by Pam Rhodes
As Shirley was helping her elderly neighbour Blanche take off her coat before settling down at a table of old friends at the Grownups’ Lunch, she found herself listening in on a conversation taking place nearby at the side of the foyer. A group of lunch club members were chatting with some of the Good Neighbour volunteers as they all looked at the new poster that had just gone up on the board about plans for the Easter Monday Centenary Fayre.
“Are they going to make it look like a hundred years ago then?” asked one man, who’d been hard of hearing for years. “I think I might remember that long ago myself. How old am I?”
The volunteer next to him laughed at the thought. “Not that old, Fred.”
“We’re not far off, though, are we?” countered Eric, who was sitting at a nearby table. “I’m ninety-three. If they’re looking for local history, I’m it.”
“I’ve got all my mum’s bits and pieces up in the attic,” said another lady. “They must date back years before 1920. She was born in 1883.”
“And I’ve got a chest full of old clothes my grandma used to wear,” commented another. “My ma could never bear to throw them away, and they’ve been wrapped up with mothballs ever since.”
Shirley couldn’t help herself. There was a gem of an idea here, and she was the girl to get things going. She marched across towards them, her voice so full of purpose and volume that even Fred could hear clearly.
“You’re right, you know. You are the genuine history here. So why don’t we celebrate that? We could all think about what we’ve got at home – clothes, bits and pieces from life with our families, photos, papers, even stories we can remember – and come up with something really special for the Easter Fayre. I don’t mind pulling it all together and organizing any costumes we need. I just know there’ll be lots of willing helping hands, especially from all you Good Neighbours volunteers. We could ask Ronnie, the pianist from the dancing classes, to help us out with some music. You lot should be the stars of the show.”
“Costumes?” asked Elsie, her dentures moving at a slightly different pace to the words she was actually saying. “I’m not taking my clothes off.”
“No, Elsie,” said Shirley firmly. “You’ll all be putting clothes on. You’ll be putting on the style – and looking great.”
A buzz of excitement went around the foyer as others gathered round or simply listened in from wherever they were seated.
“Did you say we could tell stories?” asked Percy. “I know lots of good stories.”
“Absolutely, Percy! What do you think then? Will the performance by the Grown-ups’ Lunch Club steal the show?”
A cheer went up as sticks banged and hands clapped.
Right, thought Shirley. Looks like I’m going to be busy!
Maggie’s daughter turned up at Hope Hall just as her mum was putting away the last piece of crockery following the Grown-ups’ Lunch.
“Come on, Mum! We’re supposed to be there in ten minutes. We can walk. It’s only just round the corner.”
“I’m really not sure about this,” Maggie said, as she grabbed her coat to follow Steph out of the door.
“Mum, your house sale is going through without a hitch and you haven’t even looked at anywhere else yet. You have to move everything out in just a few weeks’ time. What are you going to do when the time comes and you’ve still got no idea where your next home will be?”
“I just can’t face looking, love. I’ve had a really busy day and my head is thumping—”
“You’re making excuses, and I don’t blame you. This place might not be right, but you know I’ve already gone round taking a look at quite a few, just in case I managed to find something I felt you ought to see. This one feels a bit special, Mum. Just wait until you see it. If it’s not for you, then we’ll just go home for a cuppa and pack up a few more boxes.”
Maggie walked beside her daughter in silence. She was bone weary, not from work in the Hope Hall kitchen, but from the whole nightmare of having to dismantle her beloved home. Steph had been a wonderful help, but she’d also been part of the problem. She was very tough on Maggie about not taking too much with her. What she didn’t understand was the deep sentimental value of every stick of furniture, every piece of paper, every item in the kitchen, every ornament and forgotten trinket in every corner of every shelf and cupboard. This was Maggie’s life, and it was being ripped away from her. She felt as if she were losing limbs from her body. Maggie was now beyond tears. They were too superficial for the depth of pain she was feeling. Looking down, she deliberately put one foot in front of the other, resenting every step she was taking. She couldn’t bear the thought of creating another home – not when she wasn’t at all ready to leave the one she loved.
Steph led the way round a corner into a leafy road that Maggie used to walk down years ago on her way to school. In spite of her reservations, she found herself wondering exactly where they were going. Her mind flew back to how these houses used to look as she and her brother walked past each morning. If they timed it right, the milkman would be making his deliveries and would sometimes give them a wrapped butterscotch sweet from a paper bag he kept in his cab. She smiled as she recalled how the fierce brown dog at number 10 would always bark loudly, sending them scuttling off as fast as they could run. Sometimes, when she’d looked across at the big bay window upstairs in number 13, Mrs Hadley had waved as she held baby Frank in her arms. And a huge ginger cat had always seemed to be sitting on the gate post by number 16.
“Here we are!” announced Steph, stopping outside number 17.
