Tea with Mrs Pole
Alberta sat primly at the table, casting an occasional glance at the clock.
Everything was ready for when Gladys Pole came.
Alberta grimaced. It felt so strange to think that Mrs Pole had a first name, like any other person, and would be having tea at her place!
What was strange about it, though? Gladys was the mother of Jill Pole. She was the mother of the girl whom Eustace Clarence had befriended (and seemed to like very much, indeed). Like her, Gladys was a mother who had lost her child- but Alberta would not go there now. There was a time to cry, and that time was not now.
Eustace Clarence! She thought. Come home, my son!
Just five minutes. Five minutes would be enough. If she knew that the last she would see of him had been when he was running down the road…
No, she reminded herself sternly. She could not change what was past. All she could do was ensure that she would never forget.
Eustace!
She slumped in her chair.
The doorbell rang.
Oh, what a time to come!
Still, she was Alberta Scrubb, and she had a guest visiting her home. With a deep breath, she raised herself from the table and went to the door.
Gladys Pole stood in the doorway, fiddling with her coat.
"Hello," she said, and looked almost as awkward as she sounded.
"Good morning," Alberta said, smoothly. "Do come in, Mrs Pole."
Mrs Pole nodded and stepped in. She looked so out of place that Alberta felt immediately sorry for her.
"Come this way," she said, eagerly, and Mrs Pole smiled in gratitude as Alberta took her (rather unfashionable) coat and placed it on the stand.
"I do believe that this is the first time that you've visited?" she continued, as Mrs Pole removed her hat and smoothed her hair.
"Yes," said Mrs Pole, in that soft voice of hers. "I have heard much of your home, though- Jill would speak often of it. On some days, she spoke of very little else- I recall she mentioned that Eustace showed her a painting. Do you still have it?"
Did she have it? Alberta could almost have laughed. What did Gladys know of her struggles with the painting, of the memories that had haunted her- and still did, although she now liked them?
Instead, she smiled and led Gladys through to the sitting room. "I still have it," she replied, and gestured to the wall.
Although Mrs Pole had smiled a few times that morning, it was then for the first time that a true smile broke over her face.
"It is exactly as Jill described," she breathed, and stretched out a hand to touch the frame. Her touch was gentle, as though the painting were sacred. Perhaps it was, to her.
For a moment, Alberta, too, was lost in the painting. It was not exquisite, and she had known that for many years- but, oh, how special it was to her now!
Then the moment passed, and Alberta cleared her throat.
"Gladys?"
The name sounded odd coming from her lips. She had said it so few times.
"Yes?" said Mrs Pole, looking slightly unsettled, and turned around.
Since when had she, Alberta Scrubb, not known what to say at a social event?
"Feel free to sit down," she said instead, and cursed herself for sounding so stilted.
Mrs Pole stifled a small giggle as she sat down. "Thankyou," she said instead, but Alberta looked at her curiously.
"Never mind," Gladys said quickly, but just as quickly changed her mind and decided to tell. "Need we be so formal? We ought to have been in this stage of formalities several years ago when our children first met, but now- oh, this is truly ridiculous!"
Alberta also laughed, almost surprising herself in doing so.
"Take a seat," she said, when she had once more composed herself. "We've plenty to talk about."
"Aye," Gladys replied, a small smile in her eyes, "indeed we have."
"Then let us start, before the tea becomes cold!" Alberta declared, and Gladys laughed again. Alberta looked at her quizzically.
"Jill used to say that," Gladys said, and a strange look came into her eyes. It was a look Alberta had experienced much in that past year.
"Do you know," Gladys continued softly, "sometimes I think she'll just walk in through the door and greet me with a kiss? She always called me 'Mother', always, until the-" here she broke off. "I am sorry," she said, "we're meant to be having tea and, as Jill would put it, a jolly good time, and here I am, such a wet blanket!"
Alberta shook her head. "I understand."
"Of course," laughed Gladys, rather weakly. Then, as Alberta handed her a cup of tea, she paused again. "Do you know that Jill once told me the strangest story? She told me she knew how it felt to drink tea from a can, like the workmen do by the side of the road. I asked her where she had been doing it, and she said, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Mother, but I did it in a place called Narnia". I forgot that name until now."
"Narnia," Alberta breathed.
"Oh," cried Gladys, "you have heard of it, too? I was afraid it was just me- age and time and all that, and that Jill hadn't spoken a word of it!"
"No," Alberta said, her heart rushing slightly faster. "What do you know of Narnia?"
Gladys shrugged. "It meant something to Jill, I don't know what. There was another name- beginning with an 'A', I believe-"
"Aslan?"
Gladys furrowed her brow. "Aslan. Yes, I think that was it. Aslan…"
Alberta remembered Susan.
"I was crowned by Aslan, the Great Lion."
"Do you wish for me to tell you the story?" she asked carefully.
Gladys looked uncertain for a moment, and turned to the painting, almost as though she were seeking permission. Then- "I don't see why you shouldn't," she replied.
And for the rest of the afternoon, Alberta and Gladys almost (but not quite) forgot about the formalities of the tea, and instead delved into what many would call a child's fancies.
Many, that is, but not all. For Narnia, as we know, is not a mere game; it is story that is still being written, and the ending is yet to come.
A/N: To those who asked for a sequel to 'A Mother's Musings' and who wanted to see Alberta and Gladys interact, this is for you! I hope it lives up to what you expected, and I apologise if it doesn't. At any rate, please drop a review with what you think. God bless!