by Jane Gilley
‘You okay, Glor?’ asked Jocelyn in a small, worried voice.
No, Gloria Frensham was not okay. A tear dripped slowly down her cheek. She thanked Jocelyn, with a watery, ‘Yeah but I, I gotta go now. So ta-ra, love. We’ll speak soon.’ And she put the phone down.
She simply couldn’t believe what Jocelyn was suggesting, but Jocelyn wasn’t prone to lying. Yet it really didn’t seem feasible that Clegg would go behind her back and sell her property or get rid of all her belongings, without her knowledge. Would he? Did he really care so little for her feelings? Her mind was buzzing with all the questions, flying around inside her brain.
She desperately hoped that Jocelyn had got it completely wrong.
Chapter 8
Gloria slumped onto the stool by the phone in Clegg’s hall, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of Jocelyn’s news. She wiped her tears away, on the back of her sleeve.
She had to think this through.
She didn’t want to jump to the wrong conclusion about her son. Relations between them were strained at best and, anyway, she had to live with him and his wife for the moment. But the more she thought about it she realised that no one had actually mentioned anything to her about her either returning to her own home, after the electrics had been fixed, or staying with them on a more permanent basis. They hadn’t had any meaningful conversations with her about anything relating to her future. Or were things still being decided between them. Maybe that’s what all the pussyfooting around was about?
Right, well, she had to get to grips with this. She had to get things clear in her own mind. She had to look at the facts. Fact One, she thought, taking a deep breath.
Her ruddy, difficult and annoying yet occasionally affable son; the son Arthur and she had tried to guide and love, despite his failings, had now, supposedly, in some wild turn of events decided to get rid of everything she’d ever owned. What? Even her jewellery? And what about all her precious photo albums? Some of her most valuable possessions were what she could see in those albums.
And there was lots of other stuff she really wanted to hold on to. There was Cleggy’s little red three-wheeler tricycle that she’d kept, for starters, and the old Singer sewing machine for stitching Arthur’s work shirts. Oh yes and then there was Cleggy’s little finger paintings he did when he was at school and all those Plasticine models he made. And there was Arthur’s collection of World War I planes and oh, there were lots of things she wanted to keep. Memories were attached to all of them. And memories were all she had left now. No! He couldn’t have! He wouldn’t have done all that, surely?
Would he?
Fact Two …
Jocelyn had said that Clegg had cleared everything else away too. Everything clogging up the rooms. All the crap, as Clegg always called it. Taken away in lorries! Well yes. If Gloria was honest she’d known that, one day, at some point, everything would have to be sorted out and most of it dumped; there’d been a vast amount of rubbish. Even Green’s Nursing Home had given her some new clothes. They’d realised the blouses and skirts they’d found in her wardrobes, once they’d cleared everything out, were damp and would be too small for her now. The dresses Green’s had given her, however, didn’t fit her very well so she wanted to get some new ones when Val could take her.
Probably donated by families of people who died, Gloria thought, jokingly, and then stopped, realising that – oh my God – that could actually have been the truth.
Nonetheless, even though Gloria knew Clegg could be bloody-minded, she didn’t really believe he’d get rid of all her personal belongings and knick-knacks, without telling her about it first. Or perhaps he didn’t realise how important all that stuff was to her? It had been part and parcel of her and Arthur’s life together. So surely he wouldn’t be that inconsiderate, would he?
Fact Three …
By all accounts, Clegg had even got rid of dear Tilsbury, and told him never to come back! Well, how ridiculous! As if Tilsbury would do what her bully of a son told him. But to top it all off she’d also been told that Clegg was getting rid of her house as well now!
Gloria let out a deep sigh. The facts were alarmingly clear. It didn’t look good, whatever Clegg was doing. Plus he’d discussed none of it with her beforehand.
So Jocelyn’s news had been totally shattering – to the extent that Gloria didn’t want to believe it was true. But Gloria had lived with her son long enough to realise that Cleggy was a force to be reckoned with. She knew that much, as his mother. And so, consequently, the facts seemed to stack up against him. Therefore, it was highly probable that Jocelyn’s take on the situation was correct.
