Paradise Lodge
Page 28
‘I borrowed it,’ said Matron. She told us then that her original plan had been to actually live in You Jolly Fucker, opposite the fire station, and use Longston Library as her sitting room and get breakfast from The Travellin’ Man—where she had a discount—and keep a permanent wash flannel on a hot pipe and a bar of Camay in the ladies’ toilet there. But, in the end, she hadn’t been able to get the front seat of the Rover flat enough to make a comfy bed and she presented herself as a homeless Londoner at St Mungo’s.
Mr Simmons laughed. ‘Oh, yes, that lever’s a devil, you need to give it a really good yank.’
‘Did you find that friend of yours at St Mungo’s?’ I asked.
‘What friend?’ asked Matron.
‘Your dear friend who ended up there—she owned nothing but her name—but whose name you couldn’t remember?’ I asked.
‘Oh her, I forgot about her,’ said Matron.
She was surprisingly complimentary about St Mungo’s and reported only one awkward moment—when someone mistook her soft toy for a rat and threw a fire extinguisher at it.
I watched Matron’s face in all its expressions and her chubby arms gesticulating as she continued with her tales, and I went into a kind of reverie. It was easily a match for The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders, I thought.
… Born in Newgate, and during a Life of continu’d Variety for Threescore Years, besides her Childhood, was Twelve Year a Whore, five times a Wife (whereof once to her own Brother), Twelve Year a Thief, Eight Year a Transported Felon in Virginia, at last grew Rich, liv’d Honest, and dies a Penitent. Written from her own Memorandums…
I smiled at my own cleverness and the brilliance of Moll herself. And planned to tell Matron to start writing her memoirs asap.
‘The open day went very well today,’ said Mindy Banks, and though Matron showed little interest in our big day, we couldn’t help ourselves but tell her all about it.
Sister Saleem described my heart-shaped sandwiches and Carla B’s amazing bunting. Eileen told her about the Attenboroughs and their nice voices and maroon car and how they’d loved her paintings. Carla B remembered my mother’s pretty wedding dress and Sue jumping out of the window. Mr Simmons told her that he’d been banned from doing his magic tricks because Sister had said it was against God. Sister Saleem protested and said she’d meant against nature. Matron’s attention was only caught, though, when Miranda described Sally-Anne stepping in and snatching Mike Yu away from her.
‘Where is Sally-Anne?’ asked Matron.
‘She’s gone for a Chinese lesson with Mrs Yu,’ said Eileen.
‘I don’t care,’ said Miranda, ‘I’m back with Smig.’
It was getting late and the night nurse was making the bedtime drinks. We all rejoiced at the various happy endings, as well as regretting the less happy ones, and raised our coffee mugs to Lady Briggs.
‘And we were thrilled to hear that you’ve inherited a lovely home to live in,’ chirped Mindy, ‘weren’t we, Gordon?’
‘Yes,’ said Gordon, ‘congratulations.’
‘It’s not a lovely home actually,’ said Matron, ‘it’s a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere with a hippy bloke living in it.’
‘It’s a short-term let,’ said the owner. ‘Blue will move out in January if you need him to.’
‘You don’t seem very pleased about it,’ said Miranda.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Eileen, ‘you’ve just inherited a cottage with two outhouses and a myrtle tree—bloody hell!’
‘Yeah, considering everything and all the fuss,’ I said, pointedly, ‘Jesus!’
‘Of course I’m pleased,’ protested Matron, ‘but I want my job back.’ And her voice cracked a bit.
‘Do you?’ said Sister Saleem. ‘But can you behave yourself? That’s the question.’
‘Of course I can behave myself,’ said Matron, indignantly.
‘She can now she’s got the cottage,’ I added helpfully.
‘In that case, yes, we do need an auxiliary nurse,’ said Sister Saleem.
‘A live-in position?’ asked Matron.
‘If you like,’ said Sister Saleem.
‘But we don’t need an auxiliary—do we?’ said Eileen.
‘Yes, we do,’ said Sister Saleem, ‘to replace Lis.’
‘What?’ I said.
‘Yes, Lis, you’re sacked,’ said Sister.
‘What?’ I cried. ‘Why?’
‘You have to go to school,’ Sister said. ‘We’re going to do things properly now, Lis, and that means we can’t employ you.’ She looked sad. ‘I’m sorry.’
