by stan graham
Strangely enough that stink seems to have gone though perhaps it’s because the weather has got a bit cooler.
Dave Tontine has now got himself an invalid scooter. Not that there is anything wrong with him but when Mrs Betty Mitchell died a couple of weeks ago he asked if he could buy it. Apparently the daughter let him have it cheap. So now we have him buzzing around like a blue arsed fly, with his dog on his lap, back and forth, up and down, round and round, he makes me dizzy just to see him.
I've been here now for six months. One day follows another. It’s still light in the mornings at about 6.30am. I wake at about then and read a little until 7am when I get up. Wash, before going into the kitchen to make some breakfast. Usually two slices of toast and marmalade sometimes Kellogg Corn Flakes if I can't be bothered to make toast, all washed down with a cup of tea.
I came here in March and it's now August. Longest day has been and gone although they all seem long sometimes.
I worry about the number of people dying here. I think there may be a plot to get rid of us. Then they could sell the land to a property developer or something. I shall keep my eyes and ears open for clues.
I see the postman arriving into the courtyard and going into the flats opposite. He will be in my block soon, about five minutes, as long as he doesn't get waylaid by any of the other residents. Some of them are so desperate for a bit of company. That Nelson block is like the Bermuda Triangle, postman goes in and never seems to come out.
No consideration whatsoever for those of us that might be expecting a bit of post. I hear the entrance door open as he comes into Winston block, he goes to the lady downstairs, and I hear him push something through her letterbox. The main door swings open and shut, he's walking back down the path. At least I don’t have to wait for the postman to deliver my pension I get it paid straight into the bank. No letters for me today, people just don’t write to each other nowadays. When I was a young girl you used to get several deliveries a day, you could post a letter in the morning and it would be delivered the same day. I don’t know what the world is coming too.
Reverend Colin Clarke reminded us that next Sunday he will be holding the Harvest Festival service and that any donations of food would be most welcome.
Today is August Bank holiday. No post, nothing to look forward too. Paper-boy was the only person I saw today when he delivered my Mail. Sat in the flat and sweltered.
Would you believe it! Yesterday Smythe hired a small people carrier to take some of the residents for a trip to a Bird Sanctuary. Apparently they had organised it ages in advance and he had been collecting their money each week to pay for it. Dave Tontine told me about it. Big smirk all over his face, “You missed a good day out yesterday Mrs. We went on a tour, had a pub lunch and then went on to look at some birds. It was lovely, hundreds of them there were, really tame too. Then we watched a bloke with some Falcons an Eagles and Buzzards. It were a real treat, pity you missed it. Supposed you stayed in did you?”
“As a matter of fact I did. I wasn’t invited to go, not that I would have anyway. I have plenty to occupy myself with without gallivanting all over the place. Besides who wants to spend all day looking at a bunch of birds. You can’t eat them can you.”
“Well you missed a right good day I can tell you. Still you weren’t missed.”
The sauce of the man I was livid. “Take your dog with you did you?” I asked.
“No Missus, he would have chased the birds everywhere. Besides he’s getting incontinent and wouldn’t have been able to hold himself during the coach journey. He is 12 years old, that’s 84 in dog years you know.” Silly old fool.
“Oh can we expect you to be incontinent when you reach eighty four then?”
“There’s no need for that Missus.”
I am still fuming from yesterday but to make matters worse the curtain in my kitchen has fallen down, one of the hooks became unglued. Jane had fixed it up with cup hooks glued to the window frame but I knew they wouldn’t last. I told her so but would she listen?
“They are what I use at home mum, they will last forever,” she had said.
Wait till I tell her. In the meantime I have got everybody and his wife looking into my kitchen. I tried gluing it back but it just keeps falling down. Much as I dislike saying this men are better at this sort of thing. Of course when Arthur was alive I never had these problems, he always had the right tool or adhesive for the job and would do it without any fuss. Don’t know what I can do, I’ll wait until Jane phones and ask her what’s best.
It is Thursday so I should stay in to do the ironing only I don't feel like doing it today. "Slack Alice never gets any work done" mother used to say. The sun is shining, perhaps I could allow myself a walk to the park. Pity I have not got a dog they always give one an excuse to go out. Nothing too big, perhaps one of those little Jack Russell's or a Yorkshire Terrier. Maybe not, those little dogs always seem to be a bit yappy. Perhaps it’s just as well because it really is too hot to go out.
I powder my nose and check my hair, even if one is staying in there's no excuse for letting standards slip. Put on my purple top and pearl necklace. Someone might call. I dig out my crossword magazine, only two puzzles left to do, have to make them last until the new one comes out, warning device five letters, alarm, no siren. Witch, three letters Hmm, hag. Put it down you silly old woman there will be nothing left at this rate. Thank goodness I'm going to work tomorrow.
Tidy up and get the vacuum cleaner out. They are supposed to have somebody clean the landing outside my flat once a week but I like to give it a going over myself, can't trust other peoples standards so I clean it now and again.