Nonetheless, she could see, on the other hand, that she’d never really know what was going on unless she confronted Clegg and Val about her suspicions. And that was something she certainly didn’t want to face or do, right now.
Oh dear.
Why were things starting to go horribly wrong for her? How had her life suddenly turned out like this?
Chapter 9
The next day a despondent Gloria paced her bedroom until Clegg and Val went to work. Then she picked up their hall telephone to speak to Tilsbury. Jocelyn had kept her promise and Tilsbury had briefly rung Gloria back yesterday afternoon.
‘Here, Glor, ring me back tomorrow at Jocelyn’s, when the coast’s clear and we can have a proper talk,’ he’d said.
But, today, the last thing she wanted was for either Clegg or Val to come home, unexpectedly, and catch her on the phone to Clegg’s dreaded nemesis, Tilsbury. All hell would break loose if they did. Of that she was sure.
Gloria hesitated before dialling Jocelyn’s number and took a deep breath.
It was such a shame it all had to be like this, tiptoeing around everybody’s personalities, for fear of reprisals, she thought. Why was family life so darned complicated sometimes?
If Adam and Jessie had been home instead of on their extended holiday with their respective friends, everything would’ve been so much better. In fact, staying with her son would’ve been far more bearable if her grandchildren had been home, despite the recent bad news from Jocelyn. Gloria also despised the fact that Clegg and Val seemed to be walking on eggshells around her and always whispering. Too much whispering was going on.
She rang her friend’s number and Tilsbury answered immediately. ‘All right, my love?’
‘Not really, Tils. I’d like to see ya, if you’re free today. Just need an ear to bend really. Someone to talk to about all this. Can’t take it all in, ducks. It’s such a shock. But if you’re coming round you’ll need to be quick. What? Why yes, my love. Why, that would be absolutely lovely, Tilsbury! Yes, okay. I’d love to do that. But we’d have to be back before they get home. They’ve been getting back around six this week. Yes, six. Right, so I’ll expect you in about half an hour then and do NOT be late!’
Oh, but what a wonderful idea! Tilsbury said he wanted to take her out for afternoon tea. Yes! It might be just the thing she needed right now: a little treat, in amongst all their problems. They hadn’t done anything like that in years – in fact, since Arthur was alive. Tilsbury said he knew she was upset by everything that’d happened and by what Jocelyn’d told her yesterday and he simply wanted to cheer her up.
Gloria had tossed and turned, restlessly, the night before, worrying about what Clegg was planning to do next, regarding her living arrangements. She was still mystified as to why he’d never mentioned selling her house to her. Or maybe she hadn’t been listening when he’d come to fetch her that day; there’d been a lot going on. But why did he suddenly want to sell her house now?
Maybe he’d found other problems with the building. Maybe something was wrong with the drains or there was structural damage? Or maybe they’d discovered it was in one of those sink hole areas? She’d heard about that sort of thing once.
As she stood in the hall, anxiously waiting for Tilsbury to come and pick her up she was relieved that, at least, the nursing home people had been lovely and understand
ing about her problems. During their heart-to-hearts the social worker, Kate, had helped her ‘come to terms’ with the deaths of Arthur and her parents – her real parents and Alice.
‘That’s what we think your hoarding was about, my lovely. Just a reaction to your grief. And keeping things of sentimental value is understandable, Gloria. But we think it overwhelmed you. Can you see that trying to find an electrical fault amongst all that stuff could have been the death of you? Or what if you’d fallen and couldn’t get back up? So we do hope you’re not going to try to bring lots of unnecessary things back into your life, again. We’re going to try and help you with that, over the coming weeks, and your family have said they’ll be there for you, helping you with that, too.’
It had all sounded so nice and comforting. She’d chatted to the people at Green’s Nursing Home about lots of things she couldn’t talk about with anyone else. It was reassuring. And it now seemed she wasn’t as mad as some people – ahem, Clegg – had made out. She’d been starting to feel more positive about life, until yesterday, when Jocelyn crumpled her world.
