Fetch Herbert

Mrs Gilbert was a trial to her son.

"I've always had my own front room" she would say, "Too old to change now".

Bob Gilbert frowned as he drove towards the block of flats where his mother lived. Her living there was anathema to him, three flights up and the lifts didn't always work. She was old and frail, a constant worry. She was also indomitable in spirit and adamant in insisting upon her independence.

It would be the perfect solution if only she would move in with them. She and Amy his wife, had always got on well. Bob grinned to himself, they had even, on occasion, ganged up on him. "And it would be great for the kids. They'd love it" he thought as he parked the car. "She'd love it too. I know she would".

"Come in, son" Mary Gilbert's welcome was warm. "Cup of tea? Kettle's on". Bob followed her into the sitting room.

"Alright Mum"?

"Not ready to give up yet – if that's what you're wondering. Now, you just sit there and I'll bring the tray. You work too hard".

Bob sat reluctantly and waited. There was no point arguing when she used that tone of voice. The room in which he sat was neat but shabby. He knew she did her best, keeping most of the dust at bay but there was an air of neglect about the place. Everything seemed old, worn and tired, not the gleaming home of yore. Bob shook his head "It mustn't half upset her, not being able to reach everywhere….not that she'd ever ask for help".

"That's Herbert" said Mrs. Gilbert, walking slowly and painfully into the room. "Take this from me, son". She handed the tray to Bob.

"Herbert"? He raised an eyebrow.

"That spider you have your eyes fixed on up there is my friend Herbert". She sat down heavily. "Got to know him quite well. Industrious chap, quite artistic. Turns out good work. Was going to clear him away with the broom" She glared at her son " now that you've confiscated my step-ladder. I suddenly realised we have a lot in common. Do you take sugar these days"?

Passing the cup of tea to her son, she looked meaningfully at him. "Herbert doesn't want to be moved from his abode and neither do I. I keep him up there as a symbol – until he seeks pastures new, of course".

"Oh! Mother". Bob felt totally frustrated. He understood her need to keep control of her life but Amy had said "Go on Bob, have another go. Make her understand that we actually want to have her with us".

"How's Amy"? asked Mrs. Gilbert.

"Worried about you" said Bob, "So are the boys" he added, bringing forward the big guns. If the kids couldn't lure her…

"Alright, alright" he said, waving a conciliatory hand, seeing the look of exasperation on his mother's face "just give it some thought, please. You must know by now we'd love to have you".

It was an old battle that Bob was used to losing. He badly needed new ammunition. It was a problem other people faced. There must be a solution while preserving the dignity and essence of a person. It should be possible to face the final stage of life with a modicum of choice and not be treated like a recalcitrant child or a parcel, lost in transit, to be picked up and put down at another's whim. There must be a way to tempt his mother from her solitude. Theirs was not a big house but it did have a spare room and a hell of a lot of love to go around.

When he got home Bob and Amy talked it over yet again "Good Lord, it's not as if we're suggesting she go into a Home. Damned if I know why she wants to stay on her own when she could be here in the family, have her meals cooked, see the kids growing up".

"What did she say this time"?

"What she always bloody says". Bob mimicked his mother "Always had my own front door. Too old to change now. You, Amy and the boys have your own lives to live and I've never believed in interfering with young people".

"What are we gong to do"? They sighed. The discussion was going its usual predictable way. Their two sons joined in the "sorting out Gran" game. John drawled in an off-hand way "Bet she's got her price".

"Whatever do you mean"?

"Make her an offer she can't refuse" said Derek, "Obvious really".

Their parents stared at the teenagers and then thoughtfully at one another. Light was dawning.

"Will it work"?

"Yes, of course it will. It must. Well done, you two"

No time was wasted in setting the plan in motion. Their home became a hive of activity. Everybody was put to work at every available moment of the day. Much to her surprise Mrs. Gilbert found that she was no longer being nagged. Indeed it seemed that she was no longer welcome in her son's home. No pressing invitations came, no begging phone calls asking her to accept them. Excuses were found to cancel her weekly visits though Bob continued to call on her in her little flat. It was all unsettling and mysterious.

Just when she was beginning to think that she must ask for an explanation Bob arrived, obviously bursting with excitement, insisting that his mother come home with him at that very instant. Brushing aside any tentative attempt to refuse he practically marched her to the car.

The family greeted her at the door, all grinning from ear to ear. Mary Gilbert was bewildered. For weeks now she had felt neglected yet here she was being royally welcomed. They all laughed and lead her into the house and up one short flight of stairs.

They held their breath while the old lady stared open-mouthed at the sight that met her incredulous eyes.

"Oh!" she breathed a sigh, an exclamation, an expression of wonder in one small sound. She moved forward to run her hand falteringly over the freshly painted door. Her fingers lingered on the doorknocker. She lifted it and let it fall gently. Brass on brass. In the breathless hush it made a clean clear sound. Her hand moved down to touch the letterbox. It bore her name.

"It's a front door". She shook her head in disbelief.

"You kept telling us you always had one, Gran. Go inside". Trembling she turned the key waiting in the lock and walked into the room.

Suddenly everyone was talking at once, pointing out the cooker, the fridge, the tabletop washing machine, the shower-room, the television.

"Hang on everyone. Give Mum a chance". Bob put his arm around his mother's shoulders "We thought you'd like to bring your own bed and furniture, your own bits and pieces".

"Give me a moment, son. I can't take it in".

In silence she stood and looked out of the window at te flower-filled garden below. Amy could stay silent no longer "You can be completely independent her, Mum, but we'll be close if you need us".

They all followed Mrs. Gilbert as she walked slowly to the door. She removed the key from the door and put it in her handbag. "My own front door" she said "I can't believe it". She looked from face to smiling face before her. "Do me a favour, son" she said.

"Of course, Mum, anything"

"Fetch Herbert for me".