by Rosie Harris
‘No, we’ve been talking it over though for the past week or so. We wanted you to be the first to know, but please don’t say anything for a day or two. I’d like to be the one to tell Mary. After that you can tell whoever you like.’
Tim nodded his understanding. ‘Let me know if you want to discuss all the implications or me to help you with any of the legalities,’ he said rather formally.
Betty looked surprised. ‘What do you mean, Tim?’
‘Well, there’s the date to be settled and where you want the wedding to take place and—’
‘We want something quick and simple,’ Peter interrupted. ‘No fuss, no frills. A quiet wedding at the register office and then a dinner for all the family afterwards.’
‘Right, that sounds feasible. You will probably have to change your will, Mother, and you, Peter, will have to see about selling your house in Clover Crescent.’
‘Yes, we’ve talked about the house,’ Peter said, ‘and about the contents. We’d like to see the flat, or one like it, to decide what we should take and what to get rid of. It’s going to mean getting rid of quite a lot of our stuff, I imagine. I’ll have to get rid of all my tools and gardening equipment, too,’ he added with a regretful sigh.
‘Yes, it will be a new start for you both,’ Tim agreed. ‘Are you sure you’re ready for it?’
‘We can’t afford to go on living at my house and paying out for a cleaner and gardener. A flat sounds the sensible answer and, from what you’ve told us about security, that’s going to be another problem solved. I know they say that a burglar never visits the same place twice, but we’re not taking any chances. He mightn’t come back but he may tell one of his mates and they might pay us a visit!’
‘Right.’ Tim took a black leather-bound notebook out of his pocket and began to make a list. ‘After you’ve told Mary we’ll start setting things in motion,’ he stated. ‘Inform the register office and get a date. Check the number coming and book the venue for a meal afterwards. Help you to change all your documents to your new name, Mother.’
‘Just a minute,’ Peter interrupted. ‘First things first. Take us to see these flats you are talking about so we can go inside one even if it is not the one we eventually buy. Then put my house on the market.’
‘Wouldn’t you sooner do that after you’ve moved?’ Tim asked. ‘You don’t want people coming to view while you are still deciding what you want to take with you and what you want to sell.’
‘It’s all a question of money,’ Peter pointed out. ‘We need to sell the house to buy the flat.’
‘Look, it’s going to be yours jointly so let Mother put down the deposit.’
Peter looked dubious.
‘The flat will be in your joint names,’ Tim pointed out.
Peter shrugged. ‘You know more about these things than I do, we’ll just get into a muddle. You know what the house is worth and I am happy to let you see my bank statements and sort the money side of things out.’
‘Stop worrying,’ Tim told him. ‘That’s why I said that I will help you. Buying and selling can be something of a minefield.’
‘Well, let’s start by taking a look at one of these flats.’
‘Right, I’ll pick you both up at two o’clock today and take you to see one.’
Tim was as good as his word. The flat he took them to see was in a quiet road off the high street, and the flat was on the first floor. It only had one bedroom but it did also have a balcony.
‘That would be big enough to take two or three big pots as well as a chair, or two,’ Peter mused.
‘Yes,’ Betty said brightly, ‘that would mean you’d have a garden after all.’
‘True, and no hedges or trees to worry about,’ Tim commented.
‘Well, there is a tree outside,’ Betty pointed out to the small tree with wide branches at the edge of the balcony.
‘Yes, but you don’t have to worry about it or keep it pruned; all that comes under the general maintenance,’ Tim told her.
The living room faced south and was bright and sunny and looked out onto the courtyard garden.
‘I’d say we were getting the best of both worlds,’ Betty murmured. ‘A lovely garden to look at, our own flower tubs and a sunny aspect.’
‘The bedroom isn’t very large,’ Tim warned.
Peter and Betty nodded, but they were more interested in the large living room and the outlook from there. Neither the bathroom nor the kitchen had windows and the kitchen was rather small yet beautifully fitted out, in fact far better than the one in Peter’s house.
They looked at each other and smiled.
‘It seems to be very nice,’ Peter commented.
‘Is it vacant?’ Betty asked, looking round at the various items of furniture and the curtains at the window.
‘Yes, it is on the market,’ Tim assured them. ‘They will be leaving carpets and curtains, the fridge-freezer, the washing machine, the dishwasher, microwave oven, and any of the other items still here that the buyer might like.’
‘The price?’ Peter mumbled.
When Tim told them, they were both pleasantly surprised. ‘There will be plenty left over for our moving expenses and any new items we might need,’ Betty said happily.
‘Shall we take it?’ Peter asked.
Betty nodded. ‘I think it will suit us fine. The only problem is how long it will take to sell your house. We can’t afford to move until we do, and the people selling this may not want to wait.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve already told you several times, Mother, that I can arrange a bridging loan.’
‘Is that very expensive?’ Peter asked dubiously.
‘No, well within your means. Now, are you going to take it or not?’
Betty and Peter exchanged glances but neither spoke.
‘Do you want more time to think about it and talk it over between you?’ Tim asked looking from his mother to Peter, and then back again.
‘No!’ They spoke in unison, both of them smiling and nodding their agreement. ‘It’s ideal, we couldn’t ask for anything better.’
