Too Late to Paint the Roses

by Jeanne Whitmee

  He hadn’t missed us at all, enjoying his time with Janet and his beloved Brownie. In the car on the way home he asked if he could have a dog of his own.

  ‘I don’t know, Jamie. We’re out an awful lot. A dog would get bored and lonely,’ I explained. His disappointed face tugged at my heart. ‘Maybe one day, when we get a bigger house with a proper garden,’ I said, knowing full well that I’d be held to the promise.

  I waited eagerly for Ian and Jamie to come home on the Thursday afternoon, eager to hear about their first day at their respective new schools. Jamie arrived first. He looked tired but happy as he shrugged off his new satchel and dropped it at the foot of the stairs.

  ‘So, how did it go?’

  ‘Well, I miss Daniel, of course,’ he said. ‘But I sat next to this great guy called Martin. He plays the trumpet. I think we’re going to be friends.’

  I smiled at ‘great guy’ and as I looked at my son I suddenly realized how tall he was getting and knew with a pang of regret that he was growing up. ‘You think you’re going to be happy there then?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah.’ He sighed. ‘The only thing is I wish we lived nearer. It’s on the other side of town from my old school. It’s taken me much longer to get home.’

  Ian or I had always driven him to school in the mornings till now, but Ian would have to stay at school longer in the evenings to do the following day’s preparation. Also Mableton Park, our neck of the woods, was off the school bus route so that would mean public transport. I reflected that in the winter it could be a problem.

  ‘When we look for another house we’ll have to bear that in mind,’ I told him.

  When Ian came home he was full of enthusiasm for his new job. ‘There’s going to be such a lot to organize this term,’ he said. ‘There’s this new choir to get up and running ready for the Christmas concert. It’ll mean lots of rehearsals – some out of school hours, I’m afraid. Then there are the private lessons Jeremy is planning to offer.’

  He had kept on his most promising private pupils, ones he could manage at weekends or in the evenings but by the sound of it he would need to put in some evenings at school too in the run up to Christmas. ‘I hope you haven’t taken on too much,’ I said.

  He smiled. ‘It’s not hard work when you love it.’

  ‘But I’m hardly going to see you at this rate.’ I stood on tiptoe to kiss him. ‘And I hope you love me too.’

  Jamie walked in as Ian kissed me and made a disgusted sound. ‘Ugh, gross!’ he muttered as he walked out of the room. Ian looked at me and we both laughed.

  ‘He’s growing up,’ I said.

  Ian nodded. ‘I may have a surprise for him on Saturday. We’ll see how grown up he is then.’

  The surprise turned out to be a new violin. Ian had bought it from a friend who played in the second violin section of the orchestra. He’d been promoted to leader of the section and thought an upgrade on his instrument was called for. Ian showed it to me after Jamie had gone to bed.

  ‘It’s a good violin,’ he said. ‘And he let me have it very reasonably.’

  ‘How much?’ I asked tentatively.

  He wagged a finger at me. ‘Never you mind,’ he said. ‘I’m paying for it on the never-never, out of my private teaching fees. It’s by way of a scholarship present. Janet and George did the same for me when I got into St C’s.’

  When Jamie saw the new violin his face went bright red. ‘Wow! Is it really for me?’ he asked incredulously.

  Ian nodded. ‘You’re getting too big for the junior one. Everyone else in your year will have a full sized instrument and we can’t have you being odd man out, can we?’

  Jamie fingered the violin reverently. ‘Can I try it?’

  Ian laughed. ‘Of course you can. It’s yours now. Shall we try one of your pieces or would you rather do some scales.’

  Jamie grinned. ‘A piece please – the Vivaldi.’

  He was a little shaky with the new, larger instrument at first but he soon got used to it. I slipped into the kitchen and left them to it.

  The weeks that followed were hectic. Mary and I were busy with a sudden spate of engagement and birthday parties and there was an unusual number of bookings for Christmas weddings. Jamie’s travelling arrangements were proving to be a problem. Ian stayed late at school most afternoons and sometimes went back in the evenings. If I was working it was a struggle to be home in time for Jamie’s return from school. It became clear that we would have to find another house not so far out of town. We contacted all the estate agents and used up most of the half term break viewing. There was also the business of Ian’s adoption of Jamie. We both agreed that it was too important to rush so we decided to shelve it until the Christmas holidays.

