Super Short Stories

by Stan Mason

  He sat in front of the television screen for a short while before noticing Dolly Simpson sitting in a corner of the room, dabbing at her eyes with a decorated handkerchief. He rose from his armchair and went over to her with a puzzled expression on his face. He liked Dolly very much. She had arrived at the Lodge six months earlier following an operation for a blood clot on the brain. Apparently, she had been a very lively soul in her sixties and seventies but, at the age of eighty-one, following the operation, she became extremely confused with long lapses of forgetfulness. Her children had bundled her off into a home, where she knew no one, and they had visited her only once in the time she was there. Dolly was improving month by month and she was very pleased with her progress, but there were still many lapses of memory although they were now of a far lesser nature.

  ‘What’s the matter, Dolly?’ asked Jacob, showing concern at her distress. ‘What’s happened?’

  She raised her head to stare at him sadly. ‘It’s nothing,’ she replied tearfully. ‘Nothing.’

  He placed his hand on hers to comfort her. ‘A trouble shared is a trouble halved,’ he quoted. ‘Come on, spill the beans!’

  ‘It won’t be halved this time,’ she related, using the handkerchief again. ‘They’ve sold my house.’

  ‘Who has? Who sold your house?’

  ‘My two sons. We were never a close family but they cleared everything out of my house, disposed of the furniture, and sold the property. And at a price well below the market value to get rid of it.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  She opened her bag and produced an envelope. ‘I received a letter this morning.’

  ‘Perhaps they over-reacted,’ explained Jacob. ‘They were concerned on your behalf. A house attracts a lot of money. Repairs, the rates and water rates, and things like that even if you’re not living in it. I mean, it’s not as though you’re going back there for a while.’

  ‘You miss the point,’ she countered firmly. ‘I’m being mugged in broad daylight by my own sons. They want to get their hands on my money as soon as they can. They can’t wait.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Dolly! That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? They can’t do that anyway, not while you’re in this world.’

  ‘Oh can’t they! Well let me tell you I saw a doctor a month ago at their request. I thought he was a specialist but it turned out he was a psychiatrist appointed by my sons. He asked me lots of questions and then wrote a report to say I was confused and incapable of handling my own financial affairs. Financial affairs mark you. They appointed a solicitor to take care of my money and property claiming I would never return to my house which they put up for sale without my permission.’

  ‘But they haven’t got their grubby little hands on your money yet, have they?’

  ‘Not yet. By law, the solicitor holds it in trust. But that’s not the point. I’ve lost my home. I can’t go back. It means I’ll never get out of here. They’ve sold all my possessions ... or they’ve taken them for themselves... and they’ve stolen all the money I left in the house when I was rushed to hospital.’

  Jacob looked at her with concern. ‘How much was that?’

  ‘About five thousand pounds. I always liked to have money when I wanted it. I bet they never gave that to the solicitor to put into the trust.’

  ‘We should do something about this!’ he declared.

  ‘Such as what?’ she laughed bitterly. ‘Everyone knows an old lady of eighty-one in a home has no chance against those with money and authority outside. We’re sitting ducks!’

  ‘Don’t you believe it! We’re human-beings in a civilised society. We have rights.’

  ‘Rights!’ she scoffed, sniffing lightly. ‘They’ll claim I’m out of my mind. A mad woman! I tell you we don’t stand a chance.’

  ‘We have to convince people otherwise.’

  ‘How can we possibly do that? There’s a psychiatrist’s report saying that I’m a batty old woman. I wouldn’t put anything past my sons to try to get my money before I die. I wish I were dead now.’ Tears came into her eyes again and she wiped them delicately with her handkerchief.

  ‘Don’t give up, Dolly. Please. I’ll think of a way,’ declared Jacob with good intentions. ‘You leave it to me. I’ll think of something.’ He sat in his chair staring at the television screen without noticing the picture. If only he could assemble his thoughts clearly! There had to be a way he could help his friend, if only he could think of it!

