by Annie Weir
‘Oh Spain, lovely. I go to Spanish conversation classes on Monday evenings. That’s why I couldn’t go out with you earlier in the week.’
‘I had a few lessons last year,’ he says, ‘at Trinity School. But actually everyone speaks English where we go so I haven’t used it. Can’t remember most of it anyway.’
‘That’s where I go. I’m hoping to go to Spain next year sometime.’
I thought for a moment he was going to suggest we go together but he said he would tell me all about it when he gets back. He asks for my email address to send some photos and I tell him I haven’t got one. He looks surprised.
‘I’ll set you up with a hotmail account when I get back,’ he offers.
Why is it that men think that if you haven’t got something it’s because you don’t know how to get it? Of course I’ve got an email address; it’s a computer and internet access that I haven’t got. I’m not going down to the internet cafe to look at his drunken holiday snaps. I murmur something non-committal and hope he forgets.
Or maybe I’ll win the lottery and be able to afford all that stuff again; a Blackberry phone, Sky Plus and a decent car – well, any car. He probably thinks I don’t drive either and will offer to give me lessons. It’s time to go back to the cash office and I decide to enjoy the last two days of peace without Maureen asking if I balance. She won’t balance by the time I’ve finished, cash-wise or any-wise.
Tuesday 20th October 2009
Maureen is driving me nuts. I was going to wait a while before starting my plan but it’s going to be today. It has to start somewhere. She keeps going on about her holiday, how they went on a city break to Rome that cost more than two weeks in Majorca. I thought she was painting the village hall all week. If I hear her tell someone about the Coliseum and the Trevi Fountain one more time, I’ll explode. I’m not one for impulsive decisions but no harm in starting to sow the seeds of doubt. We have finished cashing up and have put our cash into trays ready for the banking. The buzzer goes at the window by the checkouts and Sal goes to answer it. The buzzer goes for the duty manager to sign the banking and Maureen answers that. While she waits the few seconds for the outer door to close then releases the inner door, I whip a twenty pound note out of one of her bundles and drop it under her desk. The personnel manager, or HR as they call it now, sits down to weigh each bundle and to put her neat little initials on each one. Click, sign, click, sign, click, sign, click, sign, click, silence, click, click.
‘Maureen, this bundle appears to be short.’
This never happens on Maureen’s shift. She glares at us all.
‘Whose signature is on the bundle?’
‘Yours.’
‘Mine? No way! I double-checked. I always do. Don’t I?’ she asks around generally. ‘I’ll re-count it by hand.’ And as she moves back towards her desk she sees the twenty pound note on the floor. ‘Thank goodness, there it is. How did that happen?’
‘Indeed,’ says the little personnel lady, ‘how did that happen?’ She fixes Maureen with a stare that says she is not amused.
I decide that the day has taken a turn for the better and that I will reward myself with a bottle of wine from Bargain Booze after my evening constitutional and latte.
Thursday 22nd October 2009
It’s a beautiful day so I walk down over the bridge, but instead of going into town I turn right towards Bitts Park. I haven’t really explored it before but I know from the local paper that things are always happening there. I think the next big thing is firework night. I’ll be able to see the fireworks from my bijou half-house. Some people are playing tennis and others, much more seriously, bowls. As I understand it bowls is a vicious game. Maybe I’ll take it up, ha ha. I set off to see what a Japanese Garden looks like in a town park but my attention is caught by two heads of red hair gleaming in the autumn sunshine. It’s Joanna and son. Well, well, well.
‘Come on, Mam. I want to feed the ducks.’ Her little look-alike runs over and tugs her arm.
‘What about our picnic? Aren’t you hungry?’
‘The ducks are hungry. Nobody feeds them in this park. Come on.’
She gives in, of course, young mums always do. I spot the picnic area and a kiosk selling snacks. Five minutes later I’m sitting at one of the wooden tables pretending to enjoy a gooey cheese savoury sandwich. I have my book as well, and pretend to read it while I await their return. I am fairly sure they’ll come here. It really isn’t warm enough to sit on the grass.
‘Hola Judith! Look Ricky, it’s my friend from Spanish class. Come and say hello.’
Ricky dutifully says hello then looks shy, then dives into their picnic basket, all inhibitions forgotten.
‘Is it your day off today?’ I ask.
‘Yes, I usually have Thursdays off. You?’
‘Yes, me too. I like days off in the week.’
‘I do. But I’d like the weekends off with Ricky too. I have Sunday but I’m in the café from lunch time onwards on Saturdays. Luckily my mam doesn’t work Saturdays at all.’
I venture a personal question. ‘What about Ricky’s dad? Does he see him?’
‘No.’
Subject firmly closed so I move back to Spanish and what plans she has to go to Spain. I tell her that my friend Ken from work is flying out there at the weekend to play golf. She relaxes again as we leave Ricky’s other parent behind.
‘Come here, you,’ she says as she grabs Ricky and wipes all manner of food from around his mouth. ‘No table manners, that’s your problem.’
‘I have! It’s not a proper table so I don’t need them.’
