Judith Wants To Be Your Friend

by Annie Weir

  ‘We’ll need to make a space for people’s coats. It’s tipping it down outside.’

  ‘Good idea. I need something to occupy me anyway. This waiting is killing me.’

  ‘Relax, will you? I saw a couple of people when I was out. They’re really looking forward to this.’

  And soon the grandfather clock tastefully chimed the half-hour, and Louise swept her outstretched hand towards the door as if to say ‘It’s your moment. You do the honours.’ And she disappeared to find another coat stand from the store room and a basket for umbrellas.

  At eight o’clock Chloe and Louise finally sat down and Chloe retrieved the last bottle of champagne reserved by them for them to either celebrate or commiserate. It was time to celebrate.

  ‘The time has flown past,’ said Chloe as she poured champagne and sat down.

  ‘Yes, and imagine selling a carriage clock, a painting and even one of the coat stands that wasn’t really ready.’

  ‘We made some good contacts too. Do you know that woman with the tan? Dark hair and really smart? Judith, I think.’

  They chinked glasses.

  ‘Judith Dillon. She’s an accountant; has her own business around the corner in Market Street. I don’t really know her, but her sister was in my year at school.’

  ‘She seemed really interested in the paintings; said she would have bought that seascape if it hadn’t just been sold. I said I’d keep a look out for more and call her when I had any. She said she’d pop in now and again as well. She seemed really nice.’

  She got up again to adjust the painting. It was a little high for her petite stature.

  ‘Do you think this looks like a Seurat?’

  ‘Only in the use of dots; not the subject matter or what the people look like.’

  ‘Mmm, I suppose. Or Signac?’

  ‘Same comment. Anyway, about Judith Dillon, I think she keeps to herself a lot. Some people find her a bit strange. You did well to bond with her.’

  ‘Oh you know me! Bonding is my middle name. And anyway, if she’s an accountant she’s bound to have money to spend.’

  Chloe refilled their glasses and refused to think badly of a potential customer, not tonight anyway.

  Back at home, Judith considered the evening a success. The champagne and nibbles were good, and the shop was very much to her taste. Chloe and her assistant had been friendly and that ghastly painting being sold was a stroke of luck. She was able to say how much she liked it. It gave good reason to keep going back, though nothing Chloe would produce for her to see would ever be just right. It would provide on-going entertainment through the long winter months ahead now that Alison had suddenly gone back to London to live. She noticed her phone flashing with a message. Sod it; whatever it was, it would have to wait until the morning.

  Saturday 27th September

  The phone was ringing before Judith had got out of bed. She let it ring. The message cut in.

  ‘Judith? Are you there? Oh, answer, for God’s sake! I need to talk to you now. Right now, Judith. Answer the phone.’

  Judith turned over and snuggled back into the duvet. Fiona could wait until she was ready. She was getting really rather bossy. Right now, Judith. Answer the phone. She knew what it would be anyway. Their mother would be worse. Fiona always said that. ‘Mother’s worse, I can’t cope (and why should I?), it’s not fair on Rosie having to be a part-time carer for her granny, and we need a serious talk about it.’ Fiona and Rosie got to live in Granny’s house though, and they didn’t complain about that.

  After a long soak in the bath and two cups of coffee, Judith called her sister back. Their mother was worse, Fiona wouldn’t be able to cope for much longer and it wasn’t fair on any of them. Not quite on script but close enough not to have bothered.

  ‘Where were you last night, anyway?’

  ‘Out.’

  ‘What, all night?’

  ‘None of your business, but no actually.’

  ‘So you could have called back last night. Why didn’t you?’

  ‘God, Fiona, have I rung you back to get the same speech as every other time and to answer a barrage of questions as well? I’m going; I’ve got stuff to do today.’

  ‘You have not. You never have anything to do on Saturdays. I need you to come over and talk about Mum. Apart from anything else, it’s not fair on Rosie…’

  ‘Change the record, Fi. Heard that one.’

  ‘No, she really is worse. Please come over. Come for lunch and let’s have a proper family meeting. You haven’t seen her for weeks; you don’t know what she’s like now.’

  Missed that one – the fourth in Fiona’s quartet of stock phrases. ‘OK. I’ll be round at lunch time.’

  At midday Judith pulled into the leafy avenue where she had lived as a child and noticed a bag lady sitting in the bus shelter. It looked as though she had a dressing gown on over clothes, and slippers on. Judith wondered what on earth this neighbourhood was coming to. The woman’s hair was a mess and as Judith slowed down to look at her more closely, she got up and stumbled into the road in front of her car. Judith slammed on the brakes and leapt out.

  ‘Mother?’

  The woman looked through her then turned to leave.

  ‘Mother! Come back! What are you doing out here dressed like that?’ She looked round to see whether anyone was watching. Nobody, thank God. ‘Get in the car. I’ll take you back home.’

  ‘God, Fi, that was so embarrassing. Our mother was sitting out there in the bus shelter in her dressing gown and slippers.’

