Chapter 1
A grey-haired lady sat staring out of the window. She was unsure of her surroundings; How long had she been sitting here? Where was she? Looking down at her hands, she was holding a blanket, why, what was she doing?
A smile came to her dry lips as a short sweet memory flashed before her, of a young girl playing on a swing. She had fallen and ripped her pretty dress, a hand-me-down from her older sister Grace, but never the less, it made her feel very grown up.
Crying, she ran indoors to her mother, who automatically took a handkerchief out of her apron pocket to dry her child’s eyes. “Now don’t you fret Charlotte, I can patch this up for you.”
Fetching a needle, thread and a pair of scissors, she cut a small square from the torn dress, pinning in its place a square of material taken from an old apron. In no time at all the dress was repaired.
It didn’t matter to the child that her dress had a completely different pattern on the skirt. She loved it and was happy once again.
Her sister Grace, two years older, teased her dreadfully, but all the teasing in the world didn’t stop Charlotte dancing around their small house.
With the passing years, Charlotte collected squares of material from discarded clothes, patterned tablecloths, anything she thought pretty enough to add to her quilt.
She kept a notebook, writing about each square; where it had been cut from or who gave it to her. For Charlotte, it was better than keeping a scrapbook. Each piece held a memory and was carefully sewn together.
Her mother had taught her to sew, allowing her to use any material in the house that was too good to throw away.
Today, clutching her blanket, the elderly lady stared at the squares. Why was she feeling so emotional? Where did this quilt come from? Was it even hers?
Most days it warmed her soul, as flashes from the past reappeared. Then the fog would return, and the vacant look came back to her dark brown eyes.
Hours passed as she sat motionless, staring out of the closed window. A noise, or a clatter of cups, sometimes brought her back to her surroundings.
“Would you like a cup of tea dear?” said a friendly voice.
The fog slowly cleared once again as Charlotte smiled and replied. “Oh yes please, that would be very nice, I’m so thirsty!”
“You sound bright this morning Charlotte, are you feeling well?” Not waiting for a reply the nurse carefully handed Charlotte a cup of tea, with a biscuit on a small plate. The plate had a lovely blue and white picture on it called a “Willow Picture or, Willow Pattern.”
“I have seen this picture before,” said Charlotte.
The fog had gone as she looked down at the quilt, there it was, the blue and white square of the Willow Pattern. “This reminds me of my sister Grace.”
Everything became clear in her mind for a few moments.
The smile left her face, as she once again tried in vain to remember why she had kept that piece.
“Don’t upset yourself now,” said the lady with the tea-trolley. “You have a visitor this morning. Let me tidy you up a bit and straighten your lovely patchwork quilt.”
The door opened and a lady walked towards her, accompanied by a nurse.
As they approached, Charlotte gripped her patchwork quilt. “Please don’t take it away! It’s my blanket!”
The nurse smiled and reassured her that no one was going to take her quilt away.
“I’ve brought someone to see you.” She said with a caring smile.
“You promise you won’t take my blanket?” asked Charlotte: Picking it up to study a square without looking at her visitor.
A pink square with silver hearts looked familiar, as a baby girl flashed into her mind. “I must try and remember,” she thought.
Squeezing her eyes tight shut she could picture a child, a little girl, laughing and holding her arms up. “Pick me up mummy,” she said. The young girl was wearing a pretty pink dress with little silver hearts on it.
“Of course, this is my daughter’s party dress. I made it for her. Now, what was her name?”
“Hello Mummy, It’s me, Rose, that square was taken from my favourite dress. You made it for my birthday. How clever you were with your sewing.
Now tell me, how are you today?”
“What am I doing here?” asked Charlotte, looking into her visitors face.
“It’s me, Mummy, Rose, look into my eyes, it’s me! These lovely nurses are here to take care of you.”
Charlotte smiled. “Of course, you are Rose!” she said. “How good it is to see you. Can I go home now?”
Not answering her mother’s question Rose interrupted.
“Mummy, I have something very important to show you.”
Out of her bag, Rose took a black notebook.
“Look what I found. Do you remember this book? It has your name written on the first page. This book belongs to Charlotte Brown. Dated 1947.”
