Casting Off

by P. I. Paris

  ‘If I can help to keep them out of the clutches of evil men until they’re old enough and sufficiently streetwise not to be so vulnerable . . . well, I can’t imagine a better use of my time. I’ve still got sufficient money to buy a property . . . something with two bedrooms.’

  She stopped to look up at him.

  ‘Why two?’

  ‘It would be a chance for you to start again in an area where no one knows you. There would be a place where you would be totally safe and I could keep us both until you’ve found yourself a job.’

  ‘How would it look to your family? They’re going to suspect something regardless of what you tell them and you know you’re a terrible liar, Walter.’

  ‘Don’t worry about my family. What we have to decide is what’s best for you.’

  Forty One

  Dorothy entered the bedroom to find Joan trying not to laugh, the receiver to her ear and a caller obviously on the other end. She walked quietly over to her chair and began working on the jumper for Angus, which was nearing completion.

  ‘You have specially made trousers! Your tailor is very understanding . . . doesn’t charge for the extra material.’

  She knew the conversation was being repeated for her benefit but would have been just as happy not to hear.

  ‘Yes, it must be terrible having to fight off all these women. Some people are so inconsiderate. No, no, of course you don’t brag about it. Oh, well, goodbye then,’ said Joan, putting down the receiver.

  ‘Are you having fun?’

  ‘That one was supposed to be in the more-than-a-foot club! I don’t know where these men get their tape measures from.’

  ‘I think decimalisation caused a lot of confusion.’

  Joan shrieked at this and Dorothy couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s amusement. She put down her knitting and picked up the photograph of her husband.

  ‘I only ever knew Willie. We were childhood sweethearts. Happy in each other’s company from the first day we met. Then along came Andrew and our joy was complete.’

  ‘I’m sure he was a good man.’

  ‘He was. But my life with him hasn’t prepared me for these telephone calls,’ said Dorothy, putting back the frame on the little table. ‘I certainly got into a pickle yesterday. I kept referring to the caller as Mr Thomas until he told me that wasn’t his name, so I said, well, shall I call you John? He wasn’t very pleased. You’re so much more a woman of the world.’

  ‘I wasn’t always. When I look back, I can’t believe how innocent I used to be.’

  ‘These days innocence seems to vanish overnight.’

  ‘That’s often how it happens, love.’

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean.’

  Joan picked up her knitting but had barely started when she put it down again.

  ‘I can remember the first time I ever saw an erection,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to hear this.’

  ‘I’ll tell you the story.’

  ‘That’s what I was afraid of.’

  ‘It was only a month or so after I had started work as a student nurse. There was a good-looking patient, not much older than me. On this particular afternoon he was asleep. I had to change his dressing, so I closed the curtains and quietly carried on. Suddenly, there it was . . . staring at me! I wanted to scream.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘No, I thought there was something wrong with him so rushed off to fetch the sister.’

  ‘Oh no!’

  ‘I was too embarrassed to explain the problem, so she came back to see what it was all about.’

  ‘I’m embarrassed just thinking about it,’ said Dorothy, although a few moments later she leant over as if part of a conspiracy. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘God, I can’t believe it. I pointed and said, “I told you there was something wrong with it. Shall I get the doctor?’’’

  Neither woman could speak for several moments. Mr Adams, walking slowly along the corridor outside, shook his head in bemusement at how often laughter could be heard coming from that particular bedroom.

  ‘The sister was very kind and fortunately the lad was still asleep. She told me to cover him up, then took me back to her office to explain the facts of life. I can’t believe I was ever so naive.

  ‘After Willie died I never considered being with someone else. I just didn’t want to. What was it like, being married to more than one man?’

  Joan sighed as she reflected upon her life. It wasn’t something she generally did, believing much more in living for the moment.

  ‘They were all very different. Looking back, I think that maybe I found each one at the time in my life when I needed that sort of person. Don’t misunderstand me. I loved them greatly and was devastated when they died. I don’t know, maybe it was all just fate.’

  They both resumed their knitting. A tiny meow announced the arrival of Tiddles, who had pushed open the door enough to squeeze through the gap. The cat jumped up onto its favourite lap and purred contentedly.

  ‘Joan . . . this cousin that Miss Ross has started seeing recently . . . you don’t think there’s something odd about it, do you?’

  ‘In what way, love?’

  ‘Well, it’s only that you would expect her to be pleased to meet him, yet she always appears subdued beforehand and stays in her room when she gets back.’

  The other woman put down her knitting to consider what had just been said.

  ‘Now that you mention it, she does seem out of sorts on those days.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s been herself for a while.’

  ‘Have you spoken to her about it?’

  ‘No, I don’t feel it’s my business. There’s just something that makes me uneasy. I might be completely mistaken. She’s not one to talk about feelings. Please don’t say anything. I wouldn’t hurt her for the world.’

  ‘I won’t. She’s one of the old school in every sense. It’s good of her to handle all the money side of our little telephone business.’

