Never Too Old for Love

by Rosie Harris

  ‘You won’t last long living on water and nothing else,’ Mary retorted.

  ‘Good. Then in that case I’ll just drift off and that’s the best thing that can happen to me. No one will miss me. Except you and that won’t be much of a loss just one less thing for you to worry about.’

  ‘Stop talking such utter rot,’ Mary told him crossly. ‘I thought you were a soldier, did you give up whenever things went wrong when you were in the army?’

  ‘That was different. I was young and fit then, not an old has-been who can’t even see to drive a car. Some days I can’t even see where I’ve left my keys. I try to remember to keep them in my pocket, but even when I do that I can’t always find them because of all the other things I have to keep there just so I know where they are.’

  He turned out his pockets as he spoke and Mary saw what he meant. He was not only carrying his keys around but a screwdriver, tin-opener, potato peeler and an assortment of string and nails.

  ‘You have AMD. You’re not completely blind. You still have peripheral vision. You can see enough to get around, keep your house in order and do your garden when the weather improves. So stop feeling so sorry for yourself.’

  ‘I still don’t want to come shopping,’ he muttered.

  ‘I accept that for the moment. Let me know when you change your mind,’ Mary told him quietly.

  Although she invariably bought a selection of oven ready meals and fresh fruit for him, she often wondered if he bothered to eat them. She was so worried about his welfare that she even thought about contacting his son in Cardiff and seeing if he (or his wife) could pay his father a visit, and try to persuade him to pull himself together. She hesitated about doing this because it meant asking Bill for the telephone number. She knew he would probably guess why she was asking for it, and resent her doing it.

  It seemed that, as far as Bill was concerned, his life was over. All he wanted to do was sit in his armchair and doze, or stay in bed until a call of nature got him up. She did her best to revive his interest in daily life, but it proved to be so ineffectual that in the end she gave up.

  She had her own problems to contend with and felt that they must take precedence. Although her femur had healed and she was no longer in any real discomfort, she did find that her own confidence, when it came to going out on her own had diminished. She also found that she couldn’t walk as far she had been used to doing and that she walked a great deal slower.

  It irritated her when people thought that, by taking her arm, it would help her to walk faster. In actual fact, she found it did the reverse. It took away what confidence she had and in her efforts to comply and put one foot in front of the other more quickly, she invariably found herself stumbling. When she did this and they made conciliatory sounds, it irritated her even more and it took her all her will power to smile, or thank them and assure them she was all right.

  She realised that it was all part of growing old and she resented her lack of energy but, unlike Bill, she was determined not to give in to depression or lethargy. As the days slowly lengthened, as the frosts and dull cloudy days disappeared and the daffodils waved golden heads to the sun, she felt her energy returning and her spirits stirring. She hoped that it would have the same effect on Bill and that once he saw that spring had arrived – and that there was new life in the garden – he would want to be out there digging in the soil, weeding and planting.

  At first he remained unmoved. But one day early in April, she visited him and complained that one of the bushes in her garden needed trimming back and that if it was left any longer, it would be too late to do it without harming the plant. He volunteered to come and do it for her. She accepted this offer and the next morning, freshly shaved and looking much trimmer than she had seen him for a long time, he was at her back door with secateurs in his hand and asking which bush it was. When she next visited him a couple of days later, she found him tidying up the borders in his own garden. She was pleased to see that he looked brighter than he had for a long time.

  ‘Can you get me some carnation cuttings next time you go into Maidenhead?’ he asked.

  Mary shook her head. ‘No, if you want them then you’d better come with me. I’ll be going there on Thursday. I’ll call here about ten o’clock so be ready.’

  Bill scowled but didn’t answer.

  When Mary’s taxi drew up in Coburn Road on the Thursday morning, as she had promised, Bill was already waiting at the gate. He’d even put his suit on and looked his old spruce self. They found the cuttings Bill wanted, then they went shopping and when that was done, they went for a coffee before calling for the taxi to bring them home.

  ‘Feeling a bit better?’ Mary asked casually.

  Bill nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve shaken off the black devil. It had me in a real grip. I’ve never felt so down in my life. I wanted to curl up and die, there seemed to be nothing left to live for and I didn’t care about anything. I don’t know why you didn’t just walk away and leave me to it.’

  ‘I know what it feels like, that’s why. Once you lose your independence it takes you a while to regain it.’

  ‘Yes, I agree with that. I’m not quite there yet but I will be in a week two,’ Bill said with a self-conscious grin. He was as good as his word. Two weeks later, he suggested that it was about time they went to the cinema in Maidenhead.

  ‘I’ll check and see what’s on,’ Mary promised.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what’s showing, let’s get back into the old routine again,’ Bill said. ‘I’m sure you’ve missed our trips and now that I’m back on form I’m missing them as well.’

  Mary was delighted by the news. There was spring in the air, they were both reasonably well and fit and summer was ahead. She thought of all the outings they could have together. Neither of them could walk far but that didn’t matter. They could take a taxi to Cliveden and stroll about the gardens, have tea in the Orangery and watch people enjoying themselves. They could take a taxi to Boulter’s Lock, stroll by the river and then have afternoon tea there. They could go to Windsor and enjoy the shops, and take tea in one of the cafés. They might only be onlookers but it would a change of scenery and, of course, they could go to the pictures or shopping whenever they needed to do so.

