Flash In The Pan - 13. Hidden Within

In the lounge, Marty bent over another crate. He filled it with books replete with childhood memories: his mother reading him to sleep even when he was old enough not to need it. Why she kept them, he had no idea. At this rate the entire town's charity book stock would be courtesy of her. He ran his finger down a battered, dog-eared Biggles novel which she gave him one Christmas. With a sigh, he stood upright, trying to ease his back and flexing his equally sore knees.

"Marty? Come and see this!"

Ian's voice echoed through the emptying house. Soon there would be little of his mother and her life: just the wallpaper and curtains.

Marty rotated his neck while he wondered what gem had been uncovered. An ancient Teasmade - possibly a wedding present - and a cache of 1970s crockery were previous highlights. He smiled. His mum had been so proud of the dark green and mustard coloured tableware. Hideous now, of course.

"Coming!"

He kept back a mug and the jam pot to see if they'd spark any memory. Something to puncture the suffocating blankness as she sat in the nursing home day after day. He sighed.

Ian stuck his head round the door. "Come on." He held a hand out. "This is really exciting."

"Don't tell me ... A collection of Betamax tapes?"

"No!" They both strode upstairs to his mother's bedroom. "I'm serious this time."

He wondered how often she slept there over the previous year: her mobility was poor; her pride, not. He came across a stash of bedding hidden behind the sofa. Anything to make it appear she led a normal, self-sufficient life. A wave of guilt washed over him.

Ian gave him a quick kiss. "Nothing's your fault: we live the other end of the country. You do everything possible."

"Which isn't enough."

"We all fail, one way or another." Ian shrugged, then leant over the bed and grabbed his latest prize. "Look! I found it behind the real books." He held out a small box masquerading as a hardback volume. "You'd better be the one to investigate."

Marty stared at it. The supposed book was something he'd never seen previously: as a youngster, he wasn't often allowed in his parents' bedroom, but when he was, he invariably ended up in front of the bookcase. He would've remembered that green and red binding.

He took it and peered inside. A heap of yellowing letters and a locket looked back at him. His mother wouldn't have tolerated any competition, even for such a lackadaisical specimen as his father. He compared the feisty, sometimes sharp-tongued matriarch of his youth with the shell she now was. Frowning, he opened the locket. It contained the photos of two women.

"This doesn't make sense."

"What?" Ian joined him.

"Your eyesight's better than mine. Take a closer look."

Ian took his glasses off and inspected the tiny photos. "The one on the left's your mum, surely? Who's the other - a friend?"

Marty shrugged. He opened one of the letters and read the first paragraph:

Darling Madge, You look gorgeous in that swimsuit, far better than I would. I'm glad my Brownie obliged for once - it's such a temperamental thing. I'll treasure the photo until we next meet. I hope it will not be long, for I miss you terribly. Ma is calling us all down to tea - I'll continue this later ...

Madge - or Margaret - was his mother. Puzzled, Marty turned the letter over. It was signed All my kisses, Jude. Judith? Ian took it to read. He found the last letter and checked the date. His stomach lurched as he realised the significance. Scribbled lines blurred through his tears as he read Jude's pleas, recriminations, and of her abject misery.

"Hey ... what's up?"

Silently, he handed over the letter. Ian perused it twice before giving it back.

"It's dated a month before Mum's marriage."

"God ..."

They embraced, quietly giving thanks for change and tolerance.

Ian raised an eyebrow. "You said you never understood why she welcomed your coming out."

He grimaced. "Yeah, well - the 1980s weren't great time to be gay, but she supported me wholeheartedly. Unike Dad."

"And here's some of the reason why."

"Yeah." Marty smiled. "It makes me love her more."