The Lonely Heart Attack Club: Wrinkly Olympics - Welcome to the Isle of Man's first dating club for the elderly. Sublimely funny!

by J C Williams

  Jack was seldom lost for words, but the comments meant a lot, particularly coming from Kelvin.

  “Thank you, Kelvin. We both appreciate your support a great deal. Hopefully, if you’re moving over, you can get involved?”

  “I’d like to, and I mean that sincerely.”

  The undulating path continued with increasing intensity. It was a stunning ride, deviating between dense forest and glorious open-air routes which presented a breath-taking view of the exquisite landscape. Jack was struggling to keep pace, and the regular signposts indicating how far their journey had to go did nothing to motivate him. He pushed on valiantly but the gap between the pair was beginning to increase. Kelvin took the opportunity to stop occasionally, admiring and photographing plants with names unpronounceable to the layman.

  After one particularly intense climb, Kelvin had all but lost sight of Jack. He pulled his bike over to one side and enjoyed the fresh morning air. Kielder Water is the largest manmade lake in Northern Europe and home to a multitude of species. It was also a mecca for fishermen, eager to hone their skills.

  He climbed down from the path and onto a small beach covered in pebbles and a variety of wildflowers. His camera was in overdrive as he admired the blanket of colour that surrounded him.

  “Kelvin Reed?” said a gentle voice.

  He was kneeling for a close-up shot and the noise startled him.

  “I thought it was you,” said a small grey-haired lady with a kind face. “What a fantastic pleasure to meet you. I didn’t mean to scare you, my husband is fishing around the corner and, as usual, I was roped along to keep him company. Can I make you a cup of tea?”

  “That’s very kind, but no thank you. I’m just waiting for a companion and we’ll be on our way. What a beautiful spot to go fishing!”

  “It is wonderful, isn’t it,” she said eagerly. “Would you mind if I had a picture taken with you before you go? My husband is just over there.”

  “No problem at all!” said Kelvin. After the time his career was in the wilderness, he was grateful that people bothered to ask him.

  At that moment, her husband appeared. “Look at this beauty,” he said, offering a magnificent-looking fish. “That’s one of the biggest I’ve caught. We’ll be eating well tonight.”

  “Stan, look who this is, will you take our picture?”

  Stan put his dinner and fishing knife on the ground and captured the moment for posterity, before shaking Kelvin’s hand. “Lovely to meet you, Mr Reed!”

  Jack made it to the brow of the hill and looked down on Kelvin in the distance. He was grateful to freewheel for a moment and catch his breath. As he progressed down the hill, he could see Kelvin talking on the beach. Jack saw the man opposite him lean over and pick something up from the dirt. A flash of steel glistened in the sunlight.

  “Shit!” he said aloud. “It’s them stalkers and they’ve got a blade!” He brought his bike to an abrupt halt and reached for his phone. There was no signal.

  The three people on the beach were now engaged in intense conversation looking towards the water.

  Jack knew he didn’t have a moment to spare. Once close enough, he hunkered down and made his way through the patches of grass and cautiously moved across the beach. The sound of his footsteps on the pebbles was drowned out by the lapping of the water. The man was holding the knife aloft now, and it wouldn’t be long before Jack’s presence was discovered; he quickened his pace towards them.

  He had no plan for how he intended to incapacitate the assailants and as he lunged forwards he had to improvise. The small pebbles would offer no offensive advantage so he grabbed for the fish which lay on the beach in the final throes of life. Jack gripped it with both hands and swung it towards the armed man. He couldn’t maintain his grip, however, and the slippery fish flew majestically from his grasp, arcing gracefully through the air until finally slapping into the back of the man’s head with a moist thud. The force sent the man tumbling towards the ground, and with the momentum, the fish carried on, retiring back to the water from whence it came.

  Kelvin jumped back, unsure what had happened, and saw Jack, who by now had the old woman in a headlock.

  “Grab the knife!” shouted Jack.

  Kelvin ran to the fallen angler’s aid. “Jack, bloody hell, stop!”

