September song
This was the third time Maureen Biddlecombe had accepted Ray’s invitation to have tea at his home. A strong relationship had developed between the two of them since Ray had been collecting her for the dysphasia clinic appointments. These clinic sessions were coming to an end, because Maureen’s speaking ability had improved. She still slurred her words at times, but this slight impediment did nothing to interfere with or lessen the affection she and Ray felt for each other. They continued to find each other’s company warm and stimulating.
Ray had been away for a week during August, on holiday somewhere in Spain with his son, daughter-in-law and teenage children. He was a much-travelled man and no stranger to Spain, but like most travellers he was always glad to get home. For him this was his beloved bungalow, neatly set in the beautifully floral village of Godmanstone, a few miles outside Dorchester.
On Maureen’s first visit the two of them had enjoyed a drink and a bit of lunch in the village’s famous Smith’s Arms before returning to the bungalow, where they had sat together on a bench placed against the back wall and exchanged anecdotes about past times. They had both lived eventful lives and found each other’s company relaxing and interesting.
On this third visit they held hands as they slowly walked around the colourful garden. Roses, marigolds, foxgloves, gladioli and many other plants and shrubs all made their natural contribution to fostering the growing romance.
‘The garden’s so beautifully kept, Ray! Do you really do all this on your own?’
‘Yes, I do, though it’s not too difficult because I make time to work on it regularly. It’s a real labour of love. Any season, any weather, it doesn’t matter. I can always be doing something useful out here.’
‘Before I moved into the home I lived in a fourth floor flat, a comfortable flat with beautiful panoramic views and marvellous sunrises, but it only had a small balcony’ she said. ‘There’s not much you can do with such a small space, so high up and so exposed to the wind and rain. I had a couple of containers with plants in them and that was enough for me.’
‘Plants are good friends, Maureen. They just need to be understood and given some love and attention and then they’ll give of their best!’ They moved on, stopping now and then to look at something of particular interest, the flowers, butterflies, birds and berries. Departing swallows sat on the telephone wires.
‘It’s surprisingly warm for late September, don’t you think?’ said Ray. ‘No hint of an early frost and autumn’s colours in the trees are quite stunning.’
‘They’re an amazing sight, Ray. In fact the whole village looks picturesque. It must be so inspiring in the spring.’
‘At its best! Colours everywhere. Crocus, daffodils and all sorts.’
‘Ray,’ began Maureen, ‘What would you say if I were to ask you to…’ she faltered for a second. ‘If I was to ask if you would like to look after me so that I could give of my best for you?’
She was immediately embarrassed by what she had said. In fact, she couldn’t believe that she’d said it. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.
Ray looked a bit puzzled. The question had caught him completely by surprise and he wasn’t at all sure how he should answer it.
‘Are you asking to be my wife, asking me if I would like to marry you, Maureen?’
She stood in front of him, put an arm on his shoulder and smiled at him.
‘Yes, I am!’
‘Well!’
‘Ray, you’re such good company. I really would love to live here with you. Truly! I’m sure you would do your best to make me happy and I’m certain I would do the same for you.’
‘I know you would. I know you would.’ They walked a little further.
‘You’ve taken me a bit by surprise. You’ll have to let me think about this for a day or two. I’m not wishing to appear rude, and I’m not saying ‘no’ or ‘yes’. You’re worthy of a proper answer and I need a little time to think it over.’
‘Of course you do. I understand. And you’re not appearing rude.’
* * * * * *
This time it was Adrienne who answered the front door bell. She found a bespectacled woman who was surely well into her seventies if not more, dressed in a grey coat and matching hat with a brown shopping bag and a walking stick in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.
‘Good morning,’ said Adrienne very softly. ‘I’m afraid all our rooms are full!’
‘What?’
Adrienne spoke louder.
‘Good morning!’
‘Hello. I’m from St Saviour’s Church. The one in Hardy Avenue. Do you know it?’
‘No, I don’t live in Dorchester.’
‘Never mind. We have our harvest festival service next Sunday evening, not this Sunday evening, the one after and we wondered if any of the old folk would like to attend.’ The lady handed the printed leaflet to Adrienne.
‘The details are all on the leaflet.’ Adrienne glanced at it.
