Seventeen Gifts for Frannie and Jess

by Nasser Hashmi

  ‘No. I don’t know what I expected really. Maybe I thought more people would look at me and notice me because of my age – and because I’m with a young girl – but it hasn’t happened.’

  ‘You’re not the only one who likes young girls in here, believe me!’

  We all laugh and thoroughly enjoy the few minutes we spend together. William then sees Bryan ushering him over from the bar area and he’s forced to get up.

  ‘That’s my cue, ladies,’ he says, finishing off his lemonade and picking up his empty glass. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot, Frannie, do you want to go home or stay a while longer?’ he asks. ‘I think you should stay because you’re enjoying yourself.’

  I look at Jessica and glance around the pub. The pleasant ambience has a soothing effect: the sliding glasses, the criss-cross conversations, the low-level muttering. The pub is packed, with many standing, but I only spot two families, one of them has a toddler in a high chair – and she is feeding him extremely slurpy baby food.

  ‘Frannie, did you hear me?’ asks William, putting his hand on my shoulder. ‘I’ve got to start soon but I can order you a taxi anytime you want to go home?’

  ‘No, William,’ I say, taking another sip of my ancient vodka and blackcurrant. ‘I’ll stay a while longer.’

  He smiles, puts his glass down and mimics putting a medal round my neck with his hands. Then he claps – and so does Jessica.

  ‘Give over,’ I say. ‘So when are you two getting serious then?’

  They both stop clapping immediately – and look extremely embarrassed. It is nice, sometimes, when you can hold your own in a place like this.

  DAY NINE

  The morning goes so fast, I don’t have the time to breathe. The Olympic Park doesn’t get any better than this. Swarms of people glide across the giant playground with their rucksacks, hats, bottles of water and pantomime flags. A mild euphoria seeps through the atmosphere, infecting everyone in its path, elbowing out cynics, drowning out dissenters. It’s like the gloom of the pre-Olympics cloud has been shattered so comprehensively that there’s no way back for it now; a geniality and generosity of spirit have won the day. I only see Jessica once throughout the morning – and she says she’s still disappointed Rebecca Adlington didn’t win gold yesterday. But she quickly lightens up again when news of another gold in the rowing – in the Men’s four – filters through. We also mention William and his offer to take her out next week. Jessica is still flattered (I can tell by her cheeks turning crimson in an instant when his name is mentioned) but she’s not sure that he’s ‘her type’, whatever that means. If only these youngsters knew what courting was like back in my day they wouldn’t be so choosy. I can still remember Donald approaching me for the first time at a village fundraising event for wounded soldiers. My parents were also there (probably to keep their eye on me) but it was fascinating how Donald spoke about our small, sleepy village of a few thousand people and compared it with the vast, expansive battlefields of South East Asia. He made everyone in the hall feel part of something bigger, something global. Of course we knew about Empire and the problems of the last few years but he didn’t hold back in his criticism of past and serving Prime Ministers. It drew me to him. Eight months later, we were married. Will Jessica and William last that long if they start going out? I hope so, because for some unknown reason, their brief flirtation or companionship has made me incredibly happy so far.

  Unfortunately, someone who won’t be happy is Rob as there’s no chance of me hanging around for his ‘surprise’ later in the day. I’m too tired as I sit down for lunch and his surprise is probably something crude and impenetrable anyway so I’d rather nip out through the crowd before he can get hold of me. I get talking to Eric instead. He is in great spirits – his daughter has just got married and she’s also agreed to live at home for the time being as a new house is out of the couple’s reach – but he still finds room for a note of caution. Perhaps it’s a symptom of our advancing age.

  ‘I’m worried what will happen when all this is over,’ he says, taking off his cap and rubbing his head vigorously. ‘I know it’s a silly thing to say on a day like this with its extraordinary atmosphere but what happens when it’s all gone? When the crowd and athletes go home? Who’s going to care about the volunteers then?’

