by Maeve Haran
‘And that is?’
Claudia hesitated, unsure whether it would be fair to her father to reveal something so personal.
‘Hygiene. To be frank, he’s becoming incontinent, my darling dad, and he doesn’t even know it.’
‘That’s sad,’ Lou sympathized. ‘Don’t they have devices to help these days, self-cleaning bidets, pads at least?’
‘Probably but Dad doesn’t even realize he has a problem.’
‘This may seem a little fantastical to you,’ Lou suddenly grinned, looking more impish than ever, ‘but I may have something that could help.’
Claudia got her jacket and they began to walk back through the village towards the hotel. She seemed to know almost everyone they passed and each one enquired after her parents.
‘I hear you’ve got a carer in to help,’ announced an ancient lady on a mobile scooter in a booming voice. ‘Mind you keep an eye on them, dear. You hear such dreadful stories these days.’
‘You see,’ Sal confided, ‘this is what I couldn’t bear. Even living in a village would be bad enough, let alone anything smaller. Everyone knows your business.’
‘That was just Betty,’ Claudia explained. ‘She’s brilliant. She used to be a Bluebell Girl back in the day – you know, a high-kicking chorus girl,’ she explained for Lou’s benefit. ‘She’s one of my best friends. I was sceptical about village life too, but not any more. It’s lovely having friends who’re older and younger than me. You just don’t get that in the city.’
‘Thank God,’ murmured Sal.
‘Now, Ms Grainger,’ Lou teased her. ‘I’m shocked at your limitations. I had you down for a free spirit.’
Sal realized she must sound like a mean old bag but couldn’t resist snapping, ‘That’s why I don’t want to live in a village where everyone knows your business!’
‘Free spirits should just rise above the nosy neighbours,’ Lou corrected.
‘That makes me think of transcendental meditation,’ Sal replied, laughing. ‘I actually tried that when I was young. I was a terrible failure. I could never switch off my hyperactive superego.’
Claudia nodded. ‘I know just what you mean. I’m the same with mindfulness. I just sit there in my leotard saying, “Come on, inner peace, I haven’t got all day!”’
‘Clearly you’ll need a better teacher when you have your classes in the new-age old-age community,’ Lou teased them.
But Claudia wasn’t listening. They’d arrived at the entrance to Igden Manor and she wasn’t going to miss a moment to start explaining her vision.
‘It was this place that got me going really. That and worrying about my parents. I can really see this place being the perfect location. You’ve got the main house over there’ – she pointed to the beautiful stone building – ‘and that has ten rooms in it, so lots of room for staff, and for anyone who ends up needing extra care, plus some guest rooms, of course. All the communal parts would be in that area. Dining room. Large lounge. Terrace at the front.’
‘And the bar,’ Sal reminded, laughing.
‘Of course the bar.’
‘But – and this is the crucial thing – you’ve also got all the cottages, each with its own front door. Some of them could be joined together to create three bedrooms. Privacy is absolutely crucial or we’d all drive each other mad.’
‘We’d drive each other mad anyway,’ Sal protested acidly. ‘That’s why it’s a terrible idea.’
‘Am I sensing a pattern of negativity here, Ms Grainger?’ Lou enquired.
‘Too right you are.’
Claudia wasn’t to be diverted. ‘Then there’s the outdoor pool. Good for those creaking joints.’
‘Yes, I can see mandatory aqua aerobics will be on the schedule.’ Sal shook her head.
‘And the croquet lawn. Plus there’s a tennis court down by the stream. Carp fishing for the contemplative.’
‘Sounds like an English country paradise to me,’ Lou grinned. ‘I can just see Miss Marple in a deckchair.’
‘More like Midsomer Murders . . . with me doing the murdering!’ Sal murmured.
‘Talking of Miss Marple, how about tea on the lawn?’ Claudia suggested.
Ten minutes later they were ensconced in wicker chairs, sitting at a white linen-clad table with a pot of tea, cucumber sandwiches, scones and a three-tiered selection of fancy cakes.
‘You see,’ Claudia smiled at them both, ‘this is what it would be like. Our retirement would be like the Dowager Countess of Grantham’s in Downton Abbey.’