The old lady beamed with delight. She remembered the notebook.
Rose sat next to her mother and turned the page.
“Do you remember your first entry?” The elderly lady raised the blanket and tried to go back in time. It wasn’t long before she pointed to the middle square.
“This square came from my mother’s apron; I’d fallen from my swing and ripped my dress!”
A light shined in Charlotte’s eyes and Rose was delighted to see her mother respond.
The notebook had been such an important part of her life.
“Where is your sister Daisy, is she here with you Rose?” Charlotte asked.
Rose turned the pages of the book until she found an entry.
“Let us look at the quilt and find a piece of material that belonged to Daisy.”
Rose spotted it straight away. It brought back to her, the trauma of that day:
Daisy had taken Rose to the lake close to their house. Daisy was wearing a red and yellow sun-dress that their mother had made.
Whilst playing near the edge of the water, a snake had slithered around Daisy’s leg and bitten her on the foot: Rose stood motionless not knowing what to do as Daisy fell to the floor. “Fetch mum as fast as you can Rose!” said Daisy.
Rose ran faster than she’d ever run before, screaming her mother’s name, but by the time they returned, Daisy was dead.
After all these years Rose was looking at the red and yellow square taken from Daisy’s sun-dress.
She made a quick decision not to remind her mother of that story, instead she changed the subject and thankfully Charlotte didn’t notice as she had fallen asleep.
Charlotte had Alzheimer’s disease and had been in this “Care Home” for a few weeks.
Rose had emigrated from a small town in Australia a few years ago and now lived in England with her husband and daughter.
With Charlotte unable to care for herself as Alzheimer’s took hold, her only alternative was to arrange for her mother to go into care until she could get an early flight.
When Rose landed in Australia she moved back into the small bungalow where her mother had lived all of her life.
It had been a very distressing week. Each passing day her mother had shown no improvement.
A return flight had been booked, but circumstances had changed everything. She had a decision to make and she could not make it in haste.
Today she held her mother’s hand, watching her face light up when she saw the notebook. For Rose, it was a very good sign.
As Rose stroked her mother’s hand, Charlotte opened her eyes. Her thin finger pointed to a square of material. It had small white flowers.
“Shall I look for this piece in your notebook?” asked Rose.
Rose turned the pages until she found where it had originated from. Before she could read the book, her mother had drifted away once again.
“Let’s go into the garden,” she said. “The fresh air will be good for you. The sun is shining and the birds are singing.”
Rose was unable to tell by her mother’s expression whether or not she wanted to go outside, but she herself felt the need for fresh air. It seemed to her that most of the windows were closed and seeing so many elderly people just sitting staring into space, was a little upsetting. She couldn’t allow herself to get upset; she needed to be strong for her mother’s sake.
With the quilt pulled tightly over her body, Charlotte was pushed along the pathway towards a bench where they sat, side by side, watching the ducks in a shallow pond.
“Are we going home now?” asked Charlotte.
“Soon!” replied Rose, even though she was unsure if this was in her plan.
When visiting time was over Charlotte held on to her daughter’s hand not wanting to let go. She clutched the quilt and held on tightly until she was drained of energy. Her head dropped, her hands released the grip and fog returned to her eyes.
With each passing day, it was getting harder to come to terms with seeing this strong woman, her mother, become a shell.
Before leaving, Rose placed the notebook on the bedside table. It held so many descriptive passages and names she’d never heard of, but it had brought recognition to an old lady.
That evening Rose made her decision. She would not leave her mother behind.
A flight was booked for Charlotte, and Rose packed some of her mother’s personal belongings.
Now all she had to do was try and explain to her mother what was happening.
Charlotte had never been on a plane. In fact, she had never been out of Australia. She didn’t remember her father very well as he always seemed to be working away, he was a sheep shearer and by the time he came home, she was in bed asleep.
Her mother had been a dressmaker in their small town when she had a few spare hours in her busy day. Charlotte was happy living in the house where she had been born. When her parents passed away she stayed, bringing up her own family, coping with hardship, drought, heat, and snakes. She loved her life and felt blessed every day.