As Maggie looked up at the solid detached house ahead of them, with its sandy-coloured walls half hidden by clematis and wisteria just coming into bud, and the front garden colourful and fragrant with blossom, the years fell away. She knew this house. Her best friend Susan had lived here with her two younger brothers. The boys were both such a pain, but she and Susan had always known exactly how to handle them. Susan’s father ran the haberdasher’s shop in town, and her mother’s kitchen always smelt of baking. This family made her feel as if she was family too. She loved this house.
Steph’s voice broke into her thoughts. “The house has been divided into two apartments, and it’s the top one that’s up for sale now.”
“I know this place.”
Steph smiled, taking Maggie’s hand. “I had a feeling you did. Shall we go in?”
They walked in through the original front door, which was at the side of the house, but the hallway Maggie remembered well from her childhood visits had since been split into two by a new wall, so that the staircase now led up to another hard oak door. The young lady estate agent had seen them arriving and immediately invited them in to take a look around. She showed them into one room after another, giving a non-stop commentary on all the features, benefits, energy and efficiency ratings, the council tax bracket, sockets, local shops, schools and churches, commenting on the view from each window, the attic trap door above and the beautiful garden below.
But Maggie barely heard a word. She remembered every nook and cranny of these rooms, still recognizable even now after years of other owners and constant renovation. What had previously been Susan’s parents’ bedroom stretching across the width of the front of the house had become an elegant sitting room, still with its original tiled fireplace, but it felt warmer now with its new golden window drapes and soft yellow walls that matched the evening sun. The bedroom that Susan’s brothers had shared was now decorated in complementary shades of taupe, darker for the carpet and a soft browny-grey for the walls. Floral curtains picked out the same grey, along with a variety of pinks that added colour and texture.
As soon as she walked into the back bedroom, she instantly pictured the bunk-bed she had so often shared on sleepovers, always in the bottom bunk because Susan pulled rank to claim the top one. This room was now a mix of different green shades that shouldn’t really have gone together, but they did – just as all the different greens in the garden beyond worked tog
ether in perfect harmony. Oh, that garden! There had been an old metal swing right in the middle of it in those days. Now the garden was beautifully kept with gloriously planned areas of bedding that were already displaying a riot of spring colour.
“Mr and Mrs Ronson who live down below are very keen gardeners. You’ll see that there is a privet hedge running across the bottom of the garden, but actually there is also a small area of grass beyond that which comes with this flat. So all the garden on this side of the hedge is owned by the couple below, but beyond the privet there is enough room for you to have a rotary washing line, perhaps some play equipment if you have children visiting – and there’s a small locked shed there too. So you are in the lovely position here of having a beautiful garden to look at and enjoy, but just a small area of grass to look after yourself.”
Maggie took so long gazing down at the garden that Steph had to call her to see the other rooms. She gasped in wonder as she saw how the old family bathroom had been turned into a smart new tiled area, with a roll-top bath standing on four carved legs at one end, and an ultra-modern shower unit at the other.
“I’ve never seen a bathroom as posh as this,” she whispered to Steph. “This looks like something out of a magazine. I’d be terrified of making a mess in here.”
“You’d absolutely love making a mess in here, believe me,” grinned Steph.
“And this is the kitchen,” announced the estate agent with pride, as she turned into what Maggie remembered as the fourth bedroom.
“When the house was split into two separate flats,” continued the agent, “the owners at that time decided to extend the kitchen below and match its size with a similar extension on the top floor, creating what I think can only be described as a first-class kitchen area. Do you have any interest in cooking?”
“Just a bit,” mumbled Maggie as she took in the state-of-the-art range cooker, complete with its own hot plate, deep fat fryer and barbecue grill. A large microwave oven was built into wooden units that were carved and decorated to look as if they belonged in a country kitchen. There was a wide work surface stretching down each side of the room, and a pair of sinks, complete with a waste disposal unit and draining area, sat just below an enormous window that looked out over the garden and across the parkland beyond.
“I’ll leave you to look round at your leisure then. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
“Can I afford this?” Maggie hissed urgently at Steph.
“Yes, you can. I’ve done the sums, and if we plan things really carefully, yes, you can.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you?”
“I’ve never felt more sure about anything! I belong here. This is my place.”
And giving her mum a quick hug, Steph led the way as the two women went downstairs to speak to the agent.
Chapter 10
When the doorbell rang, a sudden panic gripped Kath. What would Jack think of the apartment she’d come to love? Would he find it too quiet, too suburban, too boring for someone who was used to big city life? She pushed the button to speak to him as he stood downstairs at the outside door.
“Come on up! Number 6 on the second floor.”
She knew he never took a lift if he could avoid it, and could hear his footsteps approaching as he made his way up the stairs. And suddenly he was there, smiling at her welcome, drawing her into his arms, then pulling back to look into her eyes before he kissed her.
When they finally drew apart, she stood back to invite him into the flat.
