I’m starting to write creatively, currently focusing on short stories. Occasionally, I’ll share them here, and I welcome any feedback as I’m new to this and want to improve. My brother sent me a photo of a random red step, and this is where it led me.

Tina could tell her son was ready to leave. He was stepping slowly through the boxes sat on the living room floor, lifting flaps and peering inside, pulling his hand away quickly as if scared he may disturb the contents.

‘Darling, thank you for all your help today. I can take it from here.’ she steps over to stand beside Marcus and puts her hand on his back moving it up and down in between his shoulders. A gesture of motherly affection familiar to all her sons.

Her youngest, looks down from his lofty six-foot four height, ‘Are you sure Mum? I don’t mind staying and helping to unpack heavy things.’

“No, I insist’, she insists, ‘I think I am just going to leave most things unpacked for a few days so I can get a feel for the place first. I have a bed and a good book, so it’s a quiet night for me. I’ll start unpacking tomorrow. I’ll call you when I have heavy stuff to deal with, promise.’

The poorly veiled relief on Marcus’ face confirmed what she had suspected, but as he picked up his jacket and shrugged it in place, he says quietly, ‘I just want to make sure you don’t feel you have to do things Dad would have done, because you have me for that.’

Struck once again by the kindness of her son, a trait directly given to him by her late husband, Tina stops following him and puts her hand to her chest, ‘Oh my love, what did I do to deserve you?’ Seeing his coy smile, ‘I’ll be fine. I’m fit as a fiddle and can manage a few heavy boxes on my own.’

Walking towards him again she puts her arms out, ‘Now give me a hug and go meet your mates.’ Slipping a fifty-pound note in his back pocket, she taps it saying, ‘This is for the first couple of rounds to say thank you to everyone for helping with the move.’

She stands at the door of her new home and watches Marcus jog down the stairs of the building. As he lands on the first floor, he shouts up the stairwell, ‘Hey Mum, what’s with this red step?’

‘I know, I noticed that when I viewed the place.’ She shrugs, ‘I don’t know, it’s curious isn’t it.’

Three weeks later

Walking up the stairs with a John Lewis bag full of candles and picture frames carefully chosen to add finishing touches to her living room shelves, Tina stops on the step below the red one and looks down. It had been neatly painted with a cheerful red. The nominal scuffs in the middle third of the step indicate that it isn’t particularly old paint, perhaps painted in the last year. But what makes this step particular from all the other grey ones? It is the sixth step on the halfway turn of the flight from ground floor to first. There are no other markings, no numbers or signature to suggest an official purpose for the colour difference. The step itself is in working order, so the red doesn’t seem to be telling people to skip the step. Besides, it has been three weeks since she moved in so if this was a health and safety issue, surely, they would have dealt with it by now. No, the shade of red was pretty, making the step more of a feature than a warning. But why?

I’ll ask the agent, she thought. An easy mystery to solve and maybe an entertaining story to tell the boys when they come to visit.

Two weeks later

‘You still haven’t solved the mystery of the red step?’, Christian, Tina’s oldest son looks almost indignant.

Tina is hosting her first Sunday lunch in the new flat and her dining table seems small with her four grown-up sons and three partners sitting in lines along the benches eating elbow to elbow. She smiles at Christian diagonally across from her as he gets a gentle slap on the arm and warning look from his wife, Sara, who forgets Tina doesn’t mind his bluntness, inherited from her.

‘No, I have not. I’ve had a little bit of a runaround with it.’ All eyes on her now, as she gives an update on her investigation. ‘I rang the agent a couple of weeks’ ago. They knew nothing and just said that maybe I should ask the other tenants. I didn’t feel it warranted me knocking on everyone’s doors. I didn’t want them to think I was some nosey middle-aged woman getting upset about the colour of a step. So, I asked the maintenance man when he was around fixing the latch on the inner door downstairs. He didn’t know much more but he did say that it wasn’t something they did and all he knew was that it had been authorised by the building management company and it was to do with Flat 2 on the first floor.’

‘Ooh the plot thickens.’ says Mindy, third son, Seb’s girlfriend and Tina’s favourite of her son’s partners.

Tina locks eyes and returns Mindy’s enthusiastic smile, ‘Yes, I know, it’s really made me determined to find out what’s behind this red step. There is obviously a story.’ 

