Never Too Old for Love

by Rosie Harris

  ‘I’m fine, stop fussing,’ he mumbled and stood up.

  ‘Good.’ She took his arm and led him through the reception area towards the exit. ‘Sit here while I arrange for a taxi,’ she said indicating a seat.

  ‘Aren’t we going to the restaurant for a cup of tea first?’ he asked.

  ‘Do you feel up to doing that?’ Delia questioned.

  ‘Of course I do. Mary and I always have lunch here when she comes with me,’ he insisted.

  Delia hesitated. She thought he was probably referring to the times when he came for a check-up, not when he’d had an injection.

  ‘They do wonderful jacket potatoes,’ he told her. ‘And they have all sorts of different fillings, there’s bound to be something you like.’

  ‘I wanted to get you home before the anaesthetic wears off and your eye starts hurting,’ she told him.

  ‘Don’t you worry about that. It will hurt far more if I have to try and get myself some dinner when I get home.’

  She had to admit the menu sounded tempting so, reluctantly, she agreed. She could see his point that it would be far easier for him to eat now, rather than having to make something for himself when he got home. He was quite right too; the jacket potatoes were the best she’d ever tasted and were served with a crisp salad, as well as the filling of their choice. The moment they had finished eating she insisted on calling the taxi. Before they left the hospital, Delia had requested a pair of dark glasses for Bill and now insisted that he should put them on.

  ‘The sun is really bright and it’s so low in the sky at this time of year that you won’t be able to stand its glare. These will protect your eyes,’ she told him.

  ‘I’m not wearing those things,’ he said, getting increasingly grumpier as the anaesthetic wore off and his eyes felt increasingly gravelly.

  ‘No, I think you should wear them. Mary said you found them helpful when she brought you for the injection,’ Delia asserted.

  He pushed her hand and the glasses away irritably.

  ‘Come on,’ she insisted. ‘I did what you asked and had lunch at the hospital, so now you do what I am asking and wear them,’ she said firmly.

  Bill gave in and, by the time they were half way home, he admitted that he found the glasses were a great help in the bright sun.

  ‘Can I hang on to them for a couple of days?’ he asked when he reached home.

  ‘Of course you can,’ Delia told him. ‘In fact, you can keep them for good. You might find them very useful when your eyes are tired as well as when you are in bright sunshine.’

  THIRTY-SIX

  Delia Cook hummed happily to herself as she tidied the sitting room in Richard Wilson’s house, in readiness for putting up the decorations when George came home from school.

  This was going to be to be the best Christmas any of them had ever known, she told herself. George was happy at school, Mary’s cold was better, Richard would be starting back at work when the new school term began in January and Bill didn’t have to go back to the hospital for a check-up for his eyes until the end of January. Above all, there was every possibility that she would be back working in a hospital again in the New Year.

  Although she was looking forward to being back in the heart of things, she tried not to be too optimistic about it. A sister didn’t have the power to hire and fire and, although she knew Peggy Bristow would do all she could to persuade whoever did have the authority to do so, there was only a slim chance that they would listen to her. She knew hospitals too well, after working in one for over ten years, and she knew there would be raised eyebrows when they heard that an experienced sister was applying for a job as a staff nurse.

  It didn’t make sense and they would delve into her background to discover what her misdeed had been to cause her to be sacked. When they heard the reason, that it had been because she had insisted on living out so that she could care for a friend, they might doubt her loyalty and decide it was too much of a risk to employ her. She cleared a corner of the sitting room so as to leave enough space for Richard to put up the Christmas tree that he had already bought and which was still in the garage. He said they already had lights for it, so he would put those on and then leave the rest of the decorating for her and George to do. Yes, this really was going to be a good Christmas for them all, she thought happily. January would be the start of something new for all of them. She went out to the garage to see how Richard was getting on.

  ‘Almost finished,’ he told her. ‘I can never understand it; all the lights were working when I packed them away last year and now when I go to put them on the tree again there are three broken bulbs.’

