A Mind of her Own

by Rosie Harris

  Betty shook her head and smiled at Peter. ‘We’re very happy there, aren’t we?’

  ‘Absolutely perfect,’ he confirmed. ‘We’ve the most beautiful balcony to sit out on, comfortable chairs in the living room, a bed that suits us, and we know where everything is. We can do what we like when we like. We don’t have to stick to a time table and if we want to go anywhere we know exactly how to get there, and we can understand what everybody says.’

  ‘Take the opportunity to travel while you are still fit enough to do so,’ Graham admonished.

  ‘Go on a cruise,’ Shirley prompted. ‘I know I would, given half a chance.’

  Prompting and banter went on during most of the meal, but Peter and Betty remained unmoved. They’d already talked the matter over and they knew exactly what they wanted to do.

  ‘Perhaps next year, when the novelty of living in our flat has dimmed a little we might think about a holiday,’ Peter told them, bringing the matter to a close.

  ‘In that case,’ Tim said, as the dessert plates were cleared and coffee and liqueurs served, ‘can we have the speeches?’

  ‘There wasn’t a best man, so who is going to make a speech?’ Shirley asked. ‘I know Graham has made some notes,’ she added pointedly.

  Embarrassed, Graham stood up and made some complimentary remarks about how Peter had helped his grandmother after his grandfather had died and how pleased he was to welcome him into the family.

  Tim followed with glowing tributes to his own father and to Peter and the hope that his mother would be happy with her new husband.

  Betty felt a wave of relief sweep over her as Peter thanked them all for coming and welcoming him so warmly into their family. Surely now, she thought, the event was over and she and Peter could go back to their new flat and relax.

  Peter looked tired and, although he was smiling, she was sure that, like her, he wanted quiet and rest. She was dying to take off her new shoes which were pinching and rest in her comfortable chair. That, she soon discovered, was out of the question.

  As the staff helped them into their coats, Tim announced, ‘I’ll take Mum and Dad in my car and you can follow us, Graham.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Mary asked.

  ‘To Mum and Peter’s flat, of course,’ Tim told her. ‘I have all the wedding presents in the boot of my car.’

  ‘You take Aunt Mary in your car, Graham,’ he said, ‘and I’ll take Sally in mine.’

  ‘You don’t have to come back,’ Betty protested with a smile. ‘It’s been wonderful being all together but I feel we have already taken up too much of your time.’

  She waited hopefully but it was pointless. They all insisted that they wanted to see the flat and also wanted to see the wedding presents.

  ‘It will be rather a squash,’ she warned them but no one took any notice.

  On the drive home Betty worried about whether she had enough cups to go round, whether they would want tea or coffee and where would they all sit. She knew she was being selfish but she was tired and she didn’t like the idea of their flat being invaded by so many all at once.

  As she had thought, there were really too many people for such a small space. Anna bounced on Peter’s new chair, Mary put the foot rest up and then put it down half a dozen times, and the men stood in a cluster on the balcony.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ Betty asked.

  ‘Oh tea, of course,’ Mary said. ‘Where are the cups, shall I put them on a tray for you?’

  Betty switched on the kettle. She wasn’t sure how many tea bags to put in the teapot, she’d never entertained this many people before. She remembered the old saying, one for each person and one for the pot, but decided that if she put that many in there would be no room for the water.

  She took a chance and put in four. She could always make a fresh pot if this didn’t work, she thought.

  She felt very flustered and when the kettle boiled her hand was shaking so much that she had difficulty pouring the water into the teapot.

  ‘Can I do that for you, Gran,’ Graham offered. Reluctantly, but very grateful, she put the kettle down and stood back so that he could do it.

  ‘Why don’t you go and sit down,’ he suggested. ‘Shirley will help me.’

  ‘I must find the biscuits first,’ she protested.

  ‘Biscuits! No one wants biscuits after what we’ve eaten today,’ Graham told her with a chuckle.