  ‘Embarrassing? Is that what you call it? My, God! You get worse. It isn’t embarrassing, it’s impossible to deal with. I’ve had her assessed and she has dementia. She needs specialist help. She needs help all day and every day. It’s not embarrassing; it’s our mum; it’s sad; it’s it’s…’ and Fiona’s voice started to break up under the weight of dealing with it by herself for so long, for not being able to ask for help, for trying her best, for being absolutely exhausted. She sobbed.

  Judith looked at her. ‘Where’s Rosie, anyway? Isn’t she here helping you?’

  ‘Why should she? She’s seventeen. She needs her own life. She’s struggling to cope with it as well. We barely even talk about it. We just do what we have to, what we can, trying to be normal.’

  ‘Well, you both live rent-free in Mum’s house. That’s one reason.’

  ‘You are totally heartless. Piss off. I’ll deal with it without you then.’

  Fiona didn’t usually swear and Judith softened her tone a little. Maybe she hadn’t given Fi enough support lately. It wasn’t Fi that she resented. It wasn’t Fi’s fault the she was their mother’s favourite blue-eyed girl. To be fair to Fi, she had never appeared to notice. Judith had found it hard to concentrate lately and she knew she was falling behind with her work. Alison suddenly deciding to leave the area had put her off kilter and the pressure of it had built up.

  ‘You don’t have to deal with anything. She can go into a nursing home. We’ll get power of attorney, sell the house then we’ll both be free of her and each other. You do make a meal of everything, you know.’

  When Fiona looked up from a fresh bout of sobbing she saw that Judith had already identified suitable care homes from the Yellow Pages, and was dialling the number for one.

  ‘Mill View,’ she said, ‘that place is fine. It’s only a couple of miles from here and has a good reputation. I’ve got a client there. I’ve been out a few times to see him. The manager is a client as well actually. It’s a good business. Leave it to me.’

  ‘Ok, thanks Judith.’

  After a brief conversation Judith hung up and said, ‘Great news. Someone died a couple of days ago so they’ve got a spare room. Some people wait for years.’

  Leaving her sister’s house without staying for lunch,
Judith appraised her car. It’s a pity, she thought, that she hadn’t smashed into a lamp-post when she swerved to avoid her mother. She could do with it being written off and replaced on insurance. She called in at the BMW showroom on her way back home while she pondered how she could make it happen. A woman in her position should have a sporty little number to be seen around town in. Sod the over-priced poncey antiques that no one would ever see. She needed a new car.

  Sunday 28th September 2008

  Fiona and Rosie sat down to Sunday lunch. Granny had refused to come down when Fiona asked her and by the time Rosie had gone up to try, she was asleep on her bed.

  ‘So Judith thinks Granny should go into Mill View?’

  ‘Yes. What do you think?’

  ‘I do too, really. My friend Moira from school works there at the weekends. She says it’s OK.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Don’t you agree, Mum? Granny needs to be looked after better than we can do it.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  At two o’clock Judith arrived at the BMW garage for her appointment with the salesman and spent the afternoon test-driving a selection of models. She knew she should be in the office catching up with her work. She prided herself on doing a good job but needed something to distract her completely. She took a 3-Series out towards Mill View. Yes, that would be an ideal place for her mother to live. Fiona had always had her own way when they were growing up and had got away with everything. It was time that she was forced to see sense over this, even if she didn’t like it.

  Judith realised that the impossibly fresh-faced young salesman was waiting for her to answer him. Pay attention, Judith! You really must learn to listen to other people. Her mother’s voice echoing in her head was as loud and clear as ever.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘So, how do you like this model?’ he repeated. ‘Any better than the others?’

  Of course he didn’t know that it was all a charade. She knew exactly which car she would have; the red Z4 from over an hour ago.

  ‘Not sure. I’ll drive the Z4 again. What time do you close this afternoon?’

  ‘I’m due to finish at five, but we can go out in it again if my boss will stay open for a bit longer.’

  ‘I’m quite sure he will,’ said Judith.

  She knew these people; anything for a sale. Poor lad probably wanted to get home for his tea before going out on the town. Tough. He’d be on a good commission.

  Monday 29th September 2008

  Judith’s day had not got off to a good start. There was an answer-phone message from a client complaining that she hadn’t returned his call from the previous week. She picked up the phone to ring him, but put it back down with a sigh. She would open the mail first. Her secretary was away and it was easier to deal with things that didn’t talk back. The first letter was from that same client saying that he was taking his business elsewhere. Oh well, he was one she could do without; always complaining and demanding attention. She would get Kate to sort out his files next week then that would be one less thing to worry about. The rest of the mail didn’t bring much more cheer. There was a letter from HM Revenue and Customs demanding money. Cobblers and their children’s shoes syndrome kicking in – an accountant who couldn’t get her own tax return right. Well after buying her flat and furnishing it all in the last year, she didn’t have any cash to pay it. And she had ordered a BMW Z4 the day before, which would need thirty-three grand. She spent the rest of the morning planning how to dispute the tax demand.

