Never Too Old for Love

by Rosie Harris

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of asking them to do so,’ Megan retorted. ‘If I was well enough to take a taxi then I’d go on my own, otherwise I would expect Richard to take me,’ Megan told her huffily.

  ‘I see,’ Mary said with a sigh. She knew that it was pointless trying to explain the situation to Megan. Whether she was telling the truth or not she didn’t know, nor did it matter. Megan had taken a dislike to Bill from the moment she had first met him and there seemed to be nothing that would change that, Mary decided with a mental shrug. She pulled herself together and gave Megan weak smile.

  ‘Will you have a cup of tea or coffee while you are here?’

  Megan pulled back the cuff on her elegant coat, looked at her slim gold watch and frowned.

  ‘Heavens no! It’s far later than I thought. I have an appointment in London. I must go. Just bear in mind what I’ve said. Richard thinks the same,’ she added ominously. ‘At your age it is enough for you to look after yourself and not worry about strangers.’

  Mary opened her mouth to point out that Bill wasn’t a stranger but then thought better of it. She would never change Megan’s opinion on that point so why antagonize her further? She thought resignedly. There was nothing to be gained from doing that and Megan would only take it out on Richard when she got home.

  She wasn’t sure if Richard understood anyway or whether he sided with Megan. It didn’t really matter, she told herself. She wasn’t going to be bullied into breaking off her friendship with Bill Thompson simply to please them. She’d had such a long lonely time since Sam had died and she was quite sure that he would approve of the fact that she had found a friend. It wasn’t as though it made any difference to Richard and Megan, she told herself. She wasn’t expecting them to entertain him, she wouldn’t dream of taking him round to their house.

  As she got on with her cleaning – catching up on the jobs she had neglected the day before because of going to the hospital – she resolved that, far from listening to either Richard or Megan, she would go round and see Bill later in the day to make sure that he was all right and that he was managing to put the drops in his eye.

  She looked at the clock. There was still time to make a cake to take with her, a Victoria sponge perhaps with jam and cream in it. He’d love that. They could have a cup of tea together and a chat. It would relieve the boredom for him and it would set her mind at rest that he was all right.

  NINE

  Mary Wilson felt like a naughty schoolgirl as she put her coat on over her smart navy dress in readiness for when the taxi arrived. She was taking Bill back to the hospital for a check-up after his injection. It was purely routine but she knew that if either Richard or Megan found out what she had been doing, then she would receive a lecture from them reminding her that it wasn’t up to her to do that.

  They had a right to their opinion, of course, but as far as she was concerned she was doing the right thing. Bill was her friend and he had no one else to go with him. He could go on his own, of course, but she was afraid he mightn’t do so. He hated the whole procedure, the same as Sam had done, and she knew Sam would never have kept his appointments if she hadn’t gone with him.

  The taxi arrived promptly and Bill was ready and waiting when they arrived at his house. He was looking very smart in his best navy blue suit, pale blue shirt and blue and black tie. Mary was glad that she too had taken the trouble to put on her smart navy dress and coat, and that she had a navy and white scarf tucked into the neck of her coat.

  It was a bright, crisp November morning as they drove to Windsor. Mary enjoyed the scenery, especially when Windsor castle came into view and she noticed that the Royal Standard was flying which meant that the Queen was in residence. Bill didn’t seem interested when she pointed this out to him. She suspected that he was worried about what lay ahead and she tried to reassure him that he wouldn’t be having an injection, only a check-up, and that would only take about an hour.

  ‘They’ll go through the same procedure of getting you to read the chart, putting drops in your eye, testing for pressure and then you’ll have to have the back of the eyes photographed, of course,’ she reminded him.

  ‘What, both of my eyes?’

  She almost laughed at the look of dismay on Bill’s face. His heavy eyebrows were drawn together in a frown that made him look quite fierce.

  ‘Yes, both of your eyes,’ she repeated. ‘Then you will be seen by the consultant and he will study the X-ray of your eyes and examine them himself with a very bright light. If there is no sign of any further bleeding then he will probably tell you that he will want to see you again in about a month’s time.’

  ‘Seems a lot of fuss,’ Bill grumbled. ‘Why can’t they just look at the eye where I had the injection in and leave it at that?’

  Mary gave an imperceptible shrug. ‘That’s the procedure,’ she said. ‘I understand that it is to make quite sure that the problem hasn’t spread to the other eye. If it has then they can do something about it right away and that means the treatment has a greater chance of success.’

  Bill sighed and looked more worried than ever but he didn’t ask any more questions and Mary knew when it was better to say nothing.

  When they arrived at the hospital Mary paid the taxi driver and said she would phone his office when they were ready to come home. She then accompanied Bill inside the hospital to the eye clinic reception desk. They were very busy; the waiting room was packed. After he had registered they managed to find adjacent chairs. Mary noticed he was looking very gloomy but he brightened up slightly when his name was called ten minutes later.

  Everything went according to plan and less than an hour later they were leaving the hospital.

  ‘The specialist said he would see me again in a month’s time,’ Bill told her.

  ‘I take it that will be before Christmas,’ Mary commented.

  ‘They’ll write and let me know the date and time.’