  ‘I do, I want a biscuit, a chocolate one,’ Anna protested.

  ‘You go and sit down and behave, and then you can have a piece of the wedding cake,’ her mother told her.

  ‘Wedding cake? I haven’t got any,’ Betty apologized, her face turning red with embarrassment.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ve brought one with us,’ Brenda told her. ‘It’s on the table along with all your presents.’

  ‘I’ll help you open all your presents,’ Anna told her.

  ‘You’ll go and sit down and be a good girl,’ Brenda ordered.

  ‘I want a drink, a glass of milk,’ Anna stated.

  ‘I’ll see to it,’ Shirley offered. ‘Where do you keep the glasses, Grandma?’

  Once again Betty felt waves of panic sweeping over her. There were so many people, so much to do and all she wanted was some peace and quiet and time to reflect on what had been happening that day.

  The afternoon seemed to go on forever. Opening the presents took another hour and Anna was more hindrance than help in unwrapping them. She tore off the paper so quickly and tossed them aside that Betty was afraid she would never remember who had given her what.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Tim said quietly. ‘I have a list and we can go through it tomorrow or sometime when you feel like it.’

  She smiled at him gratefully. She didn’t know how she and Peter would have got through the day without him. He seemed to think of everything and he seemed to be able to bring control to the most confused scene.

  The presents were all lovely and very practical but Betty did wonder where she was going to find space for the new tea set, the matching dinner service and the set of assorted glasses.

  Anna gave them a furry dog and she told then that it was a guard dog to keep them safe.

  ‘I know you can’t have a real one,’ she said stroking and hugging it, ‘so this is a toy one instead. Can I come and see him and play with him, Granny Betty?’

  ‘Of course you can, whenever you like,’ Betty told her.

  ‘Every day?’ Anna asked.

  ‘No, of course you can’t come every day,’ Brenda told her sharply.

  Anna looked at her grandmother and pulled a face. ‘I’m going to ask Daddy if I can,’ she said stubbornly.

  ‘You can come whenever she has time to bring you,’ Betty intervened, as she saw tears flooding into Anna’s eyes. ‘Don’t worry, Granddad Peter and me will take great care of him, I think he is lovely. Has he got a name?’

  ‘Of course he has,’ Anna said indignantly, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘His name is Woof Woof.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll have to remember that,’ Betty told her and was relieved when Anna nodded happily. Betty suspected that although she was almost eight years old she didn’t really want to part with the toy dog.

  Finally, they all said their goodbyes and wished them well for the future. Betty and Peter thanked them all for coming and for their presents. One by one they left, Anna making a great fuss of Woof Woof before she exited.

  Betty wondered if she ought to suggest that she took it home with her, but decided that would probably bring a sharp reprimand from Brenda. In a few weeks’ time she could probably ask Anna to look after Woof Woof so that the child could have the dog back.

  When they had finally gone, Betty went into the kitchen to clear up but she found it had already been done for her. Everything had been washed, dried and piled up on the worktop so all she had to do was put them away.

  ‘Leave that, my dear,’ Peter said, taking off his tie and undoing the top buttons of his white
shirt. ‘Come and sit down. I feel shattered so I am sure you must be weary as well.’

  ‘Yes, it’s been a wonderful day,’ Betty agreed, ‘but all I want to do is take my shoes off, put my feet up and enjoy the peace and quiet of being on our own.’

  ‘And nod off for half an hour like I am going to do,’ Peter smiled.

  He waited until she had sat down and then gently removed her tight shoes and massaged her feet.

  ‘Now, have a little sleep,’ he told her, as he kissed her softly and moved away to his own chair.

  Twenty-Seven

  Betty and Peter had a very quiet time the following week. The excitement and so many people fussing around them had left them both exhausted.

  They took their time over everything, did the minimum amount of shopping possible and spent most of the day sitting out on their balcony enjoying the September sunshine.