  Judith realised that she was hungry and glanced at her watch. Nearly two; no wonder she was feeling tired. She had her coat on and was about to leave when the phone rang. She debated answering it but decided not to. As she left, she heard Chloe’s voice, the owner of Phoenix Antiques.

  ‘Hello Judith. I’m ringing round the people who came to the opening last week. Just to say thanks for coming along, and feel free to pop in any time for a browse and a coffee – unless I’m run off my feet – ha ha. Seriously though, any time. Bye.’

  Oh, thought Judith, how nice. But not today. Need to keep the tax man at bay today. Tomorrow afternoon.

  By the time she had returned, there were two more messages. One was from a client chasing something which could wait until Kate got back, and the other was from Fiona. She wanted to go and see Mill View and meet the manager before agreeing to their mother going to live there. She had phoned this morning and they could all go this afternoon. If Judith was too busy, she and their mother and Rosie would go without her. Their appointment was at four.

  God, she couldn’t let them go there without her. Fi would probably change all the plans. She might even chicken out altogether and cancel the place that Judith had reserved on Saturday. She would have to go. She typed up her letter of appeal to HMRC, wrote some notes to Kate and had a general tidy up. She wasn’t expecting any clients in that afternoon.

  Mill View looked stunning in the late afternoon. The low orange sun sparkled through the last drops of rain left on the already-turning leaves and the old Georgian mansion looked washed clean and burnished in the light. Judith hoped that Fi and Rosie would be seduced by it. She had been there on dark rainy afternoons and, frankly, it looked gloomy in those conditions. Inside was warm and neat, once you got inside that is, past the security buzzers and double-locked doors. Judith hoped that this was a quiet time for the residents; hopefully dosed up to the eyeballs by now to give the staff a break before yet another meal to fill the endless days. It was quite disconcerting when these mad old people appeared and demanded that you took them home, or sat with you making unintelligible conversation. She prayed that none of that would occur this afternoon. She had arrived before Fi and Rosie deliberately to head off any such problems. She was in the manager’s office drinking coffee when the buzzer went again. The office was directly off the reception area and Mrs. Walters went out to let Fi in.

  ‘I thought you were bringing Mum and Rosie?’ Judith launched in without even saying hello then remembered Mrs. Walters. ‘It would have been so nice for us all to look around together,’ she continued in a softer tone. Fi looked tearful.

  ‘Mum won’t get out of the car. She says she doesn’t like it here.’

  ‘Let’s you and I go and persuade her together,’ said Mrs. Walters with a kind but firm and determined smile. She handed her a tissue and Fi was putty in her hands from there on in.

  Later, back at Fiona’s house over yet another cup of coffee, she enthused about Mrs. Walters, Mill View, the beautiful rooms looking out over the river and the staff. Judith sighed with relief and decided she could afford to be magnanimous.

  ‘Life will be so much easier for you and Rosie now. It’s the right decision. You’ll see.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you, Judith. I knew you would help sort it out if you knew how bad it had got. In a way, I’m glad that Mum escaped on Saturday morning and you found her.’

  ‘Did you let her go deliberately? So that I would find her?’

  ‘No, of course not! How could you say that?’

  ‘Just a joke. Lighten up, Fi.’

  ‘A joke! Your jokes are not at all funny, you know. Anyway who was the bloke that jumped out when we were in the dining room?’

  ‘Henry Lloyd. He’s a client. Actually, you must remember him. He was friendly with Mum and Dad way back. I was at school with his nephew Martin who fancied me.’

  ‘Vaguely. He never came round here, though, did he?’

  ‘Not that I remember. Anyway Tina Walters said he wanted to see me about something. It’s always about nothing, actually, but I charge him every time I go out there. He’s loaded, and I could do with the cash. We’ll need to get this place sold as soon as Mum’s settled at Mill View. I’ll sort out power of attorney with the solicitor tomorrow.’

  ‘Stop talking like that Ju, insinuating that I let her wander off so you’d see th
e seriousness of it and talking about her like she’s already dead. Anyway this is mine and Rosie’s home. I don’t want to sell it.’

  ‘You’ll have to. We’ll have to find fees for Mill View. I can’t afford it. Can you?’

  ‘You know I can’t. And Rosie will be away to uni soon. That’ll cost a fortune.’

  ‘Exactly. We all need the cash and you won’t need such a big place. We’ll get it sold really soon before the recession kicks in any further. Anyway, I’m off. I need to get back to the office for an hour. I’ll let you know what the solicitor says.’

  Chapter 3

  Carlisle, October 2009

  Monday 5th October 2009

  Well, after all my preaching to Maureen, I went down with flu (with complications) for two weeks. I bet that pissed her off just after recommending my permanent contract. Still, back now. Working here is more boring than being ill on my own and watching day time TV. It’s good to be feeling better, though. I’ll go down to Cafe Bar Sierra after work and have a latte. It’ll do me good to have a walk.