House Mother Normal

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House Mother Normal Page 2

by B. S. Johnson


  that like he could order me to clean his shoes,

  which I didn’t like, the brazenness of it, just

  came up to me while I was at my dressing-table,

  unbuttoned already he was, and seized my hand and

  made me hold his part, and when I drew back,

  naturally, he got rough and threw me on the bed and

  would have had his way with me had I not yelled and

  screamed fit to make the whole hotel hear. And

  so he got up and buttoned himself up with his back

  to me, swearing all the time vilely at me, and

  little Ronnie woken up by all this noise, standing

  up in his cot and wondering what was happening to

  his Mum. And of course I didn’t last long after

  that, he couldn’t look at me after that.

  Clear up now. Nearly finished. Just scrape off

  these last two.

  There. Now give them all a wipe.

  And put them all back in their nice little cardboard

  sockets. One two three four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  sixteen

  one two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  twenty-four

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  sixteen

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six seven forty-eight, two cases of

  twenty-four is what I started with. The satisfaction

  of finishing. A job well done.

  Here, Missus, I’ve finished.

  How nice to be thanked. The warmth.

  Very pleased indeed, she said.

  That pleases me. A job well done. And the time

  passed, too. Now what’s she want?

  Pass the Parcel? We used

  to play that, didn’t we? Don’t want to

  play much now. Why does she give us games?

  I just want to sit quietly after working so much.

  But I suppose I’d better be sociable.

  Me to start?

  Off. Pass it to Charlie. What is it? Brown

  paper, soft.

  It’s stopped at Mrs Ridge first, but she won’t be

  able to open it all in time.

  Oh! It’s stopped at me!

  Open, open, get the paper off, I won’t be the

  winner, there, it’s started again.

  Stink. . . . What is it!

  Ron’s got it, he’ll get it open. What is it, Ron?

  How disgusting!

  Why does she do a thing like that?

  Glad I didn’t win, glad I

  didn’t win!

  It was the third husband I’d buried, I was getting

  used to it. All the market crowd in Strutton

  Ground chipped in and gave him a great send-off,

  he was a popular landlord. Flowers, I never saw

  so many flowers. And the customers, too, bought

  the odd one for Fred, they did. But

  it didn’t worry me too much. The brewers let me

  take on the licence, and within weeks it was just

  the same, as though he’d never existed. That

  pub used to have a sort of life of its own, then.

  And during the war of course you didn’t have to

  sell beer, it sold itself, it was getting hold

  of enough of it that was the difficulty. Oh yes.

  And crisps. There was only one place you could

  generally get crisps, then, and that was up on

  the North Circular Road. Many’s the time I’ve

  caught a trolleybus up the Edgware Road to Staples

  Corner and come – Exercise? Haven’t we

  had enough? Oh well, up we get. It’s not

  for long. She thinks it does us good, perhaps it

  does. It doesn’t kill me, anyway.

  I’ll push that George Hedbury

  round. Not much company, but there you are.

  Off we go! George, can you hear me? Deaf as a

  post, deaf as a post, daft as a doughnut.

  One two three four! Round and round, round and

  round!

  And so it goes on. That Laura

  was a great one for her Guinness. Sometimes I’ve

  seen her knock back thirty in an evening. But

  she was a quiet drinker. You’d never know

  she’d had too many till she fell down when she

  tried to get up. This bloody pushchair needs

  oiling or something. But she was a good friend

  to me, we had many a good time together. She

  pulled me out of many a dark time. Like when

  Ronnie married that Doris. And after the cat

  got run over, Maisie.

  We kids used to run about in felt

  slippers then, they were the cheapest, a cut above

  the barefoot kids. It was our way of

  Tired of pushing. But still carry on. Slog, slog.

  They were the good old days, it’s true.

  And where were we when we were wanted? Oh, we

  were there all right, slapping the sandbags on

  the incendiaries, ducking down the shelters when

  the HE started. All that sort of thing.

  That’s enough. I can’t push any more. I’m going

  to stop whether she likes it or not, going to stop.

  A sit at last,

  rest my legs.

  Sport! She certainly keeps us on the go.

  Tourney. That means me pushing someone, I suppose.

  Up again, Sarah, you can do it.

  Lean on George’s bathchair till I have to move, take

  the nearest corner, Charlie’ll have to go further

  with Mrs Bowen.

  George doesn’t seem too well. Prop the mop under

  his arm, keep it steady.

  Ready!

