by Marie Browne
Charlie stared up at the floating umbrella. “Mary Poppins lost at sea,” she muttered.
Up it went and then, turning over, began a rather hurried descent. It landed with a particularly sickening thud on top of Steve’s boat. I winced at the sound and really hoped it hadn’t scratched his paintwork.
Charlie and I looked at each other and then hurried over to retrieve it. We dragged the snapped and mangled sun shade back to the garden.
Charlie prodded it with her foot and winced at the damage. “Geoff can fix that?”
“Probably.” I had a closer look. Two of the spars had snapped but, apart from that, it seemed OK. “Good job it didn’t land in the river,” I said. “I stripped off the canvas cover and laid it gently down at my feet.
Mortimer had been lying in the shade of the boat. Being black he didn’t like hot days and spent most of his time wandering from shady patch to shady patch and drinking copious amounts of water. I’d taken to filling his water bowl with ice cubes and he would delicately pick one up and hold it in his mouth for a few moments before spitting it out, staring at it, and then holding it in his mouth again.
The drop in temperature had revitalised him and, heaving himself up from his favourite spot, he wandered over to see what we were doing.
Well, we obviously had a very big stick. Grabbing one end of the umbrella he began tugging it down the garden. I yelped and Charlie groaned as we watched his strong teeth close around the fragile spars.
After we had chased the dog around the garden and retrieved the mangled umbrella skeleton, Charlie prodded it again. “Do you think Geoff can still fix that?”
Nearly every spar was now broken, bent or missing. The central pole had a Morse Code line of teeth marks embedded in the soft pine. I dropped it to the ground. “Probably not.”
After we had folded the cover and shoved the upright into the log store, Charlie finally remembered what she had been going to tell me before the sun shade debacle.
“I’ve booked myself one of those intensive driving courses,” she said.
“So how does that work?” I’d heard of these. I’d heard they were good but very expensive.
“I managed to get on a course next week. The last space. I drive every day, all day for that week and then at the end of the week I take my theory test,” she said.
“OK, what about your actual test?”
“That gets taken as soon as there’s a space,” she said.
“Have you booked this already?” It sounded like quite a good idea.
Charlie nodded. “I’ve booked it in Peterborough so I can go in with Geoff.”
Well that was a good idea. I took a deep breath and asked the question I knew I wouldn’t like the answer to. “How much was it?”
Charlie winced. “Eight hundred and eighty-eight pounds.”
Yikes! Obviously instant gratification comes with a designer price tag.
Every day for the next week, I waved the van off with Charlie and Geoff inside. She would turn up at the end of the day, tired but happy. It seemed as though she was managing to get to grips with driving just fine. I supposed that two years on a motorcycle had given her that extra level of caution that new, young drivers seem to lack and commented to Geoff that maybe every new driver should have to spend at least a year on a moped. The accident figures would go down and maybe the insurance rates as well.
He’d stared at me for a moment and then commented that yes, perhaps the car accident figures would go down but the bike accident figures would go through the roof. On reflection, I had to agree, I hadn’t considered that.
On Friday morning my middle child was, quite frankly, a gibbering wreck.
“What if I fail my theory test?” She was wandering up and down the boat and the rest of the family had taken refuge on the sofa in an effort to get out of her way.
“You’ll do fine,” I said. She’d spent every night of the previous week reading the highway code and running practise theory tests on the computer. “But if you let your nerves get the better of you that’s when you’re going to be in trouble.
She nodded and took a couple of deep breaths. “I can do this.”
I nodded “Of course you can.”
“Can you pick me up from the train station at about twelve-ish?” She gave me a big smile. “My test’s at ten and after that I’ve got nothing to do.”
I assured her I’d be there to pick her up and then I booted them out of the boat. As the silence descended Sam and I settled down to work out what we were going to do with our morning. We finally decided that we’d go bowling, it kept Sam out of nature’s way and the alley was right next to the train station so Charlie could come and find us.
Around midday, after Sam had beaten me seven games to three, we got the phone call, I made a cautious face at Sam and put the phone on speaker.
“We’re over at the bowling alley.” I winced and then asked the question I’d been dreading, Charlie’s telephone manner never gave anything away. “So, did you pass?”
“Duh, yeah of course I did, Mum.” Charlie voice was loaded with scorn. “Why, did you think I wouldn’t? Huh typical, nobody ever gives me credit for anything.”
“That’s just not tr …” I shut my mouth and looked at the phone, she’d already gone.
Sam looked at me and shook his head. “Nice try, Mum.”
I had to sigh.
Charlie was high on success for about a week but as her actual driving test approached she became more and more morose.
“I’m going to fail.” She had spent hours on the computer looking up pass statistics and had been listening to horror stories from friends and relatives. “Nobody ever passes first time.”
I shrugged. “Well, if you do fail you’ll be in good company, won’t you?” I said. You can always book another test.” I thought about the whole thing for a moment. “Tell you what, I’ll pay for the next one. If you keep in mind that passing first time is unlikely and just look at this as a practice you won’t get nervous and make mistakes.”
