• When Autumn comes to Cornwall, time slows down. Sometimes it’s like the day just stops altogether. It stops and doesn’t seem to want to move on. The sky turns grey like the beard of an old man, the mist comes so low you can only see for a few feet in front of you, the morning dew lingers even though it’s nearly three in the afternoon. Blackbirds in the trees above chirp differently, their song almost sorrowful instead of being filled with laughter. Beads of moisture drip from the leaves of the trees above, towering tall as if so important. Your breath briefly shows like little clouds from the sky. The coolness of the air makes your nose tingle at first, before being hidden back in a scarf or coat as if terrified of it freezing and falling off.
    As I stand before the large charcoal black gates to the cemetery, the resting place of my late mother and so many memories, I decide in my mind that today-Wednesday, October 5th, 2005-is such a day. Time has stopped, and the peace and quiet of this day will never end. Moisture from the tree leaves will drip forever. The old minister will venture out of the church every so often, checking that the peace and quiet still exists. The bouquet of lilies in my hand will always stay fresh and delicate, gently swaying in the non-existent breeze, their strong yet subtle fragrance never wilting out. This is how I think it will always be but somehow it never is.
    This is my October 5th; this is the one day that I always visit on, each year without fail. This is the day I can talk to my Mum again.
    Slowly I push one of gates open, its sheer size misleading over its literal lack of weight. A low eerie whine comes from within the hinges as I place the gate back on its large bolt lock. I turn slowly, checking that my long black coat and pale blue scarf are still sitting neatly as they were from when I left the house before taking a deep breath and slowly heading off along the narrow gravel path that leads to many graves but more importantly to me, my Mums. Ahead of me I spot my mum’s grave and smile sadly, still the same as it was last year; the simple round stone with her name and details carved into it; “Lilly Baxter, 1963 -1990. Beloved daughter and mum.” It still only feels like yesterday that it happened, the memory of it all still hasn’t faded. I get the feeling it never will even though I was only ten at the time that it happened.

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    Mum and I got up early and had gone shopping to get some groceries and new wellies for me; I’d finally outgrown my old red ones so Mum said I could get a new pair for the winter. I can remember being so happy with everything, skipping along the pavement holding mum’s hand. It all seemed like so much fun at the time; it never even flitted across my mind that something bad was going to happen.
    We went into Clarks on the high street and got my new wellies –pink with yellow spots- I loved them, wanted to wear them home too but mum said I had to wait until I got home to put them on. So we left the shop with mum carrying her bags and me carrying my new wellies and started heading for the bus stop to go home.
    I remember we paused outside WHSmith while mum got out our bus tickets and I peered into the shop window still clutching my wellies in their bag by my side, inside the store was packed with Saturday shoppers, all buzzing around like bees. I was so intent on looking in the shop window and mum in one of her bags that we didn’t see the man approach behind us. He came up behind mum and grabbed her handbag then ran off with mum screaming after him. She told me to stay where I was and I did, I didn’t know what else to do.
    She took off after him calling for people to stop him but no-one did. Nobody seemed to even hear her. He just kept running with her in pursuit, crossing one road then heading towards another, I don’t know how but the thief disappeared from sight, possibly into a crowd of people I’m not sure really but mum stopped dead looking around for him. She didn’t even realise what she was standing on I don’t think.
    The car just appeared from nowhere, coming up the road, mum didn’t see it, she was still looking around for the man who took her bag. The car screeched on its brakes, I called out to mum but she didn’t hear me above all the other noise of the world. It caught her side on, knocking her first onto the front of the car then rolling off onto the ground. Her head banging off the hard road like a drumstick off a drum. I froze for a few moments then screamed and ran towards her, scared of what I’d find, of what I’d just witnessed. The driver of the car had gotten out, kneeling beside my mum on his phone to someone, an ambulance it turned out. Tears trickled down my cheeks, I hadn’t even realised I was crying, leaning over my mum, calling for her, asking her get up. She just lay there, still like a rock and as white as a ghost.
    After a while, I don’t know how long, we were both taken away in the ambulance, a lady sat beside me asking me things about who I was, what was my name, what was my mum’s name. I don’t think I answered one of her questions, I kept staring at mum, my eyes not moving off her for a second, tears running less constantly down my cheeks by now.
    When we arrived at the hospital mum was taken out and they sat me in a room with a load of toys and over in the corner I recognised all our shopping. My small bag containing my wellies was just poking out the top of them all. I wandered over, pulling out my wellies, took off my shoes and put my new boots on before sitting back down.
    Hours seemed to go by before another lady came in, a nurse I think and took me out of there, leaving all the shopping on the floor. She kept telling me mum had gone to a nice place and I didn’t understand I just thought “where’ve they taken my mum, I want my mum”. Nothing else mattered now; I just wanted a hug from my mum. I didn’t get a hug from her though.
    When we went into the room, mum was lying down on a table, a sheet pulled up over her, tucking in just under her chin. I walked slowly over, half scared of what would happen, what I would see. Nothing did though, it was just my mum, just lying there, white with a purple bruise above one of her eyes. Not moving at all. I wanted to cry or hug her but I couldn’t, I just stood there motionless.
    Later my Gran and Grandad came, they cried too though not in front of me. I think they thought I couldn’t see them through the glass door. They took me home and I lived with them from then on.
    Mum’s funeral was quite big, all her friends from work came and other family members who I’d never seen before or ever saw again after that day. They played her favourite songs too, and a slideshow of pictures of her, some of them with me, some with friends. I cried silently the whole way through the ceremony.
    Gran kept leaning across and whispering in my ear that it’d be okay but I think we both knew that it wasn’t true. It would never be okay. My mum was gone. Taken from me before I even got to say goodbye or get a hug. I didn’t think it was fair. I couldn’t understand why it had happened to my mum. I didn’t go to school for a few weeks but that just made it even worse as I had nothing to do at Gran and Grandad’s house other than play with his bowls.
    Now fifteen years on, I’m twenty-five, I’ve been through university and have a degree in law. Six months ago I finished the case that put the guy who stole my mum’s bag all those years ago, behind bars for fifteen years. In my opinion it’s not enough though I don’t think anything would be. It still wouldn’t give me my Mum back.

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    I stare thoughtfully at the lilies in my hand for a few minutes before placing them in the ground in a small hole beside her grave. Slowly running my hand over the top of the stone; thinking about everything that I would already have told her if she was still here. Then I realise for the millionth time that it doesn’t matter in a way. My mum’s right here, she may not be able to talk to me but she’s here.
    I begin talking about everything that’s happened since last year, not caring if anyone sees me talking to a gravestone or not. This is mum and daughter time. The only time when the rest of the world doesn’t matter at all.
    I suppose she did go to a safe place in the end then after all.




    iMajesty 2008©