Fiction

Heather Parker worked for the University of Cumbria for many years but now writes semi-professionally. She's wonprizes in several major competitions and many of her stories have been published in magazines and anthologies. Her first novel has been published by Drollerie Press.

'Do you know if you're getting a birthday card from the Queen?' asked Sarah, as she helped the old lady dress.

Kate shook her head vehemently. 'Not if my grandchildren know what's good for them. They know exactly how I feel about the Royals, so if they want my money…'

The young carer raised her eyebrows. 'I bet you were a handful in your younger days, Kate Meadows.'

The manager snorted. 'You don't have to sort out her complaints. I'm beginning to think she's on a schedule. Monday it's the food, Tuesday the television in the next room's too loud… And yesterday I was in trouble for letting the vicar in to visit her. She told him she didn't need spiritual guidance, thank you very much. She was a Communist!'

Sarah burst out laughing but realised that was a mistake. Simon didn't have much of a sense of humour.

'Anyway this should keep her happy,' he muttered, pulling out the large official -looking envelope.

'Fiddlesticks!' replied Kate, outraged. 'It's a nasty, stupid joke. I've been a Republican all my life and they ought to know that! Those parasites sit in their palaces, looking down on the rest of us. Am I supposed to feel honoured because some poor lackey in an office sends me this?'

She threw the offending object down on the bed in disgust. Sarah realised Kate wasn't just angry, she was upset. She watched the old woman wipe a tear away quickly. She found it hard to understand but she was concerned.

'Come on, Kate, sit down a minute. What's all this really about? Why does the card bother you so much?'

'I'm not sure I can explain it. I feel as if no-one sees me anymore, Sarah. Not just the old woman living in this room but the girl I used to be when I was in my twenties. She's still here inside me, you know, but nobody sees her. Did you know I was once on the Jarrow March? Now I'm just an old lady who should like the Queen and Songs of Praise. They don't see the woman who tried to kill herself in 1941 - or was arrested in 1972 for demonstrating against the Vietnam War. It's as if she never existed.'

Kate smiled for a moment. 'That's more shocking than trying to kill myself, is it?'

'Because my first husband was killed in the war and I didn't want to live without him,' she said simply. 'I couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else.'

'But you did,' said Sarah, glancing at the photograph of Kate's second husband by the bed.

'Yes I did eventually but I was lonely for a long time. I threw myself into my studies at Oxford instead.'

'Well, it wasn't then. Although I wasn't alone. A whole generation of women had lost the men they loved in the first bloody war, let alone that one.'

Kate nodded. 'It was the start of it I suppose. And how I came to be arrested in the seventies. Twice.'

Sarah smiled. 'I think I'm beginning to understand. And the people who really know you aren't here any longer, are they?'

Kate shook her head. 'I sometimes wish I wasn't either. I'm lonely without them, Sarah, and my family only comes because they have to. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame them for a second. It's natural. They've got busy lives and more than enough problems of their own. But I wish there was someone who could see who I really am. I still care about the troubles in Palestine and the war in

Iraq

. I wanted to go to London and demonstrate, you know, but the doctor wouldn't let me.'

Sarah nodded. 'I remember. She said you were being impossible and that you should act your age.'

Kate glanced at her. 'See what I mean? What is my age anyway? I still feel nineteen. But my body is a hundred.'

Sarah thought about Kate all morning and wondered what she could do to help. She knew some of the grandchildren were coming at two o'clock for a 'surprise' party and the home had arranged a special cake and balloons. Suddenly it sounded more like a children's tea party and she realised what Kate meant. She sighed and decided to make a phone call to a friend. It was very short notice, but it might just work…

'It's Kate's birthday; surely she's the one that matters,' retorted Sarah crossly. She didn't really care what Simon thought. Her friend had been very enthusiastic and promised to have everything ready in time. The party was certainly going to be interesting.

