First Impressions

by Margaret Thornton

  A cheerful-looking man of a somewhat corpulent build stood up and said, ‘How do, everyone,’ to the passengers. It would be easy to remember which was which driver as they were dissimilar in looks. Bill was ginger-haired, whereas Mike was dark and slimmer than his colleague.

  ‘How do, Bill,’ most of them replied, not quite so timidly now.

  ‘We won’t be travelling enormous distances,’ said Mike. ‘It’s a pretty easy tour, lots of time for looking around, not a whistle-stop tour like some of them are. But Galaxy Travel have been surprisingly generous in allowing us two drivers, and I’m sure we’re all going to have a very pleasant time together. So, ladies and gents, off we go again …’

  It was Bill who addressed them as Mike drove away. He stood facing them at the front of the coach. ‘I’m obliged to draw your attention to the emergency exits,’ he said, pointing to the windows at the front and rear. ‘And there’s a first aid box above the driver’s seat. So now that’s out of the way it’s time to get to know one another. I dare say most of you know the person sitting next to you, your hubby or the wife, or your best friend or partner, eh? But if you don’t know them, then say hello to them now. Or else say ‘how do’ to the people sitting across from you. It’s good to make new friends, isn’t it?’

  Jane and her travelling companion turned to look at one another, then, to her relief, he laughed and held out his hand. ‘Hello, or should I say how do? I’m David Falconer, usually known as Dave.’

  He held her hand in a firm grasp, and as he smiled at her in a friendly way she noticed that his eyes were a luminous grey, candid and clear. She began to feel more at ease. Perhaps it was going to turn out all right.

  ‘How do you do?’ she said politely. She had been told it was not correct to say ‘Pleased to meet you’, although lots of people did. ‘I’m Jane Redfern, always known as Jane! That’s the only name I’ve got,’ she added. ‘I’ve often wished my parents had given me a second one.’

  He smiled. ‘Not always a good thing, believe me! My second name is Archibald – after my father, but I hate it! He was always called Archie – I guess he didn’t like it either – so I can’t imagine what possessed my parents to saddle me with it. But there’s nothing wrong with Jane; a good old English name, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so …’

  ‘So … what brings you here, Jane, travelling to Germany with Galaxy? And on your own? I assume you’re on your own?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she replied. ‘It took quite a lot of courage for me to make the booking. But my friends tried to assure me that I’d nothing to worry about, and Galaxy Travel was highly recommended. I would have preferred to come with a friend, but it just wasn’t possible. They’re all married, you see … and my husband died two years ago.’

  ‘Oh … I see; I’m sorry,’ Dave said quietly. ‘I’m in the same position myself, as a matter of fact. I lost my wife four years ago and I’ve never been able to find anyone to come away with me. Actually, I’m not bothered, I suppose I’m a bit of a loner. I don’t mind my own company, but it’s usually a friendly crowd on these Galaxy tours.’

  ‘You’ve been with them before, then?’

  ‘Yes, this is my third time. The first time I did a five-day tour to the bulb fields in Holland, and last year I went to Belgium – to Brussels and Bruges. So I thought I’d go a little further afield this time. What about you? Why did you choose Germany?’

  ‘I liked the sound of it in the brochure, and it’s a leisurely tour – a night in Calais, then a night in the Rhine valley, then six nights in the Black Forest. I like to see nice scenery and interesting places, rather than sea and sand. My mother threw up her hands in horror, though, at the idea of me going to Germany.’

  Dave smiled. ‘Yes, elderly folk have long memories. But we’re never likely to forget, are we, while they’re still showing war films on the TV? My father loved to watch them even though he’d served in the war. He came through it unscathed, though, he was one of the lucky ones.’

  ‘Yes, so was my father,’ said Jane. ‘He never talked about it, though. It’s Mother who still thinks of the Germans as our enemies.’

  ‘You still have both your parents, have you, Jane?’

  She told him briefly of her circumstances; about her father’s death and how, as she was the only child, she now lived with and cared for her mother. ‘I hope she’s settled down in the home,’ she said, ‘and isn’t finding fault with everything.’

