Home Improvements

Marion held the tray up high. Every inch of her good tray, as she liked to call it, had to gleam tonight. After close inspection, it seemed, it would pass the test. There were other items on her checklist, no less important, that also needed to be attended to. The roast beef and pickle sandwiches, an old family favourite, rested temporarily on the kitchen counter. Later on, they would have pride of place on the French polished coffee table in the sitting room, along with the freshly baked apple tart. She placed some Colombian coffee, medium strength, into the percolator and switched it on. She had read somewhere in a magazine that one of the tricks of the trade, when house selling, was to greet the prospective buyers with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, as they came through the door. It subconsciously made the buyer want to sign on the dotted line, apparently. But it was not a house that she wanted to sell tonight, but a home. She had promised her son Michael that she would really make an effort this evening.

The coffee, as it brewed, began making a gurgling sound. As she stood in the kitchen, the sunlight that danced off the window, had a hypnotic effect on her and gradually, her two favourite garden shrubs, took on the shape of her husband and eight year old son, who were kicking a ball around on the lawn. They laughed and tousled each other’s hair and did all the rough stuff that fathers and sons do. Michael made an awkward pass and grimaced, as though in pain. He made for the garden bench, and his dad, with a concerned look on his face, lifted Michael's foot onto his knee and examined it as carefully as if it were the most delicate of ornaments. One, that with the slightest pressure, might shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. Some words were exchanged between them and Michael nodded his head in an affirmative. The hair tousling and horse play began again.

A final spurt and splutter from the percolator brought her out of her reverie and she turned from the window with slightly moist eyes. The coffee pot was full. Reaching into the cupboard for the China cups to go on the tray, she thought how proud James would have been, if he had lived to see what a fine young man their son had become .Michael was all she had in the world now, since his father died of a heart attack twenty-two years ago. At thirty two, Michael still had his boyish good lucks and thick dark curls. He had his dad's steel blues eyes. He was now successfully running his own Landscaping business and was soon to marry a wonderful girl, Julie, whom he had met through his best pal, four years before.

She wished they would get a move on, as the time on the kitchen clock showed 4.30. Mrs Roche would arrive before then if they didn't come soon. That would be a nightmare, as Mrs Roche's reputation preceded her. The way Michael had spoken about her over the years, she thought the woman arriving tonight, would be a cross between Margaret Thatcher and Hyacinth Bucket. He also said that Julie's mother was quite a formidable woman, when he first had the pleasure of making her acquaintance, on about his fifth date with Julie. The Roche bark, however, was apparently worse than its bite. Better mind the P's and Q's, all the same.

When everything seemed to be in place she ran upstairs to put on a dress and a new pair of tights. Surveying herself in the mirror she decided she'd go with the pearl earrings Michael and Julie had given her two Christmases ago. A nice touch she thought, considering the night that was in it.
Just as she had secured the back of the earring, she heard the unholy racket of Michael's motorbike coming up the drive. She had begged him time and time again to give up riding the infernal thing, but her pleas had been ignored. Already having lost one man in her life, she didn't want to lose another. What's more, he had Julie riding Pillion on the God forsaken thing. It was hard to imagine how Julie had managed to get that one past her mother, considering the type of woman "the Rocheweiler", as Michael like to call her, supposedly was. Taking a last quick glance at herself in the mirror Marion thought that she actually didn't scrub up too badly for an "oul one." Her hair, though now turning grey at the temples, still had a lustre to it that hadn't dulled much since her young days. She used to be famous for her ebony locks. Her figure was still basically good even with the slight slackening of her stomach muscles. She wouldn't disgrace herself in any case.

As she reached the front door, Michael and Julie had already let themselves in, but lingered there before Closing it. "Don't tell me you've even polished the door knocker mum" Michael said mischievously.
"You know, you're still not too old for a clip round the ear mike" she replied with mock severity. " Hello, Julie love, you’re looking lovely as always."
"Thanks Marion" Julie said, releasing her long auburn hair from under her helmet. "The place is looking lovely. Mum should be here soon, in fact she'll probably show up early. She always likes to make a good impression." "Isn't that right Mike?" She beamed, with a wink in his direction.
The house did look presentable for the most part. Marion was never one for standing on ceremony. She had always been a "take me as you find me type." But she couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering frantically in her stomach, no matter how hard she tried. Inhaling deeply, she tried to ease the tension out of her body on the exhalation that followed. As she repeated it again, and inhaled a third time for good measure, she heard the sound of tyres jarring to a halt on the gravel path, in front of the house. Patting down her dress in an effort to smooth out some non- existent creases she felt the hem cling slightly to her leg. Looking down to fix it in place, she was horrified to find a medium sized ladder in her tights just above the knee. She tried pulling them up slightly higher to hopefully conceal the gaping hole, when the doorbell buzzed suddenly and forced her to abandon her efforts.

