by Rosie Blake
He returned with two more glasses on a tray that he placed down on the table, carefully avoiding the familiar board game in the middle, the rows of coloured money round the four edges, and the counters and cards in neat piles.
Monopoly.
‘Seriously, Grandad?’ I couldn’t help but look pretty underwhelmed.
He ignored my expression as he removed his apron and threw it over the arm of the sofa. ‘It was Margaret’s idea, actually. She said you thought it would be fun.’
Luke was already cracking his knuckles and calling, ‘I want to be the racing car, I want to be the racing car.’
‘We thought we’d play in teams,’ Grandad explained. ‘Four teams of two people. Luke and you can play together.’
‘I’m going to go with Paula here. You seem like an ambitious sort,’ Howard said, turning to her.
She simpered and smacked her glossy pink lips. ‘I always saw myself as a property mogul.’
Geoffrey and Arjun both looked up at the same moment.
‘I’ll play with Geoffrey here,’ Arjun said, mostly, I suspected, so neither of them needed to move. They dived straight back into their conversation. Arjun was trying to persuade Geoffrey out on his next foreign golf tour. ‘You’ll love it, the course in Portugal is fantastic, the views, the landscape, the excellent wine. And if we share a twin room we can save £40 . . . ’
I watched Grandad walk over to the armchair, holding out his hand to Margaret. ‘That leaves you and me, Margaret. I hope that’s OK with you.’
She blushed and nodded, staring into her glass. ‘I’m not the luckiest at board games but I can try.’ Then, allowing Grandad to help her up, she moved over to the table.
‘No luck involved in Monopoly,’ Howard boomed, pulling out a chair for Paula and steering her into it. ‘Killer instinct. Killer instinct and a thirst for capitalism.’
‘Christ,’ Geoffrey muttered at Arjun.
Paula looked like she was in heaven, staring at Howard with a delighted smile. ‘I do like a man who’s good with money.’ She poured herself some more gin.
We settled at the table and it took precisely ten seconds for the first row about the rules to break out. It transpired Howard was aiming to hoard one of each set of properties, Arjun would only sell anything for ‘a million dollars’, Luke seemed intent on only collecting the train stations – ‘Honestly, Lottie, it’s a good tactic’ – and Grandad spent most of his time in jail refusing to pay his way out.
‘When you land on Free Parking, you collect money from the middle.’
‘What money?’
‘The money from all the fines.’
‘The money from the fines doesn’t go into the middle. It goes into the bank.’
‘Who even pays the fines anyway?’
‘Howard, you have to, that’s the whole point.’
‘Are you stealing from the bank, Arjun?’
‘I’m getting change.’
‘Change for what? The hundred you stole?’
‘Is it four houses then a hotel or three houses then a hotel?’
‘Why won’t you sell me Park Lane? You’re just being a miser.’
‘You can’t sell Old Gloucester Road for a million dollars, Arjun, it doesn’t work like that.’
‘Will someone please land on my hotel.’
‘Will there be a spa experience?’
‘Why are you buying the utilities, Luke? No one wants the utilities. They are like the losers of Monopoly.’
‘Arjun, seriously, put that money back.’
‘Oh my God, am I going to die before this game is finished?’
‘Right,’ Grandad said, tapping his glass, hushing the raised voices around him. ‘I’m not sure this is the bonding experience we were hoping to introduce our young people to, Margaret,’ he said, turning to her. ‘What else did you bring?’
‘They’re my daughter’s games. They didn’t have a massive selection so I just brought them all.’ She motioned to a carrier bag and Paula got up to peer inside.
‘What is Hungry Hippos?’
‘Is that Scrabble?’ Geoffrey was craning his neck.
‘We’re not playing Scrabble, Geoffrey, unless you really do have a death wish.’
‘Oooooh,’ Paula said, drawing a box out of the selection. ‘Let’s play this,’ she said, holding it up to us all.
It took me a few seconds to recognise the polka dots on the front. Oh God. Twister.
‘Is it a game about tornadoes?’ Arjun asked. Nobody responded. Grandad and Margaret were engrossed in conversation and Howard was checking his teeth in the back of a teaspoon.
