“Well done. Oh…dear, hang on…watch out John, you’re beside my muffin,” Barbara said.
“I’m what?” John tried to turn around but was blocked by Sue, who was wedged by Jenny.
“I’ve dropped one of my muffins, it’s just beside your right foot there,” Barbara said.
Everyone looked down.
“Maybe,” Sue suggested, “we should all move out of the hallway and then one of us can get it.”
There were grunts of acknowledgements.
“It’s hopeless, I don’t know why they made this entranceway so tiny, you have to walk through into the lounge in order to take off your coat and then come back into the hallway to hang it up,” Claire said.
“And then you can only really hang two up or the space is filled with jackets,” Fred added. “Still I suppose it’ll provide an extra layer of insulation in the winter.”
There was a silence, was Fred making a joke, should they laugh?
Sue dived in to relieve the anxiety. “Well, it’s a good job we know each other so well.”
Once the coat relay team was finished and Barbara had retrieved the errant cake, the tour could begin again.
“It’s nice and fresh, isn’t it,” Sue said, everyone nodded and made agreeable noises, as they looked at the magnolia square that formed the living room.
“And that window lets a lot of light in,” Barbara added, which it did considering the rather limited depth to the lounge.
“Yes,” Jenny nodded as she spoke, “it’s got a lovely cosy feel to it.”
“Do you think so?” Claire asked. “I’m worried our sofa is too big for the space.”
“No, not at all,” everyone reassured her.
“It’s probably just the change of colour scheme, your settee and belongings were obviously chosen for the other place, which was…?”
“A burnt orange colour,” Claire supplied the information as if she’d just handed over a most treasured secret, with regret and foreboding.
“Burnt orange, of course…yes,” Barbara said, and looked at the others for help.
Fred stood in the doorway which led off from the back of the room, his gaze never left his wife, just in case she needed him at her side.
Jenny slipped her hand through Claire’s. “Well, I think it’s lovely, and there’s nothing wrong with having a de-clutter.”
“De-clutter,” Claire snorted, “We’ve had to leave half of our belongings at our Harry’s.”
“Think of it as pay-back for all those years you had to look after his stuff,” Sue added.
They fell silent. Sue looked around the lounge and could think of nothing more to say, it was a tiny, square shaped room, which lacked any focal point or attractive feature. It was what it was, and talking it up would just sound false.
“Anyway, this is the kitchen,” Fred said, rescuing them all. If the lounge was tiny, the kitchen was minuet. Once more Fred had to stand in the doorway leading off from the kitchen while John took his vacated spot. Jenny, Claire, Barbara and Sue huddled between the units.
“Well…” Barbara began, but didn’t seem to know what to add after that.
“Yes…” Sue began, and her heart ached for Claire, as her eyes pleaded for a positive take on the room, “…it’s compact, but you’ve got everything you need to hand.”
Claire nodded. “Oh, you have that, except if you open the cupboard door, you can’t open the fridge or the washing machine. Plus, once the perching stool is in, that’s it.”
“Yes, but everything’s nice and new, and fresh,” Jenny said.
“Yes it is…oh I almost forgot to hand over the muffins, they’re raspberry and white chocolate,” Barbara said.
Everyone made yummy noises.
“I made some cheese scones,” Sue added.
“That’s lovely, I’ll put them in the oven to warm, once everyone moves into the next room.” Claire grimaced.
“There is some outside space, do you want to come and have a look at that John?” Fred asked.
John looked pleased to be rescued, commenting upon décor was obviously not his forte. And once those two were gone at least the others could fit into the bedroom. That room was accessed by one of the doors from the kitchen, and was almost identical in size and shape to the lounge; it also looked out the front of the house, its window on the opposite wall to the doorway.
“This is a nice room, plenty of storage,” Sue commented.
“Yes,” Claire sighed as she spoke. “At least our Harry and his wife have had their two spare rooms fitted out with all the stuff we couldn’t fit in here. We’ve only room for the bed and one bedside table.”
