Page 3 of Escape to the Country

Buy a computer

Buy an iPad

Buy a car (in a month my company car will go back)

Find a job

Invest my redundancy money

Write a CV (blimey, haven’t done one of those for years!)

Fill my time (that was a list on its own)

The phone rang and Mum’s name flashed up.

‘Maddy, darling, it’s me. Mum.’ Normally I got quite annoyed when I received a call from Mum because a) she always called at the most inconvenient times and b) she always told me who it was despite the fact that her name flashed up in blooming big letters on the screen.

‘I’m sorry to bother you. I know you must be busy, but do you have one minute for me to ask you a very quick question? I know I’m a pain and I won’t keep you long. I promise. I just can’t think of anyone else to ask.’

I realised that for the first time in a very long while, I had all the time in the world to chat to Mum and she sounded delighted when I offered to pop round early afternoon instead of chatting on the phone. She said she’d make me lunch. I tried to remember when I last saw her and thought it must have been a good couple of months ago. What sort of a daughter must I have been to not see my mum for that long, when she only lived twenty minutes away and for her to start the conversation with ‘sorry to bother you’?

Looking at the clock, I realised that there were still three hours before I was due to see her. What had happened this morning was only just over an hour and a half ago, yet it seemed like hours had passed. My head was thumping, but I realised that I didn’t have to find the answers right this very minute, so I tumbled into bed, pulled the covers up over my shoulders as I felt a little cold and shivery, and surprisingly, slept.

* * *

When I woke, it took a couple of minutes for me to remember why I was in bed when it was light outside. Looking at the bedside clock, and realising that it was 12.24, reality came flooding back and hit me like a ton of bricks.Breathe, Maddy. Breathe!I told myself.

While I really wanted to wallow in bed and feel sorry for myself, I realised that could only be the start of a very slippery slope, so I dragged myself out of bed and over to my walk-in wardrobe, where I saw that my cleaner must have been in at some point early this morning as it was filled with my ironed clothes.

I supposed that was something I would have to start doing for myself if I didn’t have a job. How was I going to afford a cleaner? And did I really need one when I was at home all day? I hadn’t done my own cleaning for years.

Instinctively, I went to grab a suit and blouse, then realised I was going to Mum’s so I chose a pair of jeans and a casual shirt that was right at the back and that I hadn’t worn for ages, because I was always working. Even when I was at home, I always wore something reasonably smart, just in case I had to go into work at the drop of a hat.

Catching sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, I realised that I should probably sort my face out before I scared any small children that may be around. Not sure the Alice Cooper look was really me!

I used a little concealer under my eyes in an effort to hide the dark circles and red rims, brushed a little blusher over my cheeks, gave my lashes a lick of mascara and finished off with a little rosy-pink lip gloss. I normally wore my hair in an efficient bun, but I really couldn’t be bothered right then, so just ran my fingers through it and gave it a shake so it fell in natural waves around my shoulders. I was sure Mum wouldn’t mind and to be honest right now I didn’t have the energy to even worry about it. Jamie would never have wanted to see me like this and I’d never go to work in this dishevelled state.

Work! All of a sudden, it hit me that I wouldn’t be going back to Ronington’s. Ever. I had put my heart and soul into a job which I thought defined me, where I had thought I was valuable and part of something amazing. I knew it was my choice, to put my own life on hold, but it was only now that I realised that I had given far more out than I ever got back and that when the chips were down, a company had to do what they had to do, and if that meant that you were a casualty then that was just the way it was. Sometimes life seemed very unfair.

3

As I walked up the front path of my childhood home, a path I’d walked up a million times before, the door flung open. Mum had clearly been waiting for me to arrive. ‘Oh Madison, it is so lovely to see you.’ She hugged me tightly, then pulled away and looked me up and down.

‘Your hair looks so pretty like that, darling; you should wear it like that more often. It really suits you.’ She stood back and studied my face closely.

‘Your eyes are red. And what are you doing here in the middle of the day? Are you ill, darling?’

Mum being so lovely overwhelmed me. I had been determined to hold it together but I couldn’t help bursting into tears. ‘Oh, Mum. I’ve… I’ve been made redundant.’

‘Oh, darling, what a shock for you. But don’t worry. We’ve always been able to get through anything life throws at us, haven’t we? And this won’t be any different. Come here.’ She wrapped me in her arms and I suddenly felt safe, realising that the one person I’d been pushing away for so long was the person I really needed to be close to right now, because she made me feel protected. I thought back to my childhood, a really happy time, with just Mum and me against the world. We were such a close-knit little family and I loved her more than I imagined any other child loved their mum because mine was really special. I’d never had a father in my life, so she was my mum and dad rolled into one and she spent her whole life doing everything she could to make me happy, even if it meant working lots of jobs all at the same time, to bring the money in to keep a roof over our heads.

When had I stopped feeling that way about her? When had I started to feel like she was a nuisance in my life? I’d grown into someone who was so work-orientated, I’d forgotten about the person who had brought me into this world and loved me unconditionally, who had put her life on hold to concentrate on me. God,I thought,I must be an awful person.Why did it take something like this to make me realise?

‘Let’s go and have a cuppa and you can tell me all about what happened.’ Normally, when Mum said that to me, I got irritated and told her I didn’t have time, but time was probably the only thing that I did have now and I wanted her to help me. I wanted her to make everything feel better like only my mum could.

As we walked towards the kitchen, she opened the cupboard under the stairs and hung my coat on the pegs behind the door and I sighed as I breathed in the familiar smell of the home I’d grown up in. The home that Mum had poured her heart and soul into and lovingly made for us. The walls seemed to be ingrained with the mixture of aromas of baking bread, coffee and lilies; all the things an estate agent tells you that you should have around when you are trying to sell your house.

Home was a 1920s honey-coloured stone cottage in the village of Giddywell, Staffordshire, where the small population of just over one thousand people all knew each other’s business. The village consisted of one pub, The Dog and Duck, a small supermarket which somehow managed to stock everything you ever needed, St Saviour’s Church, a Chinese take-away, and a specialist bike shop, which was quite handy when you lived near the colossal forest of Cannock Chase, which was stunningly beautiful and full of dog-walkers and bikers. Our cottage overlooked the village green and a pretty little duck pond and probably had one of the best spots in the village.

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