It was the same advice my father had given me thirty years ago when I’d been worried about my own test. I’d failed the first one and he’d been proved right. The second test I passed with flying colours and no nerves at all.
Charlie nodded. “I suppose so,” she said. Picking up her bag she checked her watch. “Well, let’s get this over with shall we? Can you give me a ride to the train station?”
Searching for shoes, rucksack, and car keys, I really hoped she was going to be one of the few that passed first time.
Later that afternoon Geoff brought her home. He’d called me from the end of the drive to put the kettle on and had deliberately given me no information at all. Sam and I waited with rising trepidation; a failed Charlie was going to be an angry Charlie. Eventually, she stepped through the front doors and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The big smile on her face told us everything we needed to know; she had passed.
“Oh, well done you!” I said. “So, apart from actually passing how did it go?”
“Terrifying,” she said.
“Really? Did you get one of those dour examiners with no personality and a desire to make you as uncomfortable as possible?”
“No, not at all,” she said. “The examiner was great. But, we were driving down this road and he was saying that we were going to find somewhere quiet to do a three-point turn.”
She looked up at me to make sure I was paying attention.
I nodded “Go on.”
With a bit of a laugh Charlie cracked a couple of knuckles; she always does this when she’s nervous. “Well we turned into this really shabby housing estate but halfway down the road we were blocked by police vans and cars. There was an ambulance there as well.” She paused to take a breath.
“Oh dear, not what you want to encounter on your test,” I said.
She shook her head. “No,” she said, “not really. Anyway, we pulled over because this policeman waved us down and then the doors of the van
s opened and all these police in riot gear leapt out and attacked a house over the road.”
“What?”
She nodded. “The examiner called the policeman over and told him that we were on a driving test. He asked if we could turn around and the policeman said it was all right. So the examiner had me do a three point turn there and then and go back the way we came.”
“Oh good grief, it could only happen to you,” I said.
Charlie nodded again. “As we were driving away there were three really big bangs that sounded like gun shots. I put my foot down and I’m fairly sure we were exceeding the speed limit as we went round the corner. But the examiner was looking out of the back window so he didn’t notice and I did slow down as soon as we were out of sight.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I’m fairly sure that should have been an immediate fail.”
“Well, it might not have been a gun,” I said, “It might have just been one of those great big ram things they use to bash in a door. I can imagine that would make a fairly big bang.”
Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “I wasn’t looking out of the window, I was just looking forward.
I had to laugh. “Ah well, at least you passed.”
She nodded. “When he said I’d passed, he said that I’d performed an excellent three-point turn, under pressure and I was very deft.” She sat down on the sofa and began to laugh. “I’m fairly sure I could have done a ‘U’ turn if I’d been given the opportunity.”
“Well, however you passed that’s it, you’ve done it!” I reached into the cupboard and brought out a cup cake. “Well done, you never need to do that again.”
She thought about it for a moment and then gave me a great big smile. “I really don’t, do I?” she said.
I shook my head and watched with a certain amount of trepidation as she ate the cup cake in silence. I could almost see the cogs whirring around in her head. I knew exactly what was coming and sure enough …
“So …” She wiped the crumbs from her face and grinned at me. “Can I borrow the car tonight?”
I handed her the keys. “You break my car, I kill you and hide your body, do I make myself clear?”
Charlie jumped up and gave me a hug. She never took my threats seriously. “Thanks, Momma Bear.”
After she’d disappeared I turned to Geoff. “Guns?”
Geoff nodded. “Actually there are quite a few places now that have gun problems. It’s not just London, you know.” he said.
“Really?” I couldn’t believe it, I know that we live in quiet isolation but it was hard to believe such a sleepy town had that sort of a problem.
Geoff nodded again. “There’s a problem with real guns, but they have quite a lot of trouble with imitation guns as well.” He frowned for a moment. “Well, they used to; I’m not sure how it is now.”
“So it could actually have been shots fired on Charlie’s test today.” I was aghast, I’d put it down to her over-active imagination and a desire to make things seem more ‘exciting’.
“Oh, quite easily.” Geoff took a sip of his tea. “I like living out here, don’t you?”
I nodded slowly. “Wow, the only thing we have to worry about is funny smells and the occasional bit of thievery.”
I realised that, in the time we had lived here, real life seemed to have passed me by and I was completely out of touch with what was happening in the world. The thought didn’t really upset me. If that was the way society was going I’d be more than happy to stay on the sidelines.
Chapter Nine:
September’s Weather’s Cold And Strange. Looks
Like Things Are Going To Change.
September is a bit of an odd time for boaters. It’s one of those months that’s ignored as we all rush about getting ready for winter. With the first leaf to hit the ground, the first child in a new school uniform, and a decided lack of tourists on the water we all tend to turn into hoarders and spend every waking hour adding to our stockpiles of wood and coal.
“Can you order some coal today?” Geoff had his head in the cupboard trying to reach the last of the teabags.
“No problem.” I was hammering on Sam’s door. After a long, warm summer holiday he was strangely reticent about getting out of bed and back to the hubbub of school life. “Don’t forget I’ve got my interview today so I’ll try to call them when I come back this afternoon.”
