Autumns Colours

by Nick Holloway

  ‘Well, if you girls will play with…’

  She didn’t finish the sentence, and there was a long pause while Mrs Jenkins put some papers in an envelope. Zoe was nervous. She wondered if she was supposed to say something else. Eventually, Primrose Jenkins, married with no children, asked Zoe a question.

  ‘I don’t know at the moment. I’ll have to let you know.’

  ‘You’ll have to put this in writing, my dear. And you must let me know the expected date of delivery.’

  ‘I will, as soon as I know.’

  ‘Very well. Is that all?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. Thank you.’

  Zoe closed the office door behind her and made for the back door, her cigarettes and lighter in hand.

  * * * * * *

  ‘Anna, Lucy looks upset. Do you think you could have a look at her? I asked her if she was feeling unwell, but she said it was nothing. But she isn’t right, I don’t think.’

  ‘OK, I’ll go up in a minute, Dot.’

  Dot was already disappearing back to the laundry. Lucy was about eighty. She was a shrunken and shrivelled old woman who weighed about five stone and whose skin seemed barely to cover her bones. A stroke had completely paralysed her down her right side. She was a frail scrap of a thing who took a lot of looking after, but she seemed to endear herself to people. She seemed to be the sort of person someone went into care work to look after. Anna went upstairs and along the corridor.

  ‘Hi Ralph!’ she called as she passed.

  She arrived at Lucy’s room and went straight in. Lucy was still sat with the photo in her lap. The truth was that she hadn’t the strength to put it back on the dressing table.

  In a sudden flash of remembrance, Anna recalled having a conversation with someone about Lucy some time ago. Apparently the same upset had occurred at what must have been the same time last year. Was that a year ago, already? There was a folded-up wheelchair behind the door, and Anna unfolded it and sat in it, manoeuvring it to be close to Lucy.

  ‘Is it the anniversary, Luce?’ Lucy nodded.

  ‘Is it the anniversary today?’

  Lucy nodded. Anna held the old lady’s hand in hers, very gently. It was cold. She picked up the photo.

  ‘Was he a good man, Lucy?’

  ‘He was a good man,’ Lucy replied softly, putting an emphasis on the word ‘good’. ‘He was a good man to everybody.’

  Several of the staff could remember meeting Douglas Anderson, though not Anna. He had been Lucy’s second husband. What had become of the first, Lucy would take to the grave with her. She never mentioned him. Lucy and Doug had been happily married for many years. Her stroke had occurred about four years ago and was the reason for her admission to the home. She had been severely disabled by it, losing the use of her right arm and leg, with the result that Doug had been unable to cope with her needs at home.

  The two of them had never been apart for any length of time before and this enforced separation caused both of them considerable grief. In effect, it ended their marital relationship. They were no longer husband and wife, as most of us understand the expression, but patient and visitor. And Doug had been a regular visitor to his beloved Lucy. Three times each week he would arrive, on the bus or by taxi. Christine would bring her father in each Friday afternoon, because she finished work at lunchtime on Fridays.

  Lucy had been unprepared for her husband’s sudden death exactly three years ago, the sixth of August. Apparently he had collapsed and died in the garden.

  ‘He loved his garden, did my Doug.’

  His death had seriously affected his wife, who wept and wouldn’t eat properly for many days afterwards. She was desperate to attend his funeral, but Colin, her son by her first marriage, had decided she was too frail to cope with such an event. She had been made to feel abandoned and was to this day very sad and bitter towards her son. She had lost all enthusiasm for life. ‘I’ve been robbed of any need to live’ she would whisper.

  So she sat in her blue plastic covered armchair, her catheter bag half full beside her and the photo of Doug in her lap.

  ‘Yes, he was a very good man.’

  ‘Today’s Thursday’ thought Anna. ‘Christine will be in tomorrow. Best to leave Lucy on her own with her treasured memories. No need to contact the family.’