Well that's that, nobody came out to see what I was doing.
Make myself a pot of tea. Good old PG Tips. Watch out the window to see if anything is happening. Nothing is.
I could really do with a cuppa but there's no chance here. Have to wait until I get to a permanent place, upstairs or down.
Paper-boy arrives with my Daily Mail, he should have delivered it this morning but they do what they like and if you complain they just tell you to stop whining and think yourself lucky to get it at all. He won’t be getting a tip at Christmas I can tell you. I sit and read it, starting at the back page where the crossword puzzle is kept. Ten minutes and I've done it. Then start at the front page. More war going on in Iraq. Don't know why they don't just let them get on with it. If they all killed each other we could have all their oil. I read through the paper, wonder why I buy it sometimes, all the news is bad. People getting killed or divorced. Wasn't so rampant in my day, marriage was for life, and if you killed someone they hung you so that you couldn't do it again. That stopped them. Why can’t they just print good news in the paper, because nothing good ever happens I suppose.
Comic strip page, but that’s for children. Suppose its a good idea get children to read the paper when they are young and then they have a reader for life, finally the letters, they are always interesting, that’s why I save it until last.
Make myself some lunch. Bowl of chicken soup, Heinz of course, don't hold with these supermarket brands, you only get what you pay for. Slice of bread to go with the soup. Granny Hawkins used to call it Jewish penicillin.
I don't like to mention it but I sometimes get the feeling that Arthur is still around. Call me a silly old woman and there are plenty that would but there are times when I could swear I heard him say something. Course I don't tell anyone in case they think I am going senile with that Old-timers disease. That’s all they need to put you away. "All for your own benefit my dear." I know they talk about me and call me antisocial just because I am not a goody two shoes. They think they are good citizens just because they go to the community centre. Hah.
I see a crowd all wearing black collecting outside Wellington, must be another funeral. Not sure whose though, can’t be Betty Mitchell’s hers was a fortnight ago. Could be a friend of Dave Tontine, he is standing there looking very dapper in a dark suit. Never seen him lo
oking so clean. I suppose at our age all you can look forward to is watching your friends dying off and a smug feeling that there’s another one that you have beaten.
So who is benefiting from these deaths?
Well Dave Tontine got himself a cheap invalid scooter from Betty’s daughter. Would he have killed her for that? Of course he would that man has the morals of an alleycat. He invited me round to his flat once, said he had a DVD he thought I would like to watch with him. Return of the Killer Zombies. What can watching rubbish like that be doing to his mind? Of course I refused, he got quite upset about it and said I would be sorry. I wonder if that could be construed as a threat.
Now how would Sherlock handle it?
First assemble all the facts.
Usually people die during the winter.
Questioning Smythe has established that during the same period last year only two people died. Can he be relied on?
Who benefits? Dave Tontine bought an invalid scooter cheap from Betty Mitchell’s daughter, hope I can pin it on him. Anybody else, I would have to see the will. Would that be possible? Probably not.
Does Smythe benefit if somebody dies? He is usually the first person into their flat so he could help himself.
The person who finds the body is often the killer. And that is Smythe.
Eliminate the obvious innocents. All the women.
Apart from Smythe who is always creeping about is anybody behaving suspiciously? Have to think about that.
Well that will do to be going on with. What I need is a Watson to act as a sounding board.
Sue Greystone sent me a birthday invitation. They are holding it in the community centre and I think they invited everybody out of a sense of community spirit. They are into that sort of thing. Well I shan’t be going. She must be a Virgo. I cannot stand Virgo’s. Fussy people, perfectionists, no not my type at all. I gave her a birthday card of course. There wasn’t time to send it. Must not rock the boat..
“Sorry I could not make your party Susan, did you get lot’s of presents?”
“Yes Nigel bought me a lovely watch. Look.” Sue flourished he wrist upon which glittered a diamond-encrusted dial, probably glass.
“Lovely dear, you must be very proud.”
“Oh yes. Nigel always pushes the boat out when it’s my birthday.”
“So I see. You are very lucky. The party went well then?”
“Well it could have been better. Several people didn’t turn up and Nigel had a bit too much to drink as he didn’t want to waste any.”
“Ah well much as expected then. Must dash. See you.”
Why would I want to go to a birthday party for someone that I barely know?
I prefer to forget my birthdays, it’s too depressing. We were going to have a bit of a do for Arthur on his sixtieth but he never made it. He had so looked forward to it as well. Just shows you that you can’t take anything for granted in this life. As Arthur used to say ‘We are dying from the day we are born and that’s the only sure thing on this planet.’ Quite the philosopher my Arthur.
He would watch the quiz shows on the television and shout out the answers at the screen, getting in a fury if someone got a question wrong that he knew the answer too. It used to annoy me though, I would just be going to say the answer and he would shout it out loud. If I said ‘I knew that’ he would just give me a look that said he didn’t believe me. Kept quiet when he got the answer wrong though, oh yes not a word out of him then.
