Never Too Old for Love

by Rosie Harris

  ‘Yes, it was very good. It didn’t feel like Christmas though because we were in hot sunshine.’

  They fell silent again.

  ‘Look I must go,’ Richard said awkwardly as he checked his watch. ‘I only came to see how you were and to make the suggestion about the dishwasher. I seem to have done both. When is your next hospital appointment?’

  ‘Not for a while.’

  The silence between them that followed was an uneasy one. Richard carried his cup through to the kitchen and came back for hers. She heard the tap running and her mouth tightened. She stayed in the sitting room and when he came back in to say his final goodbye he said with a dry smile, ‘There won’t be any tea stains on those!’

  ‘I should hope not, seeing as we had coffee,’ Mary said quietly.

  Richard made no reply. He kissed her cheek and was gone.

  Mary felt vaguely irritated as she heard the front door close behind him. It wasn’t like Richard to try and run her life for her. She suspected Megan was behind the offer and she was afraid she had made it hard for Richard by refusing. Even so, she wasn’t going to change her mind. If she wanted a dishwasher in the first place, then she would have bought one a long time ago. In the second, she didn’t want to be under any obligation to them.

  All she wanted was to be left to get on with her life in her own way without any interference whatsoever.

  EIGHTEEN

  Richard and Megan’s visits made Mary more determined than ever to walk without the aid of crutches. Her progress satisfied her and a week before her hospital appointment she could think of nothing else.

  ‘Thank goodness it’s not until ten o’clock,’ she commented to Bill as they sat enjoying a coffee together, before he went off to do her shopping.

  ‘I’ll order a taxi for half past nine, that should leave plenty of time. All the office workers and shop workers will be at work, the schoolchildren safely in school and all the mums back at home, so there should be no holdups.’

  ‘You don’t need a taxi, I’ll take you,’ Bill offered. ‘I’ll be here at nine thirty and, as you say, it will be a straightforward run.’

  ‘No, Bill, I’ll get a taxi,’ Mary repeated.

  ‘Why? I’ve always driven you in the past?’

  ‘Yes, I know but you do so much for me you have no time left for your own interests.’

  ‘Taking you to hospital is one of my interests,’ Bill told her with a wide smile.

  With a little sigh Mary gave in gracefully. What was the point of arguing, she thought. She didn’t want to upset Bill, he was so good to her and she knew that he was as sensitive about criticism as she was. It was because she was still feeling raw from Megan’s comments that she didn’t want to remind Bill that he now had AMD in both eyes and probably shouldn’t be driving at all. He was a very careful driver, she told herself, the road would be very quiet at that time of the day so what was she getting so worked up about? Determinedly, she put it out of her mind. It was far more important that she concentrated on her walking, she told herself.

  She really did feel that she was quite competent to do away with the crutches. She had tried walking around the house using only a stick and it had been very successful. She felt more confident with a stick than she did with crutches. Her leg felt stronger and she was able to put her full weight on it without feeling any twinges or discomfort.

  The night before her appointment she set her alarm for seven, so as to give herself plenty of time to be up and dressed, have her breakfast and be waiting on the doorstep for Bill. Everything worked like clockwork. With five minutes to spare she was ready, so she checked that she had the details of her appointment in her handbag, then locked the front door and stood in the shelter of the porch anticipating Bill’s arrival.

  Time ticked by but there was no sound of his car. She checked the time on her watch; he was five minutes late. She felt worried. That was unlike Bill. If anything he tended to be five minutes early. She waited for another five minutes then she began to feel really concerned. At this rate, she was going to be late and she wasn’t sure what would happen if she was. They would probably put her to the back of the queue or, of course, they might even cancel her visit.

  Frustrated, she checked her watch again. It was now quarter to ten. They’d never make it, she thought anxiously. She went back inside the house and phoned the hospital to try and let them know she would be late.

  ‘I’m afraid my car hasn’t turned up,’ she told the receptionist. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to be late for my appointment.’ There was a further delay as she identified herself and waited for the receptionist to find the relevant papers.

  ‘Thank you for letting us know,’ the girl said, ‘do you want to cancel?’

  ‘Oh no!’ Mary told her. ‘It’s most important that I see the surgeon today. Can you make it a little later?’

  ‘How long will it take you to get here?’ the girl asked.

  ‘If I can get a taxi right away, I should be there before eleven,’ Mary said hopefully.

  ‘Very well, do that, but if you find that it will be later than that please phone in and let us know.’

  Her heart in her mouth and her fingers trembling, Mary rang the taxi service she normally used. She had no idea what had happened to Bill and she was very worried, but she decided that at the moment her own appointment must take precedence. She would ring his number as soon as she got home again. It was unlike him to forget an arrangement, although, like her, he was getting older and things did slip from their memory from time to time. Surely not something as important as a hospital appointment though?

  When the taxi arrived, she scrambled into the passenger seat as fast as she could and asked the driver to put her crutches into the back for her. Unsmiling, he did so. Then, without a word, started up and drove at excess speed to the main road.

  ‘King Edward’s Hospital?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s right,’ Mary confirmed.