  Most of the properties the agents suggested were out of the question for one reason or the other. They were either too large or too small; too expensive, or cheap but needing masses of renovation. There was one that stole my heart though, even though the price was too high and it was too large for us.

  Beaumont House was an imposing double fronted house in a tree-lined avenue and as well as being about five minutes’ walk from the seafront it was only walking distance from St Cecilia’s. I fell in love with it on first sight.

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ Ian said, looking at my wrapt face as we stood in the hall after our tour of the house. ‘What do we want with six bedrooms, not to mention the three reception rooms and that barn of a kitchen!’

  ‘In the leaflet it says that it used to be a guesthouse,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly!’ He frowned at me. ‘You’re not thinking of going into business as a landlady are you?’

  I shook my head. ‘I know it’s too big and completely unsuitable,’ I said. ‘But I can dream, can’t I?’

  ‘Have you noticed the price?’ He held out the leaflet. ‘I can’t think why they even sent us this one or why we’re wasting our time viewing it.’

  ‘Just think of what I could do in that kitchen for Mary-Mary,’ I muttered. ‘And there’s room for a big freezer in the utility room. And the third bedroom on the second floor could be made into a second bathroom. We could even let it as a flat and—’

  ‘Stop!’ Ian slipped an arm round my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. ‘I know it’s gorgeous. I’d love to live here too but it’s out of the question. Don’t worry, darling, we’ll find something suitable eventually. We’ll just have to keep looking.’

  And so the possibility – not that there had ever been one – of buying Beaumont House was firmly removed from my mind. Little could I have foreseen the series of events that were to follow.

  It was at the beginning of December that I received Dad’s telephone call. I was at Mary’s. We were having a morning filling the freezer ready for the coming rush of parties. Mary always liked to work to music so when my mobile began to ring in my coat pocket I didn’t hear it at first.

  ‘Elaine, I think that’s your phone ringing.’ Mary said as she switched off the radio. I retrieved the mobile from my coat pocket and noticed that the caller was Dad. With a feeling of foreboding I pressed the button.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Oh, Elaine.’ He sounded relieved. ‘I was about to give up.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘No, love. I had to send for an ambulance for your mother late last night – a severe heart attack.’

  ‘Oh, Dad.’ My heart gave a lurch. ‘She’s in hospital?’

  ‘No.’ There was a pause at the other end and even before he told me I knew it was bad news. I heard him clear his throat. ‘No love. I’m afraid we never got there. Your mother died in the ambulance on the way there – at three o’clock this morning.’

  ‘Oh, Dad.’ I glanced at Mary who was looking inquiringly at me. ‘I’ll come. I’ll drive up there as soon as I can. I’ll ring and let you know when I’ve made arrangements. Dad – are you all right?’

  I heard him sigh. ‘Yes. I’m all right. It wasn’t exactly unexpected but it’s still a
blow when it happens.’

  ‘I know – oh, Dad, I’m so sorry. I’ll be with you as soon as I can. And you must come back with me after the – the….’

  ‘We’ll see, love,’ he said. ‘At the moment I’m not quite thinking straight and there’s so much to do.’

  ‘Of course. I understand.’

  Mary had guessed correctly what had happened. As I switched off my phone and put it down she crossed the kitchen and put her arms around me. ‘I’m so sorry darlin’,’ she said. ‘Just you go. Don’t worry about anything here. Janet will help out. I’m sure she’ll be glad to.’

  I hugged her back. ‘Thanks, Mary.’ I looked at her. ‘I only wish she and I could have had a better relationship. It’s Dad I feel for. He’ll be all alone now.’

  She nodded. ‘It’s a pity he’s so far away. Now, if you want to get off right away just go,’ she said. ‘I’ll have Ian and Jamie here to stay while you’re away. I know they could go to Janet but it’ll be more convenient for them here.’