He really could be a boring old fart. Mind you it ran in his family. His Uncle Mike could bore for England with his pedantry. You only had to mention something and he would tell you the history and implications of it. Even when you didn’t want to know. Especially when you didn’t want to know. It was one way to clear a room that’s for sure. Everyone would suddenly find important things to do elsewhere.
As I said to Arthur “You might enjoy listening to him going on about the problem with the Maginot Line during the second world war but it’s not everyone’s cup of P.G.Tips.”
A lot of people think Janice is stuck up but the truth is that she is very very shy.
Although I never realised she was getting so cynical. She does her good deeds quietly, like the time she gave one of Peters little school friends one of Peters raincoats that he had grown out off. And she didn't expect the parents to pay her anything, although she said it would have been nice if they had offered something. Not that she would have taken it I assure you. As I said to her at the time "there are some people who you cannot help to raise above their own level.
I never thought Uncle Mike was boring, he could be a very interesting person. Okay sometimes he went on a bit but that was just to make sure you understood what he was saying."
When the children left home I was still a relatively young woman, in my forties or thereabouts and I thought that rather than just stay at home I would get myself a job and help out the finances. Of course Arthur wasn’t too happy about the idea.
“Don’t I give you enough housekeeping? Have you every wanted for anything?” He asked.
“It’s not that love I just don’t have enough to do at home all day now that the kids are gone.” He seemed to think that I was undermining him, but eventually I made him see sense. “Well it would come in handy as a bit of extra spending money when we go on holiday” I pointed out.
“Have it your own way but I am not going to allow anybody to exploit you.”
I went to the Labour Exchange and looked at the vacancies but there wasn’t anything suitable. The man behind the desk said that I would be best off either asking around my friends or checking the local newspapers. He said that jobs were sometimes advertised in the windows of newsagent shops as well.
In the end I applied for a job as a cleaner in a local café, the Radish. Freddy Charles, the owner was a very nice man, looked like Ronald Coleman with his black hair and moustache. They got a lot of Teddy Boys in there but Freddy kept them under control with his two big white German Shepherd dogs called Sheba and Mike. I wasn’t too happy to be around them especially as they were German but they treated me okay. The hours were good and I was always home in time to prepare Arthur’s tea for him.
Needless to say Arthur wasn’t happy. He thought it beneath his dignity for his wife to work as a cleaner but I pointed out that the hours and pay were good and he could tell people I was in the catering business.
He certainly perked up when we went on holiday to Cornwall and I was able to give him £100 extra spending money.
“Where did you get all that from, I didn’t know old Freddy paid that well, I must be in the wrong business.”
“It’s what I saved from my wages and from the housekeeping. Now I don’t have the children at home the money goes further. You haven’t gone short have you?”
We had a lovely time that year visiting Jamaica Inn on Bodmin Moor, which Daphne Du Maurier wrote that wonderful book about and Tintagel where King Arthur was supposed to have been born. That really pleased my Arthur although I missed the children not being with us. We stayed in a little guest house in Bodmin, which was very nice. The only problem was of course the weather, it poured with rain all the time we were there, the sun only coming out on the last day.
My days of holidays are over now. I wouldn’t want to go on my own and I am certainly not going on one of those organised package trips for old people. I would go if it was with Peter or Jane but that seems less and less likely to happen.
Do you know what? The landlord has written asking all the residents if we would be interested in a mini bus to take us on trips. We would have to pay of course but what is the point when I can go for free with my bus pass. Besides I wouldn’t want to spend all day confined with this lot, you would never get a bit of peace. I have seen it in the common room, it can sound like a cage of birds with their continual chatter.
The smokers have taken to congregating around the doors just outside Winston Block. It means that all us non-smokers have to pass through a cloud of
smoke to enter or leave the block. Well just me really as I think the others all smoke.
Mind you their numbers will start dropping off one way or another once it starts to get cold.
I said to them “Why can’t you smoke outside your own block?”
“Because they complain about us,” said Dave Tontine.
“Well I am complaining now about you,” I snapped.
“Yes but we are used to you moaning, so we can just ignore it,” replied Joseph Harness.
The cheek of the man, I wasn’t aware that I complained unduly.
“Stop acting like children and go away,” I told them.
I almost, only almost mind you, feel sorry for them, they look like lost and forlorn souls, schoolboys hanging around the back of the bike shed.
Dave Tontine is still riding that electric scooter of his with Toby on his lap barking at everyone and scaring the living daylights out of decent respectable souls. It should be confiscated and given to somebody who really needs it.
This weather is really getting me down, if it is not raining it’s boiling hot. Why can’t he get it right? What we want is rain during the night for the plants and to keep the grass green and nice dry warm breezes, not too hot during the day. I pray each night for weather like that but my prayers are just ignored. The vicar Rev Colin Clarke said that we should not pray for things like that but for others.