by Maeve Haran
‘I’ve brought my L plates.’ Harry produced two bright red Ls from his jacket.
‘As long as we stay round here where it’s quiet,’ Ella replied dubiously, unable to resist Harry’s winning smile.
They both climbed into the car.
‘Can we have the roof down?’ Harry instantly demanded. ‘It’s much easier to see in this kind of car with the roof down,’ he wheedled.
Ella pushed the button to lower the roof. Harry looked on with delight, making Ella think of the mischievous little boy he’d been before his parents had got so academically ambitious and packed him off to boarding school. Thank heavens they’d seen the light at last and allowed him to go the local sixth-form college.
‘How’s the new school?’
‘Brilliant thanks, Gran.’
Ella showed him how the gears worked on the car and how to set the handbrake.
They drove carefully down the quiet road by the river while Harry proudly demonstrated his three-point turns and parallel parking.
‘You’re much more patient than Mum,’ Harry pointed out.
‘She’s probably busier than me. Watch out for the accelerator. It’s quite a fast car, remember.’
At that moment a motorbike shot out of a side street right in front of them. Harry attempted to brake and accidentally put his foot on the accelerator. The car shot forward, missing the bike by inches.
Ella grabbed the handbrake and yanked it on until the car juddered to a halt.
Harry turned to her, the colour drained from his face. ‘I think you’d better drive, Gran. Maybe I should stick to Mum’s Ford Focus.’
They swapped seats in silence. Ella, feeling he needed encouragement before he completely lost his nerve, grinned at her grandson. ‘You were doing really well till then.’
‘Till I nearly killed someone,’ Harry replied.
And then it hit her in its full horror. She had just let her precious grandson, on the brink of his adult life, drive her car when he wasn’t covered by her insurance! How could she possibly have forgotten?
‘I don’t think we’d better tell your parents,’ she finally managed. And then, still reeling with the guilt, ‘Why don’t I pay for you to have some proper driving lessons?’
‘Oh my God, would you, Gran? That’d be amazing. And it’d mean I wouldn’t need to wreck your new car so it’d be a saving in the end.’
As she parked her car back in its usual space, it struck Ella that this hadn’t been her only memory lapse. She’d lost her car in the car park a few months ago, witnessed by Neil, her irritating son-in-law, and once she’d climbed into the driving seat and for a moment not known what to do. Maybe she ought to do one of those memory tests for oldies. No doubt they had them online. She’d also had some tummy pains but she didn’t see how they could be connected with forgetting things. She probably ought to go to her GP but Ella, practical though she was, was convinced we all ran to doctors too soon. Everything was medicalized these days. Her parents had been part of the generation who didn’t visit a doctor in their lives.
After she’d sorted out her father, Claudia went off to look for her mother and found her delighted to go to lunch at Igden Manor.
‘Gosh, do you remember the last time we came here?’ Olivia asked, grinning delightedly at the memory as they parked in the car park behind the main part of the hotel. ‘Gaby was about to call off the wedding because of parental bad behaviour. Until I got you all playing croquet.’
‘Yes, funny how croquet saved the day,’ Claudia conceded. ‘It usually makes people want to kill each other.’ It was true, though, that on that occasion her mother had come to the rescue.
‘This is a beautiful place,’ Olivia pronounced. ‘I always like it here. Posh without being too formal.’
Claudia looked around her. Igden Manor was made of pale golden stone, with a wonderful rust-coloured tiled roof. In front lay the large croquet lawn giving onto a wide terrace with outdoor tables and gay parasols. Some of the rooms were in the main part and the rest in cottages, each with their own separate terrace or garden. Her mother was right, it was a lovely hotel.
‘I wonder how old it is?’
‘The funny thing is, the whole place is a replica, not old at all,’ Olivia explained. ‘Just a pastiche of an ancient hamlet. There was one here aeons ago, belonging to some bishop. We should go for a walk after lunch and I’ll show you the stock pond where he kept his fish. It’s right behind where the swimming pool is now.’