‘It will be fun,’ Paula said, clapping her hands together. ‘Come on, Howard, be a sport.’
He looked up. ‘Of course, of course – excellent.’
‘You’re only saying that because you were losing at Monopoly,’ Geoffrey called out.
‘What twists in the game?’ Arjun asked, still keen to hear more about this new option.
Luke was laughing into his gin, the liquid bubbling.
Somehow we found ourselves gathering around the mat, four of us sitting on sofas and chairs as Grandad, Margaret, Arjun and Geoffrey took their turn to play.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ I called as I span the wheel for Grandad.
‘Just about,’ he said, his voice strained, his legs straddling two polka dots in an uncomfortable-looking starfish. Howard was directing salted popcorn at his feet as Paula took photos of them on her mobile.
‘Right hand to yellow spot, Margaret,’ Luke called out, tears forming in his eyes as he stared at the group crammed on to the mat in front of him, a look thrown to me as if to ask quite how this had happened. I couldn’t help shrug and grin at him.
‘Oh my,’ Margaret said, looking positively petrified as she reached down and placed her palm on the yellow spot, bottom in the air. ‘Not very ladylike,’ she called, her voice muffled.
‘Do hurry,’ Geoffrey called. ‘I’m really not sure my left foot can stay on the blue spot if Arjun here continues to take an hour to place his hand on green.’
‘It’s harder than it looks,’ Arjun complained, staring across Geoffrey at the green.
‘Are you all right, Margaret?’
‘Thank you, Teddy.’
‘Paula, show me that one.’
‘Don’t photograph my bottom!’ Margaret cried.
‘Arjun, man, for God’s sake, we have lives to lead, hurry up.’
Luke had by now fully lost it, tears leaking out of the sides of his eyes and setting me off too.
‘I can’t possibly reach red,’ Grandad called, as Arjun launched himself over Geoffrey to connect with the green spot.
‘Got it,’ he mumbled from somewhere below them all.
Then with a collective shout the whole pack collapsed and we had four sprawling pensioners on the floor of the living room.
‘Is everyone all right?’ Grandad called from somewhere underneath the pile.
‘That’s my breast,’ Margaret squealed.
‘This looks excellent,’ Howard said, clapping his hands together. ‘When’s our turn?’ he asked from the sofa, eyes gleaming.
As the group gingerly stood to dust themselves off and stretch, Arjun remained on the floor, one hand on his hip, a pained expression on his face.
Luke immediately stopped laughing and bent down next to him. ‘All OK, Arjun?’ he asked, concern filling his voice.
‘Just a spot of bother with my hip,’ Arjun said, wincing as he spoke.
He was holding his hip, his knuckles strained white as he clenched, his face draining of colour.
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ Margaret said, wringing her hands.
‘Box does say 8 to 80. Isn’t Arjun 79?’ Howard joked. ‘Twister need to update their packaging.’
‘Do shut up, Howard.’
‘Arjun, can you get up?’
‘Has anyone got any ice?’
‘Should we phone an ambulance?’
�
��Are we going to get to play now?’
‘Howard.’
‘I’ll get some peas.’
‘Oh dear, oh dear.’
It seemed Arjun wasn’t going anywhere and the decision was made to phone an ambulance, Grandad running a hand through his hair.
‘Lottie, why don’t you drive your grandad and I’ll go with Arjun in the ambulance?’ Luke said, taking control as we were all just uselessly wafting about.
‘Right, good idea, OK. Grandad, do you need to fetch anything?’
‘What can we bring for you, Arjun?’ Luke asked.
Arjun was gritting his teeth and I felt a real flash of worry, racing back to the kitchen to fetch frozen peas.
‘Here,’ I said, handing them to Luke. ‘It might help.’
‘Thanks.’ He met my eye and smiled. I felt a little calmer as I crouched down next to him on the mat.
‘Did we win?’ Arjun gasped between breaths.
I laughed at that and rested my hand on his shoulder. ‘Not long now, Arjun, we’ll get you to the hospital. They have amazing pain medication.’
‘And nurses,’ Howard said from the mantelpiece where he was leaning towards Paula, plucking something off her shoulder. ‘Fluff,’ he said, as she giggled and slapped his chest.
