A mother's love

She'd waited for this moment for months. Once she'd made up her mind to do it, it was only a matter of waiting until the right opportunity arose. Tonight, on this dark, miserable November's evening, that time had come. Her husband had left a few hours earlier, on one of his business trips. She knew full well what his business trips entailed. He'd no doubt be drinking whiskey until he all but fell over, before visiting a 24 hour massage parlour. She shuddered at the thought of him sliding his sweaty body all over some poor Romanian teenage girl who'd come to England to start a new life, only to find herself working in a back-street brothel in Birmingham. She'd never trusted the good-for-nothing prick anyway, but her suspicions had been confirmed one evening when she'd eavesdropped on him, as he drunkenly chatted on the phone to his equally despicable mate Colin. Oh, how he'd bragged about the age of his latest conquest. "She was younger than our Lil," he'd told Colin, in reference to their only daughter. She could hear Colin's laughter coming back at him from the other side of the phone. He loved Colin more than her, that was for sure. It wouldn't come as a surprise if she came home from work one day and caught them sucking each other's dicks. Well, he could have him, as long as he kept away from her she was happy.

There were odd occasions that he'd forced himself upon her over the past decade, when he'd been so drunk that he'd not recognised her non-response. She'd laid so motionless, that he may as well have been fucking the mattress. Whilst he'd squirmed around on top of her, grunting like a warthog, his jowls slapping against his chest. She'd willed him to ejaculate, as he'd push his three inch pud inside her. But his whiskey consumption would unfortunately prevent him from finishing early, or finishing at all for that matter. If she was lucky his grunts of pleasure would be replaced by his disgusting snoring. Then she'd have to struggle to slide her arthritic body from under his twenty stone frame. How he'd laughed and made jibes about her arthritic hands, "look kids your mum is a spaz," he'd tell them. "She's useless - just look at her, she's no good for anything. She was once Cinderella, now she's one of the ugly sisters." As much his words hurt her, nothing hurt as much as when their son Kevin laughed along with his dad. He didn't mean it, she knew that, he'd been diagnosed with autism at a young age. He'd just wanted his dad to love him, so he'd learned to laugh along with his cruel comments - in order to get his dad's praise. "That's my boy Kevin," he'd say as he pat him on the back. The sound of his dad's voice as he praised him made Kevin's face beam with joy. It was if her husband was thrusting a knife into her back, and then giving it one final twist. Of course, she knew, that he knew that Kevin was the only one that she really loved. I mean, she loved Lilly too, but she could fend for herself, whereas Kevin needed her help. If she wasn't there for him nobody would be. Well that was, until that fateful day!

She knew that she shouldn't have let him go to the party, but she'd just wanted him to feel normal. At school he'd been bullied by his peers, and when he came home he'd be bullied by his dad. It broke her heart. So when he'd asked her if he could go to his friend's party, she'd felt pressured into it. She'd didn't really trust Kevin's friends, but maybe she was wrong. John Isherwood seemed like a nice lad, and Kevin looked up to him. If only she'd followed her first instinct Kevin would still be around today, and there would be no need for her to visit the loft this evening. Over the past six months since that fateful night she'd relived the last moments that they'd spent together, over, and over again. The way he'd hugged her for what lasted like an eternity, the fresh smell of his hair that he'd just washed, and the smell of his Kouros aftershave that he'd doused himself in before he'd left the house. She'd bought him the bottle for Christmas two years ago, but he never went out, so this was the first time he'd used it. 'Oh, Jesus Christ, God rest his soul' - how could this have happened to someone that she loved, and cared for so much?

As he'd walked down the garden path, she'd mouthed "I love you!" to him. She'd been careful not to say it out loud, because she knew it embarrassed him, and he wouldn't be able to respond. But how she'd longed for him turn around and repeat those three words to her. As he'd opened the garden gate, he'd turned back to give her one last wave, and then he was gone. The untrimmed privet hedge shielding him from view as he'd made his way down Mannering Avenue. She'd been asking her husband to trim the hedge for years, yet another reason to despise him. She'd stood outside for a good ten minutes after Kevin had left, only going back into the house when the smell of her son's Kouros had ceased to linger in the warm May air.

