Unknown Love of a Mother

This story is by Cherry Gray and was part of our 2018 Summer Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

Unknown love of a Mother

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Alison would be glad to see the back of 1974. It hadn’t been the best. When she got home one evening she found a brown, official-looking envelope on the hall mat. This would change her life forever.

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She stooped and picked it up. Glancing at the envelope, she put her bag and keys down. She stopped abruptly, looking puzzled; recognizing her mum’s solicitors name. She tore open the envelope and two letters tumbled out onto the table. Finding a covering letter from the solicitor, she read that it was an instruction from Mum. It said to hold these letters ‘til one month after the funeral. The only other instruction was that she needed to open her mother’s letter first. Grief welled up inside her as she recognized her mother’s writing. She had only passed away a few weeks before this and Alison’s heart was still a sore wound. She looked at the second letter. This writing she didn’t know but it seemed familiar. She went into the lounge and sat down.

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Maude, Alison’s mother, left her the house and possessions; which hadn’t been much. There were no other relations. Her father had died some years before, and she was too young to remember much of him. Just vague glimpses of a smiling face and a large mustache.

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I’ll make a cup of tea first before opening them, she thought.

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She returned and placed the tea on the table, she turned again to the letters. With care, she opened her mother’s. She began to read the neat, familiar writing. Her face drained of colour and with her head shaking, she threw the letter down, as if it had bitten her. She tried to take in the content. Reading the letter again, at each word she felt her chest tighten.

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My dear Alison,

This is so hard. I know it will be a shock, but please try to understand. I did this for my daughter. When you read her letter, I hope you will understand. I didn’t have you late in life as I had told you. I am not your birth mother. I am your Grandmother, BUT you were still our blessing. Your real mother was my daughter. She made me promise to be your mother and raise you as my own. Never to let you know of her existence until I died. I gave you my name and we moved to where no one would know us. Your name had been in the papers. Reporters and onlookers had besieged your home.

I realize this is a huge thing to take in; but please, don’t judge us until you have read your mother’s letter. She was a good girl and loved you with all of her heart, as I do. You are a special person, Alison, and your mother would be so proud of you, as I am. I know you had a happy childhood as we planned. Your father, grandfather, wished only the best for you. He lavished the love he could not give his own daughter, on to you. Sadly, even you couldn’t save his broken heart. I am convinced he died before his time. He was never the same, but I have never blamed your mother. She did what she had to do.

Read your mother’s letter now. I love you, please don’t hate me for what I have done.

–

Your loving Grandmother

Xxxxxxx

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Drops of water distorted the writing on the page. The letters running into one another. Alison realized she had tears rolling down her cheeks. Turning her head slowly, she gazed at the second letter lying quietly on the table. Her look revealed the confusion and horror that she felt. The pit of her stomach was churning and her head was banging. She realized she felt cold and was shaking as the mounting shock enclosed her in a tight grip. She shook her head to attempt to clear it. Rising slowly from her seat, she began to pace the floor. She tried to take some time to grasp the enormity of what she had just read. Should she cry? Scream? Tell someone? I must calm down, she thought. She clenched her fists and turned back to the unopened letter. Her heart was now pounding out of her chest. She felt dizzy and sick. Alison closed her eyes. Sitting down again, she took deep breaths. With her hand still shaking, she reached for the second letter.

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My dearest, dearest Alison,

Now the moment has arrived, I do not know how to write this letter. Funny, I have had all these thoughts running through my head for days while waiting for clemency, which I now know will not be coming. My wonderful girl, if only things had been different. But it is no use wishing for what cannot be.

I am writing this from my prison cell the evening before my execution. The year is 1952, and the month is July. I can see the fading sunset with a pink and orange sky. Strange to think I will never see that again. I am not scared, not at the moment anyway. I feel sad though, sad to be leaving you, you the best thing that came out of my abusive marriage. I can’t have any regrets in marrying your father, he gave me you. But he also gave me black eyes, and a broken arm.

It wasn’t always like that. He was handsome, funny, a hard worker. His name was Frank. We had a good marriage, but then he went away to war. When he returned after three long years; he had changed. He would never speak of those years away and he became moody, cruel and violent. On that terrible evening, he was very bad. For the first time, he had threatened you. I think you were teething, so you were crying continually. Usually you were a good baby, my little sweetie. You were hurting but I couldn’t get that through to him. He raised his arm to you, the same rage on his face, he showed when striking out. That really frightened me, I had to do something after witnessing that. God forgive me, I took the rat poison from the scullery and mixed it into his favourite dinner. Arriving from the pub, he wasn’t aware of what he was eating. I just sat there and watched him devour the meal like a hungry bear.

I have never regretted my actions and I pleaded guilty. I am feeling very calm as I sit here now. I go to my maker willingly, even though I am only 41.

Perhaps God has forgiven me. I hope with all my heart you can too. We had such good times you and I. We played, and I would always sing songs to you; lots of Vera Lynn. We often visited the park. You in your pram, and me making faces and whizzing you around. You laughed so much.

I know your father suffered in the war, so I used to forgive him. I also had nowhere to turn. I couldn’t tell mum and dad. It would have been too much for them. Dad would probably be sitting here instead of me. Oh, my beautiful Alison, I hope you have a brilliant, happy life. Filled with love. Please find a gentle man to spend your life with. Make a lifetime of memories together. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me, and your grandmother, for this deception. It was for you my love. I will love you always.

–

Your devoted mother, Ann Bolter xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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Alison felt drained, and she cried for hours. Feeling overwhelmed with anger, which was mixed with heartbreaking grief.

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She rang in sick the next day. Spending the next four days in fits of wakefulness, drinking and cursing, hating everyone she had known and not known. Sleep and dreams, some bad, some very bad, until at last she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Alison awoke feeling like a weight had been lifted from her chest. Reading both letters again, she didn’t cry, instead she looked out of the kitchen window. The first pale fingers of dawn spread across the sky. As she gazed out of the window, the pale light of realization spread through her brain, heart and soul. Her mother and grandmother were heroes. Ann had walked to the gallows with the courage she would never have had. Maude, who had held her grief within, carrying this burden for years to keep Alison from the awful truth. How could she feel anything but love for these two women? I have come out the other side. Are you both looking for redemption? Mother… Grandmother… you sacrificed so much for me. You don’t need my forgiveness, you have my gratitude and love.

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“I’ll find out everything I can about my mum”, she said aloud. Her voice echoed around the empty room. She smiled and silently cried for her mother.