Seven Days Back: Seven Days, #2

One

Arrivals.

Brian Westwood was looking for his mother.

The Toronto airport was crowded, as usual. Several planes must have arrived within minutes of each other. Passengers had been trailing into the main concourse in a neverending line. None of them looked happy to be home.

He glanced at his phone and saw twenty more minutes had passed since he last checked for messages. This delay was costing him money. Another line of weary travellers emerged from the doors and pushed their carts impatiently forward into the waiting throng.

Where was she? Had she missed the plane from England?

It was not like his mother to miss any deadline but there was always the chance she had become less organized after his father’s death. She was not getting any younger and such a long illness was bound to take its toll.

Victoria had mentioned something similar just the other day and his wife was a very observant person, as he knew very well. Little escaped her notice. He could never get out of the house without her scrutiny. No mismatched tie or frayed shirt collar or ill-fitting pants ever passed her standards of suitable business wear. She had speculated at dinner about the rationality of his mother’s decision to suddenly depart for a holiday in the Lake District. Was it reasonable or logical? What connections did Valerie have to the place? Why was she throwing away money on such an extravagant trip?

In truth, Brian could not answer any of his wife’s questions. He seldom took the detour to London to see his mother. While his father was ill, she had actively discouraged his visits, for which he was deeply grateful. Some people could stomach serious illness but he was not one of them. He preferred to remember his father as a younger, healthy man who was proud of his two sons and encouraged them to independently forge their own destinies.

Where the hell was the woman?

He scanned the latest volley of passengers but again saw no face he recognized.

Brian, can you take one of these cases? I decided to carry them myself to save time. There were no carts left.

Mother! Where did you spring from? I’ve been watching for an hour.

Horribly busy in there! People with children were distraught at the customs delays. One elderly man fainted in the heat. It’s a disgrace.

Brian picked up both cases, leaving his mother to carry a capacious purse and a duty-free bag with what he hoped was a bottle of whisky. As he did so, he noticed why he had not immediately recognized her.

There was something different about her. A new hair style? Brighter colour, possibly? And she looked more relaxed than he had seen in recent months. A quick thought passed through his mind. Could be, she was in a better mood now and she might reconsider the sale of the family home in Kilworth? In that case, this holiday could have done some good.

Victoria Westwood was watching out of the window for her husband’s car. She was annoyed because the food she had prepared was rapidly drying out in the oven. She had wanted to take Valerie out for a meal but Brian had vetoed that idea. She’s been travelling all day, Vicky. She’ll want something simple then early to bed, I think.

Brian’s ‘something simple’ was not all that easy to do. She always felt under scrutiny when her mother-in-law was visiting. A simple omelette, for example, sounded fast and basic but it must be done on the spot and plated while the guest was seated and ready to eat. Just as well she had rejected that solution. The casserole she had chosen in the end was suffering a dire fate and was unlikely to look appetizing by the time Valerie had a chance to wash up and possibly change her clothes. She would just have to make do. Adding more sauce might disguise the meal’s dried out ingredients ………

Ah, there they are at last!

Victoria hastened to the door of the townhouse to help her husband with the luggage. She blew an air kiss toward her mother-in-law and commiserated with her about traffic conditions in the city. She noticed at once Valerie’s new hair colour and cut. Much more flattering. The travel outfit was another surprise. Most people these days travelled in clothes that would not look out of place in the local gym but Valerie was wearing a smart suit of a material that had survived the long journey with little, to no, creasing. Expensive! Something had happened, she surmised. Something had changed since the funeral when Valerie Westwood had looked like an aged crone.

How was your trip? Come right in! It’s cooler inside. I’ll have a drink for you in one minute. Still gin and tonic with lime?

Valerie noticed Victoria still had the annoying habit of asking questions and not waiting for answers.

She shrugged off her jacket and gladly sank down on the white sectional in the living room. She would have appreciated a bench or footstool for her tired feet but one was not available in this ultra-smart, modern décor.

Still, it was good to arrive and stop travelling for a few hours. Brian had taken her cases upstairs.

Perhaps he would bring Lynn down with him. She wanted to see her grandchild before she headed back to London and the Kilworth house and the problems that were awaiting her there.

Here’s your drink. I’ll just put a coaster down first. You must be tired, Valerie. I’m sorry supper is nothing special but Brian thought you would be glad to get off to bed early.

I am tired, Victoria, but I will happily stay awake long enough to see Lynn.

Oh, dear, Lynn is staying with a friend tonight. We were afraid a noisy four-year-old would wear you out after such a long journey.