‘Good. Then don’t worry about selling the house,’ he told them as he shepherded them back to the lift.
When they reached the reception area, Tim stopped at the high counter and greeted the smartly dressed woman sitting there. She was in her mid-thirties and had a sleek cut and alert blue eyes. She was wearing a light navy suit with a pretty flowered blouse, and looked very smart and efficient. Betty was glad that she had taken the trouble to put on her best dress and matching coat and that she had persuaded Peter to wear a jacket, even though he still complained that it hurt his shoulders to put one on.
The woman greeted Tim as if she knew him well and he introduced her to his mother and Peter as Chelsea Brownlow. He then explained to Chelsea that they were about to buy the balcony flat on the first floor and that he was showing them around.
‘Chelsea is the receptionist here and she will answer any questions you may have after you’ve moved in. If you have any problems concerning anything inside the building then she will help you deal with it, or find someone who can do so. Chelsea will also take in parcels if you are out or intercept anyone who comes to see you if you are not sure about them. She is a fountain of knowledge about all the social activities that are scheduled and makes sure that this place runs smoothly.’
They stood and chatted to Chelsea for a short while and she was able to tell them a great many things about living there that Tim didn’t know about.
Afterwards, instead of walking straight to the front door, Tim took them to another door that opened into a spacious room furnished with easy chairs and low tables.
‘This is a beautiful room,’ Betty breathed, ‘and such a lovely view of the garden.’ Peter nodded his agreement then walked round the room, studying the tastefully displayed works of art and pictures strategically placed to enhance the room.
‘This way,’ Tim told them and guided them towards the far end of the roo
m and into a glass conservatory extension that had double doors leading out into the garden.
‘You haven’t seen the garden properly, only the view from your flat,’ he said as he opened the door and ushered them outside.
They both expressed surprise. The garden was a riot of colour with rose bushes in full bloom, lavender, geraniums, and countless flowers that Betty had never seen before but were both colourful and scented.
‘It’s bigger than I thought it was,’ Peter observed as he studied the lawn edged with paving, the bird bath and the water feature, as well as comfortable wicker chairs, two wooden benches and a number of fancy iron tables.
‘You can sit out here on warm days whenever you feel like it, you don’t even have to walk to the park.’
‘Can we also use the main room whenever we want to sit in there? It would be very relaxing to sit in one of those easy chairs at the conservatory end of the room looking out onto the garden,’ Betty asked.
‘Yes, you can use the room at any time unless someone has booked it for a private party.’
‘What do you mean?’ Betty frowned.
‘Well,’ Tim explained, ‘it would be difficult to hold a family party in your living room, wouldn’t it. So if you want a family gathering on the occasion of your birthday or something of that sort then you could hold it down here. You can book it for three hours provided it is not booked for any other function, but you have to let Chelsea know in advance and then she puts a notice on the door to make sure people know and won’t come in and disturb you. At other times the Community Room is where they hold functions from time to time; like a coffee morning once a week, birthday tea parties, and social events.’
‘It gets better and better,’ Betty smiled. ‘You’ve done us proud, Tim.’ She slipped her arm through his and hugged him as they walked along the many little paths that made up the perimeter of the cleverly landscaped garden.
‘Don’t say a word anybody, not even to your Brenda, about what we’ve told you about us getting married. I want to break the news in my own way, and to Mary first of all. You do understand.’
‘Of course I do, Mother, and we’ll do it whatever way you wish. I am pleased, both by your decision to finally marry Peter, and that you have decided to move here. I am sure that the rest of the family will be happy for you as well.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Betty said with a sigh. ‘That’s why I feel it is so important to tell them myself when I think it is the best moment to do so.’
Twenty-Four
Betty had suspected that breaking the news to her daughter, Mary, was not going to be easy, but it was much more difficult than even she had anticipated.
Ever since she’d been a small girl, Mary had had an opposite viewpoint to that of her mother on most things. She had seemed to take a delight in being disobedient and would stamp her foot or sulk at the slightest provocation.
Betty had tried reasoning with her, explaining things in detail, even pleading with her but all to no avail.
In the end, Betty had found that the easiest way to get Mary to do something, or agree with any changes she made, was to approach her through Jeff. Mary had been a daddy’s girl and would walk through fire to please him. If he asked her to do something she obeyed with a smile. No matter what the occasion, she was always eager to be in his good books. Betty knew that it was not the right way to go about things, but it was both practical and peaceful to work that way and invariably it was a ploy she used.
Since Jeff’s death, Mary had become critical and resentful of everything Betty did that affected the family. She rarely visited her mother and never did anything to help her. Betty tried to shrug off any resentment she might feel over such treatment and to be as tactful as possible if she was doing anything that affected the family.
She was pretty sure that Mary would disapprove of her marrying Peter, but she had no idea of just how resentful Mary turned out to be. Betty understood how she must resent her father being replaced by Peter, but she was shocked at her reaction.
‘You’re going to marry that awful old man, let him take the place of my beloved father,’ she said in a rasping voice, glaring at Betty as if her mother was about to commit a crime. ‘How can you bear to be with him? He’s grey haired, wrinkled and shambles along as if it’s too much trouble to stand upright.’