  ‘Try not to worry,’ said Dave. ‘It’s not for very long and the majority of homes are very comfortable. I do know how you feel, though. My mother is in a retirement home, permanently, I’m afraid. But she loves it and she’s made lots of new friends. It was a hard decision for me and my sister to make, but in the end it was Mother who decided for us. She chose the place she wanted to go to and she’s very happy there. She would have felt isolated living with me – out in the wilds, she said – and my sister lives down in the south of England.

  ‘Do you live in the country, then, Dave?’ asked Jane. To her surprise she found it quite easy to use his Christian name.

  ‘Yes, I have a farm in Shropshire, a few miles from Shrewsbury, on the way to Welshpool. It’s not all that far from the Welsh border. Mother finds it lonely after living in Shrewsbury all her life.’

  ‘You mean … you’re a farmer?’ Jane looked at him in some surprise. Dressed, as he was, in a smart sports jacket, with a modern striped shirt and a toning tie he looked the picture of elegance. The last thing she would have expected him to be was a farmer. He looked more like a bank manager.

  He laughed. ‘Yes, that’s what I am. What did you expect? A pork pie hat and corduroy breeches, and a straw between my teeth?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Jane hurriedly, fearful that she might have offended him. ‘I was just … rather surprised, that’s all.’

  ‘Yes, I know I don’t look much like a farmer when I’m not working. I seldom get a chance to dress smartly, so I make the most of it when I can. I’m not able to get away from the farm all that often.’

  ‘You’ve left someone in charge this week?’

  ‘My son. He works there along with me. I expect he’ll take it over … one of these days. And we have a couple of farm hands, and casual labour when we need it.’

  ‘So it’s a family business, is it, passed from one generation to the next?’

  ‘Sort of … It belonged to my grandfather, then my uncle took it over. My father wasn’t interested in farming – just the opposite, he became a solicitor – but the love of the land was passed on to me. I started working with my uncle when I left school. Then I did a college course to learn more about it, and so … there I am. A real live farmer, though I may not fit the image!’

  Jane couldn’t help thinking that he looked more like a gentleman farmer, but she didn’t say so. Maybe, despite his immaculate appearance now, he would not be afraid of mucking in with the rest of his fellow workers.

  ‘What sort of a farm is it?’ she asked. ‘Arable, sheep, cows …?’ She laughed. ‘I’m afraid I’m very ignorant when it comes to farming.’

  ‘Mainly arable,’ he replied. ‘It’s good fertile soil in Shropshire. But we have a small herd of cows as well, and pigs and poultry. No sheep. We’re quite near to Wales but the land is fairly flat where we are; ideal for growing crops … And I think that’s quite enough about me. What about you, Jane? I should imagine you have a job, as well as running a home? I know most women do nowadays.’

  ‘Yes, I have a job,’ she replied. ‘I work for the GPO. I’ve been with them ever since I left school.’

  ‘You work on the counter?’

  ‘Yes, I trained as a counter clerk. I was sent all over the place when I was training – to Yorkshire and Manchester and Liverpool. Then I was fortunate in getting a post at the main office in Preston, which is where I live. That’s where I met my husband, when he was transferred there from the office in Coventry. It was his first job as a supervisor after being a
postman.’ She stopped, aware that she might be rambling on about things that were irrelevant. ‘Anyway, I’m in charge of a sub post office now, near to where I live. It’s convenient because it means I’m able to get home at lunchtime to see to Mother.’

  ‘A lot of sub post offices have closed down, haven’t they?’ said Dave.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. More and more are disappearing, even some of the larger ones. Fingers crossed, though, we’re still open. It’s a thriving little business, part of a newsagent’s and general store so we think it might be safe for a while.’

  The couple of hours to the lunch stop had flown by, and Jane was surprised when Bill announced that they would be stopping in five minutes’ time. ‘I know some of you will have brought your own sandwiches,’ he said, and you can stop on the coach to eat them if you wish. Or there are some tables and wooden benches outside the service place. OK, ladies and gents, see you in forty-five minutes.’

