Nancy Shulman pushed open the black wrought iron gate and walked tiredly up the narrow path to her mother’s front door. She didn’t even bother to ring the doorbell knowing she would have a long time to wait before Joan registered she had a visitor. She envisioned her mother hoisting herself out of her favourite armchair, fumbling and feeling for her stick before negotiating the various armchairs and sofas along the way, always handy to lean on if Joan had to stop and catch her breath, and so instead Nancy turned her key in the lock and called out.

‘Hello, mother, it’s me, Nancy’.

There was no reply and all appeared quiet inside the house except for the distant ticking of the old mantel clock above the fireplace. Nancy walked slowly towards the rhythmic sound, moving silently along the soft carpeted hallway a little apprehensively. As her mother was now well into her eighties and in poor health Nancy was never quite sure what she might find. Joan was also profoundly deaf and unable to cope with sudden surprises.

When Nancy arrived at the lounge door she peered inside and saw that her mother was fast asleep, her head leaning comfortably to one side, against the wing back of an ancient armchair. Nancy stood for a while studying the regular rise and fall of her mother’s rib cage and then, without a sound, she crept slowly towards her, closer and closer.

‘Mum,’ she snapped suddenly and as loudly as she could, ‘it’s time to wake up!’

Joan started in alarm at the sound of her daughter’s shrill voice and reluctantly opened her eyes.

She’d been dreaming about the time she’d met Bill, when he’d politely asked her to dance at the local Palais de dance and how together they’d danced a foxtrot, a popular dance at the time, which had come over to England from America during the ragtime era in the early nineteen hundreds. Throughout the night, at the tail end of a cold wintry February, they danced and danced until their feet ached but as the evening eventually drew to a close they’d realised they didn’t want to say goodbye and when they exited the dance hall into the bitingly cold air they’d snuggled even closer together for mutual warmth as Bill had walked her home.

From that night on Bill had never strayed far from her side, falling head over heels in love with Joan, her kind sweet nature and cheerful spirit had drawn him in and she in turn fell instantly for his manly strength, loyalty and good old fashioned manners, knowing in her heart she could depend on him and that he would provide her with the safety and protection she’d always craved. They married quickly, only a few months after the time of their first meeting, setting up home together and looking forward eagerly to starting the large family they both wanted.

At the age of forty two Joan had given up hope of ever having a child. She tried not to dwell on it too much, content with her life as it was, always enjoying every moment, cooking, cleaning, making and mending, and really just looking after Bill, he had always been her priority and she took pleasure in the simplest of things, ensuring his shirts and trousers were pressed for work and that he always had a good hearty meal in front of him at the end of the day. She spent long periods of time pottering in her small garden, nurturing her menagerie of plants and watching them grow and flourish, almost as though they were her own beloved children.

When her monthly reminder ceased she assumed she was going through the ‘change’ and so she visited the Doctor to confirm her theory.

Following a tentative examination of her abdomen his smile suddenly beamed broadly across his face as he looked down at her in wonderment before blurting out the unexpected news that she was pregnant! His own excitement overflowed and his unabated babbling continued long after he had delivered the shocking revelation revealing to Joan that his own surprise was almost as great as her own.

As Joan slowly rose to a sitting position she remained speechless in front of him as his own voice droned on and on over the silent tears of happiness which continued to slide freely down her face. He advised her that this natural occurrence was actually quite common during menopausal women and he patted her hands in a paternal manner giving her strong reassurances that she was perfectly fit and well and there were no concerns or constraints which might prevent her carrying a healthy child to term and indeed give birth as any younger mother would.

Joan could still hardly believe it, even as she walked in through the front door to tell Bill the good news, her tears continued to flow with no words to accompany them. Bill rushed forwards and held her in his arms, anxiously anticipating bad news as he soothed her, waiting to hear what the Doctor had told her. As Joan looked up through bleary eyes she registered his alarm and suddenly she began to laugh out loud, hysterically and uncharacteristically for her, until finally she managed to utter the words, those wonderful words she thought she’d never say to her darling Bill.

‘I’m pregnant!’ she cried out excitedly as she watched Bill’s face, his features changing to show shock and surprise at the unexpected news. Finally she buried her face into his warm chest allowing him some time to take it all in while they hugged each other tightly in silent disbelief. At that moment Bill’s emotions were hard to contain, he was concerned, relieved, shocked and delighted all at once and they all bubbled up inside of him finally finding their release as he too began to laugh and cry with Joan in joyous harmony.

Neither of them could believe it, after all those years of waiting and hoping, it seemed their dreams had finally come true and real contentment was about to enter their lives at last. From that day on they felt bestowed with a fulfilment and optimism that hardly seemed real.

Their happiness continued as they watched their little one grow, trying to bring her up properly, and teach her the ways of the world. They acknowledged that, yes, they did spoil her occasionally and yes, their little girl could often be sulky and difficult to please, but surely, they thought, weren’t all children like that?

But when Nancy turned thirteen, a dark cloud descended upon their lives, the love they’d doted on her, the toys, the pretty clothes, the parties, all of it was thrown back in their face and from that moment on it was as though Nancy hated them, despised them for their softness and their weakness, they were so much older than her friends’ parents she complained, and without warning it seemed, they had become an embarrassment to her.

Today, as Joan remembered all of that, here in this room, she felt her loneliness keenly, her beloved Bill was now gone, no longer there to comfort her, and the excitement and wonder of those early years seemed a dim and distant memory.

As her daughter’s irritating features came into view, Joan couldn’t help but recoil as she slowly pushed herself up in her seat, ready to detach herself from the familiar hurtful words which she knew would be coming her way at any moment and sure enough, without delay, they began to tumble from her daughter’s ungracious, petulant mouth;

‘Oh mum, will you just look at yourself? You’re not even dressed! Look at your hair, now when did you last put a comb through that, goodness me what a mess you are! If you can’t look after yourself properly you know there’ll be no alternative, we’ll have to put you in a home, mum, I can’t keep coming out here all the time, we’re busy, Len and me, and well, he’s not very well at the moment either, I think he’s going off his trolley with all those lads he looks after. They’re givin’ him gyp all the time, coming back drunk and making a mess everywhere! He’s going doolally he is and I just can’t be doing with your antics as well!’

Joan closed her eyes and lifted her knobbly fingers in a vain attempt to shield her face from the tirade, desperate to ward off any further abuse which might be coming her way. Luckily it seemed to have the desired effect as Nancy immediately stopped talking, her exasperation evident, as she expelled a sharp irritated sigh before finally turning away and heading swiftly towards the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

Joan sat for a while focussed only on the framed photo of her husband who smiled down at her comfortingly from the mantelpiece, knowing he alone could calm her inner turmoil, her daughter’s odious and repellent nature now brought only fear and dread into her life and at that very moment Joan wished with all her heart that Nancy had never been born!