‘You always need them,’ she says firmly and makes him ask properly before allowing him to go to the kiosk to buy an ice cream. Within minutes his mouth is covered again, this time with melting ice cream and chocolate. My God! Who’d have kids? It’s only a matter of time before he gets tired and whiney and she decides it’s time to take him home. I must say, I prefer our meetings without him. Well I don’t actually say it of course.
As they wander off to catch the bus home she calls out that she will see me soon in the café and at Spanish. Oh yes, she will! A few words of Spanish float back to me as well, but I don’t catch what she says and pretend that I am engrossed in my book. Better not appear too keen.
Chapter 4
Hexham,October 2008
Thursday 2nd October 2008
It seemed to Judith that her phone never stopped ringing. She often wondered, and said on some occasions, that she didn’t know what Kate did all day. What do I a pay her for? she sometimes thought, she gets through so little in a day. Maybe the phone was always like this and Kate shielded her from these callers who didn’t stop talking then moaned when they got charged for the number of hours the practice had spent dealing with them. She looked forward to Monday when Kate would be back from holiday.
At midday the phone rang again. She answered it, resisting the urge to be short with the caller.
‘Hello Judith. It’s Chloe from Phoenix Antiques. Gosh, you’ve been busy this morning. I’ve tried ringing a few times.’
‘The phone has never stopped since I got in,’ she replied pleasantly. ‘Still, all business is good business. How is yours going? I’ve been meaning to pop in but have had family stuff going on.’
‘Not bad, thanks. Listen I’ve got hold of another seascape. You know you liked that one that I had on show at the opening? Well it’s not the same, of course, but it is the same Seurat style. Would you like to come over at lunch time and have a look? I’ve got sandwiches and coffee if you’d like to join me.’
‘Chloe, you are a life-saver. I really need an excuse to get out for a while. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. One more phone call to make.’
There wasn’t another phone call to make, of course, but Judith liked to play the game. Half an hour l
ater she walked around the market place and down the hill a little way to Chloe’s shop. Judith was seldom genuinely impressed by anything so it was easy to be enthusiastic.
‘Chloe, it looks really good. I am so glad you didn’t go for the cluttered old treasures look. There are a couple across the road from me that probably are full of treasures, but who could be bothered to rummage through and find them? No, this is really lovely.’
Chloe positively glowed. ‘Thank you, Judith. Come through and have a sandwich then I’ll show you the painting.’ She led Judith through to the small, but again seemingly empty, office and offered delicate sandwiches on china plates and tea in china cups. Perfect, and all in keeping with the surroundings.
They chatted about their respective businesses for a while, then Chloe said, ‘You said you had family stuff going on. Do you have children?’
‘No I don’t. I have an elderly mother who isn’t well at all. My poor sister has been struggling to look after her for a while now. I do what I can, of course, but when you have a business to run there aren’t enough hours in the day.’
‘I know what you mean,’ she agreed. ‘I’m dreading when my dad gets to that stage, though he’s pretty fit at the moment. I worry that he lives in Spain so I can’t keep an eye on him.’
‘My mum’s physically fit, but she forgets where she is, who she is, who we all are.’ She looked away and took a deep breath.
‘Oh, Judith, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known.’
‘It’s OK. I’ll have to learn to deal with it. We took the very difficult decision to put her into Mill View. I know the manager there so I know she’ll be well cared for. We all went out there together on Monday; my niece as well. She’s just seventeen so shouldn’t have to be a carer at her age.’
‘You sound like a really close family. That’s so nice. Anyway Mill View is only down the road.’
‘Yes we are, very close. It’s such a comfort at times like this. It sort of helps to deal with the guilt.’
‘Now you must not feel guilty. If you believe that Mill View is the best thing for your mum, that’s the best you can do. It’s lovely there, and you can go and visit any time you like. Now, shall we have a look at the seascape I bought at auction at the weekend?’
Judith spent a little while studying the picture. She quite liked it with its strange dappled effect with dots and shading but dreaded how much it would cost. She couldn’t forget the tax demand, or the order for the new sports car.
‘It’s a little bigger than I really wanted,’ she said eventually, ‘although I do like it.’
‘It’s by Goquin,’ said Chloe. ‘He’s French and not terribly well-known here yet. They love him in France and liken him to Seurat; what do you think? It’s a really good investment at £750. It will probably be worth double that in ten years.’
Judith maintained the interested expression and thought about her next move. It was quite impossible to even consider buying it.
‘It’s about the right price range,’ she ventured, ‘but I’m just not sure it would look right in my sitting room.’
‘Shall I bring it round so you can see it in place?’
God, this woman is persistent. ‘That’s a great idea, thanks. I really can’t do it in the next week though, with having to deal with my mother. And you can’t not offer it for sale. If you haven’t sold it once Mum is settled, then yes, please do bring it round.’
‘I am fairly sure it will sell quickly.’ Chloe looked as though she were letting Judith down.
‘Then you must sell it. You know what we said about business earlier. And talking of business, I must get back to mine. Lunch on me next time.’
‘OK, if you’re sure?’