‘Wasn’t she the interfering old bat?’ Sal enquired. ‘If I could spice up my declining years with some serious interfering, I might be more interested.’
‘And I had you down for a peaceful woman,’ Lou announced affectionately.
‘Sal? Peaceful?’ echoed Claudia incredulously.
‘Perhaps she shows me another side,’ winked Lou. ‘I find her very peaceful.’
‘Well, after marrying your mother, then Melody the hippie, not to mention your third wife the workaholic, maybe I’m a restful change,’ countered Sal, smiling across at him.
A sudden truth hit Claudia. Sal had finally found her equal. What Claudia had taken as a fun weekend between friends was way off-beam. If she wasn’t much mistaken, Lou was serious about Sal. She might even find herself actually marrying the man. Claudia experienced a kick of disappointment. That would rule Sal out of her mad scheme. But then Sal was pretty resistant anyway. And still working.
Oh well, it was never going to happen anyway.
‘Tell me one thing,’ Lou enquired. ‘Sal told me your idea was about you girls living together but this place is really quite big.’
‘We’d drive each other completely cuckoo if it was just us.’ She turned to Sal. ‘A student flat crossed with a kibbutz was the dream, remember? I’d hate just to live with my own age group. You need young people too. Babies! I thought of asking my son-in-law Douglas, the architect, to come and have a look. Maybe they’d come and live here too. None of this generation can afford to buy anywhere. And Laura’s daughter Bella’s looking for somewhere to live as well. Her husband Nigel the goth’s going straight and taking a job in a school in Surrey.’
Sal glanced across at Lou. He was actually swallowing all this stuff! She couldn’t believe it in a hard-headed businessman like him. Maybe Claudia had put something in his tea!
‘I can see how close this idea is to your heart,’ Lou was saying. ‘But what you need is a proper business plan if you’re going to have any chance of making it work. It’s a pretty ambitious scheme.’
‘I know.’ Claudia looked at Lou, a glow of pleasure lighting up her attractive face, taking years off it. ‘But my mother wormed something out of the receptionist that was really quite interesting. Because it’s only a thirty-year lease, the sum the old boy wants is quite reasonable.’
Lou grinned. He’d spent years working with developers and leases, and ground rents. ‘Yes, but he might build in a rent review and put it right up. Landlords are in it for the investment, not for charity.’
‘I know,’ Claudia sighed. ‘Still it could be viable.’ She poured them all another cup of tea. ‘So what is this mysterious answer you have to my father’s problems?’
‘Wait till after tea and I’ll show you.’
They sat back in their chairs and watched the other guests playing croquet on the lawn.
‘I gather it’s a brutal game,’ Lou remarked. ‘Much more vicious than ice hockey or American football.’
‘Oh yes, they fight to the death in croquet. My dad used to be really good at it once.’
‘Okay.’ Lou got to his feet. He was very sprightly for someone over seventy. ‘Now, girls. I ask you not to scoff. I ask you only to listen and watch.’ He signed the bill and started leading them across the lawn towards the car park. ‘This is another of my little interests, along with finding a very enjoyable way to age.’
They had arrived at Lou’s hire car. He pressed the key and the boot
popped open. Lou bent over it and lifted something out. To Claudia’s amazement it seemed to be a three-foot-tall robot.
‘Meet Hiro. He’s been specially developed for what is delightfully known as “elder aid”. He has a range of skills beyond any human carer’s, he can beat you at chess, and he speaks nineteen languages.’
Claudia shook her head. ‘Then he’ll understand when I say “Put him back in the boot.” My dad wouldn’t accept help from a robot in a zillion years.’
‘You said this carer you’ve hired doesn’t tidy up,’ Lou replied. ‘Hiro does. He also helps with cooking, cleaning and – wait for it – personal hygiene. The Japanese have an awful lot of old people and not enough young to cope with them. Hence Hiro. The Japanese invented electronics, remember. I’ve invested quite a bit in this little guy. As I was telling Sal, he’s not your average robot. Hiro is state-of-the-art. Will you indulge me and just try him out with your dad? The worst thing he can do is tell him to get lost!’
