‘I’ll leave you two ladies to chat and I’ll see you before you leave,’ Mark said heading back out the door to the garden.
‘Right, you two,’ Zoe said looking across at the boys sitting on tall stools at a breakfast bar munching on a plate of crisps. ‘Please say hello to Mrs Wilkinson, who, depending on if she likes you, will be coming to help us out during the week,’ Zoe said flicking the switch on the kettle.
To Doreen’s surprise, both boys jumped down and held out their hands and introduce themselves. ‘Hello, Mrs Wilkinson, I’m Theo and this is my baby brother, Joe.’
‘I’m not a baby,’ Joe hissed at Theo. Then turning to Doreen, ‘I’m eight, Mrs Wilkinson,’ he added and offered his little hand.
Transfixed at their manners, Doreen bent down and took Joe’s hand and then Theo’s. ‘Nice to meet you both.’
‘Don’t be fooled,’ Zoe said, dropping teabags into a teapot, ‘they are far from angelic. Having said that, they are good boys,’ she added. Doreen didn’t miss the tiredness that filled Zoe’s face. ‘We’ll have a cup of tea and then I’ll show you round and we can talk about what you can do to help.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ Doreen said and hoped she was not going to take on more than she could cope with.
An hour later, having been given a tour of the Drew’s three bedroom home and a rundown of what the family were looking for, Zoe smiled, making her dull eyes shine. ‘If you are OK with us and what you’ve seen, Doreen, we would be very happy to have you help us. I’ve been reluctant to consider getting someone in,’ Zoe looked down at her hands before continuing. ‘Mark has spoken well of you and now meeting you has made me reconsider.’
Doreen took in the expectation in Zoe’s face. It must be hard to accept you need help and to admit this to a stranger. How could she not find the time? They were a lovely family, no airs or graces, and had made her feel an equal. ‘I’d be happy to help, but can I do that washing up before I go?’ she said seeing how so much talking and showing her around the house had taken it out of Zoe.
Leaning against the unit, Zoe kept a brave smile on her face, ‘That’s very kind of you, but I can manage, and these two,’ Zoe pointed to her sons, ‘will help.’
‘If you are sure, but…’
‘No, honestly, we will get it sorted, but a big thank you for coming and agreeing to give us some of your time. We very much appreciate it,’ Zoe said moving towards the hall. ‘We’ve taken enough of your time this morning, so please let Mark run you home,’ Zoe said reaching over and placing a hand on Doreen’s arm.
Doreen didn’t miss the gesture, ‘Goodness, no need, the bus is fine and, of course, I’ll be back on Monday afternoon around three o’clock to do what I can.’ Of all the cleaning jobs she had, she was looking forward to helping this family. It was clear they needed someone to help.
‘Here’s Mark,’ Zoe said as her husband walked in from the garden. ‘Doreen has agreed to help and I’ve volunteered you to run her home rather than her get the bus.’
‘No problem,’ Mark said wiping his feet on the mat. ‘We will not hear of you getting the bus; believe you me, we appreciate you coming to our house. Let it be our way of saying thank you for agreeing to help us,’ Mark said.
‘No, I insist on taking the bus, mainly because I need to stop off and get a few bits of shopping,’ Doreen said pushing her hand into her jacket pocket and crossing her fingers for lying. The last thing she wanted was Mr Drew to see where she lived; it might have him change his mind on her suitability.
‘I can take you to the shop,’ Mark added.
‘Thank you, but as I say, I’m fine,’ she smiled before adding, ‘I’ll see you all on Monday afternoon,’ then reaching out she opened the door.
Walking down the drive of number six, Doreen turned and saw the Drew family standing on the doorstep waving to her. She waved back, ‘Bye for now,’ she called. The sight made her feel warm inside.
Retracing her footsteps to the bus stop, she could not believe that such lovely people existed.
Turning the corner, Doreen saw the bus trundling down the road. Hurrying to the bus stop, she stuck out her hand and waited for the bus to pull over and at the same time counted her blessings.