Michael went to open the door and Marion stood behind him in expectation. She hoped the look of surprise did not show as standing before her on the porch was a woman who differed completely to that which she had imagined. In her mind's eye, Julie's mother was a tall, imposing woman who carried a stern expression. But the person who stood on the threshold of her house was a small thin woman with a delicate face. She fought the urge to look out further into the garden, just in case this wasn't actually Julie's mother but, maybe another unexpected guest. Her uncertainty vanished in an Instant as Julie made the introductions."Marion, this is my mum, mum this is Marion."An awkward silence followed as Marion waited for this slight little woman to say what her first name was, but this never came.

" Eh, eh, Mrs Roche Please come in. It's so nice to finally meet you. Please let me take your jacket".
She couldn't help noticing the mahogany colour of Mrs Roche's arms as she took the jacket and hung it on the stairs. Not necessarily an attractive look, more the appearance of a person who had been on one too many sun holidays over the years. The sun had taken its toll and left a leathery appearance on her skin. She certainly had no shortage of money for at least two foreign holidays a year or so she had heard. God, this is going to be a long excruciating night, Marion thought through the smile that she had practised pasting onto her face for the last week.

As Michael went to the kitchen to get the tray, Marion took Mrs Roche into the sitting room to take a seat. The visitor sat down gingerly in the armchair by the window and as she did so, a pungent floral smell wafted on the air. For a woman with money to burn, you'd think she'd have better taste in perfume, Marian mused.

"I hope you were able to find the place alright, Marion offered, Michael's directions were accurate, I hope?"

"Well, the taxi driver didn't have a problem with them, Mrs Roche returned.

"Oh, you came in a taxi?"

"Yes I've given up driving the Audi, since most of the driving I did involved travelling to and from the golf club."

"I see, you don't play golf anymore?"

"Not since my back problems started."I find it difficult now standing for long periods."

Just as Marion was about to enquire to which golf club her guest belonged, Michael arrived with the tray. As he set it down on the table Marion was none too pleased to see that there was a significantly less number of sandwiches on the plate than she remembered preparing earlier.

"Michael!" she exclaimed, angling her head towards the sandwich plate. Have you been working your way through those sandwiches behind my back?"

"Sorry mum, I was just ravenous when I came in I couldn't help myself." He replied contritely.

"No harm done, I suppose, he was always like that growing up Mrs Roche, hand permanently in the biscuit jar. Now, tea or Coffee?"

"Would you have green tea by any chance? Dr Carmody in the Beechwood clinic recommends it for my blood pressure." Her diminutive guest returned.

Marion could feel the colour in her cheeks heightening with irritation when she said, "Oh, I'm awfully sorry but were all out of green tea, Julie you didn't tell me your mother drank Green tea, I could have got some specially."

"Oh there's no need, Marion, Julie said, head bowed in embarrassment. Ordinary tea will be just fine, won't it mum?"

"Yes, I daresay it won't kill me, Ordinary tea will be fine."

Michael began to poor the tea for his future mother in law while Marion offered around the sandwiches. When Mrs Roche reached for one, Marian detected a slight hesitation before she picked it up. Dr Carmody has probably warned her off beef as well, she thought. Well if she doesn't like my sandwiches, she'll probably like this even less, Marion considered, with a hint of devilment as she fumbled on the underside of the coffee table and brought out the family photo album. Michael's protestations fell on deaf ears as she opened the front cover, now a little frayed with time. Moving over to sit a little closer to her guest who was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute, Marion turned each page with care and gave a running commentary on every one. There were pictures of her and James on their wedding day. A few pictures of a holiday they took in Spain before Michael came along .Another one of Michael on his second birthday, sitting in his high chair with chocolate cake smeared all over his face. Although the object of this photo exhibition was to have a bit of fun with Mrs Roche and make her squirm, Marion felt a lump rising in her throat. She hadn't looked at these memories for a long time and seeing James staring back at her on the happiest day of their lives was almost too much for her to bear. Not wishing to draw attention to herself she busied herself refilling tea into cups. After a few sips Mrs Roche excused herself and asked to be directed to the bathroom.

