Mon Sep 01, 2008 11:46 pm by Tiggee

A Short Story - Silence

Silence.
She'd always longed for it. Those hours of quiet that she remembered
from her childhood. An only child and both parents out at work. Things
were done differently in those days though. The key to the front door
was under the mat and she'd let herself in after school, turn on one
bar of the electric fire, get a glass of milk and the biscuit tin and
wait for her mother or father to come home. She would sit in the living
room at the back of the house and look out at the unkempt garden or
read her library book. The clock ticking in the hallway emphasising the
fact that she was alone, but not lonely. No. She was a solitary child,
content with her own company, with the peace, the silence.

How
strange then that life became so noisy? She trained as a primary school
assistant but it was not the way she remembered school. Surely they had
all sat at desks in rows? The desks had lids and you kept everything in
your desk. It was YOUR desk, private, a place to put things. No one
ever opened another person's desk. Everyone worked in exercise books
and there was no noise. Now, in class the children were active all day.
She had to set up the tables in the morning. An art table. An English
table. A maths one, science and they all had to read to the teacher
everyday. The class was organised into groups and they seemed to know
which table they should be on and when. There was always one group that
were
on 'free play' which meant racing around the room, in and out of the
fort, into the kitchen area and round and round the tables. Her
sympathy went out to one little boy who sat in the book corner, quietly
looking at the picture books day after day.

Her husband wasn't a
quiet man either. This had not been noticeable when they had first met.
He had just seemed sociable, joining in with the banter of their mutual
groups of friends. But as the years of their marriage had gone on she
was aware of how draining he could be. He had the ability to be in all
of the rooms at once. Music in one, TV left on in another, shouting
down the phone and to her at the same time. He was large physically and
so was his personality. Everyone loved him, he was always the life and
soul of the party and welcomed everyone into their home.

Their
children adored him and as soon as she heard the key in the door at six
o'clock she knew there would be pandemonium until bedtime. There would
be 'horse-back' rides and cowboy fights; he would be a shark in the
water while they screamed in delight on the 'sofa island' as they tried
to 'swim' to the safety of the 'armchair islands'. Sometimes her head
ached, or her back ached and she would feel tears start into her eyes
for no apparent reason. Everyone loved her too, of course, but she was
the quiet one. No one expected her to join in the fun.

At the
funeral the silence was broken by her daughter's sobbing. The boys
stood side by side, fists clenched against being betrayed into public
grief. She stood next to them, finding her mind wandering from the
service, back through the years to the five of them having days out in
the English countryside or holidays on Welsh beaches. Now the boys
towered over her and her son-in-law gathered her daughter into his arms.

Everyone
came back to the house afterwards and spoke subduedly. It was as if the
noise that she had lived with for so long was slowly leaking out
through the slates on the roof. As people began to drift away there was
just the five of them left: her, her three children and her son in law.
They all offered to stay, of course, but the house wasn't really big
enough since they'd moved. She smiled, reassuring everyone she'd be
fine, she'd be quite ok on her own and something in the way she spoke
must have convinced them and they said their goodbyes.

After
they had gone she sat in the back room. Everything was tidy, they'd
done the clearing up before they went. She looked out into the unkempt
garden and felt the silence settling around her shoulders and filling
up the corners of the rooms. She found herself listening out for the
key in the lock or the familiar shouted greeting. Silence. Her mind
wandered to her eldest son. He would be home now, in the executive
flat, packing for the delayed business trip. Her youngest was already
on
the train back to London. Her daughter and son in law would have
collected the babies and would be busy with tea time, baths and bed
time stories. Her daughter. Surrounded by noise, family, life.

She
sat listening to the silence. Imagining it going on and on down the
years that she had left. The phone rang, splintering the air and she
was astonished to find she'd been weeping. She picked up the receiver.
Her daughter.

"Mum, we're worried about you on your own. Shall I
run over and pick you up? Will you come and stay for a few days? A
week? As long as you like really?"

In the background she could
hear her granddaughters shrieking as their father roared, pretending to
be a bear. She listened to the clock ticking in the hall emphasising
the silence in her house.

"Yes please," she said.
_________________
Tig x

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