Poplars

We moved the heavy stuff weeks ago and were just hanging around until now, really. Minty has been wanting to leave since then – we haven’t had beds or a sofa or anything to make the place comfortable. But I didn’t want to leave; how could I? It would be like leaving a piece of me, an arm or a leg – the home where we spent all of our married life and had our two lovely kids. But my darling Susan … and Charlie. They’ve been keeping me here, holding me back. No, not them, as such; their memory.

Then this morning I was woken by the autumn sun streaming into my room and a blackbird’s song, and it was like our first morning in the house all those years ago. I know, taking cues from wildlife must sound crazy, but I swear this felt like a sign. So I went to Minty’s room to wake her and told her to pack her things, and now here we are in the car with the engine running. I was resolved not to look back for fear of losing it, but Minty hangs her head out of the side window.

“It looks sad, Dad.”

I turn to see what she’s talking about and sure enough, the house, with its bare windows and threads of ivy on the front wall, does have a rather melancholic appearance. I manage a half-sobbed “Let’s go then, love” and we’re off, sweeping along the avenue lined with golden poplars as we head towards the main road, the city and our new life.

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There they go, through the poplars and away, out of sight. I do not blame them – they have their lives to live. How can they know what I feel? My empty rooms ache already with the absence of their sound and glow.

Our early times together were very happy: there was the love between Robert and Susan that warmed the air inside me, and then the arrival of Minty and later Charlie, their running and raucous games reverberating through my floors.

But Charlie was not long of this world, and Susan never recovered from the loss. My air, once light with energy and laughter, grew heavier by the day. Susan fell ill and died in one of my top rooms, her favourite. I can still feel her in it – not her spirit but her mark; she painted a mural on one of the walls and it is there to this day, throwing rich colour and life into the room.

Robert and Minty stayed for as long as they could, and I appreciate how they took care of me. But now they are gone, and with winter approaching I feel hollow and cold … and so weary. Perhaps I shall sleep. Yes, I shall shut myself down and try to blot out the pain of losing my family.

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“Hey, you lot. Keep the noise down!”

Ralph throws an annoyed look into the rear-view mirror and towards his three young children, fighting good-naturedly on the back seat.

“Let them be, love. They’re excited.” Sitting in the passenger seat, Helen is, as always, the voice of reason.

“You know what? So am I.” Ralph takes his wife’s hand and laughs. She joins in.

“Oh, here it is.” Helen points to an open gate ahead of them on the left.

They turn into an avenue lined with poplars, bare but for tiny spots of green, and at the end of it, the house.

“It looks sad, Daddy,” Shaun pipes up from the back seat.

“We’ll soon put that right, son.”

Ralph drives his young family on towards their new home. As if on cue, the morning sunshine flashes off the front windows, giving the house an altogether happier air.

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