The Stolen Hours

The Stolen Hours


“Mum!, will you hurry up?!, we’re going to be late ..again”.
Barbara hurriedly attempted to get her possessions together, her comb, compact mirror, purse and yet again, could not find her scarf. It drove her daughter Lisa mad, every morning Lisa would arrive at ten o’clock to take Barbara to the hospital, but every morning Barbara was never ready to leave, infuriating her daughter.
The usual protagonist of this discrepancy would be Barbara’s scarf.
She was always misplacing it, without fail.
“If you can’t leave the house without it mum, surely it would be more important to you and you would not keep losing the bloody thing!!” Lisa spat with venom to rival a cobra.
“It’s just that the house is such a mess, I can’t keep up with the housekeeping, I’m not as active as I was….and since your father went in t…”
“Look, for god’s sake, we haven’t got time to listen to all this again, you’ve found it now .. Lets just go”
Lisa cut Barbara off mid sentence, not wishing to listen to what she’s heard before.

It was a cold day, which was expected for mid November but it wasn’t the crisp, cold sunshine that brought with it promise of festive fun. Barbara hated to hear old women complaining that the weather was better in their day and potatoes were cheaper, she also deeply resented the fact that she was becoming one of them but it seemed to be out of her control. She couldn’t help it, even if she suppressed the words, which would again infuriate her already frosty daughter further, she knew the thoughts were in her head. Winters were better in her day. Although she knew that this thought would inevitably instigate a further train of melancholic misery which made her realise that in fact, everything was better thirty years ago. At least … it was for her.
The dull grey of a discoloured pillow case in the sky was the first thing to greet her as she stepped out of the door, followed by the cold spray of the wind driving drizzle into her face. Barbara couldn’t help but wonder if God was making her pay for what she was doing. It was wrong, she knew it was wrong. Although she couldn’t help but think that it was for the greater good. Without the small pleasure she had, she feared she would collapse under the weight of all the misfortune that had been crushing her for the last fifteen years. She hated to hear herself think like this, as there really was no excuse. She imagined that drug addicts would attempt to pardon their behaviour in the same manner. Inexcusable selfish reasons were words that consistently travelled around her mind and that was a place which was inescapable.

The car journey was silent and laden with unspoken resentment. Barbara was well aware how much Lisa hated taking her to the hospital each morning, she made her feelings abundantly clear. This atmosphere was certainly no anomaly. Every morning it was the same, Lisa’s mood was as anticipated as the morose weather which inevitably accompanied her. “ How is Andy getting on at work?” Barbara tentatively asked Lisa, approaching with the same caution one would exercise when attempting to pet a particularly ill tempered cat.
After a symbolic silence, perhaps signifying that her mind was heavily burdened with driving, Lisa snapped “Well, he’s working all the hours God sends, I never see him, the kids never see him, well … he says he is working… but..”

Lisa realised that she had perhaps said too much already and didn’t wish to betray her icy exterior.
Barbara looked surreptitiously at her daughter out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t help but wonder what had turned her fun loving little girl into such a bitter and forbidding woman.
Although she knew that if she was entirely honest with herself she could easily trace the roots of her daughters apparently loveless existence.
As the car continued to trudge through the seemingly endless winding roads, the constant, rhythmic dull roar of the wheels on the ground, triggered memories in Barbara’s mind.
“Daddy, Daddy…can you take me to the zoo today?!” an excitable eight year old Lisa pleaded warm-heartedly to her father.
“Oh for pity sake Lisa, you know I have to work hard, how else do you expect me to afford your pony? … I don’t know , it’s just take, take , take with you. The sooner you grow up and realise that money does not grow and trees, the better”.
Jonathan’s diatribe on his young daughter was painful to experience, even reliving it now causes Barbara to perceptibly wince.
“What’s the matter with you?” Lisa snapped on cue, in a manner to which those around her had become resignedly accustomed to.
“Nothing darling, nothing” Barbara replied, her voice thick with emotion and tinged with guilt.
“Mummy .. Why is Daddy always so angry with me, what have I done?” , little Lisa asked her mother pleadingly, her eyes brimming with tears in the most heart breaking way conceivable.
Barbara can still recall every detail of that tiny crestfallen face, and she can recall even more vividly the sheer and unabridged hatred she felt for her husband at that moment.
“Daddy never seems angry at anyone but us, Mummy. .. I saw him talking to Aunty Maddy last week and he smiled at her and touched her hair .. He never does that to me or you does he Mummy? … Is it my fault?” Lisa’s heartbreaking monologue continued to supersede itself with each word uttered.
Barbara responded immediately, “ NO, my darling you must never, ever think that.. Daddy just works too hard sometimes .. Mummy annoys him sometimes, but it’s never, ever your fault, you must always remember that.” Barbara attempted to console her small daughter, with words she scarcely trusted in herself.