  Colin lived somewhere in the Midlands, as far as Anna knew. He might have visited Lucy at some point, but such a visit would have been a rarity. He had fallen out with his mother a long time ago, probably over her marriage to Doug. Neither of them seemed willing to repair the breach in their relationship. Colin had not even visited his mother when Doug had died, to the very vocal disgust of some of the staff. He had communicated the funeral arrangements to Christine, having her tell Lucy that they would not be taking her to her husband’s funeral. Christine also resented Colin for his treatment of the old lady. Anna sat with her precious little Lucy for several minutes. She put her arm around the old lady and kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘I’m sure he was a very good man’ she said.

  * * * * * *

  The front door bell rang. As Amy reached the foyer she could see Evangeline Jacobs, ‘Darset born and Darset bred’, standing at the door with three carrier bags in one hand and a large box under the other arm. The double lock was slipped back and Evangeline made her entry.

  ‘Thank you, Amy.’

  ‘You’re welcome. You look loaded! Are they heavy? Do you want me to carry something? Shall I carry one of the bags?’

  ‘Bless you, child! Aye, take a couple of they bags. That’s right!’ The two of them set off down the corridor.

  ‘Are these things for your mum’s room, then?’

  ‘Oh no, my lover, these aren’t for our Winifred. They’s for the summer show. I promised Primrose a couple of my paintings for the raffle. And in that box there’s some jams from last autumn. You may as well ‘ave some of they, too. They keeps well enough.’

  They stood outside the manager’s office and Evangeline took the bags from Amy and put them on the floor. She knocked on the door, and without waiting for a reply went straight in.

  ‘Weird woman!’ said Amy to herself.

  In fact Evangeline was an industrious and talented woman who earned her living by painting other people’s pets, from prize-winning bulls and rosette-adorned pedigree dogs to scruffy family pets. And she made wines, pickles and jams.

  * * * * * *

  The preparations for the home’s Summer Fayre were gathering pace. Room 18, barren of any occupants, had been set aside for storing clothing, books, china, still more clothing and what could only be described as junk. Items were sorted and priced as time allowed. Several black bin-bags of clothing judged to be ‘beyond’ were disposed of by Trevor, the handyman. Adrienne had pulled the two huge hardboard signs from under the fire escape stairs and dusted them. Trevor had then tied them to the railings along the front of the home, having updated the date from last year. So now the whole neighbourhood could make plans to support The Golden Treasures Care Home Summer Fayre.

  * * * * * *

  Dave glanced up from the catalogue he was looking at. A smart• looking man dressed in a suit and a bow tie had knocked on the door of his room and was walking in.

  ‘Hello!’ the smartly-dressed man was saying. He was putting a briefcase down on the floor. Now he had picked up a chair and was sitting almost opposite him. Dave thought it best to say nothing. He didn’t trust these people. He knew that he recognised the visitor, but he couldn’t remember who he was.

  ‘Hello, Dad. Are you talking to me today?’ said the stranger.

  * * * * * *

  Old Rose’s well-kept secret came to light in a most unexpected way. Nobody at The Happy Memories Home for Weary Pilgrims was remotely aware of any aspect of her early life. This was the case with many of the residents. Staff only caught a glimpse of their childhood, adolescence or early adult years if they chose to talk about their past or if relatives or friends mentioned something. As might b
e imagined, some were only too happy to tell of the hardships of their younger days, of living through the war, of ration books, of the time when they had had to make their own entertainment.

  With Old Rose, little was known about her past, since she hardly ever spoke about it. She didn’t speak much about anything. She was a plump old lady. Very plump and very old. She suffered considerable discomfort from a worsening arthritis in her arms and legs. She sat all day in front of the TV that was always on in the lower lounge. She was quite anonymous. She was got up in the mornings, toileted during the day and put to bed in the evenings. In between these activities she refused to eat her meals properly, preferring to eat numerous snacks brought in for her by friends from the nearby Bethel Baptist church.