  “They’re the stalkers! He’s got a knife!” shouted Jack.

  “No!” shouted Kelvin. “He’s a fisherman and now he’s got no bloody fish and a huge bruise on the back of his head!”

  Once they were sure the couple were in good health, and willing not to press charges, Jack and Kelvin continued on their way. Despite the awkward and unfortunate misunderstanding, Kelvin found himself grateful; Jack had no idea the man wasn’t a crazed stalker, yet he risked his own personal safety to help him.

  To Jack’s immense relief, they approached the one-mile marker. “How are you feeling?” asked Kelvin.

  “My legs are burning and my arse is on fire!” shouted Jack.

  As they approached the welcome sight of their cabin and the hot tub, Jack whispered to Kelvin, “Probably best you don’t mention about my arse being on fire. Pete may take it the wrong way.”

  Emma came out to greet them. “Welcome back,” she told them. Jack,” she added, with a serious look on her face, “Your grandad has just been on the phone to me as he couldn’t get you.”

  “There was no reception on the bike path. Is he okay?” Jack said, removing his helmet.

  “He’s fine,” Emma replied. “But I’m afraid that Ray’s been taken into hospital. Apparently, he’s not in a good way.”

  .

  Chapter Six

  T hree weeks to go and I can hang up my bag forever!” declared Pete, virtually skipping.

  “I thought you loved the job?” asked Emma.

  “I do in the summer, but in the winter, those early mornings can play havoc with your skin. I know I said it several times, but I just wanted to thank you again for a wonderful weekend.”

  Emma didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Was it not too quiet?”

  “No… love, love, loved it,” he said, tapping her on the nose each time for effect.

  “It’s great news about Kelvin moving over, that’ll be wonderful for you!”

  “I know. I can’t wait. He had a fabulous time, also. Jack, how’s Ray?”

  Jack was fighting a losing battle with a smoothie maker they were trialling and had the contents of his earlier battle emblazoned on the front of his shirt. “He’s still in the hospital,” he said. “I dropped Grandad up last night to see him, but they think it’s his heart. He was awake and happy enough?”

  “So he’s not back on the drink?” asked Pete.

  “No, well he says he isn’t. Since he got swindled out of his cash he’s working even harder in the shop. He’s an old man and should be winding down, not working all the hours of the day. He’s thinking of selling his house, clear all his debt and he should have enough left over to take it a bit easier, maybe get someone in the shop to help out or even retire.

  “Great!” said Emma. “Hang on, where’s he going to live?”

  “Well… Grandad said he could move in with him. I suppose it makes sense, it’ll give him some extra cash each month, and they can look out for each other. They get on well, so why not?”

  “Send him my best!” asked Pete, handing over a small pile of envelopes.

  Jack flicked through them. “Emma, do we owe Jasmine any money?”

  “Of course not, the rent is well and truly up to date. Why?”

  He looked puzzled. “There’s a letter here and it looks like it’s written in blood, like the one she sent last year when we were behind a couple of months on the rent.”

  “It’s crayon!” said Emma after closer inspection. “Blood, indeed!”

  Pete continued on his rounds as Jack cautiously opened the letter which had the barely legible address: ‘The Lonely Heart Attack Club, Isle of Man,’ written on the front.

&n
bsp; Jack read the first few lines to himself before shouting over to Emma, “It’s a letter from a young girl who saw me on the BBC!”

  “Aww,” said Emma. “Is it fan mail? Read it out!”

  Jack read out the note as follows:

  Dear Jack,

  My name is Megan-Rose Tully, and I’m seven years old (nearly eight). I wanted to write this to you with my new pen, but Mummy says that it’ll take too long. My handwriting is the second neatest in the class, my friend Zoe has the best but… Mummy says I need to focus and write this letter. She has a computer so she said if I speak the words, she will type them. I’m not very good with long words, but she said she has a ‘spell-chicken’ whatever one of those is.

  I saw you on the television before I went to school. Would it be possible to get one of your T-shirts as I thought they were really nice?

