Dancing Over the Hill

by Cathy Hopkins

  ‘Not professional, but I do like to work in my own, especially now I’m retired. My wife always used to be the gardener but now …’ He trailed off and looked away.

  Ah. So he was either a widower or divorced. ‘You been having a clear-out then?’ I asked.

  ‘Some. It’s frightening how fast stuff accumulates. But it feels good to get rid of it, doesn’t it?’ he said as he picked up a pile of papers and began to stride over to an area with huge closed bins.

  ‘Actually it does,’ said Lorna as she picked up another pile and followed him. ‘My husband always used to do regular tip visits when he was alive, but since he died, I’m afraid I’ve let it all mount up.’

  Well get her, I thought.

  With his help, it took about fifteen minutes and we were done.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ I said. ‘Much appreciated.’

  ‘Glad to be of service.’ He turned and was about to get into his car, then he stopped and approached Lorna. ‘I … er … Don’t suppose you fancy a coffee? There’s a nice place round the corner.’

  Maybe he’d been listening to the same radio programme with the life coach, I thought. But no way would she agree. I knew Lorna. She didn’t want another man.

  ‘Love to. Is that OK, Cait?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said.

  As I drove off, leaving my friend behind, I laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. Just wait till Debs hears about this, I thought. All those Internet dates and Lorna pulls at the recycling centre.

  On the way back, I went to the pet shop to buy a different kind of food for Yoda and a magnetic collar and cat flap so the neighbour’s cats couldn’t get in.

  When I got home, Dad helped me to fit it to the door, then I attached the new magnetic collar to Yoda. He was not happy about it, so I put new, expensive luxury cat food down to appease him. He went straight to it. Yum. Purr. However, his tin cat-food bowl leapt up and attached itself to the magnetic chip on his collar. He freaked out. There was cat food everywhere as he tried to run away with the bowl still stuck to his collar. I chased after him and detached the bowl. He ran into the utility room and thwang, got sucked onto the washing machine. The magnets must be very strong, I thought as I tried not to laugh. Poor Yoda. Such is the glamour of my life, Tom Lewis, I thought as I grabbed hold of Yoda and removed the collar. He ran out through the cat flap, but not before giving me one of his most evil, accusing looks.

  For lunch, I prepared slices of cucumber, then Jed came back from town laden with local cheeses, chutney and fresh olive bread from the deli on Walcot Street. Will start 5:2 again tomorrow.

  *

  Matt called early afternoon. He sounded upbeat.

  ‘Where are you?’ I asked.

  ‘Library. Had a lunch out with Duncan after my session, then signed up for piano lessons, then came here.’

  ‘Piano lessons?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve always wanted to play.’

  ‘But we don’t have a piano.’

  ‘Duncan can get me one on the cheap.’

  ‘Do you know what day it is?’

  ‘Friday.’

  ‘Our wedding anniversary. Thirty-one years.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Not all of them,’ I said.

  Silence. ‘Sorry, Cait. I didn’t forget. I just forgot the date. I’ll make it up to you,’ he said as I spied Yoda crying to come in through the French doors.

  I opened the doors. Yoda stared at me then looked away, bored. I closed the door, only to hear heartbreaking meowing. I opened the door. Yoda looked at me again, put his nose in the air then walked away. I closed the door, only to hear more crying from outside. I ignored it. It became louder. I opened the door.

  ‘I can’t go on like this all day,’ I said.

  Yoda started to come in, then stopped about six inches from the door, as if to say, I might come in, I might not, but if I do, it will be in my own time.

  I picked him up and shoved him through the door just as Jed came into the kitchen. He ran over, picked up Yoda and cuddled him. ‘You’re mean to that cat, Mum,’ he said as Yoda nuzzled in and gave me a smug look.

