The streaks of raindrops on the kitchen window reflected the dull light of that grey afternoon. The last of the mourners were leaving but Nick Maguire could not muster the energy to see them out. He just stared at that window, his own reflection blankly staring back. Suitably, the raindrops ran down the face of his reflection, washing his sallow skin in tears. Unable to contemplate his future, all he could do was immerse himself in pain.
"That's the Jennings' gone, Nick if you don't mind, I better get home to the kids. Will you be okay with Bobby and Liah?" Fiona, Nick's older sister was already putting on her coat as she spoke to him from the hallway. He snapped out of his daze.
"Yes, of course, I'm fine, I'm fine. You go ahead Fiona; I will catch up with you tomorrow." Nick wasn't fine and Fiona knew this. Even still she could not play babysitter forever, she had her own family to take care of. She also had another piece of, perhaps slightly unwelcome, news.
"Oh, and Mom said she would drop by later on to give you a hand." Fiona wore an apologetic grimace as she said this. "I know, you need that like a hole in the head."
Nick turned to face his sister. "It's okay, she means well." Nick loved his mother, but she was not a practical woman. The thought of having to take care of her along with the two young children for the evening was daunting.
It had been 4 days since Maria died. 4 days since his bright beautiful wife of almost five years succumbed to a short, shocking illness. 4 days since the perfect life they had built, happily married at twenty-three, two children, an impressive home, was all torn apart. They had the wake, the funeral, the burial. The friends, relations, neighbours had all come and gone. Now Nick was about to be thrust into the life of a single parent, and he hadn't even thought about how he would cope. He knew he would need help, and Fiona had provided that help so far, but with her own responsibilities that always had a limit.
Anna Maguire, Nick's mother, had stayed with Fiona for the funeral, but she had messaged ahead to tell Nick that she would be staying with them tonight. This news was met with little enthusiasm from Nick, who found himself preparing the spare room while trying to feed the children that evening. It was a small room with a single bed, but it would do for one night.
Nick loved his mother, but she was far from the typical granny figure. Anna married young and had two children before divorcing at just 26. After the divorce she moved back in with her own parents, and from there they were the ones who took main responsibility for raising Fiona and Nick. Making up for lost time, Anna enrolled in college, got a degree and then a job. She still lived at home until Nick finished school.
Just as Nick was starting college, Anna met Harry, the boorish wealthy financier from London. And it really was true love. Anna loved the glamorous city lifestyle -- the style, the night life, and of course the money -- and who could blame her, having spent her youth in a miserable marriage raising children, she earned the right to have fun. For his part Harry, a single man in his mid-fifties who knew that his most attractive feature was his bank balance, loved having a beautiful, intelligent younger woman on his arm.
After just twelve months there was a proposal, six more, a wedding, two years later, the inevitable divorce. Anna acknowledged a sadness in how it turned out, but admitted she had few regrets. The relationship had opened her eyes to a new world, and, as part of the divorce settlement, she received a quite plush apartment in London. There she had built a life for herself, only returning home to see her children, and soon grandchildren, a few times a year.
A knock echoed through the house followed by the sound of a door opening. "Hello!"
Nick walked out to the hallway to see designer luggage resting inside the open door. Carrying a further bag, Anna tottered in on her delicate black heels. She wore a form fitting two-piece sleeveless black outfit. Tight fitting it hugged her slender figure, and the skirt finished above her knees to show black fishnet tights beneath.
"Mom the funeral is over, you don't have to keep dressing like Morticia Adams," Nick said sarcastically, the closest thing to a humorous comment he had made in days.
"Darling, this is style," she said smirking, happy to see a crack in her handsome son's melancholy. Weariness from the preceding days was written all over Nick's appearance, but he somehow, his unshaven face had the look of designer stubble, his unkempt shock of black hair resembled an effortless coolness, even his crinkled white shirt looked almost deliberate.
"Granny!" Bobby came rushing out of the kitchen, covered in flour, and wrapped a hug around Anna.
"We're making pancakes," Nick smiled almost laughing.
"Right," said Anna, looking down in horror to see her dress destroyed in flour and pancake mix. She forced a smile, "Maybe I will just get changed very quickly, then I will join you."
That evening, Anna shared pancakes with Nick and the kids, but she was quick to help with the cleaning up and, to Nick's relief, took responsibility for putting them to bed.
That night Nick slept properly for the first time he could remember, indeed he slept in. It was nearly ten when he woke up, then he realised 'oh no the kids.
Nick went into the kitchen in trepidation but was pleasantly surprised to find his mother busy cleaning up while the children were drawing pictures at the table.
"Have you had your porridge?" Nick inquired.
"Granny burned the porridge," Bobby offered, "we had chocolate for breakfast".
Nick turned to Anna with a look of puzzlement.
"Chocolate spread on croissants!" Anna explained. "Sorry Nicholas, I'm not great with pots and pans. I saw you had croissants in the press and thought they might do."
"It's fine." Nick smiled. "They deserve a treat. Thanks Mom". Nick knew all about his mother's lack of cooking skills, but was pleasantly surprised by the effort that she was putting in.
Later that morning she informed him that she would stay for a few more days, and Nick was happy with that. This helped him to get back to work, and again Anna extended her stay.
More time passed and soon they were in a routine. Anna was taking on the role of full-time childminder, and Nick was able to start putting his life back together. And with each passing day, Anna became more like the doting granny, and less like the femme fatale from the city -- even her cooking improved. She kept some independence - her small room at least had a separate bathroom. Every now and then, Nick would ask "what about Chelsea?" referring to her London flat, but Anna had that covered. Her friend was a property manager, and he was using it for short term holiday rentals, giving Anna a nice little income.
Three months later, one Saturday afternoon, Fiona was visiting and chatting with Anna in the sitting room when the sound of shouted expletives came from the kitchen. They both decided to go and find out what was up.
"Bastards. Sorry Mum for the language but they are bastards." Nick was furious. The women stared at him blankly, he realised that he had to explain. "A reminder went off on my phone this morning. Shortly before she got sick, Maria booked a holiday for the two of us, to celebrate our fifth anniversary. With everything that happened I had completely forgotten about it. So, I got on to the airline and the hotel, neither of them will give me a refund. The hotel said it was too late, but at least they would allow me to change the booking and give it to somebody else. The airline though, the pricks, they won't let you change the name on the flights unless you pay a fee that costs more than the flights themselves."
"When is the holiday?" Fiona asked.