  ‘I expect you’ve brought your own lunch, haven’t you?’ asked Dave. Jane agreed that she had done so.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not so well organized,’ he told her. ‘I’ll go and stretch my legs and have a spot of lunch. I know it’ll cost me an arm and a leg!’ He grinned. ‘But never mind, eh? We’re on holiday, aren’t we? See you later, Jane …’

  She was relieved that he had gone. She was enjoying his company, but she would have felt embarrassed if they had left the coach together, as though they were a couple. She wouldn’t have known what to do. Stay with him? Or wander off on her own? Luckily the decision had been made for her. She stayed where she was for a few moments, then she decided that as it was a pleasant day she would eat her ham sandwiches outside, and perhaps buy a carton of orange juice at the shop.

  Then she would phone her mother, as she had promised to do. It might be the last chance she had before leaving the shores of England.

  Two

  ‘Phone call for you, Alice …’ Nancy, one of the care assistants popped her head round the door of the lounge where several of the residents were watching the television. ‘I expect it’ll be your daughter.’

  ‘Yes, no doubt it will.’ Alice Rigby eased herself out of the armchair, then, with the aid of her stick she made her way slowly to the hallway where the telephone was situated. She took her time about it. She was unable to walk quickly anyway, but it wouldn’t do any harm to keep her daughter waiting a moment or two. She’d be on that mobile phone, of course, a newfangled idea that Alice had no time for.

  She sat down on the chair by the telephone table and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello …’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Mother; it’s me.’ Jane sounded bright and cheerful, as well she might, setting off on a Continental holiday.

  ‘Well, of course it’s you!’ answered Alice. ‘Who else would be ringing me? Hardly anyone knows I’m here, and if they do they’re not likely to ring.’

  ‘No … well, I just wanted to make sure that you’ve settled in and that everything’s as it should be. You’re all right, are you, Mother?’

  ‘As right as I’ll ever be, I suppose,’ Alice replied grudgingly. ‘I was just watching that antique programme, Bargain Hunt or whatever it’s called, where they go round flea markets and car boot sales, so I won’t talk for long or I’ll miss it. Anyway, it’ll be running up your bill on that mobile phone.’

  ‘That’s all right, I told you I got a good deal for the mobile … I’m glad you’re enjoying your TV. It’s a good set in your room, is it?’

  ‘It’s OK, but I was in the lounge, watching on the big set. Nearly as big as the Odeon screen it is! There’s a few of them like to watch the antiques, like I do.’

  ‘Well, that’s great, isn’t it? I told you that you’d meet some nice people and make new friends, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. They’re not so bad, some of them seem nice enough. I don’t know about friends, mind, but I dare say I can put up with ’em for ten days.’

  ‘What’s the food like? Have you had a good dinner … or lunch, whatever they call it?’

  ‘Can’t grumble. It was lamb casserole today, quite tasty, and apple crumble for afters. They have the main meal at midday, lunch, they call it, but it’s a substantial meal. I’ve no complaints there, not so far. Then they have what they call high tea at half past five. It was ham salad last night, then there’s a supper time drink if you want one.’

  ‘Sounds like a four-star hotel, Mother! I’m pleased you’re enjoying it.’

  ‘I didn’t say that, did I? I’m putting up with it ’cause I know it won’t be for long.’ Alice knew, though, that she was enjoying it far more than she had thought she would, but she was determined not to let Jane get away with it so easily. She was aware, however, that she might have sounded a little abrupt. It had become second nature to her now to appear so. She relented a little.

  ‘Anyway, you go and have a good holiday, Jane. Don’t worry about me; I’ll be OK. I’ll still be here when you get back, God willing.’

  ‘Of course you will, Mother. I’ll try to phone you from France or Germany, but I don’t know what the signal will be like for the mobile. There’ll be phones at the hotels, of course.’

  ‘Don’t bother. I’ve said I’ll be all right. Just … just have a good time, and take care of yourself in those foreign lands. Bye for now …’

  Bye, Mother. You take care as well …’

  Alice was surprised to find that her eyes were a little moist as she put down the phone. She blinked hastily. She really had no time for that sort of sentimental nonsense. Jane was a good girl, though, and Alice knew that she deserved a holiday. She really didn’t know how she would manage without Jane to look after her nowadays, but it worked both ways, of course. Jane was glad of the financial help that Alice was able to provide for bills and the upkeep of their home.