  ‘Have you got new ones or do you want me to go the shop for some?’ Delia asked.

  ‘No, I’ve replaced them and now I’m going to bring the tree indoors. Have you made a space for it?’

  ‘I have in the sitting room.’

  ‘Good! What about a coffee then?’ he said in a pleading voice. ‘A workman needs his coffee to keep going, you know.’

  ‘It’s already on,’ Delia told him. ‘I’ll help you get the tree inside and then we’ll have it.’

  They had just erected the tree to their mutual satisfaction when the doorbell rang.

  ‘Who on earth can that be?’ Richard frowned.

  Delia went to answer the door and stared in astonishment when she saw their visitor.

  ‘Peggy! This is a surprise. Come on in.’

  Peggy hadn’t waited for an invitation; she was already in the hall. She must have found Richard’s house from the details Delia had given her, to apply for the staff nurse job.

  ‘Can I smell coffee?’ she asked sniffing appreciatively.

  ‘Yes, have you time to stay and have one with us?’

  ‘Too true I have,’ Peggy said unbuttoning her coat.

  ‘Who is it, Delia?’

  Peggy’s green eyes widened with interest as she heard Richard’s voice. ‘You have a man friend here,’ she grinned accusingly.

  ‘Yes, come and meet Richard. I look after him and his little boy George.’

  ‘Of course, I remember you telling me about him,’ Peggy enthused. You’re the man who had the gliding accident,’ she said holding out her hand to Richard.

  Delia turned away, wondering how Richard would feel at finding out that she had been talking about him, especially the fact that she had discussed his accident with an outsider.

  ‘Why don’t you two go through to the sitting room and I’ll bring the coffee in?’ she suggested.

  ‘Good idea, this way,’ Richard said, leading Peggy towards the sitting room.

  Delia took her time to fill a plate with biscuits and poured out the coffee. She wasn’t at all sure whether Peggy took milk and sugar or merely milk so she put the sugar bowl and an extra spoon on the tray. What if she likes it black? She thought as she reached the sitting room door. She smiled brightly as she went in; ready to make inconsequential chatter, but neither of them looked at her. They were deeply immersed in a discussion about gliding tactics. Delia listened for a moment in silence; she didn’t understand what they were talking about. She placed the coffee in front of them and handed out the biscuits. Peggy waved the plate away; Richard took two and sat munching in between his earnest conversation with Peggy.

  ‘I didn’t know you ever went gliding,’ Delia said loudly and pointedly, determined to draw their attention from each other.

  ‘Oh, I don’t go gliding,’ Peggy admitted, ‘but I am often up at Booker. I use one of the helicopters.’

  ‘You do!’ Delia looked amazed. ‘What for, joy rides?’

  Peggy didn’t answer, she was once more deep in a discussion with Richard about thermals, cumulus clouds, wind speed and so many other things that Delia didn’t understand.

  Delia sat back and sipped her coffee, studying Richard and Peggy. They were obviously interested in each other and she felt a sudden spasm of jealousy. Up until now, she had regarded Richard as a patient, someone she was looking after. T
he fact that she was living in his house, or that he had a small boy, was simply part of the baggage that went with his care. She had never thought about him as a man who might be interested in women.

  Perhaps it was because she knew all about Megan, Delia thought, and because of that she felt sorry for him. But why should she? It was Megan who had chosen to leave and, as far as she could understand, there had been no argument other than the fact that Megan didn’t want a husband who might be a cripple for the rest of his life. What if Megan saw him now and realised she had been wrong in her assumption, would she change her mind and want to come home? From what both Mary and Bill had said, Richard had been an exceptionally tolerant husband, never complaining when Megan took off for Paris, Milan or New York at a moment’s notice and left him to be responsible for George. True, Lucia had been there in those days but, even so, not many husbands would have tolerated such a lifestyle. Did that mean he was a doormat?

  Looking at him now, in animated conversation with Peggy, she hardly thought so.

