The Clockwork Mouse: Part One

Sarah Mountford was thirty today. What should she do for her birthday? Her mother Anne had suggested she spend it with her. They could maybe go out in the car to one of the gardens in the area. She loved Sissinghurst. Sarah would go along with it of course, for in her mind Mum always knew best. It was early July: the gardens would be magnificent. When they got there, however, there was rain in the air. 'Oh, Sarah', Anne said, 'the hollyhocks will start to hang their heads'. Sarah cared deeply about  her mother. She wasn't always very well, and Sarah wanted to help her as much as possible. In her youth Mrs. Mountford had had polio, but she'd avoided the worst of the disease and had made a full recovery. Anne had got used to people helping her; in fact she expected it. She expected Sarah to do things for her; make her life as easy as possible.

The grass was lovely and green, and rain tinkled down to wonderful beds of pink, white and blue. The white lilies and yellow hemerocallis were vibrant with the rain and it made the gardens even more alive somehow, but Anne complained. She niggled Sarah, but this was nothing new. Then suddenly Anne spotted her friend, Barbara Stallybrass. 'Oh look, Sarah, there's Barbara.' ' Cooee', she shouted out, and Barbara looked over in their direction. For the next twenty minutes Anne and Barbara caught up on all the latest news. How Mrs. Hobday had run off with that insurance man, Mr. Hardigood, and how that Maude Ferris had lost thousands to a romance scam. Sarah tuned out remarkably quickly, she was bored, but Mum must come first, she always had, and Mum wasn't one to care that much about Sarah. She could look after her in her old age, and that was good enough for Anne. What else should a child do for a parent, if not care?

'Can I have your umbrella, Sarah?' said Anne, and of course Sarah consented. Anne must not get wet, it might give her a chill. Not that that would bother her too much. Sarah could minister to her in bed, like she had last winter. Sarah went through her life in some sort of fog, a fog of obfuscation and being taken in by unscrupulous people. At work Sarah's boss leaned on her a lot. He depended on her.

When they got back home, Sarah went to her bedroom. She looked in the mirror. What was she doing living in this house with her mother? Her birthday had not been a success, but she barely registered this. She looked at her hair; it was damp and lank, a mousey brown colour, not her best feature, but did she have a best feature? She thought not.

It was then she heard her mother's voice coming up the stairs from the hallway.

'Sarah, could you start the tea? 'I'm putting my feet up, I think I'm having one of my turns. It's all the excitement of our trip out.'

'Yes, Mum' answered Sarah, I'll be down in a minute'. Sarah made the tea; crumpets with strawberry jam and chocolate eclairs. Sarah enjoyed these homey things; she was safe in this world. She had magazines: Vogue and other sophisticated magazines, but knew in her heart they had nothing to do with her.

Concluded in Part Two