She looked after a dozen sheep that were happily left to graze in a paddock. Baby Joeys were often cared for and raised on the small acreage. Possums would keep her awake at night as they foraged around the house but she loved them all.
Charlotte continued with her patchwork quilt as it was something she was very proud of. She wasn’t one for possessions but the quilt was a huge part of history that she wanted to preserve.
A friend and neighbour had been worrying about Charlotte’s outward appearance and loss of memory. She thought it best to phone Rose.
Rose, being so far away was unable to drop everything. She had a good job and a family to arrange. Her decision to put her mother in the care home was not a good one.
Rose now stood in the kitchen where she had spent so many happy years.
Nothing had changed. Looking out of the window she could see emu’s, kangaroo’s jumping around with joey’s in the pouch and Kookaburras were laughing up in the trees.
Walking to the old wooden front door, it groaned as she opened it. Stepping outside into the heat of the day she sat in the old rocking chair.
Appearing from the barn came a Blue Heeler dog named Rex. Rose recognized him immediately. She didn’t even know he was still alive.
“Rex how good it is to see you again,” she said as she stroked his head. “You must be at least 15 years old! You look well fed, perhaps the locals are feeding you.”
Rose walked to the barn with Rex at her heels. It had been many years since she and Daisy played in the bales of hay. Such lovely memories.
There sat the rusty tractor: Scattered all over the floor where shovels, rakes, and all sorts of tools. Against the wall, a large sack of sheep pellets and a half-eaten sack of dog biscuits.
“So that’s why you look so well fed Rex!” she said laughing.
Opening the sack of sheep pellets, she tipped some into a bucket and walked to the paddock to feed the sheep. Even though they had a little grass left, they were obviously in need of extra food.
Rose telephoned the care home and told them to pack up her mother’s belongings. She would pick her up and bring her back home. Then she would put the house on the market and tell Charlotte about her flight to England.
The drive from the care home seemed to upset Charlotte. She didn’t know what was going on even though Rose talked to her constantly.
At one stage Rose stopped the car to allow her mother a short break, but that was also traumatic for Charlotte because she had no idea where she was.
Exhausted, Charlotte fell asleep in the car and Rose breathed a sigh of relief.
As she drove up the long driveway to the house Rex barked excitedly, waking Charlotte.
Stopping the car next to the barn, Rose glanced at her mother’s face. Her eyes were wide and the fog had gone.
“That’s my Rex!” she said. “He must need his dinner!” Charlotte tried to get out of the car as Rose jumped out running around to assist her.
“Do take your time, Mummy. I’m here to help you.”
Rose put her arm around her mother’s waist and guided her to the porch. “Sit in your rocking chair and I will bring your belongings into the house. Don’t worry about Rex, I’m sure he’s eaten today.”
Rex was so pleased to see Charlotte that he was crying loudly, and she was obviously delighted to see her faithful companion.
Sitting in her rocking chair she looked around, recognizing everything she could see. Her eyes lit up as she smiled saying “I’m home!”
Rose, with the quilt over her arm, carried the small suitcase into the house.
Taking the patchwork quilt, she wrapped it around her mother’s legs. “You mustn’t get cold, I’ll make you some tea, then I need to talk to you about something very important.”
Rose knew this conversation wasn’t going to be easy. Perhaps she should leave it until tomorrow. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot of time to waste with so much to organize before the flight to England. If this bungalow was to be sold perhaps she should auction the house and land and sell it as it is! She only had four weeks to do everything as her job and family wanted her back home.
Rose appeared in the doorway with a tea tray and was surprised to see her mother walking slowly toward the shed. She was holding on to Rex’s collar. Stepping carefully inside, she went to the sack of dog food, taking a handful of biscuits from the sack she gave them to Rex.
Rose put the tray down and stood motionless. What a difference from a few hours ago when her mother looked like an empty shell.
Charlotte walked back to her porch, sat in her rocking chair, placed her patchwork quilt over her lap, smiled and closed her eyes for the last time.
By the time Rose realized her mother wasn’t sleeping, it was too late to say the words Charlotte would have been happy to hear. “I Love You, Mummy!”
The End.
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