Geoff emerged from the cupboard and grinned at me. “Good luck for that,” he said. “Are you sure you want to go back to the hospital?”
I swatted him with a tea towel. He’d had to put up with my constant whining about working in the ‘normal world’, as I’d put it, for most of July. He knew very well that there was no way I was going to work anywhere other than the hospital.
Working the short contract with the big drug company in Cambridge had been a very odd experience, certainly unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. The two ladies I worked with in the Accounts Department had been lovely, welcoming, and just happy that someone was willing to step in for a short time while they found someone full-time.
I’d been there about three hours before I could feel the general malaise setting in.
I stuck out like a sore thumb. The company was progressive, modern and decidedly ‘young’ and those that weren’t naturally young worked extremely hard at appearing to be. Although the working environment was intended to be casual and laid back, I found the whole thing extremely stressful.
The ‘casual’ clothing that the staff wore seemed to be well beyond even what I would consider to be my best. Designer labels and stiletto heels, lots of make-up and high-pitched laughter followed the ladies around. The men wore those odd shoes that seemed to be six inches too long for their feet and end in a vicious point. The whole place stank of expensive perfume and aftershave and designer, fair trade, and recyclable fruit boxes littered the pristine canteen.
The longer I worked there the more irritated I became with the whole thing. The windows wouldn’t open and the whole building was either freezing cold or boiling hot (obviously ‘climate controlled’ meant the staff not the building. I would have agreed to anything if they’d promised to turn the heat down.) My new boss was ill the entire time I was there but there was no way she was going to take time off to recover. She seemed completely panicked that, if she let go of the reins for even one moment, she would be replaced. So, despite having a chest infection where she was actually coughing up blood, she would drag herself in day after day and stress herself into infinity that she wasn’t getting enough work done. At the end of the day she would pack up her laptop and prepare to do at least another two hours at home. It was madness.
Moving some old invoices one afternoon, I was amusing myself by wandering around the huge filing room and opening the sliding shelves to see what was hidden there. Right at the back was an entire shelf filled with costumes and water guns. I pushed the shelves apart, curious to see what else was hidden from sight. Sequined cowboy hats, fairy costumes, cushions, glitter and right at the bottom were eight big bottles of champagne. Not your normal-sized bottles, these were huge, I think at 300cl, they’re called Jeroboams and it wasn’t a cheap supermarket brand. Oh no, there were three bottles of Moët, four bottles of Bollinger and one, normal sized, bottle of Dom Perignon. Out of curiosity I did a quick price check on the net. Over £1000 worth of champagne just stuck in a cupboard. It seemed to really epitomise the way the company worked. It’s no wonder the NHS is struggling, now I know why companies charge so much for drugs.
The contract had ended the day Sam had finished school for the summer holidays. Although I’d miss the two rather put-upon ladies I’d been working with, I knew full well I wouldn’t miss the other shallow, money-hungry members of staff at all. I left without one single regret and from then on made sure that getting back to the comfortable, budgetarily constrained, stressful environment of the hospital my number one priority.
Standing back in the hospital that afternoon I was attacked by the
nervous stomach butterflies. I had been lucky to get an interview for this job, I wasn’t really qualified to be a Physiotherapy Assistant but I could see the benefits of getting such a position.
Surprisingly the interview went very well and even my practical test, which involved a role play of helping someone with an injured leg negotiate stairs on crutches, went well. They went up the stairs and came down the stairs and neither of us ended up in a broken, crying heap at the bottom.
The very next day I got the telephone call I’d been waiting for.
“We’d like to offer you the position.”
The poor man on the other end of the phone must have been deafened by my whoops of glee.
“Shall I take that as acceptance of our offer?” He laughed at my ecstatic agreement.
So that was it. Back at the hospital I entered the strange and slightly stressful realm of the physiotherapy teams and it only took about two weeks before I realised these people don’t get anywhere near the respect they deserve. Working with the elderly in the trauma ward I spent my entire day overseeing exercises, helping ladies to the toilet, and supporting them in every way after some particularly painful operations such as hip replacements. There was extensive and in-depth training in techniques that I was expected to use immediately and I was teamed up with either a senior assistant or a physiotherapist.
I watched as physiotherapists were slapped, shouted at, pushed away, or just ignored and wondered where on earth they got their incredibly positive attitudes from. I was just an assistant but they had been doing this for years. Each patient got their undivided attention, they changed their tactics to try and get people mobile, did nursing jobs that really weren’t in their job description, and generally acted like little rays of sunshine.
It was like working with super beings and although I was incredibly proud to be wearing the dark blue trousers and light blue tunic that was the assistant’s uniform, I was never sure I could ever live up to the way they worked. It was amazingly enjoyable and rewarding but totally exhausting and, after the first month, I could see why so many of them opted to only work part-time. The days were filled with small victories which balanced out the occasional sadness but at the end of every day I felt as though I’d been run over by a truck. Working full-time, I began to look forward to January when my hours would change.