Impatient to have the mystery solved, Christian asks with unveiled irritation in his voice, ‘So have you talked to the people in Flat 2?’

Turning back to her son with warm affection for his predictable reaction, she says, ‘No dear, I have been waiting for the next time we bump into each other so it’s a natural interaction. It feels a little aggressive to knock on her door to find out information that isn’t really any of my business.’

Now fully invested, Mindy suggests, ‘You could take round some of your gingerbread as a way of introducing yourself and then just ask once you have swapped niceties.’

Nodding and affirming noises from around the table encourage Tina to go with that plan.

‘I suppose I could. It would be nice to know.’

‘I’ll come with you Mum.’ offers Marcus. ‘How about Wednesday evening? I could come after basketball?’

More nodding and a ‘great idea’ and a ‘perfect’. Enough encouragement embolden Tina, ‘OK then, I better get baking.’

Wednesday evening, 7.15pm

Tina and Marcus stand at the door of Flat 2. With a raise of her eyebrows, Tina nods as Marcus lifts his hand to the door and knocks.

A pretty twentysomething woman, same height as Tina, long auburn hair and striking blue eyes opens the door. ‘Hello?’ her eyes drift up to Marcus and they both exchange shy smiles.

Tina, pleased with the warm reception for her son and accomplice, raises her tin of gingerbread, ‘Hello, I am Tina and this is my son Marcus. I have just moved into Flat 4 above. I thought I would introduce myself and give you some of my home-baked gingerbread.’

The young woman pulls her eyes away from Marcus who is edging towards gormless at this point, and focuses on the Roses tin held out towards her. Taking it and pushing the door open further with her shoulder, she says, ‘Thank you, that’s so lovely. Would you like to come in?’ looking back up to Marcus who is nodding vigorously.

‘That would be lovely…?’ Tina trails off to give the woman a chance to fill in the gap with her name.

‘Oh yes,’ she smiles and says, ‘Sophie, I’m Sophie Clark. Pleased to meet you both.’

They follow her into a high-ceiling, open-plan living space with sitting area, large dining table and modern kitchen all beautifully decorated. Tina decides this would have been the main reception room of the original four-storey Georgian residence, a room similar in size to her living room which she had thought would have been the master bedroom. Like in Tina’s flat, large windows provide an abundance of light creating a peaceful, welcoming space, but a corridor and two doors placed at different points of the room indicate the flat has a different configuration to hers.

‘This is a gorgeous flat, I love what you have done to it.’ Marcus says as he slowly spins around in the middle of the room.

‘Thank you, but I can’t actually take credit. My mum decorated the place. I just moved in when I came here to study. Mum’s an interior designer so she knows what she’s doing.’

‘She certainly does,’ Tina agrees and adds ‘Perhaps she can come and suggest some improvements for mine? It lacks finesse.’

More pleasantries are exchanged as Sophie makes hot drinks, arranges pieces of gingerbread on a small plate and they all settle down into the sofas. They learn she is doing a PhD in architecture, partly inspired by her mother’s love of design. This is her first time living in Liverpool, but she is familiar with the city as her family are from here.

A lull in the conversation and a nod from Marcus, Tina clears her throat and asks the burning question, ‘I was wondering, I noticed the red step on the staircase, and I asked Ron about it as I was curious about why it was painted a different colour. He said it was connected to this flat?’ A slightly apologetic tone comes through as Tina worries she has asked too soon in their acquaintance but is relieved to see Sophie lean back in her sofa with an amused smile on her face.

‘Ah yes, the red step, it is connected to this flat, to my family really. It’s a bit of a long story though.’ Sophie looks cautiously over at her two visitors to see if their curiosity has increased by the mention of a long story. Both lean forward, clearly thrilled by the idea.

Chuckling, Sophie checks, ‘Would you like to hear the story?’ Marcus and Tina both nod and say in unison, ‘Yes please.’ Their expectant faces, like children waiting to hear a favourite bedtime story, beam at Sophie who loves to tell her family’s story and happy to host the handsome Marcus and his charming mother a little longer, Sophie gets up and flicks on the kettle again. ‘Let me get you a fresh cuppa for this. Same again?’

Once resettled on the sofa opposite her guests, Sophie begins.