  Matt appeared back from town an hour later with a large silver envelope. He was in a good mood and looked pleased with himself. I knew he’d come up with something for our anniversary. He’d never forgotten before. For our first Valentine’s together, he’d lined a box with white silk and filled it with Liquorice Allsorts (my favourites back then, before I started the thirty-year-long diet). Another year, he gave me a life-size rubber lizard with a piece of paper rolled up on its tongue that said, ‘I think you’re rubbery.’ Who needed two dozen red roses when you could have your very own fake amphibian? It had made me laugh. Matt used to make me laugh a lot in our early years. For our twenty-fifth anniversary, he bought me twenty-five silver presents, thoughtfully chosen, all wrapped in silver paper. He was a man that could make an effort.

  ‘I thought about this one long and hard when I was out,’ he said. ‘I wanted to get you something special, something you’d really like.’

  I gave him a hug and took the envelope. What this time? I wondered as I ripped it open. I remembered tickets to Paris on our fifth anniversary. Vouchers for a spa break in the Cotswolds for our tenth. A weekend in a romantic hotel in Venice for our twentieth.

  Inside the envelope, there was a photo of a baby orang-utan. I looked to Matt for explanation.

  ‘I know. Isn’t it great?’ he said as he limped over to the fridge then poured himself a glass of juice.

  ‘His name is Pichu. I’ve adopted him for you.’

  ‘Adopted?’

  He grinned. ‘He’s not going to come and live with us. He’s in a sanctuary in Malaysia. While I was at the library, I registered online to pay an amount every month to keep him safe. I remembered you saying once that orang-utans are your favourite animal. I’ll have the photo framed so you can put it somewhere you can see it.’

  It’s true, orang-utans are my favourite animal. Can’t fault him there, I thought, and made a note to store the framed picture in the loft with the rubber lizard.

  He pulled a package out of his case. ‘I also bought this, though it’s for both of us.’

  Ah. I should have known he’d have got something else as well, I thought, until I opened it and saw it was a blood-pressure machine.

  ‘At our time of life, best to keep an eye on it,’ he said.

  So romantic, I reflected as I watched him take it out of its box and put it onto his arm to take a reading. ‘146 over 87,’ he said a few moments later. ‘That’s just about OK, isn’t it? You want a go?’

  I sat at the table and dutifully took my blood pressure. ‘Oh, the larks we have in this house. Endless fun to be had with this,’ I said. ‘No one could ever accuse us of letting the romance fade.’

  ‘No need to be sarcastic,’ said Matt.

  The blood-pressure machine was a big hit. Dad took his, Jed and Martin took theirs.

  ‘Mine’s 128 over 85,’ said Jed to Matt as they compared results.

  ‘I can better my result, get a lower score,’ said Matt. ‘I’ll do it again.’ He put the armband on again, took a few deep breaths and switched the machine on.

  ‘It’s not a competition, Dad,’ said Jed. ‘Hey, let’s do Yoda’s.’

  Yoda took one look at them and was gone.

  *

  Now time to relax, I thought after clearing up the supper dishes. I went to the bedroom to watch TV to find that Jed and Martin were sprawled on our bed. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Mum? It’s the latest series of Twin Peaks. We missed it when it first came out. It’s awesome.’

  ‘Why don’t you watch downstairs?’

  ‘We can’t get near the remote since Granddad moved in. He totally monopolizes that TV.’

  I went back downstairs to find Matt in his den. ‘Our house has been taken over,’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Fancy a glass of wine? It is our anniversary after all.’r />
  Matt hesitated. ‘I would but …’ he patted his stomach, ‘I’m off the booze for a few months. I could get you a glass, though.’

  ‘No. It’s fine. I’ll go and check my emails.’

  Once upstairs, I had a look to see if there was anything from Tom. Nothing. However, there was an email offering free terminal illness cover and insurance to meet funeral costs. Cheerful. All in all, an anniversary to remember.

  32

  Cait

  To do:

  Start 5:2 diet again. Plan out meals. Breakfast: Boiled egg. Stick of celery. Black coffee.

  Lunch: Cup of miso soup.

  Supper: Steamed white fish and one floret of broccoli.

  Items lost: will to live.

  When I got up, I saw that the shared bathroom was full of wet towels and splashes all over the mirrors. The beds in Dad’s room and Jed and Martin’s were unmade.