  Apparently Rose had never married, so there were no children or grandchildren. In fact there appeared to be no family at all. On arriving at the home she gave as her next of kin one of the Baptist Church elders. He would, she insisted, take care of all her affairs when her end came.

  Anna was taken aback one morning when Old Rose made a request.

  ‘If it’s not going to cause too much trouble, since today is my bath day, I would like the girl Zoe to bath me.’

  Sure enough, when Anna checked, it was Rose’s bath day. But the old lady was not known for relishing the prospect of a bath. Moving from armchair to wheelchair and from wheelchair to bath hoist made her worn-out bones creak and was clearly painful. On the other hand, Rose did say that once in the water the warmth eased the discomfort a little. So a puzzled Zoe wheeled Old Rose into the bathroom, the bath already half full. The young carer carefully and painstakingly undressed the old lady, helped her shuffle on to the bath hoist, swung her around and lowered her into the warm water. She washed her all over and let her soak in the warmth for a few minutes. During all of this they exchanged some polite words and then Zoe hoisted Rose out of the water. Suspended on the hoist in mid-air, she was delicately dried and powdered and the top half of her dressed. She was then lowered to the floor and Zoe completed the drying and dressing.

  All of this exertion made Rose breathless. She spoke in short sentences, catching her breath in the hot and talcum powdered air of the bathroom.

  ‘Now, my dear,’ said Rose, ‘Are you young Zoe?’

  ‘Yes, I’m Zoe,’ replied Zoe.

  ‘Well, my dear, I’ve something important to say to you, some advice as you might say.’

  ‘Have you? What’s that?’

  ‘Look, sit down for a moment, my dear.’

  Zoe was about to pick up a hairbrush, but on hearing the tone of Rose’s voice she put it down and sat on the chair.

  ‘Now, I’ve something to tell you, my dear, that’s for your ears only. Do you promise me that you’ll not tell another soul?’

  The old lady stared at Zoe, who nodded.

  ‘I understand that you are…’ she hesitated, ‘with child, my dear. Is this so?’

  Another nod. Old Rose continued in short, breathless sentences.

  ‘I was once in the same predicament as you, my dear. With child and without a husband. But, as sure as I sit here I have never seen that child, my child, from the day I gave birth to him to this very day.’ She paused for breath again.

  ‘I was in service, my dear, to a very well-to-do, well-off family’ she continued. ‘I was about your age, Zoe my dear, about sixteen, and I lived in the attic of the family’s mansion house. In a room set aside for servants. Well, the master of the house, the lord of the manor so to speak, a man about the age of my own father, had his way with me, if I may put it like that, on one occasion. Only the one occasion, mind you. I don’t want you to think I was a loose young woman, my dear. I’m convinced that he behaved as he did because he believed me to be young and naïve, which I was of course.

  ‘Well, when he discovered I was expecting his child he had me sent away to serve in another large house far away for me to have the baby there. Can you believe that? But the worst part was that after I had given birth the baby was taken away from me. Snatched away! Just like that! As if it didn’t belong to me! It was a boy. Whether he was taken to an orphanage or adopted by someone, I don’t know to this very day.’

  Zoe leaned over and tore off some toilet tissue. She handed it to Rose, who wiped tears from her eyes.

  ‘Of course, you have to understand that I was so young in those days, added to which a servant girl didn’t have much say about anything.’

  ‘No.’

  Old Rose leaned forward and placed a bent and arthritic hand on

  Zoe’s knee, as if to emphasize the gravity of what she was about to say.

  ‘Now, my dear, what I most wanted to say to you, the point of me telling you this, is this. You make sure that you look after that baby of yours when it arrives. The best gift you can give to your infant is to be a good and caring mother, a loving mother. A devoted mother. Being a mother was something that was denied to me. Sad, but there it is. Promise me that you’ll do all you can to be a good mother to that baby of yours.’

  ‘I promise!’

