by Jane Gilley
She’d seen him once, a couple of years ago. He was busking rather badly on a street corner in the middle of town. His hair was long, lank, unwashed. She’d stood near some onlookers listening to him for a while. His guitar needed tuning and there weren’t many coins in his cap. Thinking back, she remembered the first time he’d touched her. She’d been mesmerised, smitten. Yet he’d looked old and dishevelled when she saw him again; his sexy swagger had left him. The people drifted away. His eyes rested on hers temporarily and then he’d looked away. He hadn’t seemed to recognise her. Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him.
Stacy wondered if she had another cold coming on. She felt chilled to the bone, even though the shorter days of November tended to be chilly and damp. She’d put her gilet on and wrapped a huge scarf around her neck for the short hop to the corner shop during her lunch hour that day. Luckily it was only a ten-minute walk away, less if she jogged, which she’d taken to doing now it was colder. So she’d have just enough time to make the private phone call she needed to make today and sort a few other things out. She did need to buy milk first, though. She said ‘Hi’ to the girl behind the counter. It was the same girl who’d been there since Stacy moved into her flat but they’d never shared more than a hello or ‘that’ll be such-and-such a price’.
Searching the shelving for anything else that might take her fancy whilst she was there, Stacy spotted the old lady with the cricked neck. Mrs Michaels. The way she moved, with slow concentrated progress, the wire basket cocked on her arm, and the laboured way she had to angle her head to look at goods on the higher shelves, made Stacy feel sorry for her.
‘Hi there. Do you need any help?’ Stacy asked the old lady, kindly.
Mrs Michaels smiled wearily. ‘Oh, hello, Stacy. No, I’ve got what I came in for. I’m just looking to see if there’s anything else I fancy.’
Stacy smiled. ‘Yes, I do that, sometimes.’
‘You’ll be pleased to hear, I’ll have all the help I can get now. They’re taking me away soon.’
‘Taking you away? Whatever do you mean?’ said Stacy, alarmed.
‘Oh, I’ve got a place in a nursing home, so it’ll be a lot easier for me now. My daughter has finally managed to sort it all out for me. So I’ve just come in to get a few last bits for me and my Tibs and then they’re going to be clearing everything away, selling some of it, I should think. So I’ve got a few days left and then I’ll be leaving.’
‘Oh,’ said Stacy, wondering what would happen to herself when she reached old age, with no family looking out for her.
‘You don’t know anyone who’d take my cat do you? He’s a sweet little thing. He’s no bother. He’s an indoor cat. Didn’t you say you’ve got some cats?’
Stacy’s heart missed a beat. Taking people’s unwanted cats in had got Stacy into the mess she’d found herself in before. She did miss having a little fluffy face or two greeting her when she got home from work, but she wasn’t going to start all that again. No way. Life was much better now she didn’t have to be at the beck and call of all her animals. She’d actually started enjoying the ordinary bits of life that seemed to come naturally to everyone else: shopping, watching TV, going for walks. She felt so free; she was even enjoying working in the library again and bringing home books to read, something she’d not had time to do in a long time. It’s how she wanted to continue living her life. She smiled at Mrs Michaels.
‘I used to have cats but they all got too much for me. I had eight of them.’
‘Oh, well that’s rather a lot to handle. That’s too many.’
‘Yes, it was crazy really. Anyway, I’m sure your daughter will find somewhere for your cat. It’s been nice bumping into you here in the shop from time to time. And I hope you have a really nice time in the nursing home. I’m sure there’ll be lots of nice new people to meet in there. Take care. Bye for now.’
‘Bye then, love.’
Stacy picked up two one-litre cartons of milk and made her way to the checkout.