‘And rather fruitily at that! I hope Hiro doesn’t understand swear words.’
‘He’s so smart he’ll start using them.’
Claudia was beginning to realize that Lou Maynard was a force of nature that was hard to resist. God alone knew what her mother would say, but it would certainly get up the nose of Mrs O’Brien.
It would be worth the experiment for that alone.
‘Okay, you’re on. Let’s go and introduce Hiro to Dad now.’
Laura surveyed herself in the bathroom mirror. She had a date with Calum she didn’t want Mrs Lal to know about. She didn’t look too bad but maybe a touch of red lipstick to bring out the shade of her jersey wrap dress would improve things? It also made her feel sexy, not something Laura often aimed for but tonight she felt a bit daring. She’d stopped worrying so much about her future now that Ella was helping her find a flat. There was something very reassuring about being able to hand the problem over to efficient Ella and she suspected Ella was enjoying it too. She’d been a bit down since that allotment business.
The doorbell rang and Laura looked round for her handbag. Where was it? Damn! It was down in the sitting room. Too late she remembered that Mrs Lal was in and Laura could hear her answering the door and greeting Calum in her grandest post-Colonial manner. Poor Calum. He had no inkling of her unexpected guest. She’d better get down stairs PDQ. As she got up she snagged her sheer tights – another unusually sexy item for Laura – on a sharp drawer handle. Damn! Now she’d have to find another pair. She opened her knicker drawer, usually well organized and colour coded, to find that Bella had been rooting in there and all was chaos. White pants in with black, opaque and sheer tights all jumbled together. It took her ten minutes to find another suitable pair, check them for holes – one wear could do for a ten-denier pair if you were unlucky – and get herself organized and ready.
‘So, Calum – I hope you won’t mind if I call you that?’ Laura could hear Mrs Lal’s penetrating tones enquire, ‘when did you say your divorce became final? And you say your wife – er, Kate was it? – would like you to continue to invest in the matrimonial home? Is that not a rather unusual arrangement?’
Laura hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, stunned at how Mrs Lal dared to ask such devastatingly personal questions of a man she had never met before. Part of Laura felt indignant on his behalf that he should be subjected to this inquisition, and by someone she was simply allowing to stay as a favour. On the other hand, she was riveted by his replies. How had this Kate dared to suggest he keep his money in the family home even though their children were grown up? Surely that tied him to her, and how would he ever be able to afford a place of his own?
She coughed loudly, threw her shoulders back and pulled her stomach in as her Pilates teacher advised, and walked into the room.
Calum, she decided, was looking exceptionally handsome. Just like her, he had made an effort, which boded well.
‘Sorry I kept you waiting. You’ve met Mrs Lal? She’s the mother-in-law of my kind employer and is staying with me for a few days.’
‘Calum here and I have been having a very interesting conversation.’
Laura couldn’t help smiling at how uncomfortable Calum was looking. ‘Don’t worry about Mrs Lal’s direct questions. She’s a matchmaker back home in India and likes to get things clear.’
‘Not a matchmaker, that is a very vulgar expression,’ corrected Mrs Lal grandly. ‘I simply arrange introductions.’
‘And have I passed the test?’ Calum enquired, his eyes on Laura.
The unnerving silence that followed threw them both.
‘Oh dear, clearly I haven’t. Would you like to tell me why?’
‘No time, I’m afraid,’ Laura announced briskly. ‘The film starts in half an hour and I insist on catching the ads. They’re often the best bit.’ She grabbed Calum’s arm before Mrs Lal got the opportunity to elaborate.
‘See you later, Mrs Lal. Is Mr A coming to pick you up?’
‘No, I shall stay in tonight and experience a quiet domestic evening. Your son Sam is going to introduce me to the offerings of Netflix and his favourite Italian speciality via Deliveroo. My treat. Have a pleasant evening.’
‘So who on the earth is that terrifying old crone?’ demanded Calum as soon as they climbed into his car.
‘I’m really sorry. I thought she’d be out with her daughter and son-in-law, not eating takeaway pizza with my son. I hope he’s not going to terrify her with zombies or chainsaw massacres.’