  Downstairs, the kitchen looked as though a bomb had hit it, with dishes and glasses left from Martin and Jed’s post-TV, late-night snacks. The breadboard was covered in crumbs, and the butter had been left out so it had gone soft. The utility room was full of un-ironed T-shirts, jeans, sheets and shirts, apart from the clean pile I had ironed yesterday. Although Dad had managed perfectly well on his own for a year, since he’d moved in, he’d assumed I would take the role of my late mother and do his laundry, cooking and cleaning. The whole house needed hoovering, and although Matt had promised to help, his back was still troubling him so no joy there.

  I went through to the sitting room to find that it was occupied by four men in dressing gowns. Plates of toast and half-drunk cups of tea littered every surface. All, including Yoda, were watching a Star Trek rerun with the sound turned up loud so that Dad could hear.

  ‘Clearly no one’s taken any notice of my list,’ I said.

  ‘Chill, Mum,’ said Jed. ‘It’s Saturday. Come and watch with us.’

  I glanced over at Matt. He looked sheepish and kept his eyes firmly locked on the TV.

  ‘Got stuff to do,’ I said, and escaped into my office. In my fantasy, Tom’s house in Majorca is spotless and smells of mountain breezes, there are vases of fresh flowers on tables, bowls of exotic fruits in the kitchen. I had a quick look on his Facebook page. He’d been tagged into a few photos. A wedding. He hadn’t mentioned that he was going to one, but then I realized I had no idea how he spent his time or who with. The photo showed him smiling in the middle of a group of women. Harrumph. And another photo on a terrace with a blonde woman, also smiling. He had his arm around her. Huh. Who was she then? I felt a stab of jealousy. Should I ask him? Had he propositioned her as well? Hmm. I didn’t like the feelings the photos brought out in me.

  A text arrived from Debs asking me to meet up for coffee. I texted back that I would, though had a slight sinking feeling that she might want to confront me about Tom.

  Did a quiz on Facebook to see which song was written about me. Who could resist that? I got ‘Wild Thing’ by the Troggs. One learns so much about oneself with these online questionnaires. I am wild, a wild thing; I do outrageous things like go for coffee in town.

  I texted Tom. Realized I have no idea of what you do every day, what your life is like, who you see. Please send days in the life of Tom Lewis so I can get a picture. Cait. X

  *

  Matt

  I am shaved and dressed, not in my dressing gown any more. Cait came into the kitchen but didn’t even look at me so probably didn’t notice my appearance. She had a jacket on.

  ‘Wher—’ I checked myself in time. I knew it bugged her when I asked where she was going. Free spirit, my Cait.

  ‘Have a good time,’ I called as I heard her go out of the front door. She didn’t reply. No matter. I had my own projects to be getting on with.

  I spent a happy day in cyberspace researching various sites for the TV series. I wanted to do one programme about people who had achieved great things after fifty, so spent a few hours reading about people who had started late in life: writers, artists, politicians, entertainers, sportspeople. The lists were endless and inspiring. People who hadn’t let their age define them, who had dreams and aspirations and they’d made them happen. If the series went ahead, it would be an interesting programme to make, plus could be a good section in my book of lists for Cait.

  Cait’s father, Louis, appeared at the door. ‘Got a minute, Matt?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure, come in.’

  Louis came in and sat on the chair opposite my desk.

  ‘Did you need something?’

  Louis shrugged. ‘Not really, just wanted a chat.’

  I turned off my computer and gave him my full attention. ‘All ears.’

  ‘I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but I don’t think living here is working for me,’ he said.

  ‘OK. You mean you want to go back to your house?’

  ‘No. I’m going to let Jed and Martin have that. I’m going to stay and then live permanently at Lorna’s.’

  ‘Lorna’s? OK. Er … does Cait know?’

  ‘Not yet. That’s just it. I don’t know how to tell her. I know she worries about me, and what it means to have me here, but I need my independence. Lorna’s doing work on her house, splitting it into two. Perfect for me – an ex-GP next door, a fantastic garden, and two dogs that remind me of my old Brandy. I can walk them when I want. So I’d have company if I chose but time alone too. Being here has made me realize, I have my own way of doing things, my own routines.’