“Ok, we’re here … again.” Lisa’s curt words awoke Barbara from her uncomfortable recollections and attempted to gather her thoughts as Lisa pulled into the dropping off zone at the hospital.
“ I suppose you won’t be coming in” Barbara cautiously asked her daughter, only too aware of what the answer would be.
Barbara had long since given up on asking Lisa this question, she knew it was a futile gesture as Lisa had not seen her father for six months, since he first entered the hospital and she held out little hope for her seeing him again.
“Mother … why must you persist in asking me the same questions again and again? … You know why I don’t want to see him” Lisa answered whilst staring straight ahead, seemingly concentrating on the rhythm of her windscreen wipers.
Barbara pondered for a few seconds, but decided against her better judgement that she would persist, “ Sweetheart, you do realise that he didn’t mean what he said to you?, it’s the illness talking … you should hear the things he says to me”
“ If you can tell me that he has had Alzheimer’s for the last forty years mother, then I might start to believe you” was Lisa’s emotionless riposte.
“Look, I haven’t got time to hang around here like this, Emma need’s picking up
From the playgroup. I suppose it’s the same time tomorrow morning, unless for once he says something bad enough to stop you from visiting him too?”
Lisa continued to remain faithful to her icy exterior.
“ Yes darling, same time tomorrow if you wouldn’t mind” Barbara solemnly resigned herself.
As Lisa pulled away into the distance, Barbara knew she should fulfil her duty and steeled herself with the same foreboding that was becoming as familiar a part of her daily routine as brushing her teeth.
She slowly walked through the hospital corridors, the evocative smells began to make her feel nauseous.
She approached her husbands room with trepidation, she steeled her resolve and entered.
“Hello darling” she jovially greeted Jonathan the same way each morning and without fail, as if scripted, he responded in the same way . . with silence.
Barbara sat herself down next to the bed, armoured against what she might be confronted with.
Silence still …. She observed her husband, frail and pathetic laying in his bed, in his own little world and began to feel jealous.
Surely that existence would be preferable to the self induced torture which was her own mind.
“How long have I been? was the barely audible utterance from Jonathan
“Sorry Darling?” Barbara quickly replied, secretly dreading the nonsensical conversation that was due to come.
“I only wanted milk, that queue was madness” he continued fulfilling Barbara’s expectations.
“I know dear, it is shocking isn’t it?” Barbara felt a huge pang of guilt as she subconsciously looked at her watch.
“ I never hated you , you do know that? . . I never meant to torture you, I just couldn’t forget, even though I forgave”
Jonathans words shocked Barbara to her core, not only were his moments of lucidity few and far between, but the meaning was something Barbara had never before heard.
“ I . . . know darling … I know …. I have never forgave myself for what I did to you, what I did to our family” Barbara’s tears were welling up as her pent up words tumbled from her mouth.
Jonathan reached out and touched her hair tenderly, “ I hate myself for the way I resented Lisa too. . Do tell her that my darling”
These longed for words, that she knew would make no difference to the bitterness and betrayal which ate away at their family, broke Barbara’s heart.
The one thing that selfishly gave her comfort and relief from her guilt was the fact that Jonathan was unaware of what she had done to him. The one saving grace of his vicious disease was the fact that it had robbed him of the terrible memories she had burdened him with all those years ago.
The moment was cut into, like waking up from a dream, a nurse walked into the room, declaring that Jonathan needed his bath.
“Oh, okay, very well” Barbara was reluctant to leave this moment behind but as she turned back to Jonathan she saw that all too familiar look in his eyes of deep loss and bewilderment . . . He was gone again.
She leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “ Goodbye my darling , see you tomorrow”, she tenderly whispered to him.
Silence, once again.
She quietly left the room as she heard Jonathan asking the nurse when the next plane would be arriving, he was back to the way he was . . . Leaving Barbara wondering whether she had in fact imagined his words.
She made the journey out of the hospital once again, this time, her emotions were different, she didn’t know what she felt, more guilt, more sorrow, but in a way slightly relieved if he did in fact know what he was saying and despite the way he treated her for all these years.. He perhaps never hated her after all?.

As she walked through the hospital doors, she saw before her the person who compounded all these thoughts, these emotions , these fears.
The catalyst for the turmoil of all these years, but the person who could never fail to make her feel that one emotion that overrode her better judgement all those years ago.
She hugged him and smiled “ Edward, oh Edward, he said he didn’t always hate me, he says he is sorry” Barbara wept in his arms.
“ I don’t know whether he meant it, so little he says makes sense these last few months”
“Of course he meant it. He knew you never meant to hurt him. . But me on the other hand” Edward solemnly replied whilst stroking Barbara’s hair.
“ I was his brother“ he continued “ There is no betrayal quite like that”
“ I just feel so awful, it’s my fault, why did I have to leave that letter lying around all those years ago?” Barbara continued to weep.
“ I feel awful for everything, awful for feeling grateful to this disease for giving us the chance to have a few snatched moments each day . . Just everything”
Edward continued to soothe her, “ Lisa must never know, never tell her Barbara it would be too much”
“As much as she resents her father for how he treated her, it’s best that she never knows . . I will be here for her, from a distance . . As difficult as it is , she must always think of him as her blood”
“ I know, I know . . “ Barbara found his words a comfort but the lies tear her apart, they always will.
“Come on, lets get you home” Edward put an arm around her and led her out of the car park. “ I think its’ clouding over” he said.
Barbara was unsurprised as she clutched the scarf she had kept for all those years, close to her neck.
It was a dear present, it reminded of her of less complicated less tortured days.
“It’s the least I can do for him“ she thought as she steeled herself for tomorrow as it was just another day. . . Another day of the same.



THE END