  Suddenly another spark of jealousy shot through her. Why was she sitting here letting Peggy arouse his interest like this? If she wasn’t careful, Peggy might move in and take Megan’s place. Delia shook herself. She was being fanciful. Peggy was a visitor, it was the first time she had met Richard and she was only being polite by showing an interest in him. Peggy, standing up and holding out her hand to Richard, stirred Delia out of her uneasy thoughts.

  ‘I must go Mr Wilson, I am on duty at the hospital in half an hour.’

  ‘Call me Richard, please,’ he protested. ‘I’ve enjoyed meeting you, you must come again soon.’

  ‘Thank you, but I must go now,’ Peggy repeated, ‘after I’ve set Delia’s mind at rest about the job.’

  ‘Job?’ Richard looked bemused.

  Peggy turned to Delia. ‘You’ve got it. Starts in January, I’ll see you again soon and tell you what the hours are and so on.’

  ‘Really!’ Delia felt her antagonism towards Peggy melt. Peggy really had managed to get her taken on. She had refused to let herself think she would be successful and yet it was hers after all.

  ‘Yes, you start as a senior staff nurse,’ Peggy told her. ‘Brilliant, isn’t it?’

  After she had left, Richard said, ‘Nice woman, but what was all that about a job?’

  ‘I met her when I took Bill to the eye hospital,’ Delia said, ‘she’s a sister there and she was saying that they had a vacancy. When I told her the story of how I was no longer nursing she asked me if I was interested.’

  ‘Working as a staff nurse? That’s lower than a sister, isn’t it?’

  Delia shrugged. ‘Yes, it is, but I don’t mind. It will be good to get back into uniform and the hospital routine again.’

  Richard looked at her quizzically. ‘I thought you were happy here with us.’

  ‘I am. I’m very happy,’ she affirmed.

  ‘Then why do you want to leave?’

  ‘You will be back at work next month, so you won’t need looking after anymore. You can walk now without a stick.’

  ‘What about George?’ he frowned.

  ‘What about George? You will be able to look after him with the help of your mother and Bill.’

  ‘He’s used to you being here though, he’ll be heartbroken.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say that George hadn’t missed either his mother or Lucia, but she felt that was rather underhand, so she merely smiled and gave a little deprecating shrug. Richard stood up and, hands in his pockets, paced the room.

  ‘I don’t want you to leave,’ he sighed, shaking his head from side to side. ‘I’m used to having you here as well. I’ve never felt so settled and contented. Can’t you rethink the matter?’

  Delia felt her colour rising. He’d said he would miss her, yet she had always thought that he barely noticed her presence and that when he did he took it for granted. Remembering how animated he had been when he was talking to Peggy, she felt confused. She had felt jealous of the rapport there had been between the two of them, she reminded herself. She had even been worried that Peggy might muscle in and become attached to Richard. What on earth was the matter with her!

  She was conscious that Richard was looking at her, and that there was a pleading look in his eyes, something deeper that she couldn’t fathom.

  ‘I could go on living here and looking after George, I suppose,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Will you!’ The eagerness of his reply took her by surprise. Richard held out a hand. ‘Shake,’ he ordered.

  She hesitated, then laughing she took his hand; he grabbed her arm with his free hand, and pulled her towards him.

  ‘We’d better seal that with a kiss,’ he told her, shrewdly.

  Suddenly she found his lips were on hers and, for one blissful moment she allowed herself to relax, and felt his arms tighten around her.

  ‘You can’t break your promise now,’ he whispered, ‘so don’t even think about doing so.’

  Delia was conscious that Richard was still holding her in his arms. She liked the feel of his body and it was only with a supreme effort that she pulled away from him as they heard a key in the front door.

  ‘Anyone in?’

  At the sound of Mary’s voice, Delia felt both relief and exasperation. As Richard hurried out into the hall to greet his mother, Delia smoothed her hair back into place and tried to see in the mirror if her lipstick was smudged. Mary’s arrival put a stop to what they were saying.

  ‘I’ve brought along a whole bag of Christmas decorations,’ she told them. ‘I’ve decided not to bother putting them up this year since we’re all coming here for Christmas Day.’ She handed the bag to Delia who looked inside at the collection of baubles and garlands in red, gold, green and silver.