That evening she hadn't settled properly, her feelings of unease had led to an acceleration in her drinking. Within half an hour her first bottle of Merlot was gone, and she'd fumbled in the living room cupboard for another. Her husband had scowled at her as the the cork had popped out of the bottle. "Don't you think, you've had enough? You know how stupid you become when you've had too much!"he'd spat at her with venom.  Before muttering under his breath,"And you weren't that bright to start with." No more words had been exchanged as they'd sat and watched Casualty. Fuck, she hated their Saturday night routine, it did little to take her mind off her son's welfare.

At some point in the evening the wine had got the better of her, and she'd fallen into a drunken slumber. Only to awake with a start at 2.07 am, waves of severe pain pulsing through her body. She knew full well that wine made her arthritis flare, but the few hours of pleasure and relief it gave her, almost made the pain worthwhile. It had taken her the best part of twenty minutes to get herself to bed that night, her swollen ankles, knees, and hands not lending themselves to any fast movements. Her gnarled fingers were barely able to grip the hand-rail as she'd willed herself up the stairs. Once she'd reached the bedroom, she had wondered to herself why she'd even bothered. Her husband's  hideous snoring had hit her full in the face like a wall of sound.

It was as she was struggling to fall back to sleep that her worst nightmares had become a reality. That sound that she'd dreaded since her son was old enough to leave her side. The shrill ring of the downstairs phone, as it competed with her husband's snores to pollute the stillness of the night. Her body which only seconds earlier had been enshrouded in pain, was now consumed in fear.

Kevin's death had been recorded as accidental. He'd fallen from a 2nd floor window, and landed on his head. Toxicology reports had shown that he had high levels of alcohol in his system, as well as traces of marijuana, amphetamine and MDMA . To her knowledge he'd never even drunk alcohol before, let alone done drugs. At first the police enquiries had been met by a wall of silence, but eventually the truth had come out. Kevin had been encouraged to drink by those around him. He'd been cajoled into playing party drinking games, been given marijuana blowback by some of the girls, and most likely been spiked with a cocktail of amphetamine, and MDMA - although this was never proven. The only thing she was sure about was that her son was dead, and her own life had consesequently ended.

From the moment that she'd got the call she'd gone into a state of shock, which had lasted for months. Something in her had changed. Her sadness had hit a new low. She'd not been happy for years, not since she'd been forced into marriage that was for sure. Getting pregnant out of wedlock was not something that you did in 1965. By the time their daughter was born, she'd been married for three months, and the resentment had already started to build. Mainly her hatred was directed at her husband, but sometimes she'd harboured a distaste for Lilly too. What if she hadn't have met him? What if she hadn't have got pregnant? Life had been so much easier back then. Weekends away in the Isle of Man with the girls, holidays in Italy, and big nights out down the Nelson Imp. If only she's met somebody else, somebody nice, somebody less controlling, or at least somebody she fancied. Not that fat lump that she had to sleep next to every night, and who tried to control every aspect of her life.

Three years later when Kevin came along, she'd been ready for it. Something to give her hope, someone to direct her love at. When he'd been diagnosed with autism there was a small part of her that felt happy about it. Maybe he'd need her more, maybe he'd love her for longer than a normal kid. She'd hated herself for having these thoughts, and tried hard to erase them from her mind. But every time she saw her son, reaching out and needing her, she felt that her life was worthwhile'. But now he was gone! What was the point in carrying on? She just wanted to feel his love one more time, to touch him, to smell him, to embrace him. She had a plan, and tonight was the night she was going to execute it.