Valerie sipped her drink in an attempt to conceal her disappointment. Brian had persuaded her to stay here overnight. She would have preferred an airport hotel. She had only agreed because of Lynn. Victoria’s ill-concealed antagonism was nothing to look forward to but Lynn was a sweet child and she wanted to give her a Grandma gift. She had chosen a set of Beatrix Potter books in the original small, child-sized, format, hoping they could share one or two stories before bedtime.

Now that hope was shattered.

Suddenly, the pretense was more than she could manage.

"In that case, may I have a tray in my room, Victoria? It has been a long day and I am more tired than I thought."

Without waiting for a response, Valerie stood and turned toward the stairs. She met Brian on his way down and said goodnight, gave him a hug, and whispered her thanks for the ride, saying they would catch up in the car tomorrow on the way to Woodstock.

What happened, Vicky?

I have no idea. She just changed her mind all of a sudden and left the room. Are you sure she’s quite stable, Brian? You must admit her behaviour lately is unusual.

Her husband shook his head. He was not going to get into an argument about his mother’s mental state while she was upstairs in his home. Just as well she had retired early. He had work to do this evening. The time spent in the airport had put him behind in his contacts and tomorrow’s drive would add to the delays.

I’ll take her up some food and see what I can find out. Pour me a stiff drink of that whisky my Mum brought. I’ve a feeling I’ll need it.

By the time, Victoria had prepared a tray and Brian had taken it up to her, he discovered his mother asleep in the spare room. She must be exhausted! Poor thing! It’s hard to travel on your own. Dad was the one who made all the travel plans years ago. It must be difficult for her now. I’ll let her sleep.

He put the tray down on a bedside table just in case she awoke during the night, then switched off the light and softly closed the door.

He was thinking, as he went downstairs to join his wife, how many times his mother had done the same for him, and for his brother, when they fell asleep studying for exams.

Two

Sunday.

Valerie Westwood opened her eyes and wondered where on earth she was. Nothing seemed immediately familiar in the semi-dark. Where was the twin bed with Sandra sleeping peacefully, or her own big bed at home?

It took a moment or two to orient herself to this new reality. She was home; but not home. This was Brian and Victoria’s spare room in Toronto. She still had to face the 401 before she was truly home.

She lay there, letting her memories and thoughts wander.

Where was her true home these days?

Was it the home of her heart with its lovely memories refreshed in the recent English holiday?

Was Kilworth to be her home for the rest of her life, despite its sad memories imposed over much earlier good ones?

Was Jean Mackenzie’s wonderful offer of a place to stay in Vancouver a new possibility?

It was too much, and too early in the day to make such decisions even if she had an inkling which, if any, of these choices was feasible.

She turned her head to look at the clock. It was one of those with no numbers. Difficult to read. Victoria’s choice, no doubt.

She sat up to find her watch and almost knocked over the tray perched precariously on the bedside table. At once she was ravenously hungry. How long had it been since she ate a meal? She had only nibbled at the airline food. That Italian mess had almost turned her stomach with its strong smells and flavours. This tray must hold what should have been her supper last night.

She looked over the contents and grabbed a whole wheat roll and pat of butter. The congealed food on the plate was unappetizing so she pushed it away in favour of a slice of chocolate cake. A glass of milk helped the food go down and she felt reinvigorated enough to push back the bedcovers and set her feet on the floor. Now she could see her watch. It was just after three o’clock in the morning! Jet lag had thrown off her sleep patterns. She had fallen asleep much too early. And this was the result. Awake in the dark. Alone in a sleeping house.

Now, she remembered why. Lynn was not at home. Disappointment washed over her and she decided not to allow it to overwhelm her. She had an idea.

Quickly donning a robe she found hanging on the back of the door, she exited and tiptoed across the hall to the main washroom which was at the opposite end of the house from Brian’s master suite. Next, she looked for Lynn’s room and found it nearby, identified by the wooden sign hanging on the door.

If she was to be denied time with her granddaughter, she would not be denied the chance to explore the room where she slept and played.

Lynn’s room was a typical girl’s hangout in shades of pink with touches of purple. Valerie was glad to see Victoria had not succumbed to the fashion of draping a tiny girl’s bed in a canopy of pink tulle.

She found a huge toy box, disguised as a bench, at the foot of the bed and peeked inside. Very tidy for a four-year-old. Doubtless, Victoria would not permit her only child to throw things around in abandon. There were soft animals and baby dolls and some boxes of building blocks. Brian’s choice, surely. He had always loved such things as a boy. A brand-new jigsaw puzzle box was stuffed down the side, but no books were evident.

Valerie closed the lid and looked around for a bookshelf. She found one under a desk near the window. The top of the desk held a tablet, the latest thing for children’s entertainment. She felt a little sad that such technology had taken the place of cozy reading times and table-top games. The book shelf was small. She wondered