  No, Mary told herself, life was going to be good. They may be getting older but there was still a lot of things they could enjoy doing. They might even be able to persuade Lucia to come with them and bring George when they went to Cliveden. He would be in his element in the wonderful play area they had there, with swings, slides, climbing frames and the rest. They could buy a cup of tea in the little café near the playground and keep an eye on him so that he came to no harm. He would like the maze and, although she wasn’t sure that either she or Bill would want to wander around, Lucia could take him.

  All these outings would have to be fitted in between visits to the eye hospital for Bill’s treatment and one or two more check-ups that she would have to make about her leg.

  But, like all well-laid plans, things didn’t work out as smoothly as she’d hoped.

  This time she was the one with problems. Her ability to walk became less and less. It wasn’t so much pain as sheer inability. She became exhausted so quickly. She had one or two scary moments when she placed her stick on something slippery and it let her down; she didn’t react quickly enough so she stumbled and almost fell. The fear of having another fall and breaking a hip or her other leg scared her. That might mean ending up in a nursing home and she had a dread of that happening.

  After a lot of thought and consideration she decided to buy a stroller; a three wheeled trolley with a shopping bag on it. It folded up quite well when the bag was empty so she would be able to get it into the taxi. It offered her stability and, at the same time, it was something to carry her shopping in when she was simply shopping locally for bread, milk and minor items.

  ‘Must be like pushing a pram,’ Bill commented. ‘Would you like me to get you a little dog to sit in it?’


  ‘No I would not!’ Mary said sharply. ‘I have enough trouble looking after myself without having a pet. What would I do with a dog! It would need taking for walks every day and when we were indoors it would probably get under my feet and I would fall over it.’ She did find the trolley a great boon, however. She could walk faster, felt safer and had more confidence about walking.

  ‘We could walk to the bus stop and take a bus into Maidenhead on some days, instead of using a taxi,’ Bill said thoughtfully.

  ‘We could. It would be all right going over there but not so good coming home if I’d done any shopping. How could I get it onto the bus with it full up? There are no conductors to help you these days and I don’t see the driver wanting to do it.’ Mary said.

  ‘I could help you.’

  Mary shook her head. ‘I don’t want you pulling your back and ending up unable to walk. A taxi is so much easier and it takes us right to the door, and all our shopping as well.’

  ‘We could give it a try,’ Bill persisted.

  Mary shook her head. ‘Let’s leave things as they are. Everything is going fine; don’t let’s tempt fate by changing them.’

  Mary’s words were more prophetic than she knew. Less than a week later they had a new disaster to contend with; one which neither of them foresaw.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Now that spring had arrived and the primroses and violets appeared in the borders and glistening celandines along the edges of the road, Bill had quickly regained his normal optimistic outlook and Mary was relieved. There had seemed to be no way of lifting the depression that had had him in its grip. Now, once again he was alert, planning his garden, advising her about things she ought to do in hers and generally taking an interest in all that was going on around him.

  In next to no time their routine was also back on track. Each week they paid a visit to the cinema in Maidenhead and spent one morning shopping, only this time they travelled by taxi. Bill still came round to Mary’s house once a week for dinner and afterwards, weather permitting, they sat out in the garden chatting for an hour or so.

  Megan still objected to Bill’s presence but since she so rarely visited Mary, their paths didn’t cross very often, and Mary really didn’t care whether Megan approved of her friendship with him or not. Richard accepted him and George was particularly fond of him. Bill talked to him on a man-to-man basis. He listened to George’s prattle and tried to answer any question George posed in a way the child could understand. He was so patient when it came to explaining things to George that Mary often found herself intrigued by his answers.

  The spring and early part of the summer were so idyllic that Mary thought it was almost too good to be true. With Bill’s help, her garden was looking like a picture, every bush was neatly trimmed and the borders planted with flowering plants that almost took care of themselves.

  ‘They’re like men; they don’t want people fussing over them. Give them a good drink every night and leave them alone,’ Bill advised.

  It was the height of summer when trouble struck. Mary and Bill had just finished dinner and were sitting out in the garden when the phone rang.

  ‘Now I wonder who that can be,’ Mary murmured. She frowned as she got up to answer it.

  ‘I wonder if it’s Lucia. I hope nothing is wrong with little George …’ Her voice trailed off as she hurried indoors. Bill stayed where he was. He thought it probably was something to do with George. He knew Megan was away in Paris and Richard had gone gliding, so it was probably Lucia turning to Mary for advice.

  When Mary came back out ten minutes later he knew that whatever was wrong it was something pretty serious. Mary’s face was devoid of colour, even her lips were white and they were in a tight line as if she was trying to suppress her tears.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Bill said standing up and pushing her down into his chair. ‘Sit there, you look as if you’ve had a shock.’

  ‘It’s Richard,’ she said and her lips trembled. ‘He’s in hospital, he’s had an accident.’

  ‘In his glider?’

