Sunday, 9th November 2008

"Hey mum, the service at the Cenotaph is about to start," Laura called. When she didn't get any response, Laura thought that she mustn't have been loud enough, so she went upstairs to find her mum.

"Hey mum-" Laura trailed off as she saw her mum sitting on her bed, looking at a photo album, tears streaming uncontrolled and uncared down her face.

Laura stood there, not knowing what to do. It didn't seem right to intrude, but she'd never seen her mum like this before. Mum was always the strong one. Mum had been there when she'd done badly in her mock exams and had given her the encouragement that she could pass, which she had. Mum was the one that had helped when she'd broken up with her first real boyfriend and sat with her as she'd poured out her heart.

Deciding it was her turn to help her mum, Laura went up and sat down next to her mum and put her arm round her. "What's up?"

Yvonne gave a jump as she felt her nineteen year old daughter's hands on her. She'd not even heard her come in. Instantly, Yvonne shut the album, and said, "Is it on?"

"It will be in a minute. Are you okay mum?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be down in a minute."

Laura went downstairs, rather confused and rather concerned. She'd never seen her mum like that before. It felt rather unsettling to see a highflying executive to be so out of control.

Yvonne came down a few minutes later, the tears all washed away and looking more like the mum that Laura knew. They watched the Remembrance Sunday service in silence, with Yvonne glimpsing little glances from her daughter throughout the service.

Laura had always thought it was strange. They'd gone to church most Sundays, but they never went on Remembrance Sunday. They always stayed home to watch the national service on television. It had always been the way it was, and it was only when she was older that Laura had wondered why, but never had the courage to ask her mum.

"Would you like to go to the Cenotaph?" Yvonne asked, surprising Laura. Laura was used to her mum's ways, but this one caught her by surprise.

"What? Now?"

"No, on Tuesday."

"But don't you have to work?"

"I know it seems like I'm always working, but I am allowed to take some time off."

"I suppose I could ask my boss if he wouldn't mind," Laura thought out loud.

The day passed without any further hint at what had happened during that morning. Laura did wonder though why her mum had suddenly brought up the idea of going into London to see the Cenotaph.

* * *

Tuesday, 11th November 2008

Laura's boss hadn't any problem with Laura having the day off. It was a quiet time of the year, with most of the work happening during the summer. He'd resigned himself that Laura was only there for a year, before she would go off the university. A strange gap year, but who was he to complain, she was one of the best workers he had.

"Why are we going to the Cenotaph?" Laura eventually worked up the courage to ask her mother.

Yvonne smiled. "All in good time, though I'm glad to see that you are asking me questions at last. You are nineteen now, and shouldn't be so nervous. I'm not going to eat you; I save that for the executives at work."

Laura only returned the smile. She still felt in awe at her mum, who'd raised her on her own and had still managed to become the CEO of a company that employed tens of thousands of people."

* * *

The train journey only took thirty minutes, and a quick underground trip soon had them in the right area.

The sun shone against the Portland stone of the Cenotaph, the base still surrounded by wreaths of poppies from Sunday's service. At eleven, they both stood there, staring at the memorial. In the distance the familiar bongs of Big Ben rang off the hour. A solitary tear broke Yvonne's defences and trickled down her face, only to be noticed by Laura.

"Are you okay, mum?" Laura asked as the two minute silence ended. She'd been thinking about the horrors of war. The millions that had died in World War I. The bombing and gassing of civilians in World War II. The people that had drowned and burnt in the Falkland War.

"Yes, though today is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Come on, let's try and grab an early lunch before we go to our next stop."

"It is good to see you again, Yvonne," a man in his fifties said. He'd been one of the people that had been marking the two minutes silence around the Cenotaph. "I just wish it was in better circumstances. This must be your daughter?"

Yvonne nodded and the man turned to Laura and offered his hand. "Quentin Hobson. It is good to finally meet you, Laura. You do so look like both of your parents."

"Nice to meet you, too," Laura replied formally as she shook his offered hand. Laura wasn't fazed with meeting someone that her mum knew, and had been raised to know when, and how to be, formal. What did surprise her was the mention of both her parents. She'd only known her mum. However, before she could ask him, he'd disappeared into the crowd.

"Who was that?" Laura asked bewildered. "And how did he know my name?"

"Quentin Hobson, but he'd already told you that. Come on, let's get that food! I'm hungry."

Laura knew that she wasn't going to get any more from her mum at the moment, but decided if it didn't come up again she would ask again that night. Nobody had ever mentioned her dad before.

At just past eleven, most places weren't open for lunch yet, so they found a nice quiet café that served all day breakfasts. As they ate, Yvonne asked Laura, "How did you feel during the two minutes silence?"

"Grateful that the people were willing to fight to save our freedoms. I just couldn't imagine what it must be like, knowing you might die, but still carrying on."

"So you appreciate the freedoms we have then?"

Laura looked across at her mum, wondering what she was getting at. Yvonne never said anything like that without some reason.

"Yes, though I'm not sure the current government does. They use the fear of terror to reduce our freedoms in the name of safety. Did you know that they plan to develop a huge database containing details of every phone call we make, and every email we send?"

"Yes, I knew, but it is nice to know that you do and that you have some passion about something in life."

After eating, they made their way back on the train. "Our next and final stop isn't far from home," Yvonne explained.

"I presume it is the local cemetery?"

"Yes. Are you okay going there, or would you rather I do this on my own?"