  The days were already getting shorter and very soon the flowers would be fading as the colder weather took over. Betty didn’t like the short days and long dark evenings of winter, but here was still the last few days of summer and the prospect of a colourful autumn to follow.

  When winter does get here, she consoled herself, I have the most comfortable chair in the world to sit in, Peter for company, and the television and radio to enjoy.

  Yes, life was good, she told herself, and now that she had adjusted to the size of the flat and the close proximity of living there with Peter she was really appreciative that they had made the move.

  As Christmas approached, she was even more happy to be in their cosy flat. It was easy to keep it warm and with its well-fitting door and windows there were no draughts or cold spots, no matter how hard the winds were blowing or how low the temperature was.

  Then, a week before Christmas, they had snow. It wasn’t very deep but it made the pavements icy and treacherous.

  Peter insisted on doing the shopping and Betty didn’t argue. She hated walking in snow. Nevertheless, she did decide to venture out because she had her heart set on buying a bottle of special single malt whisky for Peter as a Christmas present, and it would be no surprise if she asked him to buy it.

  She waited until Peter was having his afternoon nap, then wrapped herself up warm and put on her fur boots.

  ‘You’d think I was planning an Arctic trip instead of simply going across the road,’ she told herself aloud as she looked in the mirror before leaving the house.

  The pavement outside the block of flats had been treated with salt and was reasonably easy to cross, but when she reached the stretch of pavement outside the store it was a different matter. So many people had walked along it that the snow had turned to slush and as the temperature had dropped it had iced over, and walking on it was very tricky.

  Betty knew she was walking like a crab, afraid to put one foot in front of the other, but inwardly she was pleased at the progress she was making.

  Then, when she was within almost touching distance of the door, her feet went from under her and she struggled to stay upright. Instead, she felt herself sliding, and although she put her hand out to save herself, she slid, crash landing with one foot twisted underneath her.

  She lay there for a couple of seconds, her face resting on the frozen slush, afraid to move because her foot was throbbing and she didn’t know how to get up. If she could only use one foot then would she manage to stand up without falling again, she pondered.

  Before she could determine what to do, she felt a pair of strong hands grab the top of her arms.

  ‘Relax and I’ll soon have you on your feet again,’ a deep voice told her.

  She turned her head but all she could see were two dark brown eyes peeping out from a black balaclava hood.

  Memories of the burglar when she’d been living at Clover Crescent flashed through Betty’s mind, filling her with terror. Had he come back? Her mind swirled. Where was she? What was she doing on the ground and why was it so hard and cold. Had he pushed her over and was that why she was lying on the ground, she wondered in panic.

  She tried to struggle but she had no strength, no option but to do what he told her. Her body slumped. She felt his hands move from the top of her arms to her waist. She wanted to call out for help but, although she opened her mouth, no sound came out.

  She closed her eyes and gave in. The next minute she was on her feet and several other hands were supporting her; brushing the slush from her coat, picking up her shopping bag and offering to see her home.

  In a shaky voice she thanked them all and looked round for the man in the balaclava but he had already gone on his way.

  Someone came out from the supermarket with a glass of water and said if she would come inside she could sit down until she felt better.

  Betty nodded gratefully as several people began to help her in through the automatic doors and one of the staff brought over a chair for her to sit on.

  She sipped at the water and slowly her feeling of panic ebbed away, she was able to breath normally and once again she thanked everyone round her for their help.

  As one by one they drifted away she handed the glass back to the assistant, who had remained with her, and told her what she had come in to buy.

  ‘You sit there and I’ll get it for you,’ the girl told her, taking the notes that Betty held out. ‘Let me have your shopping bag and give me time to put on my coat and I’ll walk you back to your flat,’ she told Betty.

  ‘Won’t you get into trouble with your boss if you do that?’ Betty asked.

  ‘Not at all. You are one of our regular customers and I’ve seen you and your husband in here many a time.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much, I would be grateful. It would be terrible if I dropped the bottle and it broke! I want it as a Christmas present for my husband,’ she added with a warm smile.

