Gladys stood on the balcony of her new apartment. She surveyed her new territory. This was a stark contrast to her last home; the entrance was certainly dramatic with a grand staircase and marble floors. The building was new and pristine, a mixture of stainless steel, rustic brick interiors and large, panoramic windows. She reminded herself what she had left behind - a large detached house in Thingwall which she had lived in with her husband and five children. She remembered with happiness all the celebrations they had shared, each christening, birthday and Christmas. Now all a distant memory, she thought.
Gladys thought about her children.
Paul was a mechanic and was, as he put it, a ‘confirmed bachelor’. She had frequently discussed his need to find a girl and settle down. “No, Mam” he’d say; “I’m happy as I am and I’m too old for all that now.” Gladys knew that there was no point in discussing matters further. Years had taught her that her children needed to make their own discussions.
Her daughter Jenny was a teacher. She had been married to her husband Marc for fifteen years and they had two grown-up children. Gladys smiled as she thought how quickly her grandchildren had turned into adults. She still saw them every week, which she was thankful for.
April was a linguist and worked in Lanzarote. She was older now, and as with her son Paul, she remained happy with her single life.
John was a police officer; he had a little boy, Sean. His recent divorce meant that she did not see her grandson frequently. The split, however, appeared mutual and affable and for that Gladys was grateful if not entirely agreeable.
Gladys walked out of her door to the top floor. This was the second time she had come up to look at the view. She sat on the marble seat that looked out over Liverpool. Gladys noticed the Royal Liver Building and she remembered the trips she had made with her husband on the overhead railway; the docks were buzzing then and big liners would be a frequent sight on the river.
She remembered her husband, with a twinkle in her eye. She had met him outside Lime Street Station and recalled how she had been to see a friend in Blackpool and the handle on her suitcase had broken. He had been her knight in shining armour, lifting her heavy luggage and offering to carry it to the tram. He had escorted her all the way home to ensure her and her luggage arrived safely. She chuckled to herself - he was indeed a gentleman.
Gladys was now seventy-two, and since the death of her husband Tom last year it was becoming increasingly more difficult to maintain her house. The children had strongly objected when she’d decided to sell, they could not ever imagine their mum leaving the family home. Gladys reminded herself that this was now her choice and sometimes resented how her children frequently tried to make decisions for her.
She looked out towards the river. A ferry was coming into dock and she recalled the trips she had made to New Brighton with her husband. New Brighton had been a popular seaside resort then and she remembered many happy Sundays at the fun fair. A warm glow came over Gladys as she remembered how Tom had proposed on the ferry's top deck.
She thought about their trips on the overhead railway and how her heart had missed a beat whenever she saw him. She thought how they had spent time at the Royal Court Theatre, smiling as she recalled the alternative entertainments that they pursued without a television.
Gladys looked over towards Liverpool One. There were a lot of new shops in Liverpool now. She remembered the 'old days' when only three large stores existed, and the Christmases when they had taken the children to visit Lewis’s Christmas Grotto.
Gladys sipped the sherry she was holding. She suddenly felt an overwhelming happiness as she looked around her spacious and contemporary dwelling. No, it wasn’t her spruce family home in Thingwall but it was home. Her family were grown up and this was now time for her. She smiled and lifted the glass making a toast to her new life.
*******
A Good Turn
By
Andy Siddle