‘Yes, Peter is old and grey,’ Betty admitted, ‘but then so am I. At the moment he is recovering from not being well, and I must admit he does tend to shamble along but give him a few more months to regain his strength and he will be as upright and as brisk as he ever was.’
Mary made a face and shrugged her shoulders.
Betty bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say to placate Mary. In her heart she knew that whatever she said it would be the wrong thing. Mary obviously didn’t like Peter, but then there weren’t many people that she did like.
‘So, when is the wedding?’ Mary asked. ‘You’re not expecting me to be a bridesmaid, I hope.’
‘The date isn’t finalized yet,’ Betty said, ignoring Mary’s quip. ‘We are going to move into a flat, in that new block just off the high street and we want to finalize the date for that first.’
Mary shook her head. ‘You won’t like it there. He’ll miss the garden and I’ve heard they’re very pokey.’
‘I don’t agree,’ Betty protested. ‘We’ve already decided on the one we want; it has a balcony that is big enough to take reasonable sized pots so we will be able to grow flowers. There’s a lovely courtyard garden too where we can sit whenever we want to do so.’
‘I suppose Tim has pushed you into buying that. Commission for him when you buy the flat and then more when he sells your house. Good old Tim, always has his eyes on the prize.’
‘Tim has been most helpful,’ Betty defended.
‘I bet he has! He can be quite charming when he is lining his own pocket,’ Mary retorted.
‘What do the rest of the family think about you marrying Peter Brown?’ Mary asked.
‘I’ve no idea what they will think; I haven’t told anyone except you,’ Betty told her.
‘Oh, and Tim!’ Mary said caustically. ‘He’s always the first to know everything, always has been, always will be.’
Betty ignored her remark.
‘So, when are you telling the rest of the family?’ Mary pressed.
‘Well, now that I’ve told you I don’t mind who else knows. It’s bound to be public knowledge in due course. I simply wanted to be sure that you were the first to hear about it and that you heard it from me and not from anyone else.’
‘I bet Brenda will have plenty to say about it; in case it affects her inheritance,’ Mary said waspishly.
Betty didn’t answer. She wasn’t looking forward to telling Tim’s wife about the forthcoming wedding, and she rather hoped that Tim would do it. With any luck he would also tell Graham and his wife, Shirley. She was sure though that her grandson and his wife were modern enough to accept such a happening and barely comment on it. These days, since he had married Shirley, she saw very little of her grandson or of his little daughter, Anna, who would be eight years old in a couple of months’ time.
She still had to break the news to her two oldest friends: Sally Bishop and Hilda Marsh.
Sally knew more or less what was going on, and Betty knew she would have her full support. Hilda would be cynical but Betty was sure she would wish her well. Probably both of them would be slightly jealous of the fact that she would now have company for the rest of her life and even envy her the opportunity to move into a modern, easy-to-look-after flat, instead of living in houses as old and decrepit as they were themselves.
Betty decided to invite them both to tea so that she could break the news to them. She told Peter what she was planning to do and he promised to keep out of the way while they were there.
Sally arrived first, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘So, you have some special news, have you?’ she greeted Betty.
‘Yes, but w
ait until Hilda gets here and then I can tell you both together to save repeating myself,’ Betty told her. ‘You are looking very summery,’ she commented, admiring Sally’s light green floral dress.
‘It’s not a colour I usually go for,’ Sally admitted, ‘but it was in the sale and I couldn’t resist it.’
Before Betty could comment further Hilda arrived. She was the exact opposite to Sally; she was small and nondescript, her grey hair drawn back in a bun, and her face almost devoid of make-up. As usual she was wearing trousers and a white blouse.
‘Well?’ she said in a disapproving voice. ‘What have you been up to now?’
‘I’ll tell you over a cup of tea,’ Betty told her. ‘Come along in, Sally is here and you can talk to her while I make the tea.’
She took Hilda through to the sitting room and left the two women together while she went into the kitchen. The kettle was boiling and she already had a tray ready with cups and saucers, sugar, milk and a plate of fancy biscuits.
She carried the tray through, set it down on the low coffee table and then went back for the teapot.
‘So why have you asked us both to come and see you at the same time?’ Hilda asked, her narrow lips pursed.
‘I have some news and I wanted you two to be the first to hear it, outside of the family that is. I’m getting married!’
‘Wonderful! Great news,’ Sally beamed. She put down her cup and saucer and moved so that she could hug Betty and kiss her on both cheeks.
‘Risky step to take at your age, isn’t it,’ Hilda frowned. ‘I thought Peter was ill.’
‘He has been but thankfully he is better now.’ Betty added, ‘It’s one of the reasons why we want to get married. I never realized how important he was to me until we were in separate nursing homes. I know he missed me as well.’
Hilda wiped her lips on the silver-edged serviette Betty had given her. ‘Well, it’s your business, of course, but I wouldn’t want the responsibility of taking on an old man at my age. I don’t want to end up having to nurse him. Enough to do looking after myself.’
Sally laughed. ‘No more long, lonely evenings wishing you had someone to talk to.’