Chapter Nine
During the short journey back to Wentworth House, Doreen reflected on her morning and silently chuckled at the waste of energy she had expended as she had fretted about going to Sundown Estate and meeting the Drew family. What are you like, Doreen Wilkinson? she asked herself and giggled at the answer her Trisha would give, no doubt saying, ‘Mama, you are just so sad.’ Trisha was right, not that she would ever admit it.
The bus slowed as it approached the stop Doreen needed to alight. Feeling the sun was shining on her parade, Doreen got to her feet with a jaunty step. No sooner had she stood when the bus braked sharply tossing her back down into her seat. Wailing sirens and flashing blue lights roared past the bus. Doreen caught the glimpse of a police car followed by more emergency vehicles with sirens blaring. ‘Bleedin’ hell,’ she cursed under her breath. She definitely was back on the other side of town and wondered who had upset who that had the police driving like bats out of Hell. Deflated at being brought back down to earth with a jolt, Doreen stood up and waited for the bus to reach the stop.
Stepping off the bus, Doreen kept pace with most of the other passengers and headed down the pitted tarmac path to Wentworth House. The tidy gardens and smart homes she had walked past earlier slipped away as the reality of where she lived came into focus. She turned the corner and it was then she saw where the emergency vehicles had been heading, their blue lights flashing and reflecting off the windows of the terraced houses.
‘Oh my God, what’s happened,’ she cried out, her mind turned summersaults on what might be happening. ‘Trisha,’ she called out. Had something happened to her? She prayed she was alright. Wentworth House was not all bad, but it was far from perfect.
Panicking, she pushed past the small crowd that had gathered. Free of the spectators, Doreen broke into a run and headed towards the entrance of Wentworth House.
‘What’s going on?’ she gasped, her breath coming in short bursts as she spluttered and coughed at the police officer who blocked entry to the flats.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ the young officer said, his tone calm as he raised his arms to ensure Doreen did not go any further. ‘For now, please stand to one side for a moment whilst we sort things out.’
Annoyed at being stopped, Doreen craned her neck and stared up at the second floor. To her horror saw more police officers congregating outside her flat.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ she squealed, ‘that’s my flat.’ Not waiting for the officer to speak, she pushed past him and ran through the entrance of the block of flats.
‘Hey, come back, no one is allowed up there for the moment,’ the officer called, but his words were lost as Doreen bolted up the steps.
‘Whoa, stop there,’ a female police officer called out, spinning round, arms outstretched in an attempt to stop Doreen going any further.
‘It’s my flat,’ Doreen persisted, pointing to the open door. ‘I need to see if my girl’s alright.’
As the words flew out of Doreen’s mouth, Trisha appeared from the open door in pyjamas and spying her mother called out, ‘You will just never believe what’s happened,’ Trisha said, her voice incredulous, as Doreen elbowed her way towards her daughter.
‘Oh my giddy aunt, Trish, are you alright?’ Doreen cried reaching her daughter and wrapping her arms around her. ‘What happened? Did someone try to hurt you?’ Feeling tears prick the back of her eyes at the relief her little girl was safe, she hugged her tighter. Gawd, what a place they lived in when you couldn’t go out without worrying what you could be coming back to, Doreen silently sobbed.
Trisha wriggled free, oblivious of her mother’s near melt down, ‘Mama, you’re this close to crushing me,’ Trisha squealed raising her hand and showing a tiny space between her index fin
ger and thumb. Stepping back, Trisha stared at her mother. ‘Hurt. Me? No. But I was rudely woken with the banging on the door. What is it with everyone?’ Trisha asked taking in the number of police and medics.
‘Just tell me what happened?’ Doreen snapped, ‘cos the old bill don’t come bangin’ on doors for nothin’?’
Trisha shrugged her shoulders, ‘I don’t really know. As I said, someone banged on the door. I just came out and was told there’s a problem with the man next door. I think he might have died.’
‘Jack? Birthday boy Jack?’ Doreen cried, the colour draining from her face. She stared at the open door to Jack’s flat when a medic, dressed in bright reflective green, appeared holding on to an ambulance trolley. As he and his colleague carefully manoeuvred the trolley through the tight opening and on to the landing, Doreen made out the shape of a body under a dark blue blanket. ‘Jack,’ she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the trolley. ‘How can it be you? We’d had such a good old laugh last night.’ she said as tears slipped down her face.