  ‘Sounds ideal, Louis. So what’s the problem?’

  ‘I don’t want to upset Cait. Don’t mention it just yet.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘And you? How are you getting along?’

  ‘Actually OK. I was a bit lost to begin with—’

  ‘Understandable.’

  ‘But I’m starting to see things differently and view this next chapter not as a void but an opportunity.’

  Louis nodded. ‘I remember when I first retired. I didn’t know what to do with myself, but after a while, you see it as liberating. All my life was about obligations, and suddenly I was free of them. You make sure you enjoy it all. Have a good think about what you’d like to do and make sure you do it.’

  ‘I will. I’m starting to see things that way already. No more having to wear the suit, adhere to fixed times – as you say, liberating.’

  *

  Cait

  In town, I popped into the abbey to say a prayer. I noticed other women dotted about on other pews and wondered if they were asking for guidance as to whether they should run off with their ex-lover.

  I came out feeling peaceful. In the square next to the abbey, a skinny opera singer with an out of tune voice was singing ‘House of the Rising Sun’ by The Animals. I had to resist the urge to go and put a bag over her head and then push her over. Anything to get her to shut up.

  So much for my recently found peace. I went and put a few coins in her hat. Didn’t push her over.

  *

  ‘So how’s it going?’ asked Debs, once we’d ordered coffees and croissants in the café in the square by the Pump Rooms. ‘I was very concerned about you after what you told us at our supper the other night.’

  ‘All good.’

  ‘OK,’ Debs said, though she didn’t look convinced. ‘And how’s your fairy book coming on?’

  I pulled a face. ‘Not so good. I killed them off with turbo-vibrators.’

  ‘Forever?’

  ‘Maybe. Probably. The story needs work and I’m not sure I even want to do it any more. By the way, you didn’t mention that I’d been working on anything to Matt when he came to help you with your brochures, did you, Debs?’

  ‘No, of course not – but maybe you should.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Sounds like you have a lot of secrets from each other at the moment. How is he?’

  ‘A lot happier lately. He’d actually had a shave and had got out of his dressing gown by the time I left this morning.’


  ‘And have you heard any more from Tom?’

  ‘No. It was just a brief catch-up really. I won’t see him again. He was my past, Matt is my present.’ I was aware that this was probably the first time I’d lied to Debs. ‘Seeing him again was just curiosity, really.’

  ‘What’s he like now?’ I felt myself blush and prayed that Debs wouldn’t notice.

  ‘He’s lived an interesting life, doing photography, painting. He’ll be going back to LA soon.’

  ‘But didn’t you say that there was still something between you?’

  I laughed, probably a bit too quickly. ‘We always got on and it was nice to see him, but really we’re very different people now to when we were in our twenties.’ I decided to try and change the subject. ‘What about you? Had any more dates?’

  Debs rolled her eyes. ‘I went on one last night. Almost enough to send me back on the hippie trail. He didn’t look at all like his photo and was really boring. We both knew it was a non-starter, that’s partly why I wanted to meet up with you today. I know how hard it is to find a decent man, and after what you said the other night, I feel very worried that you might lose Matt.’

  ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Because you blush when you talk about Tom, so I know there’s something going on, and because you told us things aren’t going well with Matt.’

  ‘We’ll get through it.’

  ‘Matt is a good man; don’t lose him because of a bad patch or do anything you’ll regret. Retirement for a man is a huge period of adjustment.’

  ‘Lorna made it work when Alistair retired, and so will Matt and I.’

  ‘They retired with pensions and savings, that must have made things easier. No offence, but I know you and Matt don’t have their resources, and that must put an added strain on you.’

  ‘We’ll get by.’

  ‘Well, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know. In the meantime, I think you should tell Matt about seeing Tom.’

  ‘I think that’s a terrible idea. The last thing he needs is to feel threatened by an old lover of mine.’

  ‘But you just said it was innocent. If it really is, then why not mention it to Matt? It would take the secrecy out of it and maintain the trust.’