  ‘Come on Eric, what’s brought this on?’ I ask, drinking my black coffee rather too quickly to keep in tune with the pace of morning. ‘Let’s just enjoy this, we can think about all that later.’

  ‘Well, I mention it because our local youth club had to close down a couple of days ago,’ he replies, frowning as he picks away at a small cyst on the back of his head. ‘There just aren’t enough volunteers to keep it open. Valerie Dean, who runs it, was in tears down the phone saying she’ll miss her ‘young family’ so much. It’s like there are two parallel operations running at the moment: seventy thousand volunteers at the carnival, having the times of their lives, and the rest of the volunteers in the country, struggling along at the bottom, cobbling together a few funds to keep their services running.’

  ‘It was always like that though, wasn’t it Eric? It was the same when we started: lack of funds, lack of interest, people taking us for granted…’

  ‘True,’ he says, finally putting his hat back on his head. ‘But it’s worse now – because the community spirit isn’t there. Apathy rules – and once you’re infected by that, it’s hard to rally any troops.’

  ‘I think there’s something else wrong, Eric,’ I say, folding my arms. ‘This is so unlike you. Your daughter’s wedding made you proud and happy so what’s happened?’

  He pauses and looks at me for longer than necessary. He sighs and moves his chair closer, perhaps to dampen the chatty, buoyant atmosphere in the canteen.

  ‘Of course, I was the happiest man in the world when Laura got married,’ he says, raising his voice slightly and crossing his hands. ‘And when she said she wanted to stay in the family home, it was even better, because I’d still get to see her beautiful smile every day…’ He pauses again and eases the peak of his cap down over his forehead. ‘But Jean wasn’t happy with this arrangement because she wanted us to enjoy our retirement in our own home; to finally get some freedom. We fell out over it and, truth be told, I’m not used to it. It’s hurt me quite badly. I’m not good at conflict, Frannie. We haven’t had a big quarrel in 51 years of marriage – and I don’t want to start now.’

  ‘Oh I’m so sorry, Eric, I had no idea. I avoid conflict as much as I can too: it feels like poison at our age. Do you want me to speak to Jean?’

  ‘No, no I wouldn’t want you to do that. I just needed to tell someone that’s all. It’s been eating me up inside.’

  ‘And there’s me thinking you were enjoying yourself more than anyone else at the Olympics!’ I say, with a shake of the head.

  ‘I am – it’s when I go home the problems start.’

  ‘So what are you going to do about it? I can see Jean’s point in a way. Laura’s how old? 36, 37? She’s probably thinking she’ll never get the freedom of her own home. And your son-in-law? He’s a solicitor isn’t he? I’m sure they could afford a mortgage soon.’

  ‘Not in our area – and Christopher’s still a trainee solicitor so he’s not on the greasy pole yet.’

  ‘At his age?’

  ‘He didn’t do well at school but got into university as a mature student. So he’s been playing catch up.’

  ‘…Playing catch up? Greasy poles? Relieved I stayed away from that life.’

  ‘…And became a volunteer?’

  I look around the canteen at the lively purple and red army: eating, drinking and chatting. I imagine them as the sixth sense of the Olympics, jumping and diving through the sixth conjoined hoop, putting out fires and greeting strangers.

  ‘I’m happy I did,’ I say, rubbing the emblem on my shirt. ‘I wouldn’t have se
en an Olympic Games otherwise…’

  I glance up and notice Rob coming towards our table. He playfully turns Eric’s cap to its side and straightens his name tag.

  ‘Sorry Rob, I can’t come this evening, I’m too tired,’ I say.

  ‘You don’t know what I’ve got in store for you yet,’ he says, sitting down and checking my coffee cup. ‘Do you want me to finish this off? You know I haven’t got time to queue up.’

  ‘Be my guest,’ I say, easing the cup towards him. ‘So what have you got in store for me? You should be looking after an old woman, not giving her more anxiety.’

  ‘Hey listen, I heard Jessica and this William bloke have hit it off, is that true?’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Jessica and my daughter are quite close friends, as you know. They speak all the time. What’s he like then, this William fella? Works in a pub doesn’t he?’