Well, at least Twister was bringing some people together, I thought.
The paramedics appeared and they stretchered Arjun out of the house, promising him some relief once in the ambulance. Grandad appeared at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a leather holdall and handing it to Luke. ‘I popped in a spare set of pyjamas, a toothbrush, a book on the Boer War, things like that.’
‘Great,’ Luke said, taking it from him. ‘The Boer War, eh?’
Grandad shrugged. ‘I panicked.’
‘He’ll be all right,’ Luke said softly, pulling Grandad into a quick hug. I felt my heart ache at the sight, gratified to see my Grandad’s shoulders ease up, the lines on his face a little less deep as he clung to Luke.
‘We’ll follow you,’ I called to the paramedics as Luke turned to kiss me on the lips. ‘Come on, Grandad.’
Grandad grabbed his coat and hat and followed me outside. Geoffrey called from the living room, ‘We’ll get things sorted in here.’ Margaret already wearing the apron and moving through to the kitchen with a tray of glasses to wash up. I felt a swell of pleasure that Grandad had such good friends, a momentary flicker of guilt wondering if I could call myself one: I must phone Amy and check all was OK with her after her hen.
‘You let us know how he is,’ Geoffrey called.
I nodded my head and focused on getting Grandad in the car and to the hospital, reminding myself not to be so selfobsessed just when Grandad needed me.
The blue lights reflected on the surface of my car, ghostly flashes lighting up the street, curtains pulled back in nearby houses, the silhouettes of people in their living rooms looking out on the dramatic scene. It all looked horribly real, and I thought then of Grandad summoning an ambulance many months before for Grandma. It must be bringing back all those memories. I opened the passenger door for him and made sure he was settled inside, crouching down quickly to hold his hand. ‘It will be all right.’ He nodded slowly.
We sat in silence in my car waiting for the ambulance to leave. Arjun had been rolled into the back of it, already connected to what looked like a drip. I felt a lump form in my throat as I saw Luke next to him in the small space, speaking reassuring words as the ambulance doors shut on them.
I started the engine. ‘Let’s go.’ I could hear the false cheer in my voice. This wasn’t how tonight was meant to turn out. I glanced across at Grandad’s pale face beside me. This wasn’t how it was meant to turn out at all.
Darling Cora,
I loathe hospitals. The sounds of them; the incessant buzz of noise that doesn’t rest even at night: beeps, wheels turning, low voices, coughing. The unsettling feeling that the next drama is only seconds away at any given moment. Then there’s the cloying smell: cabbage, tea, sweat and urine, overlaid by a pervasive bleach that makes the orderlies’ hands red. The looks from strangers, everyone wondering who is in for what reason, visitor or patient, the strained glances as they wait to be seen, wait for news they don’t want to hear, the feeling they would rather be anywhere else than in the hospital.
Arjun seemed impossibly small in the grey metal bed, propped up on flat white cushions, a blanket tucked up under his chin.
We had waited a while for his hip to be X-rayed and I’d offered to stay the night. You can pay for a room in the hospital. It’s normally used for first-time fathers, I think, but it was late and one was spare and I think they felt sorry for me. That can happen a lot now. I gave them my most pathetic, widowed look: it has to be good for something.
Despite the place I was glad to be there with Arjun the next morning. There was muttering: they wanted the radiologist to see him, and the radiologist then requested a consultation with the oncologist. We shared a look then, we both know what that department meant. I felt bile rise up in my throat and swallowed it down. The oncologist was a young woman with large brown eyes and a soft voice.
The moment she looked at the X-ray her mouth moved into a thin line and I recognised the expression from all the appointments we had attended together. It wasn’t going to be good news.
‘There does seem to be a shadow.’ She indicated an area on the X ray that to my eye looked like a grey cloud in the shape of a tulip. She kept talking. Arjun was doing his pretend nod, the one he did when you used to talk him through the plot of Poldark. His eyes had misted over as she spoke, using big words and promising further tests.
I felt a stone lodge in my stomach and throat, a dead weight as I watched her leave. Arjun met my eye and gave me a weak smile, shoulders lifting in a small shrug.