“But that’s all you need, really, isn’t it.” Even to her own ears, Sue could hear the desperation in her voice as she plucked at the hard to see straws.
“Yes, I know, it’s just…” Claire burst into tears and sobbed, Barbara, who was the only one who could reach her, hugged her close.
“Oh, I know, I’m supposed to be grateful, a lovely new home, costing the tax payers a fortune, while others who are working can’t even get on the property ladder. But it’s just not…you know…”
“We do,” Sue spoke quietly, “It’s just not your home.”
“No, it’s not.” Claire pulled a well-used handkerchief from her pocket and rubbed her eyes vigorously, her foundation was now beyond salvaging. “Fred and I are both wandering around, trying to stay upbeat for each other when we both hate it. Our furniture doesn’t suit the magnolia walls and fawn carpets, it doesn’t fit into the space and all the bits and pieces we’ve collected over the years are packed away in boxes because we’ve nowhere to put them. They talk about a house being a blank canvas, but I feel that’s what me and Fred have become, because we’ve nothing around us, no memories or souvenirs or anything that shows our years together. And whenever I complain I feel so guilty because we’re supposed to be grateful, we have a roof over our heads and a new bungalow and…oh, you know what I mean.”
“We do, of course we do, and you’re entitled to complain as much as you like because you’ve been forced to move and leave your home, and it’s not fair,” Sue said, as she tried to reach past Barbra and pat her friend’s arm.
“Anyway, you’ve still the bathroom to see, it truly is the smallest room in the house,” Claire tried a weak smile as she spoke.
And it was. The friends had to take turns looking into the room, everything was so compact, it was almost possible to wash your hands without getting off the toilet. The term ‘bathroom’ was in fact slightly misleading, because there wasn’t one. Instead there was a walk in shower with a chair fitted into it.
Claire answered the unspoken question. “You had to state what you preferred before being allocated a house, a walk in shower or walk in bath. Well, what with John’s problems and my arthritis, the shower option was best.”
“Can you get around in your wheelchair if you need to?” Barbara asked. They’d all seen it, squeezed between the bottom of the bed and the wall, and knew at the moment Claire only used it when she went out, but it was obviously a consideration for the future.
Claire shook her head. “No, Fred has to fold it to get it in. Apparently, because I only use it outside, we weren’t eligible for one of the slightly bigger, more wheelchair friendly builds.”
“But what about in the future?” Sue asked, and then wished she hadn’t.
“Then we’ll have to apply to move once more, but I’ve heard that the more adapted homes are all taken, and there’s already a waiting list for them.”
“That’s ridiculous, typical of this government, no forward thinking,” Sue stated.
“Well, let’s hope you never need one of those, and I’m sure things here will look better in time,” Barbara said, laying a hand on Claire’s shoulder once more. Sue felt her cheeks burn, this wasn’t the time for political posturing, they were there to help their friend.
They all shuffled back into the sitting room while Claire went to put the kettle
on and sort out the scones and muffins. Sue and Barbara took a seat while Jenny perched on the chair arm, proclaiming herself to be much more comfortable that way. Silence fell. Sue certainly could think of nothing to say, her mind too busy formulating positive comments to be shared over the beverages, and the only other thoughts she had reflected the sorrow and outrage she felt on behalf of Claire and Fred.
“Well, that sounds grand.” They heard John say as he and Fred walked back into the lounge, pushing their way through the jackets and, unfortunately, failing to find Narnia.
Everyone turned their heads to face the two men; they sensed good news and were desperate to latch onto it.
“Fred was just telling me about their plans for the little green to the front there,” John laid the way and Fred followed.
It was, Sue thought, the estate’s main redeeming feature, there seemed to be plenty of communal areas for the kids to play out on. Claire and Fred’s bungalow lay on the side of a huge crescent, which in turn circled round a large playing field. It already had goal posts and a pitch marked out upon it.
