Liam had no idea what to expect as he knocked on the door. Aunt Jemma was formidable at the best of times. Now she had lost her favourite sparring partner and was likely to be more irritable than normal. There was a pause and he knocked again.
He still felt battered after losing Mum so suddenly. One minute she had been giving him, his wife and his kids the benefit of her relentless attention. The next minute, she was gone. Without her whirlwind entrances as she swept in and started cleaning, or cooking or checking homework, or gardening, his home was strangely quiet and it felt neglected. His wife had taken more than her fair share of his mother’s version of encouragement but she was unexpectedly shaken and lost.
The only thing that had diverted Mum’s formidable energy had been her ongoing, low level, continuous verbal sparring with her sister-in-law, Aunt Jemma. Everyone had thought it a blessing that the two strong-willed ladies spent so much of their energy on each other. In their battlegrounds of the local church, the Women’s Institute and the local charity shop, they were known for their organisational ability, insight, creativity and their ongoing arguments. When Dad died, the vicar swore that the only thing that pulled Mum through her devastated grief was the furious argument she had with Aunt Jemma about the funeral flowers. Things were certainly going to be quieter.
Liam looked around. The garden was looking shabbier than usual, and the array of birdfeeders was empty and forlorn. He felt a twinge of worry and knocked again. He should have thought to check up on Aunt Jemma. She didn’t have much in the way of family. She had encouraged her son to go for the high flying job in London and insisted that her daughter follow her husband to the fantastic job offer in Canada, which left Liam as the only local family she had. He felt a twinge of guilt. Aunt Jemma had always been good to him and his family and he had let her down. But it had been so busy with the funeral and then the arrangements. Mum had been as ruthlessly organised with her affairs as she had with everything else. But even with her meticulous preparation, there had still been so much to do.
Liam stepped back suddenly and nearly overbalanced on the step as Aunt Jemma opened the door. She had lost weight, and her usual immaculate hair was hanging loose and unstyled. She was wearing a dressing gown and she looked lost. “I should have called,” Liam said, “But I knew that it wasn’t your day for the charity shop and there was nothing on at church…” he trailed off. “Are you okay?”
Aunt Jemma forced a smile. “It’s good to see you. Come in and have a cup of tea, if you have time.” A flash of her old spirit showed. “But in a proper cup, not a mug like you use at home. At least your mother got that right!”
Liam trailed in after her as she turned towards the kitchen. “Have you been ill, Aunt Jemma?” he asked.
She looked over his shoulder. “I suppose old age is finally catching up on me,” she said. “Sometimes you have to accept that. Losing your mother was a reminder.”
“Do you want me to fill the bird feeders for you?” Liam asked. “I can do that while I’m here. I know that you like to watch your feathered visitors.”
Aunt Jemma shrugged. “I think that I’m out of bird food,” she said. “I’ll have to get some at some point. Anyway, what can I do for you?”
Liam felt the insight spark in his brain. Aunt Jemma didn’t need sympathy. She needed action. “Well, I wonder if you could come around for Sunday dinner. To be honest, I was considering putting up bird feeders so the kids could watch the birds and I think I could do with some advice. Now that the kids are getting older, I think it would be good for them to have the responsibility of keeping them topped up.”
Aunt Jemma looked at him thoughtfully. “Finding a job for me? I’m getting on now, and I don’t have the energy I used to,” she said.
Liam thought that she had had more than enough energy until a month ago when they lost Mum but kept that to himself. “I’m not suggesting that you do anything,” he said. “But I’d be grateful for your thoughts. And I can pick up bird food for you while I pick up some for us.”
“I’m not quite on my deathbed yet,” Aunt Jemma said. “I can pick up bird food. You can come with me once I’m changed and we can go down and I’ll sort some feeders and food out for you while we’re there.” She nodded to herself as she filled the kettle with a lot more purpose than she had shown earlier. “And your wife will be missing your mother, of course. I know how much your mother helped. Mind you, I daresay that you’ll be glad to have less interference, but I won’t speak ill of the dead.” Aunt Jemma plugged in the kettle and pulled out two china mugs. “I suppose she would be glad of a few words of encouragement now and again.”
“We’d be glad to see you,” Liam said. “And I brought this over.” He handed over a package. “It was left to you in Mum’s will.”
Aunt Jemma took her time putting the teabags in the mugs before taking the package and removing the protective brown paper. “I’m glad that she thought of me,” she said. She looked for a moment at the elderly print in the plain oak frame. “Well I never!” Aunt Jemma stared for a moment and then chuckled. “I suppose that she has got the last laugh. She always said that it was a Pre-Raphaelite, and I always said that I don’t care if the painter was Sir Edward Burne-Jones, how can a picture of birds be Pre-Raphaelite?” She shook her head. “And your mother knew that I always loved this picture.” She put the paper neatly in the recycling bin, marched into the living room and took down a landscape, hanging the birds in its place. “Finish making the tea, Liam,” Aunt Jemma said. “I’ll go and get ready and then we can get out and to the stores. I’ll soon get you sorted out.”
Liam smiled properly for the first time since the funeral. He was sure that he would be relentlessly ‘sorted out’ but it would be absolutely worth it.
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