Walking back to the flat she was wondering what she should do about Christmas lunch. Should she invite her parents to hers? She might. She smiled to herself as she recalled Peter and Marvin’s Sunday lunch, after Bella breezed in. That woman, Stacy had known, was not going to take any crap from anybody. Bella had busied herself carving the roast pork after her initial outburst and Stacy’s father had just sat there, looking as if he was about to say something but no words passed his lips. Now, whether that had been her own mother’s influence or whether he’d realised Bella would eat him for lunch, if he spoke out of turn, Stacy was not sure. But he’d been surprisingly civil throughout their meal – even managing to answer questions put to him by Marvin – shock, horror! At the end of the meal he’d even shaken Marvin’s hand and said, ‘Bye then, son.’
Halleluiah. Job done!
Peter and Marvin had rung her later that night, immensely thrilled it had gone so well. She didn’t tell them that when her parents had dropped her back at her flat, she’d got out of the car and gone round to her father’s window and indicated that she wanted him to wind it down.
‘Just wanted to say, Dad, that I have been frightened of you most of my life and I hated you when I was little because I don’t feel you treated either me or Peter right. But you stepped up when I had my fall, sorting my flat out, and you also stepped up today and did something that I will forever be proud of you for. We had a great time at Peter and Marvin’s today and that was because of you.’
Then she had leaned in and kissed her father’s head. As she pulled back she saw that there were tears in his eyes. But he still said nothing. Maybe he didn’t know what to say.
***
At the foot of the steps to her flat Stacy changed her mind. She popped the milk on the bottom step, tore her scarf off and went racing back to the shop. She could see the old lady ambling back home, clutching the small number of items in her plastic carrier bag, as usual.
‘Mrs Michaels? Hello, Mrs Michaels? It’s okay – I’ll take your cat!’
Chapter 28
Stacy felt so much better. It was only one cat after all. She vowed to herself that she definitely would not get any others. But she did miss having some company after her others were taken away. Plus she was helping Mrs Michaels who would have worried about where her cat was going, just as Stacy had worried about her own. No, she was doing a good thing. It would be a new start for both Tibs and herself. There, she hadn’t needed a partner at all; she’d just needed another furry little body to cuddle from time to time. And, best of all, she knew she could still have a life with Tibs. Yay! It was a win-win.
She got back to her flat with her milk and had just stepped through the door, when she was tapped on her shoulder. She nearly dropped the milk in fright.
‘Bloody hell, John. Will you stop creeping around? Gave me the fright of my life it did. What do you want now?’
She was so angry her face felt hot. She took after her father in that respect.
John just stood there with his ruff of hair, baggy jogging bottoms and an unpleasant body odour wafting around him. He frowned and then thrust a bunch of letters into her hand and turned to go.
‘Delivered to me by mistake in case you’re wondering,’ he snapped, going into his flat and slamming the door.
Damn! Stacy thought. Maybe I was a bit harsh.
She closed the door and had just put the milk away and removed her gilet when her doorbell rang.
She glanced at the clock. She had to be back at work in approximately two minutes. Should she answer it? What if it was Marjorie needing assistance with something?
She opened her door and there stood John, his hands on his hips.
‘Just for the record, what is your problem, Stacy? You’re so rude, sometimes. And I do not deserve that. I have gone out of my way to be respectful and help you whenever I can and all I get is you bad-mouthing me or screwing your nose up at me, in disdain. What’s wrong? Do I smell bad or something?’
&n
bsp; ‘Well, yes, since you mention it, you do. You’re always lolling around in dirty, smelly clothes. Have you no self-respect? Don’t you possess a shower or bath, huh? Do you even work? Now, I don’t have time for all this. I’m late for work as it is. Oh and by the way, since we’re getting everything off our chests, I just want to let you know that I’m getting another cat. Yes, a cat. Something else I’m sure you’ll enjoy moaning about. So if you don’t mind—’
She’d wanted to slam the door in his face but let the door close itself, instead.
What was it about her next-door neighbour that really annoyed her? She couldn’t quite put a finger on it. He had been kind to her when she was ill … but he’d also dropped her in it, telling her parents about her cats. Yes, she’d certainly been miffed about that. But the fact he rarely seemed to wash irked her too.
