It all began with a phone call from my mothers neighbour.
Hello, Sophie, dear.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Jenkins, I replied, rather surprised.
How are you keeping? And how are the little ones? she continued.
Were quite well, thank you, I answered, but a sense of unease was growing inside me.
Hardly likely Mrs. Jenkins would call just to catch up on family news. And, as usual, my instincts were right.
Sophie, when did you last visit your mother?
A wave of guilt washed over me. I sighed heavily. We had lived separately for years now, and ever since my son started school, Id been swept up in the endless cycle of daily chores. Each morning, Id make breakfast for everyone, get the children sorted and off to school, then hurry to work for the day. After work, it was a mad dash around the shops and home again to cook supper, ensure everyone was fed, wash up, and check homework. By evening, I was like a squeezed out lemon, barely able to think about visiting anyone. Then weekends were packed with their own worries cleaning the flat, washing, ironing, squeezing in a bit of rest The honest truth was our visits to Mum had been few and far between.
Its been a while, Mrs. Jenkins, I confessed. Ive meant to pop over, but time just gets away. I was planning on coming by this Saturday…
Havent you noticed anything odd about your mother lately? she asked, tiptoeing about it.
What do you mean? I asked, tension creeping into my voice.
Just, well has she been behaving differently? Acting in an unusual way, perhaps?
No, I tried to sound calm, though a chill ran through me. Nothing strange. Why do you ask?
Oh, Sophie, I hardly know how to say Mrs. Jenkins mumbled, uncertain. Perhaps its none of my business
Whats happened? I nearly shouted down the receiver, dreading what my mind began to imagine.
Your mothers lost her marbles in her old age, the neighbour blurted.
Excuse me? I protested. Whatever gives you that idea?
Shes got herself a man, thats what! Shes courting someone!
I burst out laughing, half with relief. Mums well into her seventies, Mrs. Jenkins hardly the age for wild romances!
Shows what you know, dear, came the indignant reply. Ive seen it with my own eyes. Let me tell you
She barely paused for breath. Just yesterday I bumped into her on the street. She was pelting along, didnt even notice me till I called out. When I stopped her, she said, Sorry, Jean, Im in a hurry need to buy some fish. Do you think I should get cod or pollock? Well, that gave me pause. Margaret, I said, youve never liked fish. And she replied, Ah, but its not for me, its for Basil. He gobbles it up like its the best thing in the world. The way she glowed you understand, dont you?!
I hesitated. Perhaps hes just a friend? I racked my memory for anyone named Basil among my mothers acquaintances, but drew a blank.
No, no, Sophie! Not a chance! A lodger, perhaps? More like a lover, if you ask me, Mrs. Jenkins declared with authority.
And more than that she picked him up on the street! This Basil is living with her, in her flat, can you believe it? What if hes a vagrant, or an ex-convict, or a drunk, or even a madman? You know what things are like in this city anyone could be wandering about
Honestly, the image of my mother dragging some filthy, drunken stranger into her flat left me speechless and Mrs. Jenkins just wouldnt stop.
Thats right! Margaret told me herself! I was walking down the street, she said, and there he was, lying there soaked through, looking pitiful. When he saw me, he lifted his head proudly, straightened himself right up a real gent, you know! I took him home, gave him a good wash, and once hed cleaned up, he was quite the handsome fellow Really, Sophie, Id look into this, if I were you. As soon as possible, too!
Thank you, I forced out, and hung up.
My mind was reeling. I was trembling with nerves, picturing my mum taking in some grimy, soaking wet tramp. Ugh. I waited anxiously for my husband to come home so we could have a family council.
My mums got a lover, I announced, not beating around the bush.
His names Basil, I added, and told him everything Id heard from Mrs. Jenkins.
He stared at me, flabbergasted, then, with a glimmer of hope, said, Who knows what sort of tales that old gossip spins? Have you rung your mum?
No, I admitted.
Well, then, lets give her a ring. Probably nothing to worry about once we clear things up.
In a sort of desperate hope, I dialled Mums number and put her on speaker.
Hello, I began when she answered.
Oh, Sophie! How are you, love?
Mum, I started cautiously, are you alone?
No, she laughed happily, Im with Basil.
My heart sank. It was true, then all of it!
And where did he come from? I asked, voice quivering a little.
Oh, its quite a story My mother sounded as cheerful as ever. I found him on the street, soaking wet and miserable, poor thing. I just couldnt leave him there broke my heart. But now Im not lonely anymore. Its nice to have a chap about the house. You should see what he gets up to always an adventure! she chuckled.
I slumped into my chair, overwhelmed. Could it be? Had my mother finally lost her senses?
Mum, you cant just take someone in off the street, I said, gathering my courage. Anyone could be dangerous. Please, tell him to leave.
Sophie, you should be ashamed! You remember what they say we are responsible for those we tame. Besides, you and the family dont visit as often as you should, and it gets lonely here. Now Ive got a reason to get up in the mornings. I dont feel lonely any longer. Basil is staying, and thats final! She promptly hung up.
My husband jumped up, determined. We cant let this stand! Grab your coat were going to see your mother.
I flapped about the flat in a panic, getting ready. My husband rushed with me around the place.
Your mums too trusting and kind-hearted for her own good. Imagine if this Basil is after her flat or something! I need to size up this Basil myself.
After a frantic drive across town, we parked outside Mums building. My husband grabbed a heavy torch from the car boot and weighed it menacingly in his hand.
Whats that for? I asked, horrified.
Just in case this Basils not keen on leaving, he growled.
No, please less of the violence, I pleaded, picturing an ugly confrontation.
Barely in the door, my husband boomed, Right, where is he?!
In the sitting room, asleep in the armchair, Mum replied, quite perplexed. Whats going on? I wasnt expecting you two
But my husband had already rushed in, and I followed on his heels.
And there, sprawled bold as brass across Mums favourite armchair, was a large ginger tomcat! He looked up at our noisy entrance with glinting green eyes, wrapped his fluffy tail round his paws, and gave a deep, dignified meow.
Meet my Basil, Mum said, entering behind us.
But hes a cat! we exclaimed in unison.
Well yes, a cat, she smiled, eyes crinkling in amusement. What were you expecting?I sank onto the sofa, equal parts relieved and sheepish, while my husband guffawed so hard he had to lean on the mantel for support. Mum just stood there beaming, Basil purring thunderously as he stretched, clearly the king of the castle and knowing it.
Mrs. Jenkins peeked in from the hall, wide-eyed. Is everything all right? she called, craning her neck. Basil regarded her with regal indifference, as if to say, Yes, Madam, it is.
Mum rubbed his ears fondly. Hes not just company, Sophie. Hes family now. Her eyes twinkled at me. Lifes full of surpriseseven in your seventies. Sometimes what we need comes strolling in out of the rain.
The afternoon melted into laughter, tea, and the peculiar comfort of realizing how wildly our imaginations can run away with us, especially when lovebe it for a person or a purring ginger tomfinds its way home.
As we left later, Basil watched us from the window, tail flicking, beside my mums smiling face. I squeezed my husbands hand. Maybe wed visit more often, I thoughtor at least before the next wild rumour raced through the street.
After all, one never knows what happiness the heart, or a stray cat, might bring at any age.