  ‘Good. So we can forget about it until then,’ Mary smiled.

  ‘Yes, and I hope that next time will be the last time and that it will be the end of the problem. I don’t fancy having another injection in my eye. It wasn’t all that painful but all the fuss beforehand and that green mask over your face was claustrophobic.’

  ‘Think yourself lucky that you only had to put a cream in your eye afterwards for the rest of the day. When Sam was attending that clinic there was far more fuss, he had to put drops in his eye three times a day for two weeks.’

  ‘Did it do any good?’

  ‘Well, the Lucentis injections stopped the bleeding but it didn’t really make his eyesight any better, only stopped it from getting any worse. He had already lost the central vision but still had peripheral vision and saving that was the most they could do.’

  ‘You mean that no matter how many injections I have,’ Bill said gloomily, ‘I’m not going to be able to focus enough to read a book or the newspaper ever again?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. You still have peripheral vision though. You can see people and objects still.’

  ‘Yes, but until I am right up close to them, I can’t be certain who they are because I can’t focus on their face.’

  ‘Well, you still have one good eye and you can still drive,’ Mary said consolingly. ‘You’ve got to stay positive and enjoy life as much as you can.’

  ‘Enjoy life! How can I enjoy life when I can’t see properly?’ Bill’s voice was bitter.

  ‘Yes, enjoy life,’ Mary repeated a little sharply. ‘Take care of yourself, eat a sensible diet and make sure you go for a walk or do some gardening every day or some other exercise. It all helps with your blood sugar and if that is under control then it helps to keep your eyes healthy.’

  Bill sighed. ‘All I want to do is read the newspaper or a book,’ he grumbled. ‘Is that asking a lot?’

  ‘No, but for the moment it is difficult. You’ll adjust. Sam did and he wasn’t the most patient of men. A good magnifying glass helps so ask at the hospital next time yo
u go there if they can help you.’

  ‘Ask them for a magnifying glass!’ Bill sounded cross and contemptuous but Mary knew it was frustration. He hated to think that he was losing his sight and it was making him grumpy. She had been through it all before with Sam so she took no notice, but answered in as calm a voice as possible.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Ask the Eye Clinic Liaison Officer. She will make an appointment for you to go to the right department for a magnifying glass and anything else they think might help you. At the moment, I don’t think you are bad enough to be registered as having impaired vision but when it comes to that then she will help you.’

  ‘I don’t want a white stick so that the whole world knows I’m half blind,’ he said aggressively. ‘I suppose you will expect me to have one of those, or else a guide dog next.’

  ‘If you need it then it is advisable to have a white stick. It helps other road users know you may not be able to see them and so they can take your progress into consideration.’

  ‘I don’t need a walking stick!’ Bill exclaimed angrily.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be a walking stick. They issue a white wand to people who don’t need a walking stick. As for registering with the authorities that you have sight problems, well, that can give you some advantages. It helps with your income tax and also you get a reduction on your rates.’

  ‘Really?’ Bill looked interested. ‘Well, I didn’t know that,’ he muttered.

  ‘There’s probably a great many things you don’t know but are worth looking into,’ Mary told him. ‘It’s not all bad news,’ she added with a smile.

  ‘I suppose you are right,’ Bill admitted. ‘I don’t know how I would manage without you. I don’t think I would have come back again, not after that injection, if you hadn’t made me.’

  ‘Enough of that for the moment,’ Mary said taking his arm firmly. ‘Let’s go along to the hospital canteen and have a cup of tea. I will phone for the taxi to take us home and by the time we’ve drunk our tea it should be here.’

  TEN

  Megan was far more concerned about Mary’s friendship with Bill Thompson than Richard was. She really couldn’t understand him, he seemed to accept it quite placidly and not be able to see any underlying danger. It became a subject that she broached whenever they were alone together. Something she even found herself brooding on when they were apart. Why oh why couldn’t Richard see the risk his mother was taking in opening up her home to this man? Or why this man was becoming so friendly with his mother?

  Normally Richard was no fool, she told herself. He might only be a schoolmaster but he was as sharp as a needle, especially when it came to financial matters. Richard vetted all her business contracts and investments and his advice was always sound. He even booked hotels and travel for her when she was working in Paris or New York, and he was always meticulous about the service she would be getting and the cost of it. In many ways he was her manager, although she would never admit that. She regarded it as his duty to vet her contracts and take care of her finances since she earned a great deal more than he did. It was obviously his duty to take care of the family finances generally. She left it to him to make sure that Lucia shopped wisely for their household needs and, when it came to buying clothes for George, that she wasn’t unduly extravagant or cheated over the value of them or short changed in any way.

  Yet, for all that, Richard didn’t seem to see the danger in this Bill Thompson becoming so friendly with his mother. He looked either annoyed or puzzled whenever she raised the matter. What if Bill Thompson managed to persuade Mary to move in with him, or she decided to let him move in with her?

  She had no idea, of course, whether Bill Thompson had enough money of his own to live comfortably or whether he was looking for some rich old widow to keep him in comfort for the rest of his days. She rather suspected it might be the latter and that Richard’s mother was too naïve to realise this.