  I couldn’t help smiling at her typically practical turn of mind. ‘Thanks, Mary, but I’ll wait till they get home this afternoon and we can discuss arrangements then,’ I said. ‘I’ll drive up to Yorkshire in the morning.’

  When Dad opened the door to me it was as though he’d aged overnight. Clearly Mother’s sudden death had diminished him. His eyes filled with tears as he held out his arms to me. I hugged him tight.

  ‘It’s all right, Dad. I’m here now. We’ll get through this together,’ I said as I kissed his wet cheek.

  He nodded. ‘It’s good to see you, love,’ he said huskily.

  The funeral was a quiet affair; Mother had made few friends since her marriage. Her doctor came and one or two old teaching colleagues, but apart from them Dad and I were the only mourners. We invited them back to the house afterwards for sandwiches and a glass of wine but they all declined, shaking hands in the church porch and scurrying away. Dad and I turned up our collars against the drizzling afternoon and picked our way across the wet, leaf-strewn churchyard to where I’d parked the car. As we climbed in gratefully I looked at Dad.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  He nodded. ‘You know it’s odd, love, but I’ve got the strangest feeling that none of this is quite real,’ he said. ‘I feel I don’t really know who I am or what I’m for any more. All these years I’ve looked after your mother and now she’s gone. I feel – sort of – cut adrift.’

  ‘Of course you do. It’s only natural.’ I gave his arm a squeeze. ‘But you still have a life to live, Dad. We’ve got a lot of talking to do, but let’s get home and have something to eat and drink first.’

  Ian and I had discussed Dad’s predicament the evening before I drove up to Yorkshire and he agreed with me that Dad couldn’t be left all that way off on his own. Obviously it would have to be his decision but we were agreed that the offer to live with us must be made.

  After we’d eaten and washed up Dad looked more relaxed and I decided to broach the subject of the future. I poured him a whisky and ginger, his favourite drink and sat down opposite him.

  ‘Dad, I know it’s probably too soon to decide but how would you feel about coming south to live with Ian, Jamie and me?’

  He looked up in surprise. ‘That’s a very generous offer, love, but you don’t want an old codger like me cluttering the place up.’

  I laughed. ‘Don’t talk about yourself like that. What are you – sixty, isn’t it? That’s not old nowadays. You’re still fit and healthy. You’ve got a lot of living to do yet. Have you got any plans?’

  He shook his head. ‘I haven’t even thought about it.’

  ‘Then will you give my suggestion some thought?’

  He sighed. ‘But that little house of yours – it’s too small. You haven’t got room.’

  ‘We’ve already started looking for somewhere larger, Dad,’ I told him.

  ‘You’re sure – you’re not just saying that because of me?’

  ‘No. We’ve outgrown the cottage,’ I told him. ‘And now that Jamie’s at St Cecilia’s and Ian’s in a regular teaching job, Mableton Park is too far out of town for us. We’ve already started looking at places.’

  He nodded. ‘Let me sleep on it,’ he said. ‘It’s true that there’s nothing to keep me here. You know what your mother was like; we had no friends or social life to speak of.’ He glanced around him. ‘And this house will be far too big for me to rattle round in on my own. As a matter of fact I’ve even had an offer for it already.’

  ‘Dad!’ I was horrified. ‘Are you telling me that people have been hassling you about the house even before Mother was buried?’

  ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds. It was Mr Harrison, the rector, actually,’ he said. ‘It seems the old rectory is going to be demolished. It’s falling to bits and the diocese is looking for a property to buy. As we’re not far from the church this house would be ideal.’

  ‘Well, I think they could have waited for a decent interval,’ I said.

  He shook his head. ‘Mr Harrison was just being realistic and it was good of him to think of me, really. Anyone could see this place was going to be too big for me. And the rector and his wife have three school age children so they need the space.’

  ‘Well, as long as you weren’t offended. Dad,’ I leaned forward and put my hand on his knee, ‘I’ll have to go home the day after tomorrow. Will you think about coming with me? It needn’t be permanent at this stage but I think you could do with a break. What do you say?’