  It was three weeks’ later when one of the nurses knocked on the door to Jacob’s room to call him.

  ‘Are you ready for your appointment with the doctor?’ she asked from the corridor.

  He opened the door inquisitively. ‘Appointment? What appointment? I don’t anything about it. Nobody told me.’

  ‘With the doctor. You probably forgot,’ returned the nurse callously. ‘You know what your memory’s like these days.’

  ‘No, I would have remembered an appointment with the doctor,’ he insisted. ‘When was this arranged?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m only a nurse here, aren’t I? All I know is that your daughter telephoned to make sure you were available to see the doctor. It must have been at her request.’

  Jacob’s hackles rose. Why did his daughter want him to see a doctor? His mind reverted to Dolly and the experience she had suffered when she was examined by a psychiatrist... a doctor who turned out to be a specialist, sent by her sons. His mind was still full of sleep as he dressed and stumbled out of his room along the corridor to one of the interview rooms at the home. A grey-haired doctor sat inside and invited him to sit down.

  ‘Nothing to worry about, Mr. Crompton,’ he began. ‘Just a check-up to see how you are.’ Jacob began to undress but the doctor stopped him in his tracks. ‘No, it’s not necessary to undress. I simply want to ask you a few questions.’ He raised a pen to write on a clip-board. ‘What’s your name?’

  The in-mate stared at him perceptively. ‘My daughter arranged this interview, didn’t she?’

  ‘I have no idea. I’ve been sent here by the agency to check you out. That’s all I know.’

  ‘Agency? Which agency? What are you here for?’

  The doctor stared at him passively. ‘The agency which employs me to examine people. I can’t see any reason for you to become agitated.’

  ‘Look, doctor. I’m Jacob Crompton. I’m eighty-two years of age, and I’m of sound mind. Do you hear what I’m saying? Of sound mind!’ He was beginning to realise what was happening. His daughter was setting him up... in the same way as Dolly’s two sons had done to her. She couldn’t wait for her inheritance to arrive in the normal way either.

  ‘Can you tell me the name of the Prime Minister of Britain?’ asked the doctor. There was a long pause and when Jacob failed to answer he continued the run of questions. ‘How about the name of the President of the United States?’ There was another few moments of silence. ‘Then can you name any of the countries in Europe or Asia?’

  The in-mate shook his head slowly. ‘It’s no use, doctor,’ he began. ‘I’m not prepared to enter into a quiz contest with you,’ snapped Jacob angrily. ‘We’re in a residential home for old people, cut off from newspapers, the news, and all other kinds of information. I don’t care a damn who’s the Prime Minister let alone the President of the United States. Knowing the answers to those questions change nothing in my life! My daughter put you up to this... so that she could sell my house and get my money before I die. If I refuse to answer your questions you can’t write a report on me concerning my faculties which I’ll have you know are excellent. I do happen to know the names of the Prime Minister and the President of the United States, so there! However, now that you know it, if you do write an adverse report on my memory... which means that all my financial affairs will be placed into trust... I’ll contact my solicitor and you and
your agency will face a gigantic law-suit. So be sure to put that down in your notes, doctor! Anyway, I have plans in the making for moving out of here, so I’ll be leaving to live in my own home shortly.’

  ‘Tell me about them,’ implored the doctor, hoping to salvage something from the brief interview. ‘No one told me you were going to leave here.’