I’m talking too much, she thought, as she rattled off reasons why she’d put a certain piece of furniture in one particular corner, chosen those curtains for this room, and decided to have the television in just that position. The tour of the apartment didn’t take long and she watched his expression closely to see what he thought.
“It’s lovely, Kath. It’s stylish and practical – so typically you.”
“Well, what do you fancy doing now? I wondered if we might pop over to the Call-in Café at Hope Hall for lunch. They do a good selection, and it would give me chance to show you round my new workplace.”
“That sounds good,” he nodded, his gaze teasing and affectionate as he looked down at her. “Although I’d be quite happy if we both just made ourselves at home here.”
She caught on immediately, but hesitated before answering.
“Too much too soon?” he whispered in her ear.
She stepped back a pace. “We’re taking it slowly, aren’t we, at your suggestion? Anyway, I’ve already booked us in for lunch—”
“And you’d like me to see the place.”
She smiled, slipping her hand into his. “I really would.”
“Come on then, let’s go!”
Their arrival at Hope Hall caused a bit of a stir. Through the foyer hatch, Liz saw them walking through the main door.
“Hey, Mags, Kath’s here with Jack – and he looks nice.”
“Like a very successful doctor,” added Maggie as she looked over Liz’s shoulder.
“Indeed,” Liz agreed, smiling as they all took in his handsome face, stylish hair with a touch of silver fox at the front, the excellent cut of his brown jacket and cream chinos.
“He reminds me of George Clooney,” whispered Maggie.
“You should get out more,” giggled Liz. “You’ve been watching too many American emergency room dramas!”
Kath and Jack made their way over to the foyer hatch.
“Maggie, Liz! I’d like to introduce you to Dr Jack Sawyer. We worked together in London.”
“Dr Sawyer, welcome to Hope Hall!” smiled Maggie, wiping her hands on a teacloth. “Let me come out and say hello properly.”
“I’m just Jack,” he smiled, holding out his hand to greet both Maggie and Liz.
“Busy in the café this morning?” asked Kath.
“We were run off our feet earlier on,” answered Maggie. “A group of about ten ladies all came in together. I think they’d been working out at the gym, and after that nothing but a whole selection of sticky buns would do.”
“We’ve got quite a few booked in for lunch as well,” added Liz, “including you two, if that’s still your plan.”
“Definitely!” said Kath. “I wondered if you’d like a tour of the building first, Jack – or are you desperate for a coffee before you go anywhere?”
“A coffee would be welcome, but I’d like to take a look round first.”
She started by taking him up to the balcony lounge area, where groups of people were chatting, drinking and eating as they looked out from the large semi-circular windows across the town, or else over the balcony towards the main hall below.
“They’re setting up down there at the moment for the Knit and Natter group, which is held at this end of the hall in about an hour – and then, at the same time down at the stage end, we have the Down Memory Lane Club. Jean who runs that group is a memory therapist who’s been trained by the Alzheimer’s Association. They had something like this at our hospital in London – I don’t know if you ever came across it? Anyway, Jean organizes lots of art and music therapy, and brings in memory-joggers like photos and newspaper cuttings with her each week. Often the members come along with their family or their carers, who find the techniques really helpful when they’re at home too.”
Jack said little as Kath took him back downstairs and through the side door that led to the old school building. She showed him her office, which had been created from what was previously the headteacher’s room, laughingly telling him that she felt it still had the feel and smell of its former life. She led him into the hall, where the playgroup was in full swing, and then upstairs, where there was a Money Advice Service interview going on in one room and an English for Foreign Students class in the other.
She showed him the plans for the Centenary celebrations and the Easter Fayre, and she watched closely for his reaction. This was all very different from the high-powered, life-and-death work he was involved in
every day. What would he make of it?
After a while, they went back to the café, where they both chose shepherd’s pie after Kath told him that Maggie’s was the best she’d ever tasted. They found a table up in the balcony, where they chatted a little about her work and then much more about his – the challenging operations he’d done that week and the quiet conversation he’d had a few days before with the chief executive of the hospital, who let him know that he was being considered as a future member of the Board of Directors.
She noticed, as they chatted, that he had subtly glanced at his watch on several occasions.
“Do you need to leave?”
“I ought to really. I said I’d call into the hospital on my way back tonight.”
She nodded with understanding, and led the way down to the foyer.
“Goodbye, Jack!” called out Maggie from the kitchen. “Come and see us again soon.”
But I don’t think he will, thought Kath, as she watched him drive away with a cheery wave. He’d been preoccupied and perhaps even a bit bored today. Hope Hall and all that happened here really didn’t interest him much. She knew him well enough to recognize the signs. And that simple, heartbreaking fact knocked her sideways.
“Hello.” He spoke quietly, standing close enough to whisper in her ear.
“Hello, Gary.” Claire turned to look at him, her mood instantly lifted by the warmth of his smile.
“I hoped you were about to arrive. I’ve got our coffees.”