Natasha, you wont believe what Ive just heard! Irene, usually so unflappable, sounded utterly distraught. Its absolutely mind-boggling!
What on earth happened? asked Natalie, surprised by her friends sudden drama.
Not over the phone. Im just round the cornerIll pop in.
Of course, come over, Natalie replied, curiosity piqued.
***
Well, out with it! Natalie urged, gesturing to the freshly baked apple pie and steaming teapot on the table.
I dont even know where to begin, Irene muttered, eyes distant.
Start at the beginning, Natalie suggested.
The beginning? Right
Irene took a deep breath before asking, Remember Dr. Lillian from the childrens clinic?
Dr. Lillian Harper? Of course! She was brilliantsaved my little boy more than once. Diagnosed things other doctors missed. Always answered calls, even at midnight. A proper saint in a white coat!
Exactly, Irene nodded. She saved my Emily too. If it werent for her
Why bring her up now? Shes been retired for years. Last I heard, she sang in the church choir.
Sang, Irene corrected softly. Shes gone, Natasha.
What? I just saw hersmiling, bright-eyed! She didnt look ill. Though, at her age
Nearly eighty. And perfectly healthy.
Then how?
You wont believe it, Irene said bitterly. Her own children did it. Drove her straight into the grave. Literally.
No! Thats impossible! Natalie gasped.
Oh, its possible, Irene replied, face hardening.
***
Dr. Lillian Harperonce just young Lillianhad married a cadet from Sandhurst fresh out of medical school. Naturally, she followed her husband, Victor, to his first posting. She worked tirelessly wherever they went, finally settling in a Midlands town. Two kids laterJoanna, her fathers spitting image, and little Charlie, a carbon copy of Lillianshe became the backbone of the local clinic while Victor climbed the ranks.
Being an officers wife wasnt easy. The children, the house, the constant movesit all fell on Lillian. Add a stubborn husband and a demanding job, and well she made it look effortless. Always smiling, always put together. No one guessed the cracks beneath the surface.
Charlie was the class clowncharming, guitar-strumming, and allergic to textbooks. Joanna? A straight-A loner, already too serious for her age. Lillian fretted shed struggle with people later.
She wasnt wrong.
***
The familys facade crumbled overnight. One Sunday morning, Victor walked out without a word. The kids were teens by then.
Lillian had suspected his affairs but bit her tonguefor the childrens sake. Victor, emboldened, stopped hiding it. Then he packed a bag, muttered, Cheerio, and moved in next door. With a widow and her toddler. The gossip mill spun, but Victor soon retired, scooped up his new family, and vanished.
***
Lillian was devastated. Twenty years togethergone.
Theyd started with nothing, lived in barracks, raised babies while Victor was deployed. Shed never imagined hed cheat, not after all this time. But one day, the wall between them was just there.
She stayed silent. For the children. Who then blamed her for driving him away.
Fathers are rare visitorsso of course, theyre perfect.
Mothers? Always there. Always taken for granted.
***
The war at home began quietly.
Joanna and Charlie stopped listening. Every word from Lillian was met with eye-rolls or silence. She endured, hoping theyd grow out of it.
They didnt.
Joanna fled to London, married a financier, and bought a flat in her hometownsolely to rent out. She visited twice a year, if that. Charlie? Two failed marriages, two kids, and a guitar still in hand. His ex-wives turfed him outtoo much drink, too little work.
Where did he go? Mummys, of course.
Lillian blamed herself. No father figure, she reasoned. Her fault he was a layabout.
Then Charlie vanishedalimony dodging.
Bloody hell, Natalie muttered.
Wait, it gets worse, Irene said grimly.
Lillian, ever the martyr, took on his child support. Worked double shifts, even retired still covering for him. Then Charlie swanned backwith a new girlfriendand moved in. Lillian became their unpaid maid.
Until the day they tossed her out. Literally. Neighbors found her on the steps. Hell change his mind, she insisted.
He didnt.
Joanna, when called, dumped her in a flat with a hissed, Pay the rent yourself.
***
For months, Lillian finally had peace. Joined the church choir. Then
Charlie turned up drunk, demanding cash. He took her pension card. Youve got savings, he sneered.
She didnt. Three months of near-starvation later, Joanna stormed in. Pay the rent or get out!
Back to Charlies she went. He took one look and slammed the door.
A friend took her inbriefly. Six months later, Joanna had her committed. A locked ward. No phone. No visitors.
Lillian died four months later. Confused. Alone.
Joanna cremated her. No one knows where the ashes went.
Charlie still moans about missing his free lodgings.
***
No one knows where Dr. Lillian Harper is buried. But they remember her.
Some blame Victor. Most blame the children. A few mutter, She spoiled them.
The wisest just sigh. Nothing happens without reason.