‘I’d forgotten the swimming pool.’ Claudia looked longingly at the bright blue water surrounded by sun loungers. It would be delicious on a really hot day.
The restaurant was through a very appealing bar where they served light snacks and sandwiches. Claudia, dreading the encounter ahead with her mother, wasn’t hungry and just ordered a Caesar salad. Olivia, enjoying the treat of being taken out, opted for vichyssoise, followed by roast chicken and apple tart with ice cream. While Claudia signalled to the waitress that they’d like a coffee, Olivia headed off to the ladies’.
The coffees arrived and Claudia drank hers. When ten minutes had passed and there was no sign of her mother, Claudia began to feel a little anxious, remembering her mother’s up and down mental condition. She had seemed extra normal today, though.
After another ten minutes she went to look for her, suddenly panicking that Olivia might have fallen over or be needing her help – after all, she was eighty-five.
In the end she heard her mother before she saw her. Olivia was leaning across the reception desk, deep in conversation with the woman who was working there.
‘Really?’ her mother’s voice echoed through the whole area. ‘You say the hotel’s going to close down then? Unless they can find someone to take on the lease?’
She turned to Claudia, her eyes narrowed like a hawk descending on a field mouse, and gripped her daughter by the arm. ‘Come on, dear, let’s have that coffee you promised me.’
It was obvious her mother was big with news she couldn’t wait to impart.
‘How absolutely fascinating,’ she announced as she sat down.
‘What is?’ Claudia could see they weren’t going to get to discussing putting her father in a care home for some time.
‘That’s my friend Joan’s daughter behind the desk. I’ve known her since she was a child.’
‘But what was it she told you that was so riveting?’
‘Apparently the hotel’s been run by three different people in the last five years and none of them have been able to turn a profit. Too old-fashioned. Not enough amenities. You young people all want spas and gyms, I can’t think why. They’re quite busy in the summer but the winter’s as flat as a pancake. Besides, it’s not a freehold apparently. Just a lease from Lord Binns. His family’s owned everything round here since the Domesday Book, so no one wants to invest in all these expensive facilities. They’ve tried conferences and weddings but it’s never really worked out. Now the place is going to close down! I must admit, I think that’s a real pity.’ She sipped her coffee, leaving a bright red lipstick mark on the rim of the cup. ‘So, Claudia dear, what did you want to talk to me about?’
But Claudia had stopped listening. The maddest, craziest, most wonderful idea had just occurred to her. Of course it would never happen, there would be too many obstacles. It was entirely ridiculous to even think about it.
But suddenly she couldn’t think about anything else.
Four
‘What do you mean, take over the lease on Igden Manor?’ Don looked at Claudia as if she’d suggested they give the Queen notice to quit so they could move into Buckingham Palace. ‘How the hell could we do that? And why, for God’s sake? You just said the place has had three different owners and none of them could make it work. Why would we be any better? Neither of us have even run a B&B, let alone a country hotel, and anyway, where on earth would we get the money?’
‘It wouldn’t be a hotel. It would be our future, the best of both worlds, living with
the people who mean the most to us and looking after each other. My dream of growing old together disgracefully!’
‘And let me guess. These people would mainly be the Coven?’ The Coven was the rude name Don always applied to Claudia’s group of girlfriends.
‘Not just them, obviously. My parents too, and who knows, maybe Gaby and Douglas? They work nearby and they’re always complaining they can’t afford to buy anywhere.’
‘And how exactly would all this be paid for?’ Don asked scathingly. ‘Out of our state pensions with you doing a bit of French coaching on the side?’
Claudia looked away, reality beginning to intrude into the excitement of her sudden vision.
Don came and put his arms round her. ‘Sorry to burst the bubble, but it is a mad scheme.’
‘I know,’ sighed Claudia, ‘but I’ve got to find some kind of solution for Ma and Dad. She seems all right at the moment. In fact, you’d have laughed at the sight of her wheedling all this information out of the poor woman on reception. Ma’s probably better informed than the liquidators, or old Lord Binns who owns the place.’