  I live in a small village near Manchester and my friend’s mum set up one of your clubs in her coffee shop to help the elderly. It’s always busy and my friends sometimes go down to help serve them tea and biscuits. They also go out on their bikes, and let us go, which is a lot of fun. I want my grandad to go, but I don’t think he’s ready yet.

  I asked my mummy if I could write to you to say thank you for setting up the club which we now have in my village. Even though my grandad has never been, the people in the club call around and make sure he is feeling well. Sometimes they will also bring him things from the shop.

  My grampy is called Sullivan, but I call him Sulley like the big-scary-monster in Monsters, Inc. (You might be too old to have watched this, but it’s good!) He isn’t scary, though, just really cuddly like a big bear. Grampy used to take me to school every morning so my mummy could go to work. We don’t have a lot of money. When our lollypop lady was ill, Grampy wanted to help out so he could see me playing with my friends. He was the best and all the small children loved him and loved hearing his stories. He was in the war on a big boat.

  He would let me stand with him after school to make sure all of the children got across the road safely. It is very busy and the cars go too quick.

  Oh, I didn’t tell you the best bit. My grampy knows the real Father Christmas. Every Christmas he makes sure that he comes to our school and when he comes out on stage, my grampy hides and looks after the reindeer. All of the children in my class couldn’t believe it when I told them.

  The only one who didn’t believe me was Stanley. He’s not a nice boy. His brother, Liam, used to go to our school but now goes to big kids school.

  I try to be nice to Stanley even when my friends tell me not to, but he hit me and pulled my hair.

  He even told his big brother to call me names.

  Grampy told me to ignore him, and I do, I really try my best to. I loved coming out of school and seeing him. It made me smile every day.

  One Friday I came out of school and Grampy had a lolly for me, but he said I had to hide it because otherwise all my friends would want one and the lollypop man didn’t mean handing out lollypops to everyone. He laughed when he said that, but I didn’t really get the joke. I smile whenever he laughs because his shoulders go up and down like a bowl of jelly.

  Liam and his friends were not in school when they were supposed to be and waited outside our school for Stanley. They were mean to the teachers and called them names even though they used to be nice to them. Liam saw me and called me names. When I called him mean, he punched me in the tummy and he made me cry. My grampy was there and he told them to go away, but then they started to call him horrible names. Grampy didn’t mind and he chased the bullies away. He is my hero.

  Grampy lives in a small house on his own because my granny died when I was four. He has a pretty garden which I go and help him with. He tries to give me money for helping him, but I tell him I just want to be with him and I don’t want money. He still gives me it though. The houses near to him are not as nice, but I think that if they see his garden it may make them want to cut their grass and put some flowers in. I would help them too as I’m very good in the garden.

  Grampy planted a baby tree in the middle of his garden when my granny died. It’s still only small but he put a bench next to it and talks to her all the time. It makes him happy. Sometimes I sit and say hello, but I cannot really remember her. He tells me stories about her and shows me photographs of when they were younger and when they met. She was very pretty and my grampy said she looked just like me and we both have a cute button nose.

  Liam and his friends saw my grampy when he went shopping and made fun of him. They called him names and one of them threw a bottle at him. The man in the shop saw it and called the policeman. The boys said that grampy was mean to them, but he wasn’t, he’s never mean. Because of that he’s no longer able to be the lollypop man so I don’t see him after school. It made me and my friends very sad and the teachers didn’t want him to go.

  The last time he went to the shop, he came home and there was a broken bottle outside of his house. Someone had kicked his bin over and the rubbish was all over his grass. The lovely flowers that we planted had been ripped up and the soil thrown all over the walls of his house. What really made him sad was that they’d broken his tree and smashed the bench we used to sit on. I’d never seen him cry until that day.

  He didn’t go out much after that.

  The boys carried on making fun of him and throwing stones at his house. He ignored them and closed the curtains. One day they were mean to his neighbour who is called Dolly, and she must be older than him because she has more wrinkles. She makes very nice scones and gives them to me. He went out to tell them to stop, but he tripped and fell on the steps. He hurt his hip and needs to have an operation. He lives with me and my mummy because he cannot climb the stairs. I love having my grampy live with us. We have a small flat and it means I get to sleep on the sofa each night, which is fun.