‘The police wanted to know if we knew anything about him,’ Trisha said, watching the trolley being pushed towards the lift.
Wiping the palm of her hand across her face, Doreen stood in shock.
‘Must have been that cake you made,’ Trisha said before turning and heading back inside their flat.
Ignoring her daughter, Doreen hurried after the paramedics. ‘Excuse me, excuse, me,’ she called. ‘Can I see him? He’s my neighbour.’
Waiting at the lift, one of the paramedics, answered, ‘I don’t think so, but…’
‘It is Jack, ain’t it?’ Doreen interrupted.
The paramedic who had answered, nodded.
‘Right,’ she said nodding her head as if to confirm what she had heard. The button on the lift was pressed again. After waiting a further two minutes, the paramedics accepted the lift was not working. Doreen stood and watched the two men carry the trolley down the stairs to the waiting ambulance. You can be dead here and still the bleedin’ lifts don’t work, she thought with disgust. ‘Sorry, Jack, so sorry.’
Chapter Ten
A cool wind whistled through the broken glass in the kitchen window. Doreen eyed the window and tutted. She could not remember when or how it had happend; if she thought about it, the crack had just appeared. How that could happen she had no idea, but one thing she did know and that was that the state of the window added further to the shambles of a place they lived in. If only she had the time to get to the council and complain because the list would be a long one.
She groaned. She had about as much chance of going down to the council and raising hell as she had of swimming the Channel. Well, doing the Channel was a no no, she couldn’t swim!
What could she do to improve their lot? She worried, knowing that the last two weeks her feet had barely touched the ground. What with her usual three cleaning jobs and working in the Drew household six days a week, she did not know which way was up these days. She felt so knackered she could fall asleep on a washing line. Even today she would be hard pressed to get everything done because poor old Jack was going to his maker. In between her scrubbing and polishing she was going to the old boy’s funeral. She was thankful it was taking place at ten-thirty in the crematorium which was just round the corner from Harvey’s warehouse. Simon Gilder had said she could have the time off to go, but he would be expecting her to catch up when she got back.
A bleeding work horse wouldn’t be flogged as much as she was, she thought wearily and grabbed her packet of cigarettes sitting on the table. Pulling one out, she noticed it was the last one. ‘Hell’s teeth,’ could life get any worse? she asked herself, stuffing the nicotine fix between her lips. Walking over to the oven she lit the gas then lit her cigarette from the flame. Seeing a red glow on the end of her life saver, she turned the gas off and pulled hard on her ciggie.
Letting the smoke stream out of her nostrils in a cloud of haze, she thought about the poor old sod who had been her neighbour all the years she had lived in Wentworth House. He could be an awkward bugger, but he had been good to her. Many a time he had lent her a few quid when she was on her uppers. There was no doubt she would miss him, even his leering looks.
Pulling again on her cigarette, she realised there was nothing to be gained by getting morbid and then let out a dirty chuckle at the memory of his birthday. What a night that was, she giggled and watched the ash fall from her cigarette to the floor. ‘God bless you, Jack,’ she said knowing he had died happy; full of cake and whisky. What a way to go, she thought. At least his lights had gone out after a few laughs with friends and no doubt a grin, as wide as the Thames, on his face.
After everyone had left and gone home, it seemed, Jack had taken himself to bed and still fully clothed had snuggled down under his covers and, no doubt reliving the shenanigans of his birthday bash, he had fallen asleep never to wake up.
‘Heart attack,’ Annie had told her two days later. ‘Sad as it is, he died with a smile on his face,’ Annie had said crossing herself.
Doreen was glad she had made an effort to be part of his day. ‘God bless you, Jack,’ she said again through a haze of smoke. Tina Turner’s song, Simply the Best would forever remind her of her neighbour. ‘What a way to go,’ she added stubbing her cigarette out in the sink. The tab end hissed in a pool of water as it extinguished. Doreen raised her eyes to the ceiling, ‘There’s no doubt about it, you were a stubborn old mule, but more importantly, you were a diamond geezer,’ she said with affection.