  I look at Eric and smile. ‘And this is our dear leader Eric. The biggest gossip of them all. You should have been called Roberta!’

  ‘Careful Frannie, that’s not PC these days,’ he says, finishing off my coffee. ‘The Locog spies would have you for sexist innuendo.’

  ‘It’s not me interested in the prurient details of Jessica and William,’ I say, looking at my watch. ‘For your information, they’re just friends for now…’

  ‘Were you with them at the pub yesterday?’

  ‘It’s nearly time for me to get back on shift again,’ I say, preparing to get up from my seat. ‘You know it takes me 10 minutes to get off my chair because of my creaking bones.’

  ‘I was told you stayed close to midnight…’

  ‘Maybe I did, it was my day off, what’s your point?’

  ‘Good stamina there, Frannie, that’s all. Just do another one tonight, I promise you won’t regret it. Might even give you Sunday off, who knows.’

  ‘But what is it, this big surprise? It’s getting more tedious by the minute.’

  Rob smiles and hands Eric the empty coffee cup. He gets up from his chair and puts his hands on his hips.

  ‘Ask Eric, he knows,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you at about five-ish Frannie. You’ll thank me for it one day.’

  He walks away from the table. I look at Eric who shrugs.

  ‘Does everyone know about this, apart from me?’ I ask.

  Eric puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘Ageism, pure and simple, that’s what it is – and we’re victims of it. He may have talked about sexism but I know his game. I think he’s got it in for us old people because I haven’t got a clue what he’s talking about.’

  I look at Eric and realise he’s being deadly serious about the ageism conspiracy. He doesn’t know Rob well enough. The man simply can’t help playing around – he’s just a big kid – and the middle Saturday of the Olympics is when he can be the biggest kid of them all.

  Sheena makes me start thinking about the Paralympics for the first time. She mentions Oscar Pistorius going in the 400m heats against the world’s best athletes and says it was one of the most amazing things she’s ever seen. She wonders how a human being can be so driven to go against the able-bodied elite despite all the odds stacked against them. She feels the level of dedication is incredible but also a bit scary. We don’t have much time to talk, as we are pulled this way and that across the Olympic Park, but the snatches of conversation we do have end up being quite funny – or even ridiculous. I definitely believe this is something to do with the overall mood of volunteers and spectators on an expectant weekend. In one of these conversations, Ben’s name is mentioned and I ask how he’s doing.

  ‘He’s left the country,’ says Sheena. ‘He’s gone to some retreat in Istanbul…’

  ‘Sounds like a proper tortured artist…’

  She smiles. ‘It’s what he likes to think he is.’

  Later in the afternoon, we end up outside the Riverbank Arena which gets very packed, mainly because of the Great Britain v China game in the women’s preliminaries. This is the first time I have a small sense of regret that I won’t be in the stadium watching the action rather than out here amongst the spectators, giving them directions, checking their tickets and generally talking to them about how wonderful London 2012 is. It was entirely my choice to work the middle Saturday – but now the roars are so loud from all parts of the Olympic Park, including the Olympic Stadium, that I wonder if I have missed out by being out here rather in there. Sheena doesn’t let me dwell too much on this minor irritation.

  ‘Gary wants to me to stop working in the middle of this week,’ she says, just after a young Chinese man has his photo taken with her. ‘He’s got his hands full at the garage he runs and he can’t cope with the kids. He keeps saying two was okay but he can’t manage three – but there’s no way I’m going back yet. I’m staying till the end. I’ve got tickets for the Closing Ceremony.’

  ‘I think he’s forgot how much of a blessing they are.’

  ‘Too right. He’s also forgotten about me. For the last nine years or so, I’ve hardly been anywhere apart from the house, supermarket or the doctor’s and now that I’m in the middle of this event that everyone’s talking about it’s got him worked up. Theo also mentioned that I was about to meet Usain Bolt so that didn’t go down well either.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘You must be joking. The active imagination of a primary school kid I’m afraid.’