***
It had been respect all the way for Marjorie.
Raymond had picked her up in his car, coming around to the passenger side and opening the door for her to get in. She beamed. He was the perfect gentleman. He’d also done the honours, once they’d parked at the pub, by holding the heavy pub doors open for her as they entered the building and found a table.
‘Booking’s under the name of Raymond Nichols.’
‘Yes, sir. That’ll be table twenty-six, over there.’
Clinking glasses sparkled in the subdued lighting of the bar; a log fire crackled and roared in the huge grate. People smiled, lulled or numbed by alcohol, by the ambience and just by being with people they cared about. Marjorie felt cosy and cared for. It was something new for her. Raymond certainly was a true gent.
‘I do like your outfit. Is it new?’
Marjorie glanced down at her burgundy and pink print dress with three-quarter-length sleeves, and black belt, the skirt just below her knees. It made her feel very feminine along with her new patent black shoes with kitten heels. She’d deemed it perfect for any social outings, especially since the year had just ticked over into December.
‘It is actually. I haven’t treated myself to anything new in years. I used to shop with Gracie. This is the first time I picked something out by myself.’
‘Well that colour certainly suits you,’ Raymond said smiling.
They both chose the Hearty Chicken and Bacon Stew with root vegetables. It had a perfectly wintry-sounding name. They followed it with Amaretto coupe, which was a rum-flavoured mousse with Amaretto biscuits, chocolate sprinkles and cream. They took their coffee by the fireside. There was no need for an outpouring of chat as they knew quite a lot about each other already. And it was just perfectly pleasant sitting side by side in the glow of the fire, as their evening ebbed away.
‘Do you know, I can’t believe how my life has changed since meeting everyone at the Afternoon Tea Club. It’s been a real winner in my book,’ said Raymond.
‘Well, I certainly agree with you there, Raymond. You and Dora have helped me no end. I’m a lot happier and far more confident than I used to be,’ said Marjorie, sipping her coffee. ‘Oh, and one other bit of news – well, no, two bits actually. Dora is buying the flat she went to see and is probably moving in just after Christmas. She says we’ll all be invited to her own house-warming party. And she’s got her fiftieth birthday coming up a week on Wednesday. She’s having that at the community centre and we’re all invited, along with her family and friends and apparently everybody else as well!’
‘Everybody else?’
‘Well yes. She’s inviting all the other people who want to come from the Afternoon Tea Club, apparently, because she says without the Afternoon Tea Club her life would have been very different. And she’s going to put on a buffet so there’s something for everyone and they can help themselves. So that’s two engagements we’ve got around Christmas; isn’t that nice?’
***
Stacy left work early so she could collect Tibs from Mrs Michaels.
‘Or we could leave it until the weekend if you like?’ Stacy had suggested, earlier in the shop.
‘No, love. I have to get used to living without him so it would be much better for me to prepare for that now. So can you come and get him later?’
‘Of course. Look, it’s a real shame we didn’t do all this sooner but would you like to come back to my place, so you can see where he’ll be living and we can have a spot of tea together?’
Mrs Michaels had grinned a crooked toothy grin.
‘Oh yes, I’d like that, deary. I never go out anywhere!’
The old lady said her daughter didn’t visit very often being as she was a solicitor in London and extremely busy. Mrs Michaels’ flat was handily a few houses or so along from the corner shop. She lived in a small converted one-bedroom flat on the first floor of a house. There was no lift. Stacy supposed it was the best thing for Mrs Michaels that her daughter was taking her to a nursing home. At least there’d be no chance of her falling down any stairs and not eating properly now.
After they’d brought Tibs back to her place, Stacy made a cheese omelette with avocado salad for their tea. She’d googled ‘healthy meals for the elderly’ and decided that was her best and easiest option. Fortunately, Mrs Michaels said she wasn’t allergic to any of the ingredients and tucked into the food with relish. She patted her stomach afterwards.
