The 19th Jun 2010 WriteOnSite Winning Entry
Lottie gets up to make shepherd' s pie at two in the morning. I hear the bed creak as she slides out. I wait for the soft padding of her slippers on the floor, the little yelp of the third stair down as she treads on it.
I know it will be shepherd's pie. I saw the sack of potatoes with a slash through the brown paper, ready for her to pluck them out. The peeler sits ready on the chopping-board. She left it there as we climbed the stairs for bed with our cocoa and shortbread. I saw the minced lamb on the fridge. She forgets to cover it and the fridge is full of the stench of meat and the tang of the onions she's already chopped.
I get up and sit at the top of the stairs. The fat sizzles. I hear the rocking motion of the curved knife she uses to chop the parsley. It sounds comforting and familiar. I can smell the earthy damp stalks as she bruises them under the swaying blade.
In a minute she'll call me. Her voice trembles a little these days.
"Alf! Come and have your dinner," she''ll say.
I always play along with Lottie. She's been my wife for forty years. Except she lost track of time five of those years ago. Little things like cups of tea at ten when we normally wait for eleven. Or giving me a wrapped present in June when my birthday's in December.
She's still my Lottie and I love every bone of her, every maroon vein that throbs on her tired legs, every swish of her blue apron, every wobble of her bottom as she rolls pastry. I bought a timer, so she can take things out of the oven before they burn to a crisp. I won't let this slipping of her mind spoil her life. I'll eat my shepherd's pie even though I'll go back to bed with indigestion.
Eating lamb and tatties in my pyjamas, I don't know. Whatever next? I smile a little and Lottie says, "Enjoying that are you, love?"
We both smile and I keep the secret safe from her. I won't tell her that time has turned upside down for her. I won't let my Lottie down. I keep a photograph of her when she was young and her face was peach-skin and her eyes were clear green seas of love sparkling at me. We used to have picnics in the rain. She insisted. Lying on a checked cloth and feeding each other crescent slices of fresh apricots until our chins were sticky with juice and we kissed it all away. So she was a bit crazy even then. But that's why I loved her and always will.
Back to bed now.I hear her talking. She's out in the garden talking to the neighbour. What's she saying? I can only just hear her.
"Yes, he'll not get better, but I love looking after him. Bless his heart.He's so cheerful.Hasn't lost his appetite, even though his memory's shut down. Thinks it's bedtime every couple of hours, he does."
Poor Lottie. She thinks there's someone out there. At this hour! Now what's she saying?
"So I go up with him. Take the cocoa. Wait till he's asleep. Then carry on with the day. He comes when I call. Likes his meals on time still. Dear, dear, my poor Alf. Love the bones of him, I do"
And I love you too, Lottie, lass. Even though you don't know the time of day. Love, my dear, still beats strong and proud. Can't fade. Can't stop like the hands on the clock. Still ticks away till the end of time.
Copyright © 2008 Rob Richardson. All Rights Reserved.