Anyway, she knew she had to try and focus and forget about her woes for one day, if she was to have a lovely afternoon out with Tilsbury, unbeknown to Clegg. She would definitely need to talk to her son about these things, at some point, but she didn’t feel strong enough to cope with it all now.
She’d struggled to get into the coat Green’s Nursing Home had supplied her, along with a pair of fuddy shoes, and another ill-fitting Crimplene dress.
And that was another thing! Her daughter-in-law had promised they’d go shopping for new clothes when they got back from the nursing home. Unfortunately, all Val’s good intentions hadn’t materialised yet. And the only conversations she’d had with her was when Val insisted that Gloria should relax in the conservatory or watch the television, when they were out.
‘You’ll need to be patient with us, for a while, Gloria, because we’re a very busy family at the moment,’ Val explained, when Gloria first arrived.
Well, Gloria had sat obediently waiting for some attention from them, for weeks. But the days had crept by, which was okay at first because she could watch all the TV programmes she liked and there was food aplenty. But – apart from one afternoon’s drive to a lovely public garden somewhere – Gloria hadn’t left the house at all. Nor had she had a proper conversation with them about anything. The whole ‘process’ of being with them had simply felt awkward and contrived.
Anyway, not wanting to give her son any further reason for alarm or arguments, she wrote a short note, telling them she was going out for tea ‘with a friend’ so they wouldn’t worry.
Ratta-tat went a knock on the door. Gloria pulled it open.
‘Oh my God, Tilsbury! We’re not going on that are we?’
Gloria, in her tight-fitting coat, slightly oversized shoes and pale pink polka dot dress that, ordinarily, she wouldn’t be caught dead in, stared in astonishment at the scabby, clapped-out scooter she knew belonged to Jocelyn.
‘It’s okay, Glor. It goes at least. It’ll get us into town, anyways. I got her helmet for you. The cops won’t pull us over with helmets on!’
‘But I’m wearing a ruddy DRESS, Tils, and I’m seventy-nine!’
Tilsbury tried to not laugh at the vision forming in his mind.
‘Aw, c’mon, Glor! It don’t matter what you got on. Live a little. You’ve been stuck in that ruddy overcrowded house since forever! C’mon, my love. This’ll just be a one-off trip down memory lane. Like old times? Anyways, Jocelyn gave us a fiver to get tea in the park gardens.’
Gloria laughed heartily. ‘Bloody nicked it you mean! Christ, Tils, you’re the man! Okay, okay. Well, how to do this then? Least it’s not far I suppose, is it?’
‘No, Glor, and I’ll go the back lanes. And I’ll getcha back in time for your bloody rotten son!’
Gloria shook her head. It seemed like a crazy idea.
Ordinarily she wouldn’t entertain such madness. A thought popped into her head – why didn’t Jocelyn ever call the police over Tilsbury’s nicking sprees? He had clearly nicked that fiver! She wondered if Jocelyn still had a soft spot for the irascible man, like everyone did. Apart from Clegg. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps that’s why she lent him the scooter. Or did he steal that too?
Gloria sighed. What to do?
However, whilst studying her dress and handbag and knowing none of it was ideal to be riding a scooter in, she came to a snap decision. At least it was a warm sunny summer’s day, with a slight mischievous breeze, ripe for fun.
Oh what the hell!
‘Okay, Tilsbury. Shift forward and let me on. And hold it steady – and I mean steady. And if you start larkin’ about on it, I’m gettin’ off. Plus you’ll have to help me get me leg over.’
Tilsbury couldn’t stop himself chuckling at that.
‘Oi! I meant over the seat, you bad man! Here! You got enough fuel in it? I don’t want us breakin’ down en route.’
Chapter 10
It had been a bumpy, ungainly ride to the tea rooms, that afternoon.
