Surprise parcel

Short Story

         As she pulled up the short but steep drive to park in front of the double garage, she was thankful that her duties on the morning school run were over for the next few weeks. More mishaps occurred on the morning runs than on the afternoon ones, and this week she had only one afternoon run left. But without her grandchildren to ferry to and from school, the school holidays were sometimes too quiet.
         Opening the front door with her key, she heard the rustle of envelopes on the door mat and she bent to pick them up. The postman had been early today, so she placed them all on the hall table while she took her coat off and put the kettle on for a pot of tea.
         She played back the messages on the answering machine; from her sister Joan a reminder about their mother's birthday at the week-end; from a mail order catalogue company a request asking her to 'phone back; and from the local garage an advice that a long awaited replacement part for her car was at last available for fitting.
         The kettle boiled as if on queue and she made the tea. She always enjoyed 2 cups so the pot, with cup and saucer and the biscuit barrel, were put on a tray and taken into the dining room.
         She went back into the hall to collect the mail. Amongst the envelopes was a Royal Mail card advising that they had not been able to deliver a parcel because she was out, and that it could be collected from the local Delivery Office, provided that she allowed at least three hours from the time on the card before calling in!
         She decided that she would go there after lunch and on her way to see her friend Jean. She was not expecting any parcel. It was nowhere near her birthday, nor anniversaries, and there was nothing outstanding on any mail order. So who was it from and what could the contents be? In fact a puzzlement. She re-read the card. It definitely said parcel - not a package, nor an envelope for signing. It was quite clear, a parcel.
         She drank her tea in between telephoning her sister and the garage, but the line to the mail order company was always engaged. And she also pondered a bit more on the likely contents of the parcel.
         Routine chores took her through to her homemade lunch-for-one, and then by one-thirty she had changed and was getting into her car.
         At the Delivery Office the man behind the counter handed her a small brown paper parcel, about 12 inches by 6 inches by 4 inches, shoe box size. The label was handwritten but she did not recognise the handwriting, and there was no sender's or return address and when she examined the parcel later in the car the postal mark was blurred. She was tempted to open the parcel then and there but because of the long queue in the Delivery Office she was now running late for her visit to Jean.
         Jean was as intrigued as she was so the parcel was opened whilst the kettle boiled.
         The parcel was neatly wrapped and inside there was a shoe box. And in the shoe box was a pair of slightly worn mule slippers. Ladies, large, beize, furry nylon, 1970's style. Her puzzlement was even greater than before. Who on earth? Why? They each turned the mules over and over hoping to discover some kind of clue or receive some spiritual answer. The size was marked on the soles, as was the name of a famous High Street store. Other than that, nothing. They examined the box that bore the name of a large shoe shop chain and because, when new, the mules would have been sold in a plastic bag, there were no clues there.
         They drank their tea, accompanied by Jean's homemade cake, and wandered off onto other subjects in their conversation, but often returning to the mules that now lay back in the shoe box.
         The more she looked at them the more she was reminded that she often wore that type of mule in the 70's, and in fact they were her size. They fitted her perfectly. Could they be hers? From the past? But why? Had she left them somewhere?
         She cast her mind back twenty years, and more, and saw her two children then aged between 5 and 10 years. She saw her husband working all hours to keep his company going, never seeing the children for more than a few minutes at a time in over five years. She, trying to give a hand with the administration of the company. And she saw a lover. It hadn't meant to be and they had both tried to fight it, but he had brought her comfort at a desperately lonely time of trying to keep the children on an even keel without the presence of their father. And then she saw the departure of that lover to work overseas. She never saw him again, but she never really stopped loving him. As the children got older and married life grew more pointless the eventual divorce was inevitable. She had thought that she would be able to find a more suitable partner, but it never happened. And so her thoughts wandered through the years. Jean had been her best friend through all of them and Jean's divorce had been as difficult as her own.
         The scene having been set, so to speak, Jean picked up on the theme and recalled those days too and between them they reviewed the past, as grandmothers now approaching retirement too fast.
         And then suddenly she burst into tears while Jean could only look on, puzzled and concerned for a close friend.
         It had dawned upon her. These were the slippers that she used to keep at her lover's flat, and suddenly many happy memories flooded into her mind. Eventually she calmed down and asked out loud the uppermost questions. What was the significance of them being sent to her now? Was it her old lover who had sent them or someone on his behalf? Was it a message asking to renew contact? If so, why no note or letter with them, or at least an address on the parcel? She was more puzzled than ever, and determined to get to the bottom of it all. She therefore enrolled Jean to help her to solve the mystery. The next couple of weeks could prove to be very interesting after all, and perhaps a little hard on the emotions.
         However, had they been a little more careful in opening the parcel, they would have seen a brief note that had become stuck in transit between the double wrapping paper and it was now not easily visible, having been torn in two, and it was likely to be thrown out with the rubbish.
          (Word count: 1161)??1998 B. Ridpath