Once her husband's car had disappeared around the corner of Mannering St, and onto Manchester Road, she'd waited for half an hour, just to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and needed to return home to fetch it. With this established she went to the kitchen to pour herself a big glass of wine - she was going to need it tonight that was for sure. After filling the biggest glass in the cupboard to the top, she took two huge gulps and downed the lot. Her face winced as she was hit with the aftertaste. She could feel her arthritis begin to flare as she made her way down the hallway, and began to ascend the stairs. By the time she reached the fifth stair she was normally in agony, but tonight the large glass of Shiraz was helping her through the pain barrier. By the eleventh stair she had to take a break. There were twenty stairs in total,  a fact that she was fully aware of. She'd been begging her husband to get a stairlift installed for years, but he always either ignored her, or made a cruel comment about her inability to properly climb the stairs. With all the resolve in the world though, tonight she made it. This was only the beginning of her journey.

Reaching behind the wardrobe her outstretched, misshapen fingers reached out to grab the hooked loft-hatch stick. There was a dull thud as her fingers brushed against it and it fell flat against the carpeted floor. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! she screamed at the top of her voice. Why was life always so difficult? Thankfully the stick had fallen towards her, and it was easy to retrieve. Raising her right arm in the air she pushed the stick towards the loft hatch, and to her surprise the hook engaged with the metal hoop. Quickly she pulled the stick down, and the loft hatch began to pull the attached ladder down towards the landing floor. Three more big pulls, and she was able to pull the ladder down close enough for be able to grab it with the hook. One final pull and the bottom of the ladder was within her grasp. With haste she reached up and grabbed it, in an effort to outpace her arthritic pains. Tonight her determination, perseverance and stubbornness would be her only allies. She had to be with her boy one last time. Nothing could stop her!

It had been years since she'd been in the loft. Christmas 1979 when her husband had gone on a "business trip," and the kids had begged her to get the fake Christmas tree and decorations down. As she'd crawled along the wooden joists, she'd been petrified not to fall in between. Her husband's voice had reverberated through her mind, "Don't fall between the fucking joists if you ever go up there." She knew that he cared more for the damage that it would do to the house, than he cared for her welfare. It had almost killed her, but much to the delight of the kids she'd managed to complete her task. Kevin had given her a special hug that night. If she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough she could still feel his embrace.

"Oh shit!! "the torch, where the fuck was the torch. She was going to need the torch for her little nostalgic journey that was for sure. To her great relief she remembered that Lilly had used it on a recent camping trip, and it would be somewhere in the messy pile on her bedroom floor.

Entering her daughter's bedroom she began to kick her piles of clothes around, in a desperate attempt to find the torch. She knew it had to be there somewhere. She desperately needed to find it, without it her task would be impossible that was for sure. Where the fuck was it? Her eyes darted around her daughter's bedroom, until they focused on large picture frame next to the window. The frame contained a collage of photographs. Mainly photos of Lilly and her friends on drunken nights out at university, but scattered amongst them were pictures of the family. A few shots of the family camping in Wales when they were kids. There he was little Kevin, so full of life, his dad with his hand on his shoulder pretending to like him. But she knew full well that this was not the case, he'd probably be resenting him because his wife had just given Kevin the last cheese sandwich, or because she was paying more attention to her son than to him. Men could be so pathetic! One photograph particularly caught her eye. Kevin aged 11 in his first school photograph at senior school. There he was looking all shy and awkward, trying to fake a smile. His pale blue shirt, with the top button open, and God, his tie so loosely fastened. How he hated that tie. It had taken her years to teach him how to fasten it, and when he did he never untied it. He'd just slip it on and off his neck, and hook it on his door handle when he came home from school. Her eyes focused on her son's eyes. They looked sad! The eyes of a boy that had never really fit in. A tear rolled down her cheek and dripped on to the floor at her feet.