  It was, in truth, Jane’s house. It had been Jane’s and Tom’s until he had died two years ago. Alice had fought against the idea of giving up her own home, but after Joe had died it had become increasingly difficult for her to manage alone. She had arthritis in her knees and hips but, so far, had refused to undergo an operation despite the advice of the doctors. She was very stubborn, always insisting that she could manage well enough. She had been very grateful, though, to Jane and Tom for sharing their home with her. Then Tom had died, unexpectedly, two years ago, and she and her daughter had been left alone together.

  That was the trouble. They saw too much of one another and tended to get on one another’s nerves. Alice loved her daughter far more than she let on. She had been forty when Jane was born, and her husband five years older. She had always been very much a ‘daddy’s girl’, and Alice had never been a maternal sort of person. She had found it hard to show her feelings although she loved their little girl just as much as Joe did. The child was a great blessing to them. Alice had been thirty-six when she and Joe married, and they had given up hope of having children. Then when Jane had been born four years after their marriage it had seemed like a miracle. She had loved her then, and she loved her now. The sad thing was that Jane did not know how much.

  Alice limped back into the lounge where the antiques programme was just finishing.

  ‘The red team won,’ said Flora, the woman with whom she had struck up a sort of friendship. ‘They got a lot for that Doulton jug, but the blue team came a cropper with that figurine – it wasn’t Chelsea, just a reproduction.’

  ‘Sorry I missed it,’ said Alice, ‘but I had to chat to my daughter, seeing that she’d taken the trouble to ring me.’

  ‘You told her you were settling in nicely, did you?’

  ‘I told her I was OK.’ Alice grinned. ‘I must admit I’m pleasantly surprised, but it wouldn’t do to sound too keen.’

  ‘You’re a crafty one, Alice,’ said Flora with a chuckle. ‘Never give too much away, do you? I thought as soon as I met you, there’s more to this one than meets the eye!’

  ‘Yes, maybe so. But you don’t start telling people your life
story till you get to know them, do you?’ Alice felt, though, that she would like to get to know Flora better as the week went on.

  ‘As far as my daughter’s concerned, I’m not going to tell her that everything’s fine and dandy, not so soon. She knows I’ve always had an aversion to these places. It took a good deal of persuasion, I can tell you, to get me to agree to come here. So I’m not going to tell her that I’m … well, that I might be changing my mind about old folks’ homes.’

  ‘Come on now,’ said Flora. ‘You can’t really call this an old folks’ home, can you? I must admit that I wasn’t too keen on the idea myself, not at first. I’d seen some dreadful programmes on the TV about the neglect – even ill treatment – in some homes, and I wondered how anyone could let their loved ones live in such places.’

  ‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ said Alice. ‘But even the places where the staff are kind and caring – like they are here, of course – I didn’t fancy the idea of that either. I’m not keen on jolly sing-songs, or playing Bingo, or acting daft, all that sort of thing. And some of the folk that they show on the telly! Honestly! Dribbling and snuffling, or else just staring into space. They look about a hundred years old, some of them. I know I’m no spring chicken myself, but God forbid that I should ever get like that. “No thanks,” I said to Jane. “You’ll not get me into one of those places, not even for a week.”’

  ‘But you changed your mind?’ Flora’s beady brown eyes twinkled behind her spectacles.

  ‘Well … I had to, didn’t I? The lass deserves a holiday. I gave the place a once over, though, before I committed myself, and I decided it didn’t seem so bad. Of course, it’s not for folk who are seriously ill, is it, or those that are … well, past it, if you know what I mean?’

  ‘No, it’s more for rest and recuperation. They get a lot of people who are recovering from an operation – that’s why I came here the first time – or staying for a short time, like you are. There are several, though, who are here on a more permanent basis, like I am now. We don’t know how permanent, though, do we?’ Flora gave a wry grin. ‘But it’s best not to think about that, eh?’