  He smiled. ‘That’d be lovely, Elaine. Yes, I’d love to come.’

  Jamie was delighted to have his granddad to stay but he was full of his stay with Mary. ‘It’s so much nearer school, Mum. I could walk there in no time. When are we going to move?’

  ‘Soon, I hope,’ I told him. ‘We just have to find the right house.’

  ‘Well I hope it’s somewhere near where Auntie Mary lives,’ he said.

  Dad was interested in our house hunting and one afternoon as we were passing the end of Wellington Avenue I decided to show him Beaumont House. As we drew up outside I was surprised to see that the ‘For Sale’ board was still up. Dad stood at the gate and looked at the front of the house.

  ‘Well, I can quite understand why you liked it,’ he remarked.

  ‘Would you like to see the inside?’ I asked on impulse. When he nodded I took out my mobile and tapped in the estate agent’s number. When the receptionist answered I said, ‘It’s Mrs Morton. My husband and I looked at Beaumont House in Wellington Avenue a few weeks ago and I’d like to view again with my father. Would it be possible now – this afternoon?’ The girl asked me to hold on. Moments later she picked up the phone again.

  ‘Mrs Morton, one of our negotiators is actually in the area at the moment. He showed someone round Beaumont House earlier and he still has the keys with him. He could be with you in half an hour. Is that all right?’

  I grinned at Dad. ‘That will be fine.’

  As we waited it crossed my mind that I might have built up my first impression of the house out of all proportion. Maybe when I saw it again I’d be disappointed. I prepared myself mentally for a let-down. But the moment the young man from the agent’s unlocked the front door and we walked into the hall my glowing first impressions were reaffirmed. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the long stained glass window on the landing, illuminating the hall with warm pink and pastel green light. I looked at Dad and when he returned my gaze I could see that he shared my view of the house.

  We went from room to room and I could tell that Dad was as impressed as me. I looked at the young negotiator.

  ‘The people you showed round earlier,’ I said. ‘Were they keen?’

  He nodded. ‘Very. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if they put in an offer very soon. They’re thinking of turning it into a retirement home.’

  ‘It would certainly make a superb home for the elderly,’ Dad remarked as we got back into the car. ‘I wouldn’t mind retir
ing to a place like that myself. And did you see the garden?’ He was smiling. ‘I’d love to be let loose out there.’

  I looked at him. He’d always been a keen gardener but in recent years the demands of Mother’s illness had forced him to hand his own garden over to a group of youngsters from the local church who had turned it into allotments. ‘Maybe we’d better not mention to Ian that we’ve been to see Beaumont House,’ I suggested. ‘It’s way out of our price range and anyway it looks very much as though it’s about to be sold.’

  Dad nodded. ‘Just as you please, love.’

  But it seemed that Dad had fallen as much under the spell of Beaumont House as I had. After Jamie and Ian had left the following morning he looked at me across the breakfast table. ‘I’ve had an idea, love,’ he said. ‘How about putting the kettle on again and letting me run it past you, as they say?’

  Over mugs of strong tea he laid out his plan. ‘Whichever way you look at it I’m going to have to sell the family house,’ he said. ‘And as I do already have an offer, how would it be if I helped out with the price of Beaumont House and moved into it with you?’ Speechless with surprise I stared at him and he seized the opportunity to hurry on, ‘That top floor could be turned into a flat without too much work needing to be done. That way I’d be out of your hair. And I’d take over that garden if you wanted me to.’ He grinned. ‘I could even grow organic fruit and veg for you and Mary to use in your business.’

  I laughed. ‘Dad! You’ve got it all planned out, haven’t you? You must have stayed awake all night.’

  He smiled. ‘Well, not all night. Seriously though, I could see how taken you were with the place,’ he said. ‘I thought it was a cracker too, and you have to admit that it would be the answer to all our problems.’

  ‘You’re right there. It would.’ Try as I would I couldn’t think of any drawbacks off the top of my head. ‘We’ll have to ask Ian what he thinks when he gets home,’ I told him guardedly. ‘He doesn’t even know we’ve been back to see it, remember.’