  I want to thank you for setting up the club, because people come around to see him and make sure he is happy. They have also been around to his house and cleaned the front and I have helped them to plant the flowers back into his garden. A nice man was able to fix the tree and the bench. Grampy cannot go home until his leg is fixed, which I love.

  The mean boys have been moved to a different area because it wasn’t just my grampy that they were mean to.

  My grampy is not as happy as he used to be, but I hope that he will soon be able to go to your club because I have told him that I am going to buy him a ‘Silver Sprinter’ badge for when he can run again.

  I wanted to say thank you for all of your work and for encouraging (that was my mummy’s big word) people to be nice to my grampy, the big cuddly bear called ‘Sulley’.

  I’ve saved my pocket money for four weeks and wanted you to use it to help other nice people.

  Lots of love

  Megan-Rose Tully aged seven (nearly eight)

  Jack held out a ten-pound note and gently folded the letter, placing it back in the envelope. As they were in the shop, a small queue had formed in the time Jack had taken to read the letter, but not one person spoke.

  He wasn’t usually one for public displays of emotion, but a tear rolled down his cheek. His voice broke as he tried to clear his throat. “What a beautiful little girl,” he said. “She has just summed up why we’re doing all of this.”

  “Okay, who’s next?”

  .

  Chapter Seven

  S o, why am I here?” asked Jack, shuffling uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

  Emma rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you, it’s a surprise. Stop fidgeting, you’ll ruin your makeup.”

  He impatiently switched between the radio stations, much to Emma’s annoyance.

  “So, why is Grandad here?”

  “I’ve already told you! It’s a surprise.”

  Jack continued to flick the wings on the stuffed parrot.

  “And Ray and Pete?”

  “A bloody surprise!” she shouted, but with good humour.

  Emma’s compact Ford Fiesta w
as bursting at the seams with five people crammed in. The engine laboured as it pulled up Richmond Hill, a lengthy and abrupt climb out of Douglas and the main route to the airport and the South of the Island.

  Jack settled on a radio station and the sound of ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ by Glen Campbell filled the car. Grandad, Ray, and Pete were sat in the rear and their shoulders began to move in unison with the rhythm of the classic anthem.

  “One more question?” asked Jack. “Why are we dressed as pirates?”

  She shook her head and as she did, the stuffed sprung parrot on her shoulder jiggled. The five of them were dressed, and made up, like extras from a budget version of Pirates of the Caribbean. Grandad sported a bandana with a Jolly Roger emblazoned on the front. It was tied that tight it made his head look like a peanut, and his oversized cutlass kept getting caught in Ray’s acrylic beard every time the car went over a bump.

  Apart from Pete, it was clear they’d purchased their costumes from a fancy-dress shop. Ever the showman, Pete had engaged his theatrical contacts and secured the costume used previously as Captain Hook in a production of Peter Pan. He looked spectacular and the sight of them in the small red car resulted in many inquisitive glances. As the song on the radio reached a crescendo, the crew of ‘The Black Pearl’ screamed along to the chorus, “Like a Rhinestone Cowboy…!”

  Ray was in good form, enjoying his first day out since being released from the hospital. “Are you okay, Ray?” asked Emma. She’d enquired several times, and was probably getting on his nerves, but she genuinely worried about him.

  Ray adjusted his beard, as it was tricky to talk. “I’m fine, lass. Bit of rest needed, and I’ll be grand.”

  It was a glorious, warm evening as they pulled into the seaside town of Port Erin. It was a stunning part of the Island and the final destination of the famous Isle of Man Steam Railway. It’s a ‘picture postcard’ town surrounding an inviting expanse of sandy white beach hugging a tranquil coastline. For those who lived their lives in the hustle and bustle of a concrete metropolis, a place of beauty such as this must have been idyllic.