  True this Bill dressed smartly and kept himself looking spruce. In fact, she had to admit that he was quite a presentable figure. But what was Mary thinking about to be going out with a man at her age? Sam had been a devoted husband and he had lived into his late seventies, so what on earth did she need a replacement for now? She must be in her late seventies and there was something objectionable about her taking up with another man at her age. She was making a laughing stock of herself.

  Richard’s argument that the two of them were merely friends and that his mother was probably lonely certainly didn’t cut any ice with her, Megan decided. Sometimes she did wonder if he was giving her the hint that they didn’t visit his mother as often as they should. That was nonsense, of course. She and his mother had nothing in common, except Richard, and since his mother thought he was perfect she could hardly sit and point out all his faults and shortcomings, without causing a bad atmosphere between them.

  Richard hated gossip so there wasn’t much his mother could talk to him about except little George. That certainly was a subject that Richard and his mother had in common. They both idolized the child. Megan only hoped that they weren’t spoiling him behind her back. She was constantly reminding Lucia that she must make him behave and teach him good manners because she suspected that perhaps Lucia was also spoiling him. She made a mental note to discuss this with Richard and decide what was the best thing to do about George over Christmas.

  She had persuaded Richard to go with her to Monaco at the invitation of one of her most important business contacts and, of course, taking George with them was out of the question. He would be staying at home with Lucia. He wasn’t yet five so it wouldn’t really make all that much difference to him whether they were at home over the Christmas holiday or not, as he was far too young to know what it was all about. They would have a party for him when she and Richard returned early in the New Year and bring him back a present of some sort.

  Lucia had wanted to go home to her family in Italy for Christmas and she had even offered to take George with her, but Megan had decided that was out of the question. On reflection though, she wondered if that mightn’t be better than leaving him at home. Unless she forbids Lucia to take him to see his grandmother over the Christmas holiday and she didn’t think she dared to do that. Richard was bound to hear about it and object; it might even end up with him deciding to stay at home with the child and not go with her to Monaco.

  Richard couldn’t understand why Megan was so averse to his mother being friendly with Bill Thompson. He had briefly met the man himself whilst visiting his mother and Bill seemed to be a nice enough old man. He was clean-shaven, always neatly dressed, well spoken, his eyes were bright and his conversations intelligent. It was obvious that his mother enjoyed Bill’s company. He was still driving and apparently, from time to time, took her to one of the big supermarkets to stock up on groceries and commodities not available in the local village stores.

  Their outings seemed to be innocuous enough. A visit to the cinema in Maidenhead once a week and a meal at her place once a week. What was wrong with that? Old people like the reassurance of a routine so it probably suited them both. This Bill was obviously of the old school and wouldn’t let her pay for her seat at the pictures, so her idea of giving him a meal was a way of recompensing him without taking his pride away from him. This business about him having eye problems was a shame, because it could eventually result in him not being able to drive, but they could worry about that when it happened. There are always taxis.

  He quite understood why his mother felt she should accompany Bill to the eye hospital when he went for treatment. She had been through the scenario with his father and, even though his dad had never admitted to being nervous about going for treatment, Richard knew that he hadn’t liked doing it and that his mother going along with him each time had boosted his confidence. This was what she was now doing with her friend Bill; there was nothing more to it than that.

  Megan worrying about Bill moving in with his mother was utter rubbish. Since his father had died she had e
stablished a routine that suited her and she loathed to deviate from it. She didn’t want to go on holiday because she said she couldn’t be bothered with all the hassle of packing and travelling. She didn’t even want to stay at their place overnight, not that he’d asked her to do so for the last couple of years.

  No, he told himself confidently, his mother was happy with her life as it was but, naturally, she enjoyed the friendship of someone her own age and going to the pictures once a week didn’t really ruffle her serenity. He felt a twinge of guilt because he knew he should visit his mother far more often than he did. She so enjoyed his visits, especially when he took little George with him. George loved going to see his grandmother. She always had time to chat to him and to listen to what he had to say. He was always eager to tell her about what he had been doing since he last saw her. George also enjoyed the biscuits she kept in a special tin for him, a tin that had his name printed on the outside.

  Richard sighed. He tried to make his visits once a week, but so often there were things going on at school at the end of the day that seemed to take priority. At the weekends, if Megan was at home then there were social occasions either with friends or her business contacts that took up all his time. They would even be away over Christmas, he thought guiltily. He wondered what his mother would think about that! She would accept it, of course, and she never criticised what they did but he knew that deep down she would be very concerned, especially when she found out that they weren’t taking George.

  His mind spun back to the Christmases he had known as a child. They’d been magical affairs, with parties and high jinks from a couple of weeks before Christmas right through to the New Year. He remembered sitting at the kitchen table with his mother making decorations; looping strips of colour paper into a chain to hang across the ceiling of the sitting room. There had been the excitement of Christmas cards arriving and they had strung these all up so that they hung from the top of the doors right down to the ground. They’d decorated the hall with holly and ivy, the red berries glowing like rubies when the light was turned on. His father had helped to decorate the Christmas tree and was always in charge of the Christmas lights on the tree and the ones they put out around the window frame.