  Go!

  Trundle, trundle, not as young as I used to

  be, get up speed. There!

  Silly old fool let the mop drop and caught

  hers in the chops!

  Not so fast this time.

  Keep up the mop now, George!

  There, that must have hurt him.

  You all right? Seems all right.

  I should think it

  is the last time!

  Ooooh! That surely

  hurt him. But he says nothing, George, just takes it.

  Wheel him over to his place and sit down again.

  My legs are getting

  worse, I’m sure they swell up with all this standing.

  It’s like a dull ache.

  Poor old thing. Let her talk

  away, I’m not interested, it’s a rest for me. And

  my poor legs.

  On his back for months, my Jim, going slowly, you

  couldn’t see it day by day, but suddenly I’d

  realise that compared with a month or so before he was

  definitely down. And he found it difficult to talk,

  more and more. For days I knew he was trying to

  bring himself to say something, and then it all

  came out. He’d been with some girl in Franco, they

  all did, he said, went to some brothel, and he was

  so guilty about it, as though it were some great

  crime he’d committed. Perhaps it was to him
, then.

  But to me it didn’t matter, because I could see

  he was dying, everybody could, nothing seemed to

  matter but that fact and that I had to make the

  most of what there was, nothing in the past

  mattered, neither the good things nor the others, his

  guilt was of no interest to me, or the girl, I

  just forgave him as he seemed to want me to, and

  it did relieve his mind, you could see that, he

  just sank back, and very quickly fell asleep.

  He kept a spit-bowl

  by his bed, that was the worst part, emptying that,

  the yellowy green stuff and the blood, he couldn’t

  get out to the carsey, either, but somehow

  emptying his spit-bowl was worse, like throwing

  away bits that were him.

  I tell them

  my troubles, they tell me theirs.

  We had a good feed at a chip place, before he

  went off to his football. I went round the

  shops, all excited inside all the afternoon.

  Perhaps it was expecting what – Laugh? Ha ha

  ha, ho ho ho.

  I wish I’d been kind to old people then, now I

  know how it is. It’s always the same, you can

  never know until you actually are. And then

  it’s too late. You realise which are the important

  things only when it’s too late, that’s the

  trouble.

  However much he made it was

  always too little, I always had to watch every

  penny so carefully. In the butchers I had to take

  what he’d give me cheap, and his dirt and insolence.

  No one has ever treated me like a queen.

  You’d think every girl would be treated like a queen

  by someone at some time in her life, wouldn’t you?

  But not me. Perhaps I never deserved it, perhaps

  I never treated any man like a king.

  Now what’s she rucking Ivy for?

  Oh, she’s going through that again,

  is she? She don’t half fancy herself! Well, I

  don’t, and it’s filthy so I shan’t watch though

  she may think I am. My idea of a holiday

  was never the sea, anyway. On those pub outings

  they never looked at the sea in any case, all

  they were interested in looking at was the insides

  of the pubs along the front at Southend, one after

  the other. They went into the first next to the

  coach park and so it went on, all along the front.

  They’d give the stakeholder half a quid each

  and he’d buy the drinks as long as the money lasted.

  You could get big fat

  oysters on one stall, only time I ever enjoyed them

  was down there. My dad would never eat shellfish

  but once a year down at Southend, said they were

  never fresh anywhere else. Cockles I’d have, too,

  and those little brown English shrimps, very tasty,

  but whelks I never could stand, far too gristly

  and tough. The Kursaal bored me, but

  all the men used to love it when the pubs were

  shut – What a disgusting spectacle! Why

  does she do it?

  Disgusting!

  Ugh! Never did like it, had to

  pretend, all my life pretended to like it.

  Listen to her!

  No, doesn’t matter

  Charlie Edwards

  age 78

  marital status separated

  sight 50%

  hearing 80%

  touch 80%

  taste 95%

  smell 30%

  movement 85%

  CQ count 10

  pathology contractures; bronchitis; incipient leather bottle stomach; hypertension; among others.

  I have always liked a lamb chop. Even in the last

  days I managed to have a lamb chop once a week. Welsh

  lamb I found the best, though New Zealand is a close second

  in my opinion. Even Betty knew that to please me she

  had only to give me a lamb chop. Here the lamb chops

  are mutton, I am certain. They are too big for any

  lamb. Where does a lamb end and a sheep begin?