‘The church will be decorated with all sorts of harvest produce, of course. Bread, vegetables, fruit and flowers and tins. It should look a lovely sight. I don’t know if you’ve been to a harvest service, but its not a long service, if you take my meaning. It shouldn’t be too long for those of your old people who have unfortunate personal problems. You understand what I mean? But the church will look so nice.’
‘Well, maybe some of the residents will want to go along. I’ll give these details to the Manager and if there are some who want to go, she can ring this number.’
‘Yes, I see. Thank you very much.
‘You’re welcome!’
* * * * * *
Of all the visitors to the Silver Curl Care Home, one of the most popular was Veronica Page, a mobile hairdresser who spent every Monday fortnight at the home. She was well known because she had for many years worked in a hairdresser’s shop in Dorchester called the Dorchester Hair Salon. In the spring she had quit working in the shop for reasons she never spoke of and had gone mobile, calling her business Clippings. From what she said it seemed that she had all sorts of customers from all over the place, and plenty of them. But Mondays were quiet days, for some inexplicable reason, so she made that her nursing home day.
Veronica was popular because she was so effervescent. Loud and chatty, she was ready to talk to any of the residents about anything. She never appeared to be put off by odd behaviour or confused conversations, and her prices were reasonable.
‘These are my special prices for the old folks, mind!’
There was a large white board in the lower lounge where forthcoming events were supposed to be written before they happened. The hairdresser’s expected visit would be written on it, if the staff could remember which Monday they were at.
‘Is this Monday Veronica’s Monday? Did she come last week? Gladys, did the hairdresser come last week?’
‘No, I don’t think she come last week. Did she? I’m not sure. I want to see her first when she arrives, mind.’
‘I’ll send her in to see you, Glad.’
Veronica set up shop on the first floor and used the nearby bathroom. It was large, with a couple of basins that had mirrors behind them. Most of the washing, cutting, colouring and perming was done in this bathroom, but because the nearest electrical sockets were out in the corridor the two dryers on their adjustable stands had to be set up out there. By mid-morning damp towels and discarded hair were everywhere. And from almost any point on the first floor Veronica’s voice could be heard. There was no doubt about it, her visits did the residents a lot of good.
* * * * * *
Jade meandered up to the front door mat and gathered up the assorted envelopes. The postman had arrived as usual, just before lunchtime. He would push the mail through the letterbox and then ring the bell to tell staff that he had been. Most of the mail would be addressed to the Manager or the Hindmarshes. Items for the residents were left on the office desk and passed on to them when someone was ‘going their way’.
Jade began to sort them as she meandered even more slowly back down the corridor. Those for Mrs Jenkins or the owners she left in the office. Those for the residents she decided to deliver. There were several white envelopes for Enid, evidence that the family had not forgotten her birthday. There was another hospital appointment for George and a postcard for Olive.
* * * * * *
‘Steve! What’s Zoe doing?’
‘She’s upstairs, tidying the linen cupboard, Mrs Jenkins. I thought it looked like it could do with a sorting out. Do you want her?’
‘I’ve a little job for her. Nothing strenuous. When she’s finished, can you send her along to my office?’
Steve carefully trimmed the other half of Ted’s moustache. He sat back to admire his handiwork.
‘Looks fine, Ted!’
‘How much do I owe you?’
Steve put his face up to Ted’s ear and whispered. ‘Nothing, Ted. But remember me at Christmas!’
He put the rinsed scissors and comb away in the bathroom cupboard. ‘Well, she should have made an impression on the linen cupboard by now’ he said to himself. He made his way up the stairs.
‘How’s it going, Zoe?’
‘Getting there, slowly.’
‘Primrose wants you. She said she’s got a little job for you. She didn’t say what it was, but she did say it wasn’t strenuous.’
‘I hope she don’t want me to go round cutting fingernails. Bleeding fingernails!’
When the pregnant Zoe knocked on the office door and was bidden to enter, she learned that it was not fingernails. She was being given the task of asking the residents if they would like to attend the harvest service at St Saviour’s. Arrangements would be made for the church to pick up residents and accompanying staff in a minibus. Zoe left the office and disappeared to the staff room for something urgent. Being wiser than in former days, she wouldn’t ask all the residents. Twenty minutes later she was back in the office with her list.
