Work Text:
“Mum?”
Neil saw his mother hastily dash the back of her hand across her eyes as she turned from the cupboard she’d been looking through, and looked at her eldest with a forced smile. “What is it? Have you finished going through those chests?”
Neil – just sixteen, and thanks to a recent growth spurt the same height as his mother – nodded. “Mostly just old toys, but some of them are in pretty good nick. There’s some jigsaws that’ll do for the Sale, if all the pieces are there – Meg’s trying to put them together now. She has been working, Mum,” he added, understanding the look on his mother’s face. His twin was given to leaving all the work to him, when she thought she could get away with it, although now that they were in different classes at school it was only really at home he had to deal with it.
“Well, if you’re happy to leave her to it you could just see how Alice and Jacynth are getting on downstairs – and I’ll be down in a little while for Kafee und Kuchen, and we can all take a break.”
“That suits me,” Neil said easily, but he paused. Most of his schoolmates never had to deal with a crying mother, and he felt that it was deeply unfair that he did – for all kinds of reasons. But then, as his grandmother had pointed out, most of his schoolmates weren’t expected to be the man of the house, and making sure that his mother was looked after was part of that. “Mum, are you – is it Dad?”
His mother let out a sigh, which was almost a laugh. “Oh Neil, I’m fine, really – and it’s not your father, for a change.” Her face twisted, and she reached into the cupboard and pulled out a little clock. It was nothing special that Neil could see – not his mother’s usual taste, with all those bits of gem stones all over it. “I was thinking about your Aunt Margot,” his mother said softly.
“Oh,” was all Neil could reply. He knew, of course, that his mother was a triplet; had seen the photos of her and Auntie Con with the third, youngest sister, a young woman with bobbed hair and a provocative smile; the Margaret that Meg was named for. He’d just never really thought about her – but of course his mother had. Wouldn’t he think about Meg every day if she died? And with Dad gone, of course Mum would be thinking of the other people she’d lost. He swallowed, and wondered what he should say. “Was that her clock?”
“It was,” his mother said. For a moment her eyes were sad again, and then, suddenly, she smiled – a real smile this time. “Would you like to hear about how she got it? It’s quite a good story; I slapped her, you know. Really!” Neil’s disbelief must have been showing on his face. “It’s not always easy being the eldest, you know.”
Neil did know. He’d forgotten his mother knew, too. He awkwardly put an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s have the coffee now,” he suggested. “You can tell me about it. I’m sure the girls will be fine without us for the next half hour.”
Len relaxed into her son’s hug. He was less interfering than she’d been at his age – perhaps that came with being the only boy – but he was just as responsible, and she knew that he’d been shouldering more than his fair share of responsibility lately, with little thanks for it. The clock hadn’t just reminded of her Margot, it had reminded her of how important it was to make sure her children were happy – and that she was happy with the adults that they were beginning to grow in to.
“Let’s,” she said.