‘You’re doing it again, talking to yourself,’ Trisha scoffed padding into the kitchen dressed in her school uniform and munching on a piece of toast.
‘Blimey, you almost had me joining poor old Jack, creeping around like that. Anyway, what are you doing up and dressed at this hour?’ Doreen asked.
‘You’re such a sado, but despite all your weird ways, I love you,’ Trisha said. ‘And to answer your question, it’s a special day, school outing, which means we have to be at the school gates by seven-thirty. I did show you the letter,’ Trisha said stuffing the last piece of toast into her mouth.
Doreen stared at her daughter. She was a cheeky mare, but she loved the bones off of her. It always made her heart skip when Trisha said she loved her. She knew her life was a mess, but she must be doing something right to have such a beautiful girl. ‘Less of your lip, if you don’t mind,’ as Doreen spoke she wrapped her arms around her daughter and gave her a squeeze. ‘But love you to bits.’
Wriggling out of Doreen’s embrace, Trisha straightened her blazer and smiled.
‘So where is this letter, then?’ Doreen queried not missing the smile that filled Trisha’s pretty face and wondered where she got her looks from, because it was not from her.
‘How would I know, I left it in front of the tea caddy.’
‘Did you, funny I aint seen it.’
‘Stop fretting, it’s all sorted and we are only going to a museum to see some old relics.’
‘Stick around here and you’ll see plenty of them,’ Doreen said with amusement.
‘Ha ha,’ Trisha groaned.
‘No doubt you’ll need some dosh for the trip?’
‘Nope, it’s all paid for by the school.’
‘Really!’
Doreen was never quite sure about these trips because she was never asked for money. Worried about this, she had gone to the school, but had been told it was part of Trisha’s scholarship. She had never been able to work that one out, but decided it was best not to argue because there was no way she could find the money if it had been needed, though she always checked with Trisha just in case. ‘So where is this day out taking place?’
Trisha raked her fingers through her jet black hair as she looked in the little mirror sitting on the window sill. ‘A museum,’ she said, tucking her hair behind her ears.
‘A museum! Blimey, a far cry from when I was at school,’ Doreen said.
Trisha laughed.
‘What
’s so funny?’
‘Nothing. Just trying to think about you behind a desk. Anyway, I have to get going,’ Trisha said and grabbed her bag from one of the chairs next to the table.
Doreen was aware she was not the sharpest pencil in the box. School had not been the best time in her life. She had learnt the basics, but from what she remembered it was more about smoking behind the old sheds at the back of the main school block than special days out. It was different for her Trisha, and she would move Heaven and Earth to make sure her girl’s life was nothing like hers. With these thoughts, she took in how sophisticated Trisha looked in her uniform: navy blue box pleated skirt, white blouse, dark blue tie with yellow and red stripes and a dark blue blazer emblazoned with the school emblem on the breast pocket, and a scarf that reflected the colours in her tie. ‘I love to see you in your uniform, it makes you look clever,’ Doreen said proudness overwhelming.
Trisha rolled her eyes, ‘Only you, Mama, could think this lot,’ she pointed at her clothes, ‘is impressive. It is so ancient and so like the school which lives more in the past than today, hence why we are all being dragged to a museum.’ Trisha shook her head, ‘I worry about you, Mama. Who cares about school uniforms when they are so outdated these days? Normal schools worry more about school stats and all that crap, not crass uniforms,’ she said huffily hooking the straps from her bag across her shoulders.
It was at times like this that Doreen was convinced her daughter spoke in a different language to her. What the hell were stats? And what was wrong with uniforms? She was only in her mid-thirties and, despite so few years difference in their ages, she sometimes wondered if she lived in a different era to her daughter.
‘Hang on a minute,’ Doreen called grabbing her own bag and pulling out her purse. She twisted the snap closure to open it and pulled out a ten pound note. ‘Here, take this it ain’t much, but it will get you a coffee and a sandwich if you need to.’
Trisha stared at the note. ‘Are you sure?’
The Birthday Card Page 5