  ‘And mind you don’t tell a soul what I’ve just told you.’

  ‘Oh, no. No, I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul!’ whispered a gob• smacked Zoe.

  Quiz

  Suggested answers are in italics.

  ‘Convincing eighty-two year old Toby that he should move into a care home had been easier than Andrea had anticipated.’

  32. Toby is worried about moving into your care home. What could he be worried about?

  • Is he going to be properly looked after?

  • Will he regret the decision?

  • Are his family going to visit him regularly or slowly forget about him?

  • What will become of his house, his furniture, his gardening tools?

  • Will he make new friends?

  • What will become of his savings?

  • Will he be able to make phone calls?

  • Will he be allowed to go out with his daughters for the day?

  33. What benefits will Toby enjoy when he moves into your care home?

  • No worries for him or his daughters about shopping, cooking his meals, washing up.

  • No worries about washing and ironing his clothes.

  • No worries about heating bills.

  • His medicines are ordered for him and given to him regularly.

  • He can make arrangements to visit his daughters or they can visit him whenever it’s convenient.

  • He has constant supervision and care.

  • Should he have another fall, help is at hand straight away.

  ‘Mrs Primrose Jenkins and Miss Zoe Mitchell sat on either side of the office desk. The one was secure and certain about her future, the other was feeling insecure and uncertain about her future…’

  ‘Now, what is it that’s so important?’ ‘I think I might be pregnant.’

  34. If you had been listening to this conversation what thoughts might have been going through your mind?

  • Mrs Jenkins disapproves of Zoe getting pregnant.

  • Mrs Jenkins is jealous of Zoe being pregnant because she has no children.

  • Zoe is being made to feel ashamed of what she has done.

  • They represent two generations who do not understand or appreciate one other.

  35. Which of the following might be a carer in your care home and which a resident? And which could be either? How do you decide?

  Gemma, Edna, Zoe, Donna

  Jade, Mabel, Beryl, Leanne

  Gladys, Doreen, Winifred, Anne

  Victoria, Emma, Ruby, Daisy

  You probably decide by thinking of people you know with these names. I have never cared for a resident called Gemma or one called Donna! Who names their daughter ‘Edna’ these days?

  36. In what ways might Zoe Mitchell’s future differ from

  Primrose Jenkins’s future?

  • Mrs Jenkins has a future which appears to be predictable, Zoe’s future is not.


  • Mrs Jenkins has a future that appears to be financially secure, Zoe’s future is not.

  • One is in a stable relationship, the other not. Ah, but which one? Don’t pre-judge people!

  ‘Lucy had been unprepared for her husband’s sudden death, exactly three years ago to the day, the sixth of August. Apparently, he had collapsed and died in the garden.’

  37. Lucy and Doug were unprepared for something that was inevitable. How could this have been avoided?

  • Nobody is able to predict the time of their death, but as age creeps along it would be wise to think about the fact that you will be on your own one day, or that your partner will be.

  • By discussing aspects of death with your partner.

  • By making a will.

  • By making family members aware of funeral matters such as burial or cremation, favourite hymns.

  • By making sure insurance policies are able to be found easily.

  • By making sure that organ donor wishes are known about.

  ‘Rose’s well kept secret came to light in a most unexpected way.’

  38. Why do you suppose Old Rose kept this matter a secret for so long?

  • Because she was ashamed of it.

  • Her attitude was, ‘It’s none of your business!’

  • It was in the distant past and didn’t matter to Rose any more.

  • She thought she might be criticised for not trying to find the missing child.

  • She thought somebody else might try to find the missing child.

  39. What might be the reason for Rose telling Zoe about it?

  • She believed they were both in a similar situation, though generations apart:

  • A man had ‘had his way’ with each of them.

  • Each was ‘with child’ as a result.

  • Each was pregnant without a husband.

  • She wanted Zoe to be a good mother, to value motherhood.

  • She was still grieving for her lost child.