  After that they sat in complete silence. Mary was worried in case Bill had had an accident, while on his way to collect her, and that it had not been possible for him to let her know what had happened. She decided that the best thing to do was to concentrate on what lay ahead, get the examination over and done with first. Then, when that was over and before she phoned for a taxi to take her home, she would phone Bill and see if he was all right.

  For the moment, it was important that she concentrated on what lay ahead. She must convince the surgeon that she was able to walk without the aid of crutches. The receptionist commented that she was very late and she wasn’t at all sure that she could still see Dr Markham the surgeon.

  ‘I phoned in and explained to one of your colleagues that my taxi hadn’t arrived and so I would be late,’ Mary told her.

  The receptionist, a very young fresh looking girl, checked again on her computer and then nodded briefly.

  ‘You’re quite right,’ she said apologetically. I’m afraid there might be a long wait though. Sit over there and we will call you.’

  The wait seemed to last forever and Mary felt more and more frustrated. She wondered if there was time for her to phone Bill and find out if he was all right, but was afraid to do so in case she was called in to see Dr Markham. She was about to go back to the reception desk and ask if they knew how much longer she would have to wait, when her name was called. Slipping her handbag onto one arm, she grabbed the crutches in her free hand and hurried into his consulting room.

  ‘I see, so when you’re in a hurry you don’t use the crutches,’ the surgeon commented as she entered.

  ‘I don’t really think I need them any longer,’ she said. ‘My leg feels much stronger and I am sure I could manage quite well with a walking stick.’

  ‘I’m sure you could,’ he said with a dry smile. ‘You rather made that point when you came in. Now, if you will just lie on the couch and let me examine your leg, please.’

  Mary complied as quickly as she could.

  He began to examin
e her leg and, although his face gave nothing away, she could tell from his manner that he was perfectly satisfied with the results.

  ‘Yes,’ he said when she was sitting in the chair facing his desk once again. ‘I think you’re right, Mrs Wilson. I think you can now manage with a walking stick. I would like to see you again in three months’ time just to make sure that you’re progressing well.’

  ‘Thank you, Dr Markham.’

  ‘Take things very easy, Mrs Wilson. ‘Don’t try to hurry and be extremely careful when you’re going up and down stairs or steps.’

  ‘I will,’ Mary said fervently. ‘Not having to use the crutches is wonderful. What should I do with them?’

  He looked at her speculatively. ‘You can take them home with you as an insurance in case you find you do need them,’ he said with a smile, ‘or you can leave them in reception and they will return them to the appropriate department. Do you have a walking stick with you?’

  Mary shook her head. ‘I couldn’t carry a stick and use my crutches,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Even you would find that difficult. If you ask at reception they will arrange for you to have a strong walking stick before you leave the hospital and they’ll make sure it is the right height for you. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, and thank you very much,’ Mary said, ‘and I will come back in three months as you suggest.’

  He turned back to his desk. ‘Very good, goodbye.’

  ‘Thank you for all you’ve done,’ Mary said as she manoeuvred her way through the door.

  Once outside she took a deep breath. She felt she would like to toss the crutches into the air, but decided that might not be advisable in a busy hospital corridor. Instead, she did as she had been directed, took the crutches along to reception and told them that she wanted to exchange them for a walking stick.

  Again there was a considerable wait while they made sure that she was allowed to do this and then found a walking stick, which they measured to be the right height for her.

  Feeling slightly nervous, Mary made her way to the hospital’s restaurant. She needed a coffee and she was hungry. A sandwich or some biscuits with her coffee would set her up.

  Above all, she needed time to sit and think about what she ought to do about Bill.

  In the end, she decided that there wasn’t really much point in phoning him until she got home. If he had remembered that she had an appointment then he would have gone round to her house and found she was already gone, and work out that she had taken a taxi. If he’d done that then surely he would have come along to the hospital to make excuses and to be there to take her home, she told herself.

  No, it seemed far more likely that he hadn’t felt well, not even well enough to telephone her and let her know. Or, much more probable, that he had had an accident of some kind and that worried her most of all. She finished her sandwich and coffee and phoned for a taxi. Now she must find out what had happened to Bill and she desperately hoped that he was OK.

  NINETEEN

  When she arrived home, before she even took her coat off, Mary phoned Bill Thompson’s number. She let it ring for a dozen times then reluctantly returned the receiver to its place. It was obvious that he wasn’t there. So where was he? She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Ten minutes past eleven. She picked up the phone again, hesitated and then put it down.

  She felt exhausted. She needed a cup of tea. While the kettle was boiling, she phoned the police to see if they could help.

  ‘Are you reporting him missing?’ the desk sergeant asked.

  ‘Well no, not really, or I don’t think so.’ Briefly she explained what had happened, that he had failed to pick her up that morning.

  ‘He probably forgot or else overslept,’ the man said.