  ‘Lovely,’ she murmured, ‘but I don’t think you are going to manage to get away with no decorations at your place, because George is planning to make paper chains with you.’

  ‘He’s welcome to come and make them, but I am certainly not going to put them up,’ Mary said firmly. ‘He can bring them home and put them up in his bedroom. I’m too old for all that palaver. I’m planning on having a quiet Christmas and letting you two do all the work,’ she told Delia firmly.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  They were putting the finishing touches to the Christmas tree. Richard and Delia were both standing back, giving words of advice and encouragement to George who was trying to fasten the last few baubles onto the tree, when the doorbell rang. It was Peggy and, the moment the door was open, she walked in brandishing a gift-wrapped parcel and asking for George.

  ‘He’s in the sitting room helping to decorate the Christmas tree,’ Delia said, but Peggy was already ahead of her, bursting into the room and greeting both Richard and George with enthusiastic kisses and hugs as if she had known them all their lives.

  ‘George, this is for you,’ she said holding out the parcel.

  George looked at his father; as if uncertain about what to do, but the moment Richard nodded his head and smiled he darted forward and took the parcel from Peggy.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said turning it over in his hands and trying to feel what it was. ‘Shall I put it under the tree?’ he asked, looking from Delia to his father and back again.

  Before either of them could answer, Peggy said, ‘Oh, I was hoping you would be allowed to open it now! I wanted to see the look on his face when he saw what it was,’ she said guilelessly to the other two, ‘and I won’t be here when he opens his presents on Christmas Day.’

  ‘Well,’ Delia said hesitantly, ‘he did ask a few minutes ago if he could open one of his presents, but we told him he must wait until Christmas Day.’

  ‘One won’t matter, will it, George?’ Peggy said with a smile.

  George hugged his parcel but said nothing, still looking hopefully from Delia to his father.

  ‘Well, I suppose one won’t matter,’ Richard agreed. ‘After all, Peggy is right; she won’t be here on Christmas
Day, will she?’

  George was elated. He tore off the brightly decorated paper and found a box inside; he stared at it looking puzzled. There was a picture of a helicopter on the outside.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Peggy said.

  George nodded and handed her the box, watching with intrigue as she opened it and drew out a lovely model of a helicopter. She placed it on one of the small side tables. He looked on in delight when, using a remote control, she made the helicopter rise up in the air and do a complete circle before crash landing on the carpet.

  ‘Would you like to see if you can do better than me?’ she asked George.

  He nodded eagerly and took the remote control from Peggy’s hand. His first attempt was not very successful, but he seemed to get the hang of it quite quickly and managed to fly the helicopter around room twice before it collided with the curtains and fell to the floor.

  ‘Can I have a go? It looks very exciting,’ Richard said.

  George handed over the remote and watched enviously as Richard achieved three circuits of the room, making the helicopter rise and fall in impressive style, then slowly landed it safely in the centre of the carpet. Eyes shining, George reclaimed the remote and again flew the helicopter around the room, this time crashing it into the wall and almost into a picture.

  When it crashed to the floor this time, no amount of pressing the controls would get it to fly again. George was very upset.

  ‘I didn’t mean to break it,’ he said, trying to keep his voice steady as he brushed away the tears that sprang into his eyes and were sliding down his cheeks. He ran to Delia and she put her arms around him and hugged him.

  ‘I’m afraid you will find that you have to constantly keep charging it up, Richard, that’s the only problem,’ Peggy explained and produced from the box another wire, this one with a plug on the end of it. She put the plug into one of the wall sockets and then showed Richard and George where the lead fitted into the helicopter.

  ‘How long will that take?’ Richard asked.

  ‘It may take a couple of hours; or overnight. Something like that,’ Peggy said vaguely. She picked up the book of instructions and began looking through it. She found the right page and Delia watched as she leaned in to Richard, reading the instructions so close to him that her cheek was almost touching his.