Sign of the Times

by Susan Buchanan

  “What happens now?”

  “She’ll be questioned and may have to stay in the cells overnight.”

  Overnight? Cells? Jennifer was horrified.

  “But she can’t be. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “She’s caused a public nuisance and if you’re not careful you could be joining her.”

  With that, the constable walked along the line of protestors, encouraging them to disperse. All but a few complied, concerned about suffering Maggie’s fate. Jennifer was tearful. Jeremy put his arm around her.

  “Maggie’ll be all right. First time she’s been lifted, mind you, but amazing, given how many demos she’s attended. We’ll follow the police and maybe have a drink in The Lochaber whilst we’re waiting on her being questioned. She may not have to spend time in the cells. It’s her first offence.”

  Hearing a tremendous clatter, they turned. The JCB had whirled into life and was trundling towards the Black Watch centre, wrecking ball swinging. The driver depressed a lever and the ball careered into the community centre, smashing the café section in half. Maggie, grim-faced, managed a tight smile to Jennifer as the car sped off.

  “Name?” the Desk Sergeant asked Maggie.

  “Maggie McWhirter.”

  “Address?”

  “46 The Quays, Glasgow, G11 4YS.”

  “Date of birth?”

  “4/2/68.”

  The questions continued. The desk sergeant relieved Maggie of her sunglasses, cigarettes, Zippo and Swatch watch. She was locked in a cell until someone was free to interview her.

  “So, do you want to tell us what that was all about?” Sergeant Morris asked her.

  “I told you earlier,” Maggie replied.

  “If you could just tell us again for the benefit of the tape,” Sergeant Morris insisted.

  Maggie relayed what she’d told him at the Black Watch centre.

  “You can’t go taking the law into your own hands.”

  “Someone had to act.”

  “The decision had already been made. You were causing a nuisance. Now, you’ve been arrested and for what? It didn’t solve anything, did it?” Sergeant Morris’ words hit home and although Maggie wanted to retort ‘Who’s fault is that then?’ she bit her tongue.

  “I know.”

  “Look, if you promise not to get up to anything like that again, I’ll let you off with a caution, but if you do cause another breach of the peace, you’ll probably face a custodial sentence.”

  “OK.”

  “Good. Interview terminated 15.47.”

  Rising, Sergeant Morris ushered her out to the reception area and handed her over to the Desk Sergeant to retrieve her belongings.

  “Now remember. I don’t want to see you again.”

  He was right she thought, as she signed for her possessions. What difference had it made? Zilch. Jeremy and Jennifer burst through the doors.

  “Oh Maggie. Thank God. Are you OK? Do you have to pay bail?”

  Maggie laughed. “It’s not quite The Bill you know, Jennifer, and yes, I’m fine, even if my pride is a little dented. I’m just upset about the centre.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maggie adjusted the groundsheet and reached for the poles, sliding them into the tent with ease. She gave Jennifer instructions on how to hammer the pegs in almost diagonally, otherwise they’d come straight back out. Maggie then slipped the flysheet over the frame and secured the first few pegs before letting Jennifer do the rest.

  “Not bad for a first attempt,” Maggie checked Jennifer’s endeavours. “We’ll make a camper out of you yet.”

  “I don’t know about you lot,” Jeremy came up to them, but I’m starving.” Lee, Henry and Susan mumbled their agreement, so, tents erected, they set off from the Grey Squirrel campsite towards the Aonach Inn in search of sustenance.

  “Mmm. This gammon steak’s delicious,” Jennifer said.

  “Yep. The steak n ale pie is pretty tasty too,” Maggie added, “although it could just be because we’re starving.”

  “Could be,” Jeremy agreed between mouthfuls of cottage pie.

  They spent a merry late afternoon, made all the merrier by the amount of alcohol they’d consumed. Jeremy suddenly shouted out, “Ben, Ben! Over here. God, how are you doing?” and standing up, clapped his friend on the back. “I haven’t seen you for, like, forever. How the hell are you?”

  Ben grinned, “I’m fine Jez and you, what you been up to?”

  “Rescuing this one from being arrested,” he turned and introduced Maggie, Jennifer and the others.

  “Are you on your own?”