  ‘Yes, you could be right,’ Mary agreed and rang off. She made some tea and tried to think of what the best thing to do next was. Should she call a taxi and tour all the hospitals in the area? No, that was probably pointless. If he had not felt well then he would have gone to the doctors and he would have been home again by now, she told herself. If he had been in an accident then the police would have known about it. Unless it had been a very minor accident and then he might have gone to A&E to have a cut stitched or something like that. She mused over this as she drank her tea. Then she phoned Wexham Hospital, but they had nothing on their records so they were unable to help.

  She finished her tea and rinsed her cup out. Her mind was made up. She’d go round to his house. Perhaps he had had a fall and was unable to open the door. She had a key so she’d let herself in and look for herself. But, as she was about to shut her own front door, she hesitated. She no longer had her crutches and, as this was the first time she had been outdoors with only a stick, she wondered whether she would be able to walk that far.

  ‘Better be on the safe side I suppose,’ she muttered as she went back inside and phoned for a taxi.

  When she reached Bill’s house in Coburn Road she asked the driver to wait. She rang the doorbell and when there was no answer she took Bill’s key from her pocket and let herself in. It was deadly quiet. She called out his name but there was no answer. She looked in the kitchen, everything was in order, she couldn’t tell whether he had eaten breakfast or not. Apprehensively she slowly went up the stairs. His bed was neatly made, and again she had no way of telling if he had slept in it the night before or not.

  He wasn’t there! Convinced she made her way back down the stairs, carefully locked the front door and slowly made her way back to the taxi. She had no idea what to do next, except go home and wait.

  As the taxi approached Silver Street she changed her mind. ‘Could you take me to the police station first?’ she instructed.

  When they arrived there she asked him to wait.

  The desk sergeant remembered her call earlier in the day and his face brightened. ‘I’ve been trying to phone you,’ he told her.

  ‘You know what’s happened to Mr Thompson?’

  ‘Yes, we have him here on a charge of dangerous driving.’

  ‘Oh heavens!’ Mary said in alarm. ‘What happened? Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s shaken up, but fortunately he isn’t hurt and no one else is either. His car is badly smashed up and so are three others.’

  ‘What!’ Mary looked at him her eyes wide with shock. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He came round a corner, smashed into a parked car and shunted it into two others. Nasty little pile up. Fortunately, no one was hurt.’

  ‘So why are you keeping him here?’ Mary asked.

  ‘Because we needed a statement from him,’ the sergeant said. ‘We also had to check him out for drink and drugs. Seems he was clear of those but he has admitted that he has AMD and we were waiting for him to have an eye test.’

  ‘Has that happened?’

  ‘Yes, and he shouldn’t be driving. He has very poor sight in both eyes. We were about to send him home though, waiting for a car to be free to take him.’

  ‘I can take him home with me,’ Mary said. ‘I have a taxi outside.’

  The sergeant scratched his chin. ‘Trifle irregular but if you give me your name and address I’ll see if that’s acceptable.’

  Ten minutes later, Bill was in the taxi with Mary and they were being taken back to Silver Street.

  ‘Wait until we get home before you tell me the whole story,’ she told him.

  He nodded then shook his head despairingly.

  Mary reached out and touched his arm reassuringly. ‘Try not to worry,’ she said quietly.

  The moment they were indoors Mary switched the kettle on.

  ‘You go and sit down and I’ll bring the tea through and then we can talk,’ she suggested.

  He nodded but followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘How did you get on? You were late for your appointment, did they see you?’

  ‘Yes, everything went all right,’ Mary told him. ‘I was able to leave the crutches there and from now on I c
an use a stick. Great news isn’t it!’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, that’s what you were hoping for, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I certainly was. Now, you go and sit down, I’ll only be a minute.’

  Mary put the tea and a plate of biscuits onto her trolley and pushed it through to the sitting room. She poured out the tea, placed his cup on a small table by the side of his chair and put the biscuits there as well.

  ‘Help yourself,’ she murmured, ‘and when you are ready tell me what happened, the policeman said that your car was badly damaged?’

  ‘Badly damaged!’ Bill gave a dry laugh. ‘It looks as though it will be a write-off. Anyway,’ he added bitterly, ‘I don’t suppose it matters because by the sound of things I am not going to be able to drive anymore now that I have AMD in both eyes.’

  It was on the tip of Mary’s tongue to say: ‘No, and if you had listened you would know that you should have given up driving some time ago. Then you could have sold your car as a going concern instead of having to send it to the scrapyard,’ but the bitterness in Bill’s voice stopped her from doing so. He looked so hangdog and miserable that her heart went out to him. She knew how he must be feeling.

  There would be worse to follow, she thought sadly. It was so convenient to be able to jump into your own car and go off shopping or on a visit on the spur of the moment. Taxis were wonderful, but you had to phone for one, often wait anything up to half an hour for it to come and then you couldn’t stop as the whim took you to look at something on route. And of course, you had to make arrangements for it to come and collect you and take you home again.

  She had once worked out the actual cost of calling a taxi whenever you wanted to go anywhere and compared it with the cost of running a car. There wasn’t a lot of difference over a year, not when you took in the necessity of repairs, MOT’s, new tyres and so on.

  Having your own car meant independence though and that was what became more and more important as you grew older.