40
A New Place
by Kate Aston
T
he doorbell rang. I didn't bother to
hurry to investigate who my visitor
was - I knew. The couple standing
outside my door consisted of my beloved
son and his beautiful, charming wife.
They were both wonderful, but they were
unknowingly taking me away from what I
knew, forcing me into this new world I did
not know, nor want to know, of
computers and technology, even if it was
for a short time. With a sigh I rose and
hobbled to the door. They both instantly
pulled me into a tight embrace, almost
experimenting with my fragility.
After inviting them in and making them
both a steaming cup of tea, I excused
myself to finish the washing up; however
my hands shook with fear, so I
abandoned it to check again that I had
packed everything I both wanted and
needed. Admittedly I did feel a pang of
regret that I wasn't sitting and talking
with them, but part of me couldn't stand
engaging in pointless conversation to pass
the time. I finally had to admit I was
ready, and struggled downstairs, dragging
my heavy suitcase. After my son had
insisted it would be best if he took it and
if his wife helped me along, we managed
to get to the car.
I inhaled one last breath of country air
and stepped into the vehicle. I was being
slightly over-dramatic; after all, I was only
going away for a week, but the last time I
had been to the city was during the war,
that terrible night when we were bombed,
so it was decided my brother and I should
be sent to live in the country. I hadn't
been back since.
My discomfort was not helped by the
interior of their car. I felt the need to
examine the relative beast in which I was
now trapped, so as not to gaze out of the
window, denying myself the opportunity
of one final glance at the scenery which
was now passing in an emerald blur
outside my window.
I must have either got distracted or fallen
asleep, because the next time I looked out
of my window, all I could see was grey.
The sky, the buildings, the ground, the
expressions on people's faces were all a
drab, weak shade of grey. I was probably
just being over-observant, but it seemed
that every passer-by had their eyes trained
on our car, tracking its every move.
"Are you alright Mum?" questioned my
son from the driver's seat. This outburst
shattered the fragile sheet of glass which
had now formed between the front and
rear end of the chassis - it also took me
by surprise.
"Yes, yes! I'm quite alright." I tried my
best to lie effectively and make up an
excuse as to why I was being so subdued,
apart from the fact that I felt as out of
place as a grain of salt in a pepper
grinder. "Just taking in the scenery."
Apparently this was the best I could come
up with.
"OK, OK, you just seemed rather quiet.
Anyway, not long now. The kids are so
excited to see you!" His reply reminded
me of the whole reason I had embarked
on this expedition.
He was right, however, about how far
away we were; almost the next minute
we turned into a spotlessly clean drive,
carpeted with white gravel and lined with
rows of beautiful exotic looking plants and
small trees. The sight which then found
my eyes was even more spectacular
however; rising high above the ground
was what appeared to be a whitewashed
palace, completely out of place against
the charcoal sky, seeming as if it should
be located on a Caribbean island.
"Here we are then, home sweet home,"
my daughter-in-law stated in what I
interpreted as a casual tone.
Two beautiful young children then ran out
of the painted wooden front door. They
were both dressed in fuchsia summer
dresses, which danced playfully in the
light breeze. What I hadn't seen at first
was a short, stumpy lady dressed in
white and black following them in
pursuit. Puffing, she caught up with
them and scolded them - I didn't know or
understand why.
My sturdy leather loafers sank deep into
the gravel, making walking even more
difficult than it would be normally. Finally
I reached the children, after exerting much
more energy than was necessary just from
walking but from also acting as though it
was no different from normal.
I still had no idea as to who the stout
woman was. She now stood with her
face scrunched up as if she had just
sucked on a lemon. I pulled the girls into
a tight embrace, aware that the woman
was staring at me in disgust. My son and
daughter-in-law had unpacked the car
and now came over to join us.
"Elsa, this is Rosie and Milly," he
gestured to the two young girls. "And this
is Maggie our nanny."
Instinctively I wondered why a couple
would need an extra woman to look after
two children. My mother managed
single-handed to raise five children; but I
suppose that the world is not the same
place.
The 3rd form were encouraged to
empathise with a range of characters
and their ways of speaking