"I'm coming with you. Now are you going to tell me about Mr Hobson?"

"He is the headmaster at a rather remarkable school. Hopefully you'll get an invite to come with me to hear one of their fabulous concerts."

The train ride went smoothly and after paying the extortionate car park price, they made good time to the cemetery.

"Are you sure you want to come?" asked Yvonne, sounding nervous. She'd taken a plant out of the back of the car.

"Yes, now lead the way."

They eventually stopped by a well cared for grave, covered with fresh plants and flowers. Trying to hold back the tears, Yvonne placed her plant at the back of the grave.

Laura read the inscription. "Here lies Sally Taylor. She was much loved. 1965-1989". Laura was surprised, as she'd thought it would have been her dad.

"It's okay Mum. You can cry."

That was it for Yvonne, and a gentle trickle of tears started. Laura took her mum into her arms and the trickle became a flood.

"Thanks," said Yvonne, when she eventually gained her composure. "I often get upset when I come here."

"How often do you come?"

"Probably not often enough, or too often, depending what is happening. Could I have a few minutes alone?"

Laura wondered off and glanced at some of the other graves. She would often look up and check to see how her mum was doing. Some of the graves were in better condition than others, and it brought a lump into her throat. These people had died and it was like nobody cared who they were or what they'd done.

"You've got a glint in your eye," said Yvonne as she approached her daughter, having finished with her private time at Sally's grave. "What scheme have you come up with?"

Laura gave a little laugh, which seemed a bit at odds with their surroundings. "You know me too well. I was just thinking how some of these graves were unkempt, and wondered if it was because relatives lost touch with where ancestors were buried. I was thinking about trying to document the graves and create a website."

"Don't be disappointed if there is one already."

Laura nodded, but Yvonne could see her daughter's mind was still whirring with ideas.

As they headed back to the car park, a voice called out "Hi, Yvonne."

Yvonne and Laura both looked across. They'd been both busy talking they hadn't paid attention to the people coming and going.

"Justin!" called out Yvonne and rushed across to give him a huge hug.

When they separated, Laura had joined them.

"Ah, this must be your daughter, Laura. I'm Justin Taylor, pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," Laura replied, starting to get a bit narked at all these strangers knowing who she was.

When they got home, Yvonne said, "I've got to grab a few items together. Why don't you get sorted and we'll discuss things."

Laura agreed and disappeared into the downstairs toilet. "I need to be quicker than that," thought Yvonne as she went upstairs.

When Yvonne eventually came downstairs, she had a box full of items she might need. "No peeping," she warned Laura, as she went to get a nice bottle of wine and two glasses.

Laura's eyes widened as she saw the bottle. This wasn't a cheap wine.

"So, where do you want to start?" Yvonne asked as she poured out the wine.

"Can we start a bit backwards? I was going to ask about the Cenotaph, and what Mr Hobson said about how I looked like my parents. However, that seemed a difficult place to start. Why don't we start with who Sally Taylor is?"

"Okay. The man that we met as we left the cemetery, Justin, was Sally's younger brother. Justin works very closely with Quentin Hobson, who you met at the Cenotaph."

"So what does that have to do with you?" prompted Laura. She was used to her mum and knew that she often stalled with titbits of information that would throw people off track.

"Sally and I used to be married."

"WHAT!" exclaimed a shocked Laura. "Why have you never mentioned her before?"

"You were very young when she died. When you were older, I've never found a good time to tell you."

"Hang on," started Laura, regaining some of her normal thoughts. "They have only just started to allow civil partnerships, and they've never allowed same-sex marriages. How could you have been married?"

"You're too smart," sighed Yvonne, pulling out the photo album that she'd been crying over the other day. She flicked forward a few pages and showed it to Laura, who'd come over to sit next to her.

"These were taken just after you were born."

Laura took the album and saw two very happy women, taking it in turns holding a baby. The women were cuddled together and appeared very much in love.

"Is that Sally?"

"Yes," sobbed Yvonne, tears again streaming down her face. "She was always so beautiful."

"You both were," said Laura, cuddling up to her mum. "You seemed so happy together. How did you meet?"

"We met in a pub. Sally was there with some friends, and I was there with mine. We got chatting and we hit it off. Things were hectic, due to Sally's job. She often was called away at short notice, sometimes for many weeks. Sally was stabbed, while working abroad. She managed to make it back to England and was rushed to hospital. However, her wounds were too severe, and after many hours in the operating theatre, the surgeons knew they could do no more. She died in my arms on the 11th of November 1989. As she died, she made me promise that I would be the best mum I could be."

"You have been," Laura sobbed.

Yvonne took the photo album from Laura and gently stroked the face of Sally, before closing it.

Laura and Yvonne both cried a bit longer, Yvonne remembering the death of her partner. Laura for the person she never knew.

"Since you were both capable of being legally married, I take it that you were both my biological parents," Laura eventually said.

"Yes," said Yvonne, looking like she was about to burst into tears.

"One of you used to be a man?"

"Yes," Yvonne replied, dreading the next question.

"Then I now know why I never knew my Dad, I never really had one. I was one of the lucky people to have two parents who loved me. I don't need to know more than that."

Yvonne burst into tears once again, this time tears of relief and happiness. She put the photo album back in the box and took it back to her bedroom.

Today would just be the remembrance of the death in service of Sally, but now Yvonne would remember the day she knew her daughter had accepted both her parents.