  Mary nodded.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘They didn’t say, except that he had already been taken to hospital.’

  ‘Didn’t the paramedics say why he needed to be taken to hospital?’ Bill persisted.

  Mary stared at him bewildered. ‘That wasn’t the hospital. It was the chief flying instructor from the gliding club.’

  ‘How did it happen, did he say?’

  Mary shook her head. ‘Something about a crash on take-off but I was so upset that I didn’t take it in properly.’

  ‘Did you find out which hospital he is in?’

  ‘Yes, the one at Stoke Mandeville.’

  ‘Shall I phone them for you or would you rather we went there? They might let us see him.’

  Mary looked at him blankly. ‘I don’t know. Would they let us see him … if he’s really badly injured I mean?’

  ‘Well, we don’t know. Shall I phone them first?’ Bill volunteered.

  ‘Do you know the number?’

  ‘No,’ Bill frowned. ‘It’s bound to be in the telephone directory though.’

  Mary hesitated. ‘I think it might be better to go straight there. Could you phone for a taxi while I change my shoes and fetch my coat and handbag?’

  ‘You sit where you are. You’re shaking like a leaf and the next thing you’ll be tumbling down the stairs. I’ll phone for the taxi and then I’ll fetch whatever it is you need. It will take the taxi a few minutes to get here so sit down and get your breath back. I’ll get you a glass of water,’ he added as he made for the back door.

  Mary did as Bill suggested. Her mind felt numb. She couldn’t even imagine what had happened but it must be something serious if he was in hospital. Just as they had done when Sam had been alive and gone gliding, a thousand and one possibilities went through her mind. In the past, she had imagined just such a phone call and being told that something serious had happened.

  It never had, of course. Sam had never had a mishap the entire time he’d been gliding. He had landed out once or twice but he had always ended up safely in a farmer’s field somewhere. Although there was often a long delay before someone could take a trailer out to pick him and his glider up and tow them back to Booker, it had never been anything to worry about. There had been accidents he wasn’t involved in while he had been alive. She remembered that a glider had once crashed onto a main road and another time when … She stopped herself from thinking back. It didn’t help. She must pull herself together and not anticipate what might have happened.

  When Bill returned with her jacket and handbag, she was much more in control of herself. She was still trembling as he helped her into her jacket, but there was some colour back in her cheeks and she was no longer breathing rapidly as if she was short of breath.

  The sound of a car horn made her jump and she grabbed hold of her handbag.

  ‘That’s the taxi. Wish me luck,’ she said with a weak smile.

  ‘Slow down, I’m coming with you,’ Bill said.

  Ignoring her protest that it wasn’t necessary, he took her arm.

  ‘I’m sure Richard’s all right,’ she affirmed as they reached the taxi. ‘Taking him to hospital is probably simply a precaution and to make sure he hasn’t got concussion.’

  ‘Well, once you see him and he tells you exactly what happened, it will set your mind at rest,’ Bill agreed.

  ‘Do you think I ought to telephone Lucia and let her know what has happened?’ Mary said as they reached the taxi.

  ‘Yes, but not until after you’ve seen Richard. There’s nothing she can do so why worry her?’

  It would be about thirty miles to Stoke Mandeville Hospital and she struggled to pit all thoughts of what they were going to find at the end of their journey out of her mind. But before they climbed into the taxi, Mary’s phone rang. For a moment she hesitated about answering it, but then hurried back into the house, thinking it might be the hospital again with
more bad news about Richard.

  TWENTY-THREE

  It was a stunning July day, ideal for gliding. There was sunshine, a light warm breeze and a glorious blue sky, with just sufficient white clouds crossing it to provide the exact sort of lift Richard needed for a short evening flight. He had been watching it through the classroom window all day and hoping it would hold into the evening.

  He had phoned Lucia during the lunch hour and explained he would be late home, to put George to bed at his usual time and tell him that he would come up and read him a story as soon as he got home. Then, the moment classes were finished for the day he was off, as eager as any of the children to be out of the claustrophobic classroom and free to do what he wanted to do.

  He slung his light jacket into the back of the car and undid the top button of his shirt so that he could breathe more freely. He lowered the car windows and breathed deeply the balmy air as he drove up the M40 towards High Wycombe, and then on along minor roads to Booker airfield. When he arrived there he found it was a hive of activity. He was obviously not the only one eager to become airborne.

  After parking his car, he strode over to the hanger where he kept his glider, exchanging greetings with other glider pilots, some who – like him – were taking advantage of the opportunity for an evening flight and others who had already spent several hours airborne and were now on their way home.

  He manoeuvred his glider out from its place in the hanger, across the path that formed part of the perimeter track and onto the grassy field. Because it was summer the ground was firm and it was easy to push it single-handed to the launch point. He breathed deeply of the fresh clean air as he walked across the airfield. Already he was visualising the panoramic view of green oasis, swimming pools and wide-open spaces he could feast his eyes on once he was airborne.

  He took his place in the short queue waiting to be taken up into the sky by the small tug plane. While he waited, he spent the next ten minutes doing the standard safety checks. Satisfied that everything was in order he climbed in, made himself comfortable and waited.