‘Perfectly sure. I’ll see you in a few days, and thanks again for lunch.’
Back at her office, Judith thought a good sort out was in order. She hated this untidiness. She pictured the seascape on the office wall. It would look really good in here against the pale jade paint. Then she snorted; £750! No chance. The phone rang again. It was the client from Monday who was taking his business elsewhere.
‘Ms Dillon! I have been trying to contact you. As you don’t usually answer your phone or return my calls, I wrote you a letter.’
‘Yes I have received it.’
‘Well, when are you going to send on my files?’
‘It will be done when my secretary gets back next week. She’s on holiday this week.’
‘I think you could have called to tell me that. I feel as though I have to chase you for everything. And I think your last invoice to me was incorrect. I wonder whether you would check it. You’ve over-charged me.’
Judith sighed audibly. ‘Certainly I will check it, but I doubt very much that it is incorrect,’ she said with just enough of a hint of mimicry to make Mr. Sanders lose control.
‘You should be struck off. Just send my books back as soon as possible. Please.’
Judith leaned her elbows on the desk and took the weight of her head in her hands. What was happening here? She had never felt work slipping away from her control before. Relationships, yes, almost always, but work was her one solid foundation, somewhere neat and ordered and constant. She thought about this date last month when Alison had told her that she was moving back to London, that Judith crowded her and she felt suffocated. Well, Judith felt suffocated now.
Saturday 4th October 208
‘Fiona? Oh Rosie. You sound just like your mum these days. How are you?’
‘Fine thanks, Auntie Ju. I’ll get Mum.’
‘Fiona. I thought I would come over this afternoon and we can pack up Mum’s stuff, and decide what she’ll take with her to Mill View.’
‘Today’s not very convenient. I need to take Rosie shopping for a winter coat.’
‘I’ll come and do it on my own then.’
‘No, that’s not a good plan. You don’t know what she likes any more. You’ll have to wait ‘til I can do it with you. Come over tomorrow.’
‘Her room’s available from tomorrow. If we pack and sort out today, we can take her and her stuff to Mill View in the morning.’
‘Stop it, Judith. Stop pressurising. This is her home. I don’t want to push her out so quickly.’
Judith took a deep breath and grabbed the arm of her chair. ‘Don’t start again, Fi. We all decided. Mum even sort of agreed. There is no point at all in delaying things. I’ll come over this evening then.’
‘No, not this evening. Rosie and I watch Strictly and X-Factor together. It’s our special time.’
‘You watch that garbage? I don’t believe you. It’s rubbish.’
‘I know it is but we like it. OK, come this afternoon. Rosie and I can go shopping another day.’
‘And what do you mean, I don’t know what Mum likes? She doesn’t know herself anymore. I’ll be there after lunch. Don’t make me any.’
Fi turned to her daughter who had a knowing look on her face.
‘We’ll go shopping next week. Ju’s coming after lunch.’
‘It’s the best thing, Mum. I’ll stay and help.’
‘OK. I’ll persuade Ju to come for lunch tomorrow to have a last meal, you know, all of us together.
There was no point in delaying what had to be done, and they knew that they could delay as long as they liked, but it wouldn’t make the packing up any easier. They braced themselves for a long, fraught afternoon ahead.
Sunday 5th October 2008
Judith reluctantly arrived for the farewell family lunch and went straight through to the kitchen with the wine she had brought with her.
‘Why are you here again?’ demanded her mother when she saw her at the door to the sitting room. ‘Do you live here now?’
‘No, I don’t, Mum,’ And neithe
r do you after lunch. ‘I’ve come round so we can all have lunch together.’
‘Why? You never come for lunch. Are you going to upset Fiona?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘You usually do. She cries when you go home.’
‘Mum,’ said Fiona, ‘would you like some wine with lunch?’
‘Wine? Why? We never have wine with lunch.’
‘Today is special, Mum. That’s why.’
‘What’s special about it? Just because she’s here?’
‘No, because…’ and Fiona rushed to the kitchen to stem the tears before they poured out everywhere.
‘Because, Mum, later on we’re taking you back out to Mill View. Do you remember when we all went there last week?’
‘Yes. I think so. Why are we going there again?’
‘Because you are going to live there for a while. Remember? Mrs. Walters showed you that lovely room where you can look out of the window and watch the birds.’
‘Live there? Fiona and Rosie as well? Are we all going to live there?’
‘Shut up now, Ju!’ Fiona was back and composed. ‘Let’s all enjoy lunch then talk about it later.’ She fixed Judith with a stare that indicated it was not for debate. ‘Will you come and help me serve up lunch?’
Judith followed Fi into the kitchen.
‘It’s no good pretending it’s not going to happen, Fi. She has to know.’
‘She won’t know even if you tell her. She’ll forget the conversation and we’ll just have to do it all again. Trust me. I live with her, remember. Leave it now. Eat and make small talk and try to be nice.’
By the time they went back through to the dining room, Rosie had distracted her granny and it was as though the conversation had never taken place. At four o’clock she happily got into the back of Fiona’s car with Rosie and they set off for Mill View.