Page 84 of A Good Mother
While Robin listened to the sounds of Little Buddington waking, and Joe zooming off on his motorbike regular as clockwork, she’d tried to identify each bird as it sang its song, remembering the poster on the wall at school. But the time for pleasant enterprise was over and she had things to do once Edmund left for church.
He would be gone all day, thank goodness. A christening first and then he was off to Macclesfield to take a service for one of his holidaying vicar friends. She had no idea who and cared not, only that he would be out of the way.
Just like Nate, who was going to see his parents in Manchester, no doubt to tell them his news and how once he’d shuffled his poorly wife off to the mental hospital he’d be shacking up with his fancy woman. Or more genteel words to that effect. Whatever, he wouldn’t be back until late that night by which time it would be all over.
Once she moved from the armchair, that was it. It would begin. Robin would solve everyone’s problems once and for all. It was time.
Robin turned and looked around the kitchen. She’d brought in the milk, bread and juice that Bobby had delivered because she hated waste and the sight of them on the step may have alerted an observant passer-by. There could be no deviations or interruptions caused by visitors or kindly souls.
The flowers that Gina had brought on the day of their get-together were wilting but might last a day or so. They’d received a reprieve and remained on the windowsill. Her next thoughts were for her friends and their recent change in circumstance.
Robin was glad they were out of the way, and that she’d not had to face or speak to either of them prior to her decision. It had made it all a little easier. And she was so glad that before she went, she’d heard their news and had smiled, picturing them both.
Gina was with Jimmy, planning some new adventure; and Babs had texted from the airport lounge, two gins down and about to start a Spanish adventure of her own.
The goodbye letters were in Robin’s handbag. One for Gina, larger than the rest because it contained those destined for Cris, Arty and Babs. Explanations for her actions, and apologies for not letting them say goodbye to Willow. Robin had entrusted Gina with her very last words. Letters of sorrow, thanks, absolution and eternal love to good friends, her son, and the man she was setting free.
Robin didn’t trust Edmund and had said so in her very succinct message that would leave him in no doubt of her everlasting damnation of his soul. Her words to Nate were somewhat conciliatory and in a reserved way, she’d wished him well.
Not wanting to dwell or have time to wish for things that weren’t meant to be, not for her anyway, Robin moved on.
She had charted the day meticulously and would work through it, grateful for the sensation of being wrapped in a daze, a blanket of warmth that cushioned her from the reality of her actions. It was somewhat like being in a dream albeit one where she could choose the outcome or wake. Robin opted for neither.
Opening the old larder door that was used nowadays as a utility cupboard, she moved the wicker trug and from behind, pulled out the ironically named bag-for-life that contained Willow’s medications. Not wanting a repeat of the day she opened the lot onto her bed and began eating them like Smarties, Robin had made sure she’d never find them again. The two-month supply was everything they needed to sedate and calm a troubled mind and soul, the very thing that would send her and Willow into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.
Taking them back to the worktop beside the sink, Robin emptied the packets onto the marble. After fetching two glasses from the cupboard, straws from the drawer and the bottle of raspberry pop from the fridge, she set them next to the packets. Sliding the pestle and mortar towards her, Robin began.
Willow was sleeping when Robin entered the room and set the two glasses of fizzy pink onto the bedside table. Outside the bells of St Mary’s rang as worshippers flocked to a longer than usual morning service where a christening would take place.
As Robin sat on the bed and waited for Willow to stir, the irony of the moment wasn’t lost. While the Lord was welcoming a new soul into the arms of the church, she was going to send one up to heaven. A busy day for the big man and his angels.
The smile on her lips quickly faded as Robin forbade herself to think where she would end up, and even if the pearly gates were padlocked shut she was resigned to her fate. No going back.
As the thought left Robin’s mind and the grip of fear eased a touch, a gust of wind from the open window caused the curtains to flutter slightly, a draught of cold whipping around the room. The tiny bell-chimes that hung from Willows lamp tinkled and her eyes opened a touch, then closed again.
Robin had no desire to alarm Willow, and as the distant strains of organ music reached her ears and the church service began with a hymn she knew so well, another sprang to mind. It was Willow’s favourite as a child and one Robin often sang to her at night, before she went to sleep.
Stroking Willow’s head as she’d done back then, Robin softly sang the words to her own little bird…
Little bird, I have heard,
What a merry song you sing
Soaring high, to the sky
On your tiny wing
Jesus’ little ones are we
And he loves us you and me
As we share in his care
Happy we must be.
Willow woke just as Robin stopped singing.
‘Good morning, sleepyhead.’ She reached over and took Willow’s hand in hers and watched as she yawned and stretched, rubbing tired eyes.