‘Your mother in full Valkyrie mode is indeed a sight to see. On the other hand, she probably saved the wedding so we have to be grateful.’
‘It’s Dad. She’s told him she can’t cope and is going to put him in a care home.’
‘Poor old Len. He’s not that bad, surely?’
Suddenly Claudia crumpled. ‘Don, he’d shat himself when I went round there. And he didn’t even know. I’m really worried about him. And I don’t think Ma can be bothered with any of it.’
Don patted her, rather ineffectually. He was never very good at emotional outbursts. ‘Oh God. Shakespeare was right about the seven ages. From the mewling, puking infant to the old man sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.’
Capable Claudia felt her eyes misting up at this awful prospect for her beloved father. ‘That’s why it would be so great to have a group of friends living together, all helping each other, not sticking Dad in some godawful care home.’
‘I’m sure they’re not all awful.’
‘And the cost . . .’
‘There is another solution. I noticed it a lot before we left London. Get him a live-in carer. I was forever seeing old people in London being taken round by people who were obviously their carers.’
‘A sort of nanny?’ Some of her friends had had nannies for their children, quite often with mixed results.
‘If you like. There’ll be loads of agencies, I’m sure.’
‘I suppose I could look into it.’
He patted her again. This time it annoyed her quite inordinately. ‘More sensible than your crazy scheme about the hotel.’ His smile was so patronizing that she wanted to slap him and had to remind herself firmly that they were supposed to be making a new, more loving start to their life in the country.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she admitted grudgingly.
‘Tell you what,’ he suggested as an olive branch, ‘let’s go and have supper in The Laden Ox. Save you cooking.’ Don’s lack of cooking skills had always been a sore point between them. ‘You could spend the time making a few phone calls to agencies, or looking online.’
‘Yes.’ Claudia made herself stop thinking about the honeyed embrace of Igden Manor, with its hollyhocks and mellow stone, and confront the considerably more immediate problem of finding a suitable carer and persuading her mother it would be a better option than sticking her dad in a home. She could see that might be an uphill struggle. Olivia liked having her home to herself.
Sal rushed back to the office and made it just in time for the ideas meeting she’d scheduled at 3 p.m.
‘Long session with Lou,’ Rose commented with an infinitesimal lift of her eyebrow. ‘How did you find him?’
‘Great,’ Sal replied as if she’d been asked about the price of butter. She didn’t want Rose reading anything into the length of her absence. ‘I think we could really do business with him.’
‘Good. I’m extremely fond of Lou.’
The team were assembled and ready in the meeting room.
‘Firstly,’ Sal smiled round, ‘it’s just so great to be back! And I’m even more delighted how well the sales figures have held up in my absence – despite Rose at the helm!’
There was a universal laugh and Rose stood up and took a bow.
‘So, on to the next issue.’ The Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole fact about glossy magazines was that they always operated so far ahead that it might be a completely different season outside from the one they were working on.
One positive aspect of her absence was that Sal felt she was bursting with ideas about everything from gardening to beauty, and from new technology to how to make your money go further. She was itching to get their tech guru to try out the car that drove itself and to push holidays for the age group that could make the most of avoiding school holidays.
She saved the idea she was most excited about till last.
‘I’ve been reading how online dating for the over-fifties is the fastest growing sector of the market,’ she announced enthusiastically. ‘So why don’t we launch our own dating site? I’ve met happy couples who’ve got together through Guardian Soulmates and even Private Eye, so why not New Grey?’
‘Haven’t some of our rivals already launched in this area?’ asked the features editor.
‘Yes,’ conceded Sal. ‘But we’ll do it better. Savvier. Sassier.’ She had no idea what she actually meant by this but it seemed to be going down well with Rose and the troops.
‘Good idea, Sal,’ Rose congratulated. ‘We should definitely get on and research it.’
An hour later they’d mapped out the main content for November and put out some tentative feelers for Christmas, even though outside it was still balmy.
When she came out she found Ella waiting for her in reception.