‘I had wondered, recently—’
Cutting him off I stood. ‘It’s good they’ve caught it now,’ I blurted, already feeling awkward and wrong-footed. You would have known what to say, Cora, you would have made him feel comforted. Instead I found myself standing up, offering to get him a coffee he didn’t want and wouldn’t drink. I miss you so much at times like this. Why, Arjun? He’s so utterly full of life. Why does this dreadful illness go after the best of people?
I left the room and went into the corridor, walked across to the coffee machine and then walked straight past it and out of the electric double doors, as if I was just going to keep walking and not have to go back there and be brave for him. I stood on the concrete slabs just outside the hospital, a man younger than me in a gown clutching his drip for support as he inhaled a cigarette, two women not much older than Lottie sitting on the low brick wall in earnest conversation. All these stories, all these lives. I looked at the people passing in the street beyond holding carrier bags, talking on mobiles, the cars and buses inching past in the early morning traffic. I wanted everything to stop. Stop still so I could think.
My mobile beeped. Luke had called and left a message, checking on Arjun, such a thoughtful boy. What would I say to him? Nothing had been confirmed and yet it felt everything had changed. I forget how much loss Luke has seen already, and yet he has this incredibly joyful air about him – perhaps that is part of the reason why.
I know I need to head back into the hospital, back to Arjun. He’ll need me, hopeless as I am. I know it might not all be doom and gloom and a grim prognosis, but the optimism I used to have about these things has extinguished since you.
I love you, Cora. I miss you and I love you and I wish you were here so I could hold you and stroke your hair and you could give me the strength to be the kind of friend I need to be.
Teddy x
Chapter 18
Love is not always found where you were looking
SAMUEL, 77
‘Remember we have an evening of parlour games tonight,’ Luke called as I pounded down the stairs for the third day of a trial that was sucking all the energy from me. A complicated case with a never-ending stream
of witnesses, none of whom seemed to have witnessed the same event, all watched under the hawk-like eyes of family members in the public gallery, every tut and huff echoing round the court.
Parlour games. Inwardly groaning, I fiddled with the collar of my jacket. It was possibly the last thing I would feel like after today. It had been a gruelling couple of weeks and I hadn’t seen Grandad since the drama of the Monopoly evening. I knew Arjun had stayed in hospital overnight but was home now, one leg propped up on his sofa. Grandad and I had barely spoken. I felt guilty as I remembered another missed call from him last night when I was working late in chambers.
‘Great,’ I called back, not absolutely sure Luke could hear me as I had already shut our front door and was heading down the street.
The Tube was rammed and sweaty, the sound of a thousand people sighing, chewing and tapping on phones. It set my teeth on edge as I unfolded the Metro. The front cover was a picture of misery and a scandal in Westminster that everyone in chambers had been talking about yesterday. Something about a politician and an escort and a pumpkin or a courgette, I wasn’t absolutely sure. I didn’t have my usual curiosity to find out. Today everyone annoyed me. Particularly that guy over there who had pushed his oversized suitcase into me as he wheeled it in. I hoped the next time he went to a bowling alley they didn’t have any of the right weight balls and he spends a miserable evening straining his wrist trying to play with the ones that are too heavy.
My morning in court came to an unexpected close when the trial cracked because my client suddenly decided to plead guilty to the charges against him in the hope of receiving a reduced sentence. It transpires he had rammed his car into his ex-wife to try and break her legs deliberately, and not because the car had been accidentally shifted to Drive.
I should have been happy. I was free and it wasn’t even midday, and yet all the work we had done, all the earnest pleadings of the client, left a bitter taste. I left the court feeling flustered and fed up, the judge prickly about the wasted day.
Leaving the courthouse I discovered one missed call from an unlisted number and six missed calls from Amy. My pulse started to race as I fumbled to press on her name. Six missed calls. What had happened? Was she OK? She wasn’t one for a dramatic gesture. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since the night of her hen do and I felt a new surge of guilt for how much time had already passed. We used to speak regularly on the phone, daily sometimes, but over the last few months when I went to return her calls I often realised it was too late, that she’d be in bed for a new school day, and sent an apologetic text instead. My palms were slippery as I gripped the phone. The last missed call had been less than half an hour before.