'At least they'll think we made an effort for her birthday,' suggested Sarah, and Simon brightened a little. He went to make sure there were fresh flowers around and to find a certain odd bottle of wine for the table.

'Is that the royal we?' queried Kate, but the manager left to make a phone call.

'Heavens, what have I done?' murmured Kate. 'I used to fight for population control but it seems I've produced enough heirs to populate

Belgium

Kate rose to her feet with difficulty and received the hugs and pecks from the family with fortitude. She didn't recognise most of them, but she could always play the age card. People made allowances when you were a hundred. They assumed you must have lost a modicum of marbles even if your mind was razor-sharp, as Kate's was.

Simon reappeared, beaming broadly. 'On behalf of Willowmere Residential Home, I would like to mark Mrs Meadows' one hundredth birthday with a little party. Our friends in the kitchen have baked a cake and we managed to find a special vintage in the wine cellar.'

He allowed time for the polite titter. The bottle of wine from the supermarket bore the name Chateau 100. Sarah watched Kate's face but it was expressionless.

'And now I'm sure you'd all like to join me in a chorus of Happy Birthday to You.'

Suddenly Kate made a strange strangled sound. Then she started to laugh. The family stared at her in horror. It was so embarrassing. Obviously it must be dementia or Alzheimer's but couldn't it have held off until tomorrow? The door opened and another group of party guests entered the room, carrying cameras and recording equipment. The family gazed at them with apprehension. Surely they wouldn't show someone like that on television?

An hour later, Kate held centre stage in the lounge as the interviewer from the local television station started to read from his book.

'Kate Meadows, you were born in December 1907 in the small town of Whitehaven in Cumberland. During your amazing life, you have been a staunch supporter of human rights and pacifism, even being arrested several times and imprisoned for your views. You were married twice and produced three children and many more grandchildren and great-grandchildren. You also found time to read Sociology and Peace Studies at Oxford, attain a doctorate, and you taught for many years at Edinburgh University. Your research has helped to formulate policy in many important areas.'

The interviewer paused and watched his subject. 'But these are only the bare bones of your life, Kate. I'm afraid we didn't have enough time to find out much more. We'd like you to put the flesh on those bones now. Tell us what your life was really like? How did it feel to be imprisoned? You are living history, Kate. We need to start appreciating people like you, and valuing them. Will you help us?'

Kate glanced across at Sarah and smiled. 'Oh, yes,' she breathed quietly. 'I have so much I can tell you. But your girlfriend forgot to tell you about my part in the General Strike. And when I went on the Jarrow March.'

'I haven't been around a hundred years without picking up something about human nature,' she smiled. 'But thank you anyway.'

She turned back to the camera. 'So where do you want me to start? As you might have gathered, I've never been very good at acting my age. If you do that, you really get old.'

Kate went on to surprise everyone in the room with her stories, her face alight as she remembered those times, good and bad. Some of her family looked shocked by her criminal activities but the younger members were obviously impressed. Who would have thought their great-grandmother was such a maverick?

Two days later Kate died. Everyone else expressed their regrets and the family returned for the funeral. Only Sarah wasn't sorry. She knew Kate was sad and lonely and ready to die. But she left a final message for Sarah. The birthday card from the Queen was waiting for her in Simon's office the morning after the funeral and Sarah opened it and read the shaky words.

"Dear Sarah, you can't understand how much my birthday meant to me. For so many years I felt as though I were invisible. Just an old lady with a crochet rug wrapped round her in the corner of the lounge. Can you understand how lonely that was? But you let them see me again. All my grandchildren, the other residents - at last they know who I really am. I've known happiness and I've known tragedy just as they have and I'm still me. Perhaps you've helped others like me. I'm still lonely and I'm ready to go. But I wanted you to know you made me happy, Sarah.

P.S. I was arrested for throwing flour at George the Sixth. I can't quite remember why just at the moment. But that's why I don't like the Royals."