Everyone was staring at me and as I gazed from face to face, trying to make sense of the situation, it dawned on me that everything was sorted. The owner now had enough money to get Paradise Lodge properly back on its feet (and seemed to have Sister Saleem by his side—literally and metaphorically—and Rick in his pocket). I’d taught Sister Saleem all the euphemisms she’d ever need. Matron was safe and sound forever. Mr Simmons was where he wanted to be. Mike had been rescued from Miranda. Miranda was back with sex-loving Smig. Sally-Anne was learning Chinese at the Yus’. My sister was about to start a career in nursing and my mother, though lacking credibility, was at least married.
‘You’ll fly through your exams now you’ve got all those books,’ said Eileen, helpfully.
For a moment I couldn’t decide whether to be moody or dignified, and then Miranda piped up, ‘It’s like what Mike always said, Lizzie—you’re an intellect.’
‘An intellect-ual,’ I said.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my brilliant editor, Mary Mount, for being a total joy to work with—since the beginning (and without whom etc.).
Thanks also to Jo Unwin—my top-notch agent and minder—constant source of fun and sage advice.
I’m happy and proud that once again Reagan Arthur is my US publisher. Thanks also to Matt Carlini, Lisa Erickson, Julianna Lee, Giraud Lorber, Katharine Myers, Alyssa Persons, and Jayne Yaffe Kemp.
Thanks to Stella Heath and Jon Reed for utter marvellousness, enthusiasm and wise words.
Thanks to my family, especially my fantastic mum, Elspeth Allison, and A. J. Allison, John Allison, Victoria Goldberg, Alfred Nunney, Eva Nunney, Jeremy Stibbe, Tom Stibbe.
Thanks to Shân Morley Jones, Chantal Noel, Poppy North, Sarah Scarlett, Keith Taylor and Isabel Wall at Penguin Books.
I remember with great affection my time working at The Grange Nursing Home in Saddington, Leicestershire, in the 1970s. Though it was nothing like Paradise Lodge, happy times there—under the leadership of the wonderful Meena Ackbarally and Rafick Ackbarally—inspired me to write this novel. I’m indebted also to Victoria Goldberg and Fiona Holman for sharing memories with me and for their nursing expertise.
Finally, huge thanks and love to Mark Nunney.
About the Author
Nina Stibbe was born in Leicester, England, and is the author of the highly acclaimed memoir Love, Nina and the novel Man at the Helm, which was shortlisted for the Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize for comic fiction. She now lives in Cornwall with her partner and their two children.
Also by Nina Stibbe
Fiction
Man at the Helm
Nonfiction
Love, Nina
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Epigraph
PART ONE: Paradise Lodge 1. Linco Beer Shampoo
2. The Comfort Round
3. Home Life
4. Opportunity Knocks
5. Certificate of Secondary Education
6. Jackie Collins
7. A Rival Co
ncern
8. A Dog Named Sue
9. The Baby Belling
10. The Pound Note
11. Egg Fu Yung
12. Mr Freeman’s Parker Knoll Recliner
13. Bubble Writing
PART TWO: Paradise Regained 14. Fiscal Confidence
15. Eight Anadins
16. Harmony
17. In Love
18. Woman on the Edge of Time
19. Dream Topping
20. The Liquid Cosh
21. The Purcell Medley
22. ‘I Dreamt I Dwelt In Marble Halls’
23. Kawasaki Z1B 900
24. Wedding Rings
25. The Fight Back
26. Baby-Face Finlayson
27. Sale of the Century
28. Punk
29. The Joy of Sex
30. Coffee-Mate
31. The Big Day Dawns
32. The Battenberg Heart
33. The Entertainers
34. The Travellin’ Man
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Nina Stibbe
Newsletters
Copyright
Copyright
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2016 by Nina Stibbe
Cover design by Julianna Lee
Cover illustration by Sam Chung and Lucia Kim
Author photograph by Rebecca Dawe
Cover copyright © 2016 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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First United States ebook edition: July 2016
Originally published in Great Britain by the Penguin Group, July 2016
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Excerpt taken from The World Is Full of Married Men by Jackie Collins
Copyright © 1968 by Chances, Inc.
Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate
ISBN 978-0-316-30933-2
E3-20160521-JV-PC