Marion sat on the second step of the stairs and bent over carefully to zip up her fur-lined boots, the ones with the good solid soles. With stiff fingers she did up the tricky top button on her coat and cautiously ventured out into her frozen garden. On the drive, her little red car sat waiting patiently encased in an icy film. Despite the picturesque nature of the scene, she tutted at the glistening surroundings – she didn’t really like driving at the best of times although Greyswood was a small, rural town not like London where she knew she had been born. She would never want to drive there; she had always associated London with noise and danger. But Christmas was over and the time had come for the tree in the corner to go – just like her children and grandchildren had the previous day.
Marion edged her Corsa forward a few more inches along the queue for the Household Recycling Centre. She felt that Christmas had gone well despite Percy having a bit of a cold. Born in 1936, and both now nearing 90, they were in fairly good health and couldn’t really complain about a little sniffle. Yes, the family get-together had been happy and it was lovely that everyone had made it in the end.
Finally, she reached the top of the slope and a young woman in bright yellow overalls pointed her towards an empty bay. She had deliberately bought a manageable little Christmas tree to go in the corner of the living room and felt very proud of her efficient planning. This morning she had got it into the car quite easily without even having to get Percy out of bed and she had also laid hands on the de-icer, wisely purchased back in October, and so much easier than scraping the windscreen as Percy always did.
Having deposited the tree in garden waste, she went for a quick look around the makeshift shop at the entrance. It was her habit. You never knew what useful things might have been dropped off there, too good to be thrown in the skip but no longer wanted at home. She also just enjoyed a little nose about in the debris of other people’s lives. It was always dark inside and she took a moment to let her eyes acclimatise to the jumble of bits and bobs; discarded bookcases, dining chairs and outdated sideboards all jostling for space. Looking up, she was surprised to spot two smart teddy bears perched on the top of a shelf at the back. They stood out in the shabby surroundings, partly because of their lovely condition; the golden fur looked brand new, and soft like bear cubs. One was wearing a pretty pink dress while the other a tiny blue bowtie. Their shiny eyes looked at her out of the darkness, gentle and innocent, as they sat there together on top of the bookshelf, waiting, somehow separate from the chaos that surrounded them. Clearly cherished by their previous owner, she couldn’t help wondering why they had been given away.
Marion returned to her car and headed home. The road still showed signs of frost and she drove carefully. The sky was a beautiful blue and it had turned into a bright, crisp, sunny day. Her eyes began prickling as she concentrated on the road ahead. As she stopped at the first set of traffic lights, she felt a deep discomfort in her intestines and her heart dropping through her body. When the light turned green, tears began to run down her face and a small, anguished moan let loose from her lips. She needed to stop the car. There was traffic but she could not see or think. At a bus stop ahead she pulled in abruptly and slumped forward.
“Ronald…” she whispered.
Cars passed but the red car sat undisturbed as Marion stared out of the window with tears running down her face. “Ronald…” She remembered a plain room and her little brother Ronald by her side. They were waiting for someone. Mummy and daddy were not there and she knew they were not coming. The thin lady had told her that lots of bombs had fallen and Marion would be living in a new house, with a new family that would look after her. She remembered that very clearly even after all these years. She and Ronald had sat together in the room for a long time, not saying very much. She had a ribbon in her hair and she was wearing a dress that was not hers but it was pretty. A kind lady had helped her put it on that morning and had brushed her hair. Ronald looked nice too – at three years old, she had never seen him looking smart before. He was clean and tidy, all in blue. Finally, a man and a woman entered and smiled at her. Marion had gone home with them. She remembered looking at Ronald as she got down from her chair and he looked back. The new woman had helped them into a clumsy, little embrace and said something that she didn’t understand. She was only five herself. Marion could tell Ronald wanted to say something – she did too – but, instead, they just looked at each other as she was taken away.
At home Marion looked out over her garden and, when the sun went down, she pulled a blanket across herself and sat watching the stars appear in the clear, wintry night. The next day passed with cups of tea and the radio playing softly. Percy left her alone as she sat quietly, deeply buried in the memories of a time long ago. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. As she grew up, she had been told about her London street during the Blitz; the devastation, the chaos and the harrowing number of deaths.
The following morning Marion set out early but, as she parked back at the Household Recycling Centre, her heart began to pound uneasily. She had forgotton how busy it could be. She got out of the car and walked rather quickly towards the entrance of the shop. Breathless, she hardly dared raise her eyes to the back wall. Out of the gloom, two pairs of shiny brown eyes looked gently back at her. She grabbed them, gave them a squeeze and carefully took them home.