  I used to see them in the

  fields. I know these are mutton. Sometimes they are

  tough. They are not always tough, though. They are

  always stronger in taste than lamb. Lamb has a delicate

  flavour. The best lamb, that is, of course. Mutton

  tastes – again, every mealtime, that Mrs Ridge.

  Strong mutton is not

  without its own special attraction, of course. Perhaps

  if I had not tasted lamb first I would have come to like mutton

  more. One day she will go too far and someone will

  report her to the authorities. Whoever the authorities

  are.

  Yes, perhaps I would now like mutton if I had tasted it

  before lamb. It is an accident.

  Perhaps. I can

  understand that they have mutton here rather than lamb.

  It is for cheapness.

  I am fortunate to be here. And mutton keeps me

  going as well as ever lamb would. That is

  their point of view, I am sure. Mutton has

  enough of the taste of lamb to make me remember.

  I do not miss lamb now.

  I do not miss anything now. There is

  no point.

  It is hard. Harder where there’s none,

  as my old Mum used to say.

  Harder where there’s none.

  I still enjoy my food. I am lucky in that.

  Some of these poor old souls here

  do not even have that pleasure.

  And it is a pleasure to me.

  I am lucky to be here.

  Some would revolt at some of the things that woman

  says. I do myself. But I keep my feelings

  to myself. It would not do to be seen to

  revolt, I am in some ways revolting in myself.

  Sometimes I have to be changed, like a baby.

  Is that revolting? I finish my food cleanly,

  a clean plate. I place my knife and my

  fork as I was taught to do as a child. It is

  easy for Sarah to pick them up with one movement.

  I am a tidy man. I have been called fastidious

  by some. Betty had another word for it,

  what was it? She hated my tidiness,

  anyway. As one gets older it becomes more and more

  difficult to control the ordin. . . . Now there’ll

  be a fuss. Just over dropping a plate.

  I noticed it first with spitting, for sometimes

  I would spit when speaking. And not always when

  I spoke with some vehemence, either. Sometimes

  I would spit without any warning. Even without

  there seeming to be any reason for it, too. I found

  it disturbing, but it was as nothing compared with

  what there was to come I found myself

  not wanting to . . . not minding about spitting

  when I spoke. Is that

  worse? Sometimes I cannot worry about things

  like that. Yet there is always a worse.

  I have only to look at some of these poor old things

  here to know that. I am not as bad

  as some. I am lucky in that. I am always

  more than ready to count my blessings.

  Life has taught me at least that. I can at

  least say that I was not a slow learner as regards life’s

  lessons. As though anyone should

  ask – the Song. She wants us to sing, as usual. Well,

  singing
is something I have always enjoyed. The music

  teacher asked me to sing in his choir, outside school. It

  was a church choir, in Haggerston. Not because of your

  voice, he said, but because of your ear. You have perfect

  pitch. It was something unusual about me others did not

  have.

  The joys of life continue strong

  Throughout old age, however long:

  If only we can cheerful stay

  And brightly welcome every day.

  Not what we’ve been, not what we’ll be,

  What matters most is that we’re free:

  The joys of life continue strong

  Throughout old age, however long.

  The most important thing to do

  Is stay alive and see it through:

  No matter if the future’s dim,

  Just keep straight on and trust in Him:

  For He knows best, and brings good cheer,

  Oh, lucky us, that we are here!

  The most important thing to do

  Is stay alive and see it through!

  There was word amongst the boys that

  the music teacher was bent. I never saw it myself.

  Work? I’m retired,

  I’m not here to work. Though what she

  calls work is not what I would call work.

  Fancy goods, fancy goods. She

  thinks she’s a pretty piece of Fancy goods!

  Not my fault. I wasn’t on Fancy

  goods last time. That is a relief,

  she can’t blame me.

  Relief.

  Crêpe paper.

  Crêpe? Crêpe, crêpe, what a word.

  crêpe.

  Crêpe.

  Reason, I have always believed in reason. It

  was only necessary to be reasonable to be saved.

  But I have found many in my time

  who have disagreed. It is

  not important.

  Ah, now what does she want me to do tonight?

  Good that she relies on me, that she –

  Pour about a quarter

  into these empty ones. How many

  empty ones? Several dozen. I see. What is

  it in the bottles? No colour, like water. Even

  when I open one I shall not necessarily know, since

  my sense of smell is not – Yes, I understand. What’s

  it say on the labels? BOAKA, BOAKA? Can’t

  understand that.

  No, I’ll be very careful. I haven’t let you down

 

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