  ‘In a pig’s ear I will! You’re working for the enemy. In any case, it’s none of your business! So I’ll bid you good day!’ With that, he rose and returned to his room deep in thought. He had promised Dolly he would come up with a plan to help her but he hadn’t done so. As time passed by, he had forgotten all about it. Now it was imperative to spur himself into action before he suffered the same fate. He was positive the doctor would write a report declaring that he couldn’t answer any of the simple questions asked of him and ultimately it would be declared that he was incapable of handling his own financial affairs. Jacob was fully aware what his daughter would do after receiving a report of that nature. Why were children in such a hurry to gain their parents treasure these days? He went into the dining-room for breakfast, sitting at the end of the long table. Dolly rarely ate anything early in the morning so he sat alone taking the opportunity to think about the future. She was absolutely right. What could old people do to help themselves from external assault by their offspring while they wallowed in a residential home for the aged? They were completely powerless. Yet there had to be something he could do! There had to be a way! As he had told Dolly in her moment of suffering, everyone had rights. But possession was nine points of the law and, if they were allowed to, his daughter and Dolly’s sons would take complete control. Then he remembered his short outburst against the doctor. He struggled to recall the exact words he had uttered at the time. They related to a law-suit against the doctor and the agency who had employed him if he wrote an adverse report. He had also suggested he had instigated plans for leaving Jeremiah Lodge shortly. Naturally, he was retaliating out of instinct, telling the doctor anything which came into his head to spite him. Yet, on reflection, he had given himself the right leads establish justice... to threaten them with legal action and leave the home to live in his own house. However, while it was easy to justify such matters in his mind it was far more difficult to put them into practice. He needed much more time to think about the situation and work out the details.

  As always, the days passed by beyond his notice. Weeks turned into months and then, one day, he received a letter with similar details to the one which had been sent to Dolly. His daughter had sold his house, disposed of all his possessions and placed all the monies in a trust held by an appointed solicitor. Jacob realised that the moment he passed on to the next world, she would apply to the solicitor for the money which would be despatched into her bank account within a week. Then she would go on an almighty spending-spree. Worst of all, the letter stated that if he wanted to avail himself of his own money, he would have to apply to the appointed solicitor with suitable reasons for its return. The solicitor would then either approve or reject his request. What a nerve! It was his own money! He recognised the paragraph only too well for it had been similarly written in the letter Dolly had received from the solicitor holding her money in trust. Jacob was extremely angry with himself, regretting not having taken any action earlier, but he knew that if he did nothing now he was lost. Later that morning, he sought his dear friend and related the sad news to her.

  ‘Oh, Jacob,’ she told him miserably. ‘We’re lost... done for! Our children have made us prisoners in this place and we’ve done nothing criminal. It’s heinous!’

  ‘Don’t fret, dear,’ he countered. ‘I’m going to see we get out of here if it’s the last thing I do.’

  ‘And go where?’ she scoffed practically. ‘You’ve forgotten that neither of us has a home or possessions any more. We haven’t any money except our pensions... and most of that goes towards paying the bill here at the residential home.’

  ‘We need to take direct action,’ Jacob told her. ‘I’m going to make an appointment with a solicitor and ask him to act for us. Are you willing to pay half the legal fees? I don’t think I can manage them on my own.’

  ‘What have I got to lose?’ she asked tearfully. ‘What have I got to lose?’

  ‘I’ll walk down the road and find one now. Leave it to me. And, whatever happens, Dolly Simpson, keep your pecker up! We’re not finished yet! Not by a long chalk!’

  On the following morning, they sat quietly in the solicitor’s office and explained their situation with great clarity looking nervously at each other after they had stated their case. Philip Trout, the solicitor, allowed the information to filter through his mind and then stared directly at them across the desk. Jacob considered that he seemed more like an enemy than an ally and became concerned but then Trout smiled easily and his body language became friendly.

  ‘Are you absolutely serious in going through with this?’ he ventured calmly. ‘Absolutely serious to go all the way!’

  ‘Why ask a question like that?’ demanded Jacob edgily. ‘We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t think so. It’s about time we fought back even though it’s against our own children.’

  The solicitor smiled wryly. ‘Clients always say that when they’re fired-up about an injustice. What I don’t want to do is to start the ball rolling and then discover you’ve changed your minds. It would be costly, time-wasting and ineffective.’