‘That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time, deary. Thank you so much for that, Stacy. And what do we think of this place, eh Tibs? It’s really nice isn’t it? Look at you climbing all over the furniture and sniffing under things. I hope you don’t mind all that, love. You might have to get him a clawing post though.’
‘Oh that’s perfectly okay, Mrs Michaels. I’m used to that kind of thing. He can do whatever he wants and he can sleep wherever he wants, too. He’s here to make himself at home. Oh, look, he’s curling around my legs. Ah, I think he’s made himself at home, already, don’t you? That must put your mind at rest.’
‘Oh, it does, love. It does. Um, could I use your loo before you walk me back?’
‘Of course. The bathroom’s next to the kitchen.’
The doorbell rang just as Mrs Michaels was locking the bathroom door. Stacy snatched it open and there stood John – or was it John? Stacy didn’t recognise him. The smart man in front of her was wearing a tuxedo, his hair had been cut and the delightful odour she could smell on him was clearly aftershave of some sort.
‘Just to prove to you that I do scrub up sometimes. And I wanted to tell you a bit more about me—’
‘Crikey, John – look, I really don’t have time for this. I’ve got a guest—’
‘You’ve certainly got attitude. That’s one big problem you’ve definitely got.’
He pushed his way into her hall, as she stepped back in shock and he closed the door behind himself.
‘So the reason I smell sweaty in the mornings is because I work out and then I go have my shower. I’m into keeping fit. I need to be fit for my job. And the last few times you’ve seen me in my scruffs is because I’m helping my mate Terry, who lives at the bottom of our corridor, to move out. He’s moving in with his girlfriend and I’ve been helping him move his stuff. I’ve taken holiday leave to do that for him, I might add. Because I do nice things for people. Oh and did I mention I’m a policeman? That’s one of the reasons I need to work out most days. So I can chase criminals! And the fact I moaned about your bloody cats is because sound travels in these flats and I could hear every word you yelled at them and every meow and howl they made. And I’m not putting up with any more of that kind of crap, let me tell you, when I’m working shifts. So as long as your new cat doesn’t make any annoying sounds we just might be able to get along a wee bit better – oh!’
John looked down. Tibs was winding himself around John’s legs. Stacy heard the toilet flush and moments later Mrs Michaels appeared.
‘Oh, hello, love. Are you going to introduce us, deary? Oh, look, Mr Tibs loves you too. This your boyfriend, Stacy? Don’t mind me. Nothing like a bit of healthy arguing, is there? It
’s the making-up part I used to like best. Hope you’re coming with us for my walk home. It’s a nice brisk night out tonight.’
Chapter 29
It was late. They’d just finished an impromptu game of Scrabble and had cheated like mad! Now they were drinking hot chocolate, with a tot of brandy in it, like Dora used to have when she lived in Spain. They sat in their dressing gowns, sitting either end of the settee, Dora with her legs curled up, Marjorie with her legs crossed. Dora was smirking.
‘So come on, Marjorie. Out with it! Did you sleep with Raymond?’
‘No, I bloody well did not,’ puffed Marjorie. ‘That’s not what Raymond and I are about. The date, if you can call it that, was actually very nice. It felt ordinary or perhaps that’s not the right word. Raymond is easy to talk to, as you know. So it just felt like a natural, comfortable progression of our friendship. We’ve already decided to go on the London trip but – oh stop, Dora! I can see your face. We will be sleeping in separate rooms. I don’t actually see us as girlfriend and boyfriend. But it’s just so wonderful to be taken out by someone again. Courting we used to call it. But I don’t think it’s even that. Anyway, never mind about me. Now, what about your flat?’
‘Oh, it’s just perfect for me, Marjorie. And it’s just big enough to have the occasional party and I fancy doing that. Two good-sized bedrooms. An eat-in or party kitchen, so that’s good. And a parking space. I don’t have my own car yet but Mum says she might give me hers.’ Dora grinned.