  A spectator asks Sheena to tie his Union flag round his waist (which has become loose) as his hands are full with food and drink. She moves towards him and bends down slightly, putting her name tag into her mouth so it doesn’t get in the way. She ties it quite tightly around his portly waist. Once she’s done, she cheekily takes a sip of the man’s drink through the straw while he’s looking away. The man thanks her and heads into the Riverbank Arena.

  ‘Lucky he asked you to bend down not me,’ I say, with a smile.

  ‘That’s five babies I’ve had to deal with today. Four at home and him! Nice drink though.’ She laughs and moves back by my side. ‘You got any plans this evening then?’ she asks. ‘Or are you just going home and relaxing after such a long day? Honestly, I could sleep in the Olympic Park tonight. I don’t want to leave. The buzz is electric today. I’ve never felt anything like that.’

  ‘…And we haven’t even won anything in the Athletics yet. What if Jessica Ennis wins? I’m not sure my ears could take it.’

  ‘The roof’ll come off the Olympic Stadium. Do you wish you were in there?’

  ‘We’re commoners,’ I say, with a smile. ‘We’re not allowed.’

  ‘But you were at the Opening Ceremony. You’ve already sampled that kind of noise. What was it like?’

  I turn and look at the Olympic Stadium; imagining hundreds of athletes sprinting, throwing and jumping within the steel bowl while hordes of spectators gasp, cheer and applaud.

  ‘Like a joy I can’t describe…’

  ‘Oh God, I want to go in now,’ says Sheena.

  For the first time, since London 2012 started, I feel the same.

  My shift is over and I’m not as exhausted as I expected. Perhaps the exuberance of the spectators – and Team GB’s continuing medal success – has carried me through. Before I can even think about getting changed or worry about delays on the Jubilee Line, Rob appears in the changing room to whisk me away in an instant. He takes me to the canteen where I grab a sandwich and a coffee, one of the most pleasurable breaks I’ve had, as it allows me to think deeply about a satisfying and fulfilling day’s work. He eats fast and frantically, looking up at me all the while, wearily trying to bat away my predictable questions.

  ‘I understand you’ve had a hard day, Frannie,’ he says, wiping away a touch of mayonnaise from his lip. ‘But just bear with us a bit longer. I’ve got a special feeling about this evening.’

  ‘I
’m not bothered now to be honest,’ I say, finishing off my sandwich. ‘I’ve had a great day already and nothing can take that away from me.’

  ‘You must be out on your feet though?’

  ‘Not really, just being out there in amongst the spectators gives you a lift. It’s like some happy virus has been sprinkled right across the Olympic Park.’

  ‘Oh look, here’s Jess,’ he says, looking over his shoulder. ‘Blimey she looks knackered.’

  Jessica walks to the table and sits down.

  ‘A man asked me out this morning near Stratford Gate,’ she says, looking incredulous. ‘Can you believe that? He found me again this afternoon, I don’t know how, and popped the question again. He wouldn’t take no for answer. Dressed all funny too, in sunglasses, shorts and long-sleeved t-shirt. Thankfully, I just saw him leave.’

  ‘So that’s two blokes after you now,’ says Rob. ‘I wonder what William would think…’

  ‘I’ve known William for about 24 hours now. Even in our advanced Bronte-inspired county that’s not enough time for a proper romance.’ She looks at Rob and straightens his crooked name tag. ‘So come on, tell Frannie what you’ve got in store for her. She’s tired of your games.’

  ‘You’re not tired are you Frannie?’ he asks, looking at me.

  ‘No, but I will be if you don’t get a move on.’

  ‘Can I not finish my sandwich?’

  Jessica gets up and puts her arm on Rob’s shoulder. ‘No, you can’t.’

  ‘But you’ve only just got here…’

  ‘It’s best for me to move around. That bloke might come back and be watching me right now. Who knows, he could be one of the staff in the canteen.’

  ‘You wish…’

  ‘Come on, get up.’

  Rob is forced to get up while chewing a mouthful of bread.