‘We had a meeting planned,’ Ella grinned. ‘Have you forgotten?’
It was clear that Sal had indeed forgotten. She hoped it wasn’t an outbreak of chemo brain. ‘Ella, I’m so sorry. I’ve been rushing round like a mad thing since I got back. Come over to the desk I laughingly describe as my office.’
‘I’m glad you forget things too,’ Ella replied, looking suddenly concerned. ‘I’m actually getting quite worried about my memory.’
‘Bollocks. We’re all forgetting things.’
‘Not like me. It was bad enough when I lost my car in the car park in front of my son-in-law who already thinks I’m a batty old bird, but today I was genuinely concerned.’
‘Why, what did you do? Forget to put any clothes on? Lock yourself out? Lose your car again? People do these things, you know, without feeling the need to shoot themselves.’
‘I let my grandson drive my car when he wasn’t even insured. And we almost hit someone.’
‘Ah. Okay, that is a bit more batty old bird. Come in. You obviously need a coffee.’
Ella followed Sal into her bright and colourful office.
‘Come on, forget about all that for now,’ Sal suggested. ‘Let’s have your thoughts for the column. Actually, I quite like “Batty Old Bird”. Shall we call it that? Or would you like something more businesslike? Up to you, obviously.’
Ella laughed. ‘Why not own up to the truth? “Batty Old Bird” it is.’ She listed the ideas she’d been considering as they sipped their coffee. By the end of an hour with Sal she was feeling an awful lot happier. She could see how good Sal must be at enthusing a team.
‘Time we had another Grecian Grove session,’ Sal counselled. ‘Always makes you feel better when you can share your worries. Why don’t I sort it out?’
Ella got up. ‘Sounds great. Anyway, time I left you to it. Where’s the loo by the way? My batty old bladder is playing up too.’
Sal laughed. ‘What a bunch we are! I’ll phone the others about the Grove. Let’s make it soon.’
On the way out Ella dashed into the ladies’ loo just in time. Why the
hell was she peeing so often? God, next stop would be Tena Lady Pants. It hurt to pee as well and the urine seemed to have a strange odour. Not that acetone aroma you got from eating asparagus but something rather unpleasant. Oh, bloody hell, she’d better keep an eye on that.
She was going to have to dream up some nice treats for herself. She was damned if she was going to turn into a moany old bag like her mother had been.
She might pop round and see Laura tomorrow. It was awful to admit that Gore Vidal had been right. You always felt better when your friends were feeling worse.
Now that was a column even she’d be too ashamed to write.
Laura caught the bus home wondering what on earth Mrs A’s mother could be like that she could put the fear of God into that formidable dressing-gown-wearing diva. She smiled to herself, remembering the wonderful memory of Mrs A driving the bitch who had caused the end of Laura’s twenty-five-year marriage out of the shop, every inch the avenging angel, albeit in pink quilted cotton.
She was agog to find out. Mr A, still reeling from shock and looking like a zombie, had said his mother-in-law would be arriving scarily soon.
Thank heavens there were no more estate agent appointments today and she could lie on the sofa and relax.
In fact, there was a lovely surprise waiting on her doorstep. Her daughter Bella, with baby Noah slung across her chest in a stretchy sling with a butterfly stencilled on it. Despite carrying a sleeping baby across her chest Bella managed to look amazingly stylish.
‘Bella, darling, I didn’t know you were coming. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Isn’t Sam in?’
‘Doesn’t seem to be.’
Laura leaned down and kissed the baby’s tuft of dark hair poking out of the top of the sling. ‘Oh, Bella, he really is gorgeous!’
‘I knew you’d be a supergranny.’
‘Did you?’
‘You were such a brilliant mum you were bound to be.’
Laura felt her eyes welling with unexpected tears. She felt such a failure at the moment that hearing this was just what she needed.
‘Thank you, darling. Lovely sling by the way. Did you make it yourself?’ Bella was very talented at sewing her own clothes, even if they were in haute Goth fashions.