Tilsbury chuckled to himself every time Gloria let out a yelp when they went over a pothole or swerved to avoid something unsavoury in the road. She was sure he was driving scarily on purpose but clung on tight when he went round bends. She hoped they wouldn’t see anyone they knew and was just starting to relax into his particular way of riding when they arrived.
Tilsbury stopped the engine and held the scooter steady whilst Gloria slipped forward and struggled to get off, straightening her dress and hooking her bag back over her arm. She muttered a little but otherwise acknowledged she had actually arrived safely.
The young girl at the counter in the Park Gardens Tea Room frowned when Tilsbury told her he didn’t have enough to pay for two cream teas consisting of scrummy-looking fruit scones, jam, cream and tea for two.
The bill came to £5.90 but Tilsbury didn’t have any more than the fiver Jocelyn had given him. And there was NO way he’d ask Gloria for the extra. This was supposed to be his treat to her. He hadn’t taken her out in ages and it felt good doing something for her after all this time.
‘Couldn’t we do a deal here, love? Me an’ the missus – well, we’re quite poor, you see. Don’t have much at our age apart from our meagre pensions. Don’t even go out much, either, you know?’
The youngster was on her own whilst the other waitress was outside taking orders and clearing tables. Tilsbury had clocked that there didn’t seem to be anyone else in charge, on the premises.
‘Um well, okay. But what I could do is cut the scone in half, with the two teas and then – I’m not supposed to – but I could give you two biscuits as well. And then I can charge you for one tea and one cream tea for £4.05. Let’s say £4.00. And you’ll get the biscuits for free. Would that be all right?’
Tilsbury chuckled to himself. Clever girl. He’d still got a deal and some change to boot.
He nodded with a big grin. ‘That’d be just fine, my love!’
He carried the laden tray over to Gloria sitting by the window. She’d deemed it a little too blowy to be sitting outside. But her eyes lit up as Tilsbury set the table with their cream tea.
‘Cor, Tils. I haven’t had a ruddy cream tea in absolutely years!’
‘I know, my love. So get stuck into that one then. Bet you’re glad you came out with me now, aren’t you!’
Gloria nodded vigorously, chomping down on her half of the scone, caked with cream and strawberry jam.
‘S’lovely!’ Gloria murmured, as a few crumbs spilled onto her lap.
* * *
A cream tea amongst the colourful herbaceous perennials of the Park Garden Tea Rooms was completely delightful and both Gloria and Tilsbury sat patting their tums, afterwards, in appreciation.
Gloria reached out and got hold of Tilsbury’s hand.
‘That was crackin’, Tils. And I do thank you from the bottom of me heart. You’ve always been a good ’un to me, ducks!’
‘I’ve always had a soft spot for you, you know.’
Gloria wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, I know that, ducks, and I love ya to bits, too!’
‘Right, well, Glor, we’ve still got some time before I takes ya back to yer miserable son. So, I’m thinking … How about – now wait for it! I remember you saying this to me, last year. How about a trip to the seaside? You said you hadn’t been to the seaside since you were a girl!’
‘What? We can’t go there! We’re miles away from the sea and I don’t think that contraption outside will get me any further than back home, Tils.’
‘Course it will, Glor. It got us here didn’t it?’
‘Yeah but that was only a couple of miles.’
‘Now look, my love. When will we ever get to do summat like this again? This is a gas! I’m lovin’ it and I don’t want today to end. Do you? Besides the sea ain’t that far away. An hour tops!’
Gloria looked out the window. Young families walked with children. A dog chased a frisbee. It was a pretty nice park as parks went.
Tilsbury sighed, despondently.
‘But look, Gloria, what if Cleggy decides to put you in a nursing home, miles away from anywhere? We’d never get to see each other again. We’d never get to go to the sea or anywhere else. We’d never get to have any kind of fun ever again, Glor, would we? Remember those tea dances we all used to go to? That’s all finished, now, my love. We – we’re kinda near the end of those times now, aren’t we, Glor?’
He reached out and stroked Gloria’s scarred hands.