‘The step was painted by my great grandmother—Valery— who moved into this flat when it was first converted into flats. The government took on the house to accommodate canary girls working at ROF Kirkby during World War II. My great grandmother lived here with three other girls who had various jobs at the factory. Valery was very clever, and she worked as a precision engineer fitting intricate mechanisms in guns. She was also quite a party girl by all accounts and during that time, she met a soldier who was home on leave. He was called Frank. They fell in love and when he went back to the Front, they wrote letters to each other. The next time he came back, he proposed and Valery said yes. This was in 1944. Unfortunately, he was killed in action during the D-Day Landings. He never came back.’

‘Oh how sad.’ said Tina.

 ‘I’m sorry.’ said Marcus

‘It’s OK, of course I didn’t know him. But if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here, as my nana was born nine months after they said goodbye. This was quite frowned upon at the time, but my great grandmother was a strong woman and she kept the baby. Her family were supportive of her, so after she had my nana—who she called Francis in honour of her father—she worked in a factory in Liverpool and worked her way up to be lead engineer. She never married and, incredibly, managed to buy this flat when it was put up for sale.’

‘Wow, what an amazing woman she was.’ Tina tried to imagine how she could have brought up her children without Pete.

Smiling with pride, Sophie continues, ‘She was. And so was my nana, as she went to university and became a lawyer in London, where she met my granda and had Mum and my two uncles. Valery lived in the flat until she died at the grand old age of 90. I remember visiting her here a couple of times. When she died, my nana and granda lived here for a while but eventually went back down south to a posh retirement home. That was about nine years ago and because we live closest to the place, my mum took it on as a project to do it up, and then, after I finished my degree in Edinburgh, I came here to do my Masters and now my PhD.’

‘That’s lovely that the flat has stayed in the family.’ commented Tina.

‘Well it was actually a requirement of my great grandmother’s will; that the flat would stay in the family and not be sold, if at all possible. So far, everyone has been happy to fulfil the request. And the red step is part of the will too.’

Absorbed by the account of Sophie’s family history, Marcus and Tina had forgotten about the step. They both lean forward and Sophie seeing their enthusiasm to know more, continues.

‘The day that Frank, I guess my great grandfather, left to go back to France, he was walking down the stairs and Valery was standing in the door to the flat. He turned around and asked her to marry him, then and there. She said yes and he left. They exchanged a few more letters before he died and even set a date for the wedding. Valery didn’t know she was pregnant at that point, so Frank never knew he was going to be a father. Valery was devastated of course. She couldn’t get over that the last time she saw him, when he proposed and she said yes, that she hadn’t said she loved him or run down to kiss him goodbye. At first, she hated the step, as it felt it represented a missed opportunity, a missed life she could have had. But when their daughter was born, she decided she would redeem it, as a good memory, one that was full of love and promise. So she painted it red, to set it apart from the others. Then every year, on the date that he proposed, she repainted it. She did this for as long as she was able, and when she couldn’t anymore, my nana did it. My mum is a hopeless romantic, so when my nana and granda moved back down south, she took over the painting. This year was the first year I painted it. My great grandmother asked in her will that the flat would stay in the family, and as long as it was in the family, that we would paint the step on 15 September, to honour Frank and his sacrifice, and also their love, which endured for all her life.’

Marcus and Tina sat stunned, processing the unexpectedly romantic reason behind the mysterious red step.

Sophie giggled to break the silence. ‘I know it’s quite the epic tale.’

Suddenly, overcome with emotion as she thought about the loss of her husband and inspired by Valery’s faithfulness to the memory of Frank, tears begin to force themselves out of Tina’s eyes and trickle down her cheeks. Seeing the concern on Sophie’s face, Marcus scrambles to explain, ‘We lost my dad recently. That’s why Mum has moved into the flat. To have a smaller space and to be closer to me and my brothers who live in either Liverpool or Manchester.’ He pulls Tina into his side and squeezes her arm.

‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’ Sophie says to them both. ‘I didn’t want to upset you with the story.’

Seeing Sophie’s worry, Tina shakes her head, ‘Not at all. I loved the story and now I know about the step, and I hope you won’t mind, but I think I will let it be a reminder to me of Pete. It will be a nice way of bringing him here with me.’

‘Of course, you may share the step.’ Sophie smiles at Tina and reaches out to hold her hand across the coffee table. ‘Valery, would very much approve.’