“Yes, some of us are trying to form a little gardening association; nothing fancy you know, it’s just a few of us coming together who enjoy being outside and want to do something. That strip of lawn out the front is nothing really, and we’ve only a yard to the rear.”
“So, what will you do?” Sue asked.
“Well, if everyone agrees, we thought we might put in some flower beds at the top end there, nothing to interfere with the kids area, and then maybe a vegetable plot, a sort of communal allotment.”
“What a great idea, and a nice way to get to know your neighbours,” Barbara commented.
“Aye, that’s the idea, a few other areas in the Estate are doing the same thing, and it’s…well, it’s just something to do, isn’t it.”
“Are you talking about the green?” Claire asked as she came back into the room, carrying the drinks on a tray.
“Yes, Derek was up there, drawing out some rough plans,” Fred replied.
“I bet he was,” Claire murmured, “right little Hitler that one.”
“But project’s need someone to co-ordinate them love, or nothing ever happens,” Fred said.
Claire made a harrumphing noise and headed back to the kitchen.
Fred rolled his eyes, it was obviously not a new area of discussion. “The problem will be keeping the kids off it. But the more adults that help out, the more the kids will be encouraged to leave it alone. Plus, we were thinking of putting a small piece of land aside, just for them to look after.”
“In an ideal world maybe,” Claire stated as she handed round warm scones and muffins. “But most of this lot,” she indicated the kids charging around outside, “are turned out first thing on a morning and not called back in until last thing at night.”
“How are your neighbours?” Barbara asked.
Claire and John shared a look, where to start their gaze asked each other.
“They’re not bad, really, are they love?” Fred began. “I mean some of them are okay.”
“I suppose, we’ve a single mother of two next door, Kirsty, she’s lovely; but she has a hell of a life with her neighbours on the other side. A young couple, three kids, dad works mind you, but they have no control over them whatsoever. Mother’s a bit of a damp rag, waffles on about kids being able to express themselves, and as such she doesn’t believe in bed times, or any discipline at all from what I can gather.”
“So it’s not all couples your age in this part then?” Sue asked.
“No, I wish it was. There’s a right mix, isn’t there Fred?”
“Yes, you’ve two and three bed bungalows and if you follow the road round you’ll see there are houses there as well.”
“Wouldn’t you think they’d stick to one type of build and then place like people in together; I mean when you’re starting from scratch it makes sense to do these things,” John said.
“Well, that makes sense to you, having been in the construction trade, and it makes sense to me, but this lot in charge, no chance,” Fred said, echoing Sue’s earlier observation.
“But, you’re okay here, aren’t you?” Jenny’s eyebrows were drawn together as she spoke, concern dominating her gaze.
“Of course love, don’t you worry, we’re fine,” Fred replied, as his wife struggled to find the words. “We’re well away from any trouble.”
“Is there much, trouble, I mean?” Jenny was obviously anxious to clarify just how fine the couple were.
Fred and Claire exchanged a glance. “There are rough areas like anywhere, but they’re well away from us. Now, let’s talk about something else shall we. Sue, how did you get on at the jobcentre this morning?”
*****
Sue stood beside Claire, drying the cups and plates passed to her. “So, how are you really?”
She saw the internal debate rage within her friend, what to say, what to gloss over.
“It’s just hard, you know,” Claire put the saucer back in the washing up bowl as she spoke, her gaze focused on a spot beyond the back yard.
“The kids, the families, they’re okay, you know, but it’s the noise, it just never stops, and with our bedroom facing the green,” Claire shrugged as she spoke. “It’s Fred I’m worried about, I just hope the plans for the allotment and flower garden come to something because it’s all he’s got Sue.”
She stopped to compose herself, Sue said nothing, just waited.
