids? Santa will be here soon and the kids are still outside playing, it is time they were in.” Off Jack strolls in his usual unconcerned way, she could never understand why he always took so long to do things? “Jack, life could be over by he time you get around to doing it” Sarah would scorn; it had become her catch phrase. Life would be over before he would get up to answer the phone, before he would make a cup of tea. Was he really all that slow or was it just a guy tactic? Sarah had her doubts. After all there are two things in life women can understand; shopping for nothing at all and babies. And try as she might to imagine it, ‘her’ Jack, at almost six feet tall and built of Iron would never again fit the build of a baby so Sarah gave up trying to figure out what always took him a life time to do anything.

One by one the four kids trotted in; cold and wet from playing in the white dusty, fluffy snow, which had fallen fresh the previous day. The winter sun was weak in terms of the heat it gave off but strong enough to let Sarah see beyond the trees of her garden and way beyond into the distance, right up to the top of the hill were Jack had courted her some years earlier.

Jack worked as a mechanic at the local garage, his fathers business. She knew it was love the instant they met. Sarah was walking past on her way to her grandmothers house, hundreds of times this journey resulted in nothing of note, then like a bolt from the blue Jack was stood there out for a break. Covered from head to toe in black stuff. Carbon, Oil, Dirt, and who knows but he had a sparkle in the way he caught Sarah’s eye, a quiet lad but so tall and strong, how could a girl resist. One word led to another, which led to a sentence and onward to a kiss on the cheek one warm Sunday afternoon, way up there on that hill. Ah, those were the days, with just the closure of her eyes; Sarah could go back there and live it all so clearly all over again and again. Jack was not all that slow in the kissing and squeezing departments of life.

Abigail, Abby to her dad, all of four years old with hair a model would die for and a smile to melt any father’s heart, could barely talk with excitement. “Mum we came in because, because, Andrew, Andy, said it was Christmas Eve and Santa has been seen leaving the southern tip of Greenland, its true mum, it was on the News. Andy said, so it is true!” “That’s right darling, you better get washed and ready for bed, Santa likes little children to be tucked up in their beds before he will leave any gifts.” Sarah played along with the story Andy her eldest had concocted. Quite good, he was going to be a good liar, then again he was almost 14 and quite the young man, need we say more? Men and lies are to be found side by side in any woman’s guide to life and me.

The twins were not so sure about this. “Dad, did you hear about it on the news?” John asked. He was first out on the “big delivery day”. That was how the twins birthday had become known, first out then, and first out with everything ever since. Martin the second twin was much more like his father. He too would listen twice as much as he would talk, the “Big delivery” had come as a surprise to Jack and Sarah both. No ultrasonic nonsense in 1957 to tell them of the fun and games ahead, two babies at the one time. ‘Where on earth are we going to get the money to feed all these kids?’ Sarah had worried so often those early days? “God sends us kids, he will send us money or food to feed them, never worry.” Jack had a soft voice, one Sarah could always find comfort and strength in, he was right of course. Food came, maybe not the quantity or quality Jack would have liked but still, enough. The twins were now 10 and Abby had come along since, still there was enough food for all. ‘People will always need me to fix their cars,’ Jack would add in his usual optimistic way.

Sarah always found it more than a little amusing that she and Jack would pray for people’s cars and lorries to break down. Ford Anglia’s and Popular’s were his favorites, loads of parts available and owners wealthy enough to pay for the repairs. Morris owners, now that was a different kettle, they did not want to pay or would stall. They knew it was only going to be a short time until the car would break down again. Bad payers Jack could do without, but work was work, and he was not the type to turn away a man who needs his van or car to get to work. The buses were not reliable in this part of Ireland, the North was just getting to its feet a country they both loved for no other reason than it was their home and where their hearts were most at home. Besides as Jack would say someone has to live here.

‘Bed!’ God how does he do that? One utterance and like little well behaved puppies they were off up the stairs to bed. Sarah would shout and threaten for half an hour or more to get the same effect when Jack was working late, but all he has to say is “Bed” and that’s it? She may have admired the respect this quiet man installed by his sheer presence with the kids, however there was also a hint of envy, Sarah wished she too could control the children in such a manner.

‘Mummy don’t tuck me too tight, I want to be able to get out quickly once Santa leaves.’ Abby said, as Sarah helped her to bed. This task was best done by “the mother” Jack always came along behind to check all were in place, but “mum” did any tucking that was require, of course Andy and the twins were too much like “men” for that tucking nonsense, but Sarah did it anyway. This had become for her, the only intimate time with her kids, a moment in “time” only a mother needs or understands.

All the children’s gifts set out in four neat little piles on the floor, a bike for Andy, a Doll House for Abby and Cow Boy and Indian outfits with toy guns for the twins. Not much but times were hard and only a little spare for toys maybe 1968 would be a better, more prosperous one, one in which even more Anglia’s and Cortina’s would founder.

In a very short time the house was quiet and still, the crackle of the coal fire breaking the silence, soon it would be time for big Jack to have his moment of intimacy with his wife, Sarah smiled as Jack nodded his head toward the direction of the stairs. “Go you up Jack, I will be along in a few moments, I just want to wait till the fire dies a little”, Sarah said. ‘No bother, but don’t be too long, I will keep your side warm,’ Jack could always quip at the right moment and raise a smile from his young fresh faced wife.

Sarah sat at the same window where earlier she could see the hill, though dark now the stars filled the sky and the world seemed to stand still, She closed her eyes for what seemed an eternity, Sarah… Sarah… Sarah!

A tug on her shoulder, Sarah, are you all right? Her eyes opened slowly but it was day. The sun was bright, what is going on? ‘Jack, is that you Jack?’

‘No Sarah it is me, Dr Hunter. ‘You had dozed off, and the nurse was worried. Do you know where you are? How old are you Sarah?’ No reply just a sad dawning. Sarah you are in Rylands Home, you are 72.

Sarah came back to reality; Jack had died some 25 years previously, when a car lift had failed. Soon after the children all moved to England. She was alone in a home full of people dropping one by one like the ten green bottles song. The snow on the ground outside had reminded her of all those happy Christmas Eve’s. Days that seemed to pass so quickly, life had passed so quickly and now she sat surrounded by strangers, but not for long?

GRANNY! It’s Us! Mum? The hugs, the kisses, the surprise! Her baby Abby now a mother herself, had dragged her husband and family from Hampshire to meet Sarah, their only remaining grandparent, one whom they had only seen in photographs. One word led to another and soon it became clear, too much water had passed below too many bridges for everyone. ‘Mum, Alan and I want you to come live with us, we have more than enough room in our new bungalow, please?’ Abby had not lost her smile. Of Course, come on Abby lets go, don’t be like your father, lets go before our lives are over,’ Sarah said, she could barely see the two grandchildren thro her tears, lets go?

Sarah lived out the rest of her life with Abby, Alan and the kids, even more summers, but more important to Sarah, seven Christmas Eve’s, with Abby. Visits by John, Martin, Andy and their families all help fill her life. Often Sarah would sit and think of her Jack and the times they had each Christmas back in Ireland. Ah… Those were the days!

Jim McConnell

(My first fictional story)

Note: No part of this story can be reproduced in any way without the author's written permission. All rights remain with the author.

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My novels can be seen at

http://www.btinternet.com/~mikeco158/onetear1.htm

http://www.btinternet.com/~mikeco158/cuppa1.htm