As she turned to walk away her foot struck something solid on the floor. She looked down, and to her delight she saw the black rubber of the torch handle. She would be able to carry out her task tonight afterall! Instantly she hit the on button just to make sure it worked - and she was relieved to see that a bright circle lit up the landing wall. Only the loft ladder separated her from the task in hand. She grabbed the side of the ladder and placed her right foot on the first rung before she could change her mind. Within seconds she was halfway up the ladder. A new resolve had taken over. With sheer determination she reached the top of the ladder, and stuck her head through the hatch. Lifting her right arm above her head, she shone the torch in front of her, the beam illuminating one side of the loft. The pain in her arms was intense, but a new force had taken over. Years of memories all contained within this small area. She knew exactly what she wanted to see, those momentos of a life gone by. Anything that made her feel closer to Kevin. She knew that this night was going to hurt like hell, but for the sake of Kevin she had to do it.

As she shone her torch beam around the loft her attention was arrested when she caught sight of her son's first toy. A blue and red plastic, octagonal shaped contraption that bore the name Fisher Price. Oh God, how Kevin had loved putting plastic shapes into this, and then pulling it apart and starting again. If the truth be told, he probably liked it a lot more than most kids did, and probably played with it for a lot longer than most did too. She remembered his joyous smile when he first recognised which shapes went into which holes. It may not have been much, but for her it was a little victory.

Her feet were already beginning to hurt like hell, arthritic pains shooting through her legs like high intensity flames. She had to hurry, it was only a matter of time before the pain would become too much. She aimed the beam of the torch once more into the loft. As the torch''s beam passed by she noted the Christmas decoration box. How Kevin got excited when this made an appearance every year. The little man and lady made of pipe cleaners and baubles, the felt covered reindeers pulling Santa's golden sleigh, and the plastic Santa with suckers on the back. They would stick this to the front door every year, and without fail it would fall off after a few days. The decoration got smaller each year as a new chunk of plastic was smashed from it. Santa had lost his one of his arms and a leg years ago. But they had to put it up. Kevin would get upset if anything was thrown away. He was a creature of routine.

As she leaned forward to get a better look in the Christmas decorations bag she lost her footing, and for two hair-raising, painful seconds she hung by her torso on the ladder with her legs flailing in the air. By the Grace of God she came crashing down into the loft itself, and miraculously didn't fall between the joists. She lay there motionless, staring at the cobwebbed ceiling - unable to move, frozen in pain. It took five minutes before she could compose herself and get ready for the next part of her journey. There were many items in the loft that she felt the desire to see for one last time, but there was one item that she simply had to find. Kevin's first teddy bear was named Hammy. He'd got him when he was born, and for many years Hammy had never left Kevin's side. Hammy had been with him on every photo from 1969 to 1977. Seeing Hammy was going to break her heart, by she knew that once she had Hammy in her hand she would feel as close to Kevin as she was ever going to feel again.

Everything in the loft was bagged up in black plastic refuse bags, which revealed no clues to what lay within. She'd have to rip them all open to see what was in them. Grabbing the first bag, she attempted to rip it open, but the pain in her fingers was too intense, and she let out a scream. Realising that this was no longer an option she elected to rip the bags open with her teeth. This proved far more successful. The first bag she opened was full of Kevin's toy cars. How he'd loved to push them around the house, making the different noises for different vehicles. He could spend hour upon hour just pretending to drive them up and down the hallway, and into the toy garage that his dad had made him for his second birthday - one of the only nice things her husband had ever done. She'd never heard the end of it. Why did men always want praising for stuff?

With vigour she ripped the next bag open with her teeth, 'Oh God love him! His toy soldiers!" He'd play for hours with his toy soldiers. Battles that seemed to go on forever. She'd sit at one side of the  living room and Kevin on the other, whilst they rolled a marble across the room in an attempt to topple the opposition's legion. Kevin was adamant that the game couldn't finish until all the soldiers from one of the armies had been knocked over. As the tears began to roll down her face she made no attempt to stop them. It felt good to cry like this, it had been long overdue.

She shone the torch into the right corner of the loft, and through glazed eyes she spotted her husbands old golf clubs. Only last year he'd spent four thousand pounds on some new ones. Money that could have been better spent on her Stanna stairlift as far as she was concerned. But money that he thought would be best utilised on a new set of Titleist golf clubs. He always wanted to impress his golfing chums, even though he spent more time in the 19h hole sinking pints, than he spent sinking golf balls. Well, they'd find out what a twat he was soon enough! She'd had plenty of time to plan over the past few months, and this was her finest work.