"Well this isn't going too badly."Marion said in Julie's direction.

"Oh come on Marion, It's a bloody disaster, I don't know why mum can't just lighten up a bit."

"I'm sure she's just a bit nervous, Julie Love."Replied Marion, not a bit convinced by her own statement. She really hadn't met quite such an uptight person in a long time .Maybe if she had put a few drops of whiskey into Mrs R's tea she might have loosened up a bit. Or maybe not, a whole vat of the stuff probably wouldn't have done the trick.Marion tried over the next five minutes to convince her future daughter in law that everything would be alright and not to worry about her mother's visit. She told Julie that she was not in the least bit offended by her mother's odd behaviour, that in fact it had altogether been quite entertaining evening. "Now go over and put on some music there Julie, and let's lighten the mood a bit. Nothing too racey mind you, we don't want to get your mother too excited." She said playfully.

It was only after uttering this, that she began thinking that her guest had been a little too long in the bathroom.

"I hope your mum's alright, she's been in there quite a while. Maybe I should go and check".

Marion walked across the hall to the bathroom but resisted putting her ear against the door, thinking it was just a tad unseemly to do such a thing. Knocking softly on the door she enquired if Mrs Roche was ok .No answer came .She knocked again a little more forcefully."Mrs Roche, is everything ok, she asked?"

She thought she detected a slight sniffling sound from within. A few seconds more and still no answer. She had started back towards the sitting room when she heard the toilet flushing followed by the sound of a turning key. The moment Mrs Roche walked out Marion instinctively knew that something wasn't right. Her guest's eyes seemed to be trying to hide the remnants of an earlier episode of crying. Michael strode across the hall like a man on a mission, but stopped in his tracks when Marion gave him a "leave this to me" kind of look.

"Michael, Alzheimer's is definitely setting in, I'm after forgetting the cream for the apple tart. Maybe you and Julie could nip round to the shop on the bike and pick some up for me?"

The conspiratorial look that followed left him in no doubt that this was the right course of action.
As the bike rumbled out of the driveway,Marion led her guest, who was looking frailer by the minute, into the kitchen and pointed her towards a kitchen chair. Fumbling at the back of the kitchen cupboard she brought out a bottle of amber coloured liquid."There you go, get that into you, and I don't care what Dr Carmody says."

To her surprise the offer was gratefully accepted. She had hardly handed it over when it was gone. Perhaps some Dutch courage had been administered along with it, as Mrs Roche finally spoke."I'm frightfully embarrassed, please forgive me. Marion gave her a kind look that suggested no forgiveness was necessary.

"The truth is, when you brought out those photo's I was overcome. You have such a lovely home and your son is an absolute credit to you."
"Thank you",Marion smiled back.

"It just brought home to me what I lie I've been living all these years. As you know my husband also died a while back. The children idolized him.I couldn't ever bring myself to tell them the truth."

"The truth?"said Marion uneasily.

"The fact is that for about 6 years before he died he was having an affair with the wife of one of his golfing buddies .Oh, it was an open secret between us .Quite honestly, I enjoyed the lavish lifestyle that came with being married to him. I didn't want to give that up. Despite what everyone thinks of me, I love my children and I never wanted to see them hurt either."
Marion filled up her visitor's glass again, and got one for herself. As the warmth of the amber liquid hit the back of her throat she couldn't help but smile at the bizarre turn this afternoon had taken.
"Will you tell your kids someday?"She asked.

"I will, one day, but certainly not right now. With the wedding coming up, that would be the cruellest thing I could every do."

Marion reached across the table and put her hand on top of the frail woman sitting opposite her. Julie's mother's delicate featured face opened up into a lovely smile. The first one
Marion had seen that day.

"One other thing ,Marion, would you for God's sake call me Alice."

With that Marion began to laugh and Alice joined in with the most unburdened emotion, she had shown in years.