  ‘No,’ returned Dolly. ‘We’re very serious. We want our homes and our money back. If that’s justice, it’s what we want.’

  Trout clenched his hands and leaned forward. ‘Let me tell you something,’ he advised. ‘Justice is a strange creature. We all expect it to happen by sheer dint of fairness, but often it doesn’t come about unless we give it a nudge.’

  ‘A nudge?’ echoed Jacob. ‘What sort of a nudge?’

  ‘Well, in your case, I suggest a change of status. It would be extremely helpful if you did that.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ retorted Dolly. ‘How can we change our status? What do you mean?’

  The solicitor looked directly at both of them, hesitating for a moment before proceeding. ‘How well do you know each other?’

  ‘Very well indeed,’ replied Jacob. ‘I mean, technically, we live together in the same residential home... not in the same room mind you. But we know each other very well.’

  Trout nodded sagely at the comment and leaned forward over the desk. ‘Tell me, how do you feel towards each other?’

  ‘Are you talking about my romantic feelings towards Jacob?’ asked Dolly uninhibitedly.

  ‘Yes. That’s roughly what I’m getting at.’

  ‘Well, at our age it’s not one of violent passionate love, that’s for sure, but we are very good friends... and I would say we’re a little more.’

  ‘Is that extra little bit enough for you both to consider matrimony?’ suggested the solicitor, putting the situation to them in an unsubtle form.

  ‘Matrimony?’ exploded Jacob reacting at the suggestion. ‘Who said anything about that?’

  ‘Don’t you like me?’ challenged Dolly sharply with a sad expression appearing on her face.

  ‘Of course I do! I like you a lot. More than I should really. But what use is an old codger like me at eighty-two to a woman like you. I’d be a burden on you.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ she countered unashamedly. ‘Of course you wouldn’t. You could keep me warm in bed at night!’

  ‘Really?’ he responded with interest, thinking about a new avenue which had just opened in his life. ‘You’d really be interested in marrying me?’

  ‘Mrs. Simpson. Mr. Crompton!’ soothed Trout, with a smile touching the edges on his lips. ‘You don’t have to marry each other. It’s not absolutely essential. I only suggested it would be a superb way to establish justice. It’s the nudge I was telling you about. You see, whatever y
ou do in this action, you must do it together. Always together! Forget any side issues or any deviations. Whatever happens with either of your families you must stick firmly together and act together... no matter what! Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘Together!’ repeated the old couple in unison. Dolly reached out for Jacob’s hand and they stared at each other lovingly.

  ‘What do you reckon on our chances?’ asked Jacob eagerly. He was becoming quite excited at the future prospects.

  ‘If you marry we’ll give them a good run for our money... and a lot more I reckon. You see, if one of you passes on, after your marriage, the money and possessions are transferred to the living spouse... not to the children of the deceased. Everything in the line of beneficiaries changes.’

  ‘I never thought of that,’ confessed Jacob candidly.

  ‘What do you want us to do now?’ requested Dolly urgently.

  ‘As you’re both at Jeremiah Lodge I think it’s going to be up to me to help you on the outside. I’ll find you a place to live... somewhere furnished... and I’ll arrange for you to get married at a Register Office if you do decide to marry.’

  ‘How long will it all take?’ asked Jacob. ‘Finding a place and getting married.’

  ‘Oh, about a month,’ returned the solicitor calmly. ‘I’ll sort it out. But of greatest importance is that you must follow a rule on what you mustn’t do. Do not in any circumstances, not even to your nearest and dearest friends, tell anyone about your plans. Don’t tell anyone, for any reason whatsoever, that you’re leaving the residential home. Don’t cause suspicion by packing anything until the day you get married... if you decide to marry. And don’t contact or write to anyone in your family about your plans. Such action might create conflict and a whole host of problems. Am I making myself clear? Because if you do any of those things, someone with prior knowledge of your actions might apply to the Court to prevent you from doing what you want to do.’