  “Yes. I’m supposed to be in Glasgow. I wasn’t meant to be working this weekend, but I’m covering for a mate who’s gone on holiday at the last minute.”

  “Well, why don’t you join us?” Jeremy suggested. “Make way for one more, guys. Budge up!”

  Ben sat down on the end of a bench beside Jennifer and Jeremy. Maggie meanwhile was listening to Lee talking to Henry and Susan about his stay in St Vincent.

  “St Vincent?” she said, “You lucky sod! How long were you there, two weeks or just the one?”

  “No. I was there six months. I was doing a placement teaching the locals about AIDS.”

  “Really. That sounds really rewarding.”

  “Oh it was. It is,” Lee corrected. “I’m only home for six weeks and then I’m going back.”

  “To St Vincent?”

  “Possibly, but I never know for sure where I’ll end up.” They carried on chatting and when Maggie looked at her watch it was already half past ten. Damn, they only had fifteen minutes before they’d have to leave to make the campsite curfew. Turning to Jennifer, she saw that her head was bent in deep conversation with the dark-haired chap Jeremy had introduced them to earlier. What was his name again? Ben. That was it. They looked pretty cosy. She’d have to ask Jennifer all about it later.

  Maggie woke up on Monday morning more refreshed than she’d been yesterday morning, that was for sure. She’d had a hell of a hangover and as for Jennifer, she was seriously unwell. They’d had to stop the car twice for her on the way home. Maggie had decided she’d grill her at a later date about the luscious Ben.

  She spread some low-fat cheese on brown bread and grabbed a handful of raisins from the packet in the kitchen cupboard. Today feels like Sunday, she thought. So much had happened over the weekend. She was glad she had allowed herself the luxury of having the Sunday papers delivered. Fair enough, she was a day late in reading them, but so what. She always got loads of Sunday papers and never bothered at all during the week. As she got older, her brain required more from a newspaper than which celebrity had had their boobs done, or whose botox op had failed, so she’d started reading the Sunday Times as well. It had so many supplements and was very Tory biased, but it did have a lot of good stories and some pretty gritty journalism. Maggie nestled down into the contours of her sofa and began to munch away, simultaneously flicking through the Sunday Times. Suddenly she stopped. She read and re-read the advert and said out loud, “I wonder...”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jennifer - PISCES

  Sensitive, emotional, sunny, dreamy, creative. Great sympathy for the suffering of others. Vulnerable and delicate especially when under emotional stress. Capable of great strength, because of their adaptability and cope well in difficult situations.

  “Jennifer darling. Jennifer!” her mother’s voice called.

  Jennifer finally heard and ran in to see what her mother wanted.

  “Yes Mum?”

  “I need to go to the toilet.”

  “OK.”

  Jennifer picked up the shallow, stainless steel basin and sat it on the edge of her mother’s bed. She raised her mother’s left leg until her foot was flat on the bed, with her knee bent and placed her mother’s left arm around her right shoulder, to gain purchase, whilst she manoeuvred the bed pan for her. She ensured her mother’s right foot was close to her straightened right leg and
then slowly rolled her onto her side. Placing the bedpan under her, she carefully rolled her back into place. Her mother’s business done, she set the bedpan on the floor. Tearing off some toilet paper from its roll, she carefully wiped her mother’s bottom and dropped the dirty tissue into a small polythene bag on the bedside table. Extracting a baby wipe from the packet, she cleaned her properly. The wipe joined the used toilet paper and Jennifer rearranged her mother’s nightgown.

  “Thanks dear.”

  “I’ll get rid of this and then I’ll make us a cup of tea.”

  “Thanks love,” her mum smiled.

  Jennifer lifted up the polythene bag, then stretched down for the basin. She walked through to the bathroom and chucked the contents of the basin’s cardboard insert into the toilet, then flushed it away. The rest she disposed of in the outside wheelie bin. Returning to the bathroom, she washed out the stainless steel basin and placed it on the lid of the toilet pan. Turning on the taps, she began to wash her hands, adding a generous dollop of antibacterial hand wash for good measure. She re-entered her mother’s room and took another cardboard insert from her stash on the bedside cabinet shelf and placed it into the basin, before pushing it gently under the bed with her foot.

  “Here you go Mum. Tea and chocolate digestives.”

  “Thanks love. Are you going to town today?”