  Betty’s wrist was aching. When she pulled up her left trouser leg a little way and started to unzip her boot to find out why her ankle was hurting so much, she was worried when she saw that it had swollen up to double its usual size.

  She quickly pulled her trouser leg down over it when she spotted the girl returning. She didn’t want to make any more fuss. She’d wait until she got home and then take another look at it. Probably a cold compress on it would soon take the swelling down and ease the pain.

  ‘Give me your arm and let me carry your shopping bag,’ the girl said.

  ‘Are you going to tell me your name?’ Betty asked.

  The girl smiled. ‘It’s Lucy, Lucy Peterson.’

  ‘Well, I am most grateful to you, Lucy. I feel rather shaky,’ she said as they went through the doors into the street. ‘Look, can I take hold of your arm instead of you holding mine. I feel safer that way.’

  As they moved off down the street Betty tried to keep up with Lucy but it wasn’t easy because every step she took was painful.

  ‘Do you think you could walk a little slower,’ she asked breathlessly.

  Lucy walked Betty right to the door of the flat but wouldn’t accept an invitation to come in.

  ‘Sorry, but I must get back,’ she explained. ‘Another time perhaps,’ she said with a smile as she handed over the shopping bag with its precious contents to Betty. ‘Have a nice Christmas.’

  ‘I will now,’ Betty smiled as she took the bag from her. ‘A very Happy Christmas to you, Lucy, and thank you for all your help.’

  Betty closed the door behind her then peeped into the sitting room. Peter was still asleep. He had raised the footstool on his chair and was reclining back, looking relaxed. Betty stood there watching him for a moment, thinking how lucky she was and what a wonderful companion he was.

  As quietly as possible she went into the bedroom and she squirrelled the bottle away in the bottom of the wardrobe, smiling to herself at the thought of how pleased he would be when she gave it to him on Christmas Day.

  As she took off her bedraggled coat the pain that shot through her ankle was like a knife turning. It hurt so much that she had difficulty getting her
out of her coat. When she did get it off, she sat down on one of the dining chairs. Seeing once again how swollen her ankle was, she felt alarmed.

  She’d known it was swollen when she’d tried to look at it in the supermarket but now it was far worse. So was the pain. Every time she moved her foot tears sprang into her eyes.

  She was going to have to tell Peter about it, she’d have to get some treatment. Perhaps it would be better to tell Tim and ask him to take her to hospital. If she did that, though, she’d have to tell him that she’d been out and he’d already warned her not to do that.

  She’d have to tell both Tim and Peter how foolish she’d been, so perhaps the best thing was to ring for an ambulance.

  She was downstairs still sitting on the dining chairs when Peter woke up.

  ‘What are you sitting there for?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong with your armchair?’

  ‘Nothing. I was—’

  He stared at her. ‘What’s happened. Why are you crying?’

  ‘I’m not crying,’ she protested as she rubbed at her eyes.

  ‘Something is wrong. What have done to yourself,’ he said, bringing his chair into an upright position and coming across to her.

  He noticed her swollen ankle and went to touch it, but she let out a scream which made him move back instantly.

  As he did so he noticed the state she was in. ‘Have you been outside?’ he asked, his forehead creasing into a frown. ‘Whatever for?’ he demanded before she could answer. ‘I bought everything we need this morning.’

  ‘There … there was something I needed,’ she said lamely.

  ‘Then why didn’t you ask me to go for it?’

  ‘You … you were asleep.’

  ‘If you were in such a hurry then why didn’t you wake me up,’ he said in a bewildered voice.

  He looked at her again and noticed the mud and wet of her skirt. ‘You’ve been out to the shop and you’ve fallen over,’ he said accusingly.

  ‘Yes, but I’m all right,’ Betty said defensively.

  ‘Are you? Then why are you holding your foot off the ground like that?’