‘I doubt if a whole tribe of zombies could scare that lady. She’d start asking them all their prospects and they’d run off at once.’
‘And I don’t know how she’s won Sam round. He was furious with her for pronouncing on the unsuitability of his extremely sexy new girlfriend.’
‘Speaking of which . . .’ Calum looked meaningfully at Laura and left the sentence unfinished.
The sheer tights and red lipstick had been worth it.
A thought occurred to Laura. If she did take Calum home later, they would have to run the gauntlet of her son and Mrs Lal watching horror movies and chomping Margarita pizzas.
It was quite a dampener.
As it happened, Ella, four miles across the city, was coping with her own offspring issue.
She had just been settling down to a steak and ale pie for one (with free ceramic dish which she enjoyed recycling) and a large glass of red wine when the bell rang. Ella, glancing at her tempting dinner, wondered if she could pretend to be out, then grumpily got up to answer it.
It was her daughter Julia carrying a plastic bag of something from their garden.
‘Oh, hello, darling.’ She tried to summon up some enthusiasm. ‘I was just sitting down to supper.’
‘So I see,’ Julia replied, eyeing it up disapprovingly.
‘Would you like a glass?’
‘Mum, obviously not. I’m driving.’
‘One small glass wouldn’t do any harm.’
‘Your generation are so irresponsible! Look, eat your dinner. I actually came to apologize. Neil thinks I overreacted over Harry.’
How nice of Neil, Ella thought. Once she’d really disliked her son-in-law and thought him rigid and narrow-minded but now he seemed more reasonable than her own daughter.
Ella decided not to think about the Harry episode when she’d forgotten he wasn’t insured. Maybe it wasn’t to do with her memory. Maybe anyone could have done it. Anyway, it was nice of Julia to come and apologize.
Julia came back in bearing a salad she’d just made. ‘Thought some home-grown chard would be nice and healthy for you, but I don’t know why I bothered . . . Do you know how many calories there are in that pie? Seven hundred and forty-two!’
To be honest, Ella was a bit shocked. That did seem a lot of calories. But she was even more shocked that Julia had actually looked in her bin for the wrapper to find out. How dare she!
‘And what with that glass of wine it’s probably a thousand calories. Just before bed too. If you’
re not careful, you’ll end up with diabetes.’
‘Julia!’
‘Okay. Okay. But are you taking plenty of exercise?’ She stood looking out at Ella’s small front garden. ‘I don’t know why you haven’t started planting out there. You made such a fuss about losing the allotment.’
‘It wasn’t just growing things. I enjoyed the company down there.’
‘I can’t think why. A lot of old men in woolly hats. Anyway, don’t you miss the old house?’
‘I don’t think about it much,’ Ella replied between mouthfuls. ‘It was very big for just me.’ She didn’t add that what she really missed was being able to talk to her husband Laurence, buried, with a special dispensation from the council, under the huge cedar of Lebanon in the garden. She’d even thought of moving him to a proper grave but it seemed sacrilegious. He’d be happier where he was.
‘And I still can’t see why you’ve moved to somewhere as risky as this. It’s bound to flood, you know.’
Ella sipped the last of her wine. Julia had effectively managed to spoil the entire meal. On the other hand, she hadn’t meant to. She had brought the salad as a peace offering. It was just that Julia wasn’t very good at apologies.
‘Right,’ Ella willed herself to say, refusing to reply to this last suggestion, ‘I’ll have some of your lovely salad, I think. A mere eighty calories.’
‘Well, I still think you’re mad to move somewhere where it’s clearly going to flood.’
Why couldn’t Julia show Ella a little bit more sympathy and understanding and recognize that she could make her own decisions? Ella got up and gave her daughter a kiss. ‘Just think, when it does, you’ll be able to say I told you so with complete justification.’
‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ Claudia knocked on the door of her father’s shed. He hated you to just burst in. This was his private empire; he would remind any intruders gently that he was the Emperor.
His empire was a very sad one, Claudia couldn’t help thinking as she pushed the door open. It was grubby and untidy with teacups and empty glasses piled up on the floor. As usual the air was tainted with the whiff of stale faeces. And as usual Claudia wanted to cry.