  “Yes. I need to get some shopping. That was the last of the milk and biscuits,” she gestured ruefully to the three digestives.

  “Could you get my prescription? Remember the surgery called yesterday to say it would be ready after two.”

  “Yes, I remember. What do you fancy for dinner?”

  “Those beef olives you got were very nice.”

  “Well, how about I get those and make roast potatoes and peas, or would you prefer sprouts instead?”

  “Sprouts if they’re not too expensive. If they’re more than fifty pence a pound, it means they’re out of season and in that case, peas will do fine. Garden ones though.”

  “Yes, OK. Do you need anything else?”

  “Could you see if you could get me some Lily of the Valley?” Her mother always liked to smell nice and had worn the same perfume since she was a girl. The fact that she was now bed-ridden thanks to her mytrophic dystrophy, didn’t mean she couldn’t still make an effort.

  “Sure. I’ll see if they have it in Hourstons.”

  Jennifer had dealt with all the finances since she moved in, after her mother’s diagnosis three years ago. Her mother’s needs were simple, but they didn’t have much money coming in. They lived solely on Jennifer’s carer allowance and her mother’s disability benefits. Unfortunately it would have been no good asking her father. He’d cut himself off from them when she was twelve and needed him most. He’d got his latest floozie pregnant and decided he actually wanted to live with and worse still, marry her. The only contact she and her mum had had with her dad was regarding the divorce and of course her mother shielded her from that as much as possible. Jennifer had her pride, plus she knew the answer would have been no. She knew he was aware of her mother’s predicament. They still had mutual acquaintances, even after all these years, but he hadn’t even phoned to enquire after her or her mother, never mind offer to help out financially. They could ill-afford the relatively inexpensive scent her mother had requested, but she would not deny her mother this simplest of pleasures. In any case, she still had a couple of things left from their old lives, which she could sell on Ebay. Her savings had almost entirely gone, as she no longer worked.

  Jennifer knew that many children wouldn’t have been as unselfish as she had been, giving everything up. But, her brother Tim lived in New Zealand and her sister, Sara, had moved out to be near him and enjoy the good old life he’d told them about on his last visit seven years ago. Sara had moved to Christchurch about three weeks before her mother’s diagnosis. It was unthinkable that she could come back at such a critical phase. She had three kids to think about settling into a new continent for goodness sake. Anyway, Sara said, everyone knew their mother preferred Jennifer’s company. Her brother had suggested they put their mother in a home. Jennifer could not believe these people were her flesh and blood. Her siblings could be so heartless and were adamant their mother should go into residential care. So, it fell to her and only her, as they saw it, to look after their mother. Nor did they feel they could or needed to contribute financially. Where would they get the money? All of a sudden, the good life they were leading in New Zealand, was made out to be a struggling existence, not the financial mecca Tim had boasted of a few years ago. But Tim’s BMW and his wife’s Mercedes paid testimony to the fact that they weren’t exactly destitute and her sister was just as bad. They had a house in the city and an apartment near the sea.

  There wasn’t exactly much work Jennifer could do from home, although she had been known to stuff envelopes, to make ends meet. She had even tried a pyramid-like scheme, which had promised to quadruple her money in a month and then grow exponentially. Unfortunately, the products, although good, were expensive and Jennifer didn’t have the right personality to work in Sales. She couldn’t bring herself to be as blatant at networking as the high-powered hotshots she was supposed to model herself on. The only products she’d really managed to sell were to close friends and she’d decided she didn’t want to alienate them, by giving them a sales pitch every time they met. Her performance was lacklustre and their group leader had been most disappointed with her. She’d jacked it less than a month later and decided it was a lesson well learned.

  Jennifer missed the camaraderie of the office. When she did go out, she felt she had nothing to add to conversations, as the furthest she’d been was Kwik Save and the most riveting things she had to talk about were who was shagging who off Big Brother and if they’d seen the latest home makeover or other reality TV show that week. It seemed like all of her interests had been shelved when her mum got sick. She used to attend lots of evening classes; Advanced Cookery, Massage for Beginners, Feng Shui. Her lovely flat in Prestwick had overlooked the golf course and she’d feng shuied it to within an inch of its life. Shame it had turned out to be a load of old bollocks. Her love corner and her health corner, or rather her mother’s health corner had become well and truly screwed up. Jennifer faced facts. She didn’t live, she existed and if she didn’t have Maggie, she didn’t know what she’d do. As she was leaving to go into town, the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Jennifer. It’s Maggie. How are you?”