‘I haven’t asked all the residents. I thought that would be asking for trouble. But of those I did ask, five said they would like to go. Five of the more sensible ones. Their names are on this list. I didn’t ask Dave, but would he be allowed to go?’
‘My dear child’ whispered Primrose Jenkins.
Thinking her task had been completed, Zoe turned to the door.
‘Wait a minute, I haven’t finished.’ Mrs Jenkins was looking at the staff rota.
‘Today’s Friday. Now then, Sunday evening. Who’s on the late shift? Ah! You are. You and Joan. Would you feel up to going out with the residents?’
‘Oh yes, I think so.’
‘That will leave Clare, Wendy and Margaret on their own, but they’ll be all right for an hour or so. My number’s in the card file if there’s a problem.’
Zoe went back to the linen cupboard, relieved that the fingernails would be someone else’s task.
* * * * * *
‘That was a missed opportunity, Dave, my boy. A missed opportunity.
A golden opportunity missed, my boy! A golden opportunity. You could have escaped. Escaped to freedom. I could have escaped. Yes. I could have run away from the church and escaped! A golden opportunity has been missed. A golden opportunity, Dave. A rare opportunity, Dave. She never asked me if I wanted to go. She never asked me. I wasn’t given a chance. There’ll be other opportunities, Dave. There’ll be other opportunities. I wasn’t given a chance. I wasn’t asked. I’ll wait for another opportunity.’
* * * * * *
Enid was in her room, opening her cards with a little help from Jade. Though her sight was poor, she held each card up to her face and commented on how nice it was, how wonderful and how thoughtful. As she looked inside each one, Jade read out the greeting and who the card was from. One had been sent ‘from all at number six’, but Enid insisted that she didn’t know anyone at any number six. The cards were arranged on the chest of drawers.
‘There’s nice to have so many cards, Enid. How old are you today?’
‘I think I’m about eighty, aren’t I?’
‘We’ll all sing happy birthday to you at tea time. Tony’s baked a cake for you and we’ll sing happy birthday to you. Will you like that?’
‘Oh, I expect so!’
‘Will you manage to blow the candles out?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure about that!’
* * * * * *
‘How about Abbotsbury?’
‘Abbotsbury, Joan? Not the Swannery again! Who wants to go and see a few swans, for goodness sake?’
An outing was being planned for later in the week. According to the weatherman, the warm start to the week was going to continue until the weekend.
‘No, not the swans this time. Gee, that was awful, wasn’t it? That was one of the worst days of my life. No, there’s a farm sort of place near there with animals you can feed and pets you can pick up and cuddle. Have you heard of it?’
‘No, I haven’t. Have you heard of it, Jan?’
‘That’s right! The children went there for their outing with the school. It’s mostly on the flat with plenty of animals to see. Cows and horses, sheep and what not. And you can buy packets of animal food to feed the animals with. I think this lot would love it!’
A small coach was booked with the Community Transport people and at eleven o’clock on the chosen day thirteen residents and five staff set out for the farm-sort-of-place. Wheelchair users had their chairs clamped to the floor in the specially adapted minibus.
Trish was the trained nurse who had drawn the short straw. In a cardboard box under her seat she had the midday medications, plus travel sickness tablets and an airway in case Daphne had one of her fits. Lisa had been given responsibility for the incontinence box, packed with pads, knickers, skin cream and plastic bags and gloves. Joan had charge of the packed lunches Tony had thrown together. These consisted of cling-filmed packs of sandwiches, flasks of soup, fruit scones and yoghurts. The coach was past the halfway point when Lisa announced to everyone that she had forgotten to put any pants in her box for the men.
‘If any of you men has an accident,’ she threatened, ‘you’ll have to make do with a pair of ladies’ knickers until we get home!’
The choice of destination proved to be spot on. Access to everything was easy and residents were able to approach, touch and feed the animals. The cattle, sheep and goats were in sheds, while the ducks and hens wandered about freely. Numerous photos were taken of the residents with rabbits on their laps, foals eating from their hands and Dave holding a lamb that was only a few days old. At a later date these snaps would be put into a large frame and found a place on the lounge walls. It would provide a record of a most enjoyable day.