“I mean,” Claire began again, her voice so hushed Sue had to strain to hear her. “Before, he used to walk to the shop every morning, bring everyone their paper back; then he’d check on Mrs Dodds and Mrs Brown. He was needed, I always complained he was that busy helping everyone else in the street that he never did anything in the house for me. And now we’re here and there’s nothing for him.”
“Maybe, in time, when you get to know your neighbours… I mean there’s bound to be others feeling…you know...”
“I know, you’re right, it’s just that, at the moment, it feels like we’ve been picked up from one place and just dumped in another, without any thought or…I don’t know…I hate it here Sue, and so does he.”
“Oh Claire,” Sue wrapped her arms around Claire’s shoulders, as her friend rested her head upon hers. “We’re here, all of us, we’ll help in any way we can; you’ll be sick of seeing us.”
“Well, that’s just it, I won’t be able to come and meet you now,” Claire sniffed as she spoke.
“Why not?”
“There’s no bus around the estate, only one that stops twice an hour on the main road. It takes a good fifteen minutes for Fred to push me round, and the last twice we’ve gone there have been so many pushchairs and wheelchairs waiting we haven’t been able to get on it. Our Harry is doing all our shopping online. That’s what I mean, we’ve been dumped, out of sight, out of mind.”
“Oh Claire,” Sue repeated herself, the weight in her chest surpassed only by the anger that simmered in her belly.
Chapter forty-eight
One Month Later
Sue made her way slowly along the corridor, groups of kids wandering past her, their eyes alight with the joy of being young, even though it would take the perspective of middle-age for them to appreciate how privileged they had been. Not in terms of monetary wealth, but in the experiencing of life, glimpses of adulthood while being cushioned from its responsibilities. Sue wanted to shout, enjoy the moment, and savour every last part, because from now on, it gets hard.
In amongst the young there were a splattering of people Sue’s own age, she’d hoped that would be so, assuming a lot of the evening courses would attract a different age bracket. It had been pure luck that she’d spotted the introduction to accountancy level one course in a prospectus for Rainton College; she’d never considered the location a possibility as Rainton was a good forty minutes away from her by car. What she hadn’t realised was that the college had several sites scattered around, one of which was withi
n acceptable commuting distance. She would never have asked her dad to take her all the way to Rainton, but he’d volunteered straight away when he’d heard she could study closer to home. But locality had not been the deciding factor, it had been the course fees; free to those on certain benefits, JSA being one of them. So, she’d taken the plunge and had enrolled on the course the previous afternoon. Rather stupidly it hadn’t dawned on her, until she’d stepped foot in the building, that it would be full of kids. They were everywhere, noisy, excitable kids, well, young adults really. Sue would have felt infinitely more comfortable if she’d been going there to teach, not study. However she’d resisted the urge to slink quietly away and had instead focused upon her excitement at the prospect of breaking free from the chains of welfare. If she could retrain…if she could find work…if…if… Well, she’d found a way to fulfil the first if, now she had to find out where she was supposed to be. She’d come in one of the side entranceways and so had to make her way along the corridor to the main reception area. It was a big, busy space with a café and stationary shop, and a display by fashion students. Sue did a complete turn, checking all signage which directed the student toward the appropriate area, but nothing more specific. She’d just decided to go to the main desk and ask for directions when a young woman stopped and asked if she could be of help. Sue must have looked as lost as she’d felt.
“I’m here for the accountancy course, level one.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s in room 205, just down the corridor on your left,” the woman said, pointing to one of the many arms leading out from the central body of the college.
Sue thanked the woman and walked back the way she’d come. She now felt physically sick, and if it hadn’t been for the fact she’d told everyone she was attending that night, she would have probably just sat in the café and waited to be picked up. But there was too much at stake, a different future, and maybe that accounted for the churning in her stomach; she was looking at the bigger picture and as such the class had become this enormous thing that would lead on to self-employment; when in fact she just needed to take it one small step at a time. Enrolling had been the start, turning up the second step, now she just needed to get into the room.
An Ordinary Working Man Page 35