  Walking into town, Jennifer felt elated at the prospect of seeing her friend again. Now that Maggie’s exams were over, maybe they’d have more time to spend together. Maggie often used to turn up at Treetops unannounced, outwith term time when she didn’t have to be in Glasgow every day and could stay over at her mum’s on Racecourse Road. She knew Maggie was going back to work at Three Monkeys, but hoped it wouldn’t be seven days a week, so she could come see her occasionally. Even watching soaps with someone was a luxury. Her mum was usually asleep by seven thirty and generally preferred to stay in bed and watch TV, no matter how much Jennifer coaxed her to come into the living room and watch with her.

  “But the living room TV doesn’t have subtitles. I need the subtitles,” her mum had explained. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to sit with you, dear.”

  “Well, how about we change the TVs around and put the portable in the living room?” But Jennifer knew the answer to this, even before she’d asked the question. Her mother would need to spend most of her time in her room, so it made sense for her to have the portable there. Their flat had only one bedroom and there wasn’t a lot of space for one person, never mind two. Jennifer slept on the sofa, which happened to be a very decent double bed, but after three years of it, her back was killing her.

  The original idea had been for Jennifer to take time off work to look after her mum and then get a full time or even a part time carer in. Unfortunately, the insurance company she worked for wasn’t partic
ularly understanding about her situation, after she’d initially used her four weeks annual leave to look after her mum. They said that if she didn’t come back the following Monday, she was out of a job. It was too soon to leave her mum with anyone else. She was still trying to come to terms with the extent of her condition. So, she had lost her job. The rigmarole and the humiliation she had to go through to become an official carer for her mother was unbelievable. She’d lost count of the forms she’d had to fill in.

  As she padded around the supermarket, she thanked the Lord for the day she met Maggie. Online checking her email and seeing how her Ebay sales were going, she had decided they needed something to brighten up the living room-cum-bedroom. She was going through her terracotta phase and at that time didn’t yet have too many money worries, but she enjoyed Ebaying and also felt it prudent to buy something significant, like a throw, second-hand, although to look at Maggie’s throw now, you would still think it was brand new. Her shopping finished, Jennifer carried the wire basket over to the till.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Hello you,” Jennifer interrupted her friend’s thought process and sat down. The attentive barman quickly brought her a drink and she settled back to listen to Maggie. She reminisced for a very pleasant half hour with her and then with an anguished look at her watch, said she had better get back.

  When she arrived home, her mother was asleep, so she put the shopping away, checked the cooking instructions on the beef olives and switched on the kettle. Ripping open the packet of plain chocolate digestives, she demolished the first one in seconds, realising she was ravenous. She had made porridge for her mother this morning, but there hadn’t been enough milk for two. The latte she’d had with Maggie was her only sustenance all day. Her tummy rumbled and she helped herself to a second biscuit, as the kettle came to the boil.

  Jennifer tiptoed through to the living room, peeking into her mother’s room en route to ensure she hadn’t woken up. Settling herself down, she picked up her magazine. She was addicted to entering competitions. She hadn’t won much, just a measly CD case and some kids’ film binoculars, but she lived in hope. Occasionally she won cinema tickets, but ended up letting them expire, as she was afraid to leave her mother alone for that length of time. A win of thirty pounds worth of M&S vouchers, meant they had some pretty nice food for a few days. She used to subscribe to several specialist competition magazines, but when she lost her job, she couldn’t afford the subscriptions. Her favourite competitions were those you had to create a slogan or jingle for, as she assumed less people would enter, as it required a bit of thought and she would have a better crack at winning. This month’s edition had arrived in the morning’s post and she was looking forward to seeing what prizes were on offer. Sipping her coffee and picking up the magazine and her pen, she circled those of interest to her; £500 of jewellery in a Bond Street jeweller’s, a BMW 5 series, a vintage 2CV, a fortnight in Tenerife all inclusive, a seven day trip on the Orient Express and a villa in Spain worth £200,000.