Feeling a renewed anger toward her husband she shone the torch away from the golf clubs, and felt a massive pang of excitement and anxiety as her the torch beam fell upon a large white plastic bin bag. She knew straight away that this was what she was looking for. This was the bag that contained all Kevin's cuddly toys. Somewhere in this bag was little Hammy, who was missing an eye, and had been sewn up on many occasions to prevent him from losing his stuffing. Once Hammy was in her hands her life would be as complete as it was ever going to be again. She crawled at pace towards the bag, and when she reached it, she sank her teeth into it with the passion of a lion felling a wildebeest. She shone the torch through the hole that she'd made and braced herself for her final nostalgia trip. This was going to hurt like hell.

The first soft toy that she pulled out of the bag was Cuddles. God bless him, how he loved Cuddles. His aunty Annie had made Cuddles for him for his 4th birthday, and how he'd adored it. After Hammy Cuddles was his favourite. She gave Cuddles a kiss and placed the bear next to her. She shone the torch in the bag again and smiled to herself as the beam illuminated the face of Mrs Cat. Mrs Cat was Lilly's cuddly toy, but Kevin had once thrown her on the school roof. It was only years later that Mr Wills the caretaker had found her, and the headmistress, Mrs Cherry had announced her re-arrival, at the school assembly one Friday morning. Lilly couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Mrs Cat at the front of the assembly. She'd just assumed that she'd lost her forever. Sheepishly she'd made her way to the front to reclaim her.

The next few minutes were spent pulling teddies out of the bag in a desperate search for Hammy. He had to be in there, she knew it. Each toy had it's own story. Tiddles, Harold Wilson - the plastic faced monkey, Sooty, Koala, and ......Oh my God - how could she have forgotten about Furry B. Kevin had spent the best part of a year saving his spending money so that he could buy Furry B for Lilly. Once he'd saved £5.40 he'd crossed over Broadway to the row of shops, where he'd purchased Furry B, from Joyce Crossfield's store. Lilly had given him a big hug, which made Kevin blush and shy away. He was never one for affection.

With only a handful of cuddly toys left in the bag the torch shone upon Hammy's face. Although she'd known that Hammy had to be in there, the shock of actually seeing him was enough to make her heart skip a few beats. Her hands began to tremble, and her mouth was filled with an acidic taste. With her gnarled, arthritic fingers , she grabbed Hammy and clutched him to her heart. "Oh Kevin, my angel - you're with me again at last.", she shouted out. "I love you, I love you, I never should have let you go to that party," she cried out. She squeezed Hammy as hard as she could, pushing him into her. The soul of her son was contained within the material of this small soft toy, and tonight they were together once more.  At last she was at peace. Her tears were replaced with a smile, a smile so wide that  it hurt the sides of her face. The smile of woman with a plan.

With Hammy still held firmly held against her heart with her left hand. She put her right hand into her jeans pocket, and with her crippled fingers she grabbed hold of its contents. Two school ties, one from Lilly, and the other from Kevin. Of course, Kevin's was still tied in a knot, as if his head had just slipped out. In preparation she'd tied Lilly's tie to the fat end of Kevin's tie with a square knot, something her granddad had taught her as a kid. It had been a painful task but her determination had ensured that the task had been completed. She now employed the same determination to tie Lilly's tie to one of the low loft beams. Once this was done she loosened the knot on Kevin's tie, and slipped her head through the loop. As she leant forward the knot of the tie began to tighten. This was it, soon she'd be with Kevin again.

"Don't fall between the fucking joists! Don't fall between the fucking joists!" Well she'd show him. As she leapt forward towards the weak floor of the loft, the makeshift noose tightened, and by the time she crashed through the ceiling of her and her husband's bedroom she was already beginning to asphyxiate.