  ‘Yes, I seem to make exactly the extra I need every week.’

  ‘Fate playing its hand again?’

  ‘Perhaps the Lord has forgiven me for laughing at the minister on all those occasions,’ said Dorothy smiling.

  ‘I bet that cockerel never forgave the minister – what cockerel would?’

  Forty Two

  The calls to the sex line had increased to the point where Joan and Dorothy were each taking about six per day, but whereas the former appeared generally to find the conversations amusing, the latter normally had no idea what was being discussed and always tried to steer the topic away from anything to do with sex.

  Her simple innocence had such an extraordinary power about it that many men ended up apologising for being rude before going on to discuss their personal problems. In these conversations she revealed a deep understanding of human nature and callers quickly discovered here was someone they could talk to frankly without being judged, while obtaining sound advice. She covered the Wednesday morning shifts and had been on a call now for nearly half an hour.

  ‘Even big, grown men can experience domestic abuse, Alan,’ she said with her usual gentleness. ‘If you try the things I’ve suggested, you may find the situation improves.’ She listened for a moment before continuing. ‘Already forgotten, dear. To be honest, I didn’t have much idea of what you were talking about. Although it might be some time before I can bring myself to eat a banana. Mmm . . . yes, goodbye dear. Good luck.’

  Dorothy put down the receiver and stroked the cat’s ear, much to the pleasure of both.

  ‘Oh, Tiddles, all you care about is finding the most comfortable knee. There are so many problems out there that could be solved with a bit of old-fashioned common sense. Everyone’s so keen to rush about I think they’ve thrown it overboard in order to go faster.’

  The cat purred but made no other contribution to the conversation.

  ‘I could do with some guidance from someone I haven’t spoken to
in quite a while. I hope he’s not too busy.’

  She put Tiddles on the floor, the cat displaying his displeasure with a loud meow. She then lowered herself stiffly to her knees before putting her hands together.

  ‘Dear, Lord. Sorry I’ve not been in touch for a while. I hope everything is good with you. Oh, for goodness sake, of course everything is good with him! I’m not sure if we’re doing the right thing with our little venture and would be grateful if you could please give me a sign of what to do.’ There was no audible response; even Tiddles was silent, watching from his hiding place under the bed. ‘Well, that was it, really. Amen.’

  She unclasped her hands and put one on the little table. However, it quickly became clear that this was not going to provide a way to get up. She shifted her weight, tried another position and attempted it again. No, not that way either. After several more unsuccessful goes, Dorothy put her hands together.

  ‘Lord! If you’re still there, I would be ever so grateful if you could please help me get up.’ As if in answer to her request, the bedroom door opened.

  ‘Are you all right?’ said Miss Ross, seeing her friend in the unusual position.

  ‘Ah, you were listening.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Oh, not you, dear. I asked God if he could help me get up and here you are . . . a little miracle.’

  ‘I’ve been called a few things in my time but never that. Here, let’s get you into a position that has a little more decorum.’

  Miss Ross had only just taken hold of the other woman’s arm when the telephone rang.

  ‘Do you want to answer it, dear?’

  ‘No,’ said Miss Ross, letting go.

  ‘But it’ll be one of our customers.’

  ‘I answered it once . . . I won’t do it again,’ she said, walking over to the window.

  Dorothy knew that her friend didn’t want to speak to the sex line callers, but, even so, just this once could hardly hurt. Now on all fours, she reached over and took hold of the receiver, accidently dragging the telephone onto the floor.

  ‘Hello! Hello, big boy.’ Dorothy listened for a few moments. ‘A headmistress?’

  Miss Ross swung around.

  ‘No! Tell him to leave me alone!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Put the receiver down!’

  ‘But I think it’s for you.’

  Her friend strode across the room, grabbed the telephone and put it back on the table.

  ‘Whatever is the matter? Oh, help me get up, dear. I can’t talk to you from down here.’

  Miss Ross manhandled her into the armchair and while doing so knocked over the table.

  ‘Damn that thing!’ she said, close to tears. ‘It’s a curse.’ She picked up the telephone again and put the table back on its feet. ‘I can’t do it any more!’

  ‘Do what? I don’t understand.’

  Dorothy had never seen her in such a state, pacing around in what little space there was.

  ‘That’s the problem! You don’t understand! You never do! These telephone calls don’t make enough to cover your extra fees.’

  ‘But every week you give me the exact money I need.’

  ‘It doesn’t all come from the calls!’

  ‘Where is it coming from, then?’

  Miss Ross put both hands to her face, as if to hide behind them, as if to bury her shame. She was so close to revealing her awful secret, but once spoken it could never be one again.

  ‘My . . . cousin . . .’

  ‘Your cousin? He’s continued to give you money for me?’

  She couldn’t answer, couldn’t reveal the depths of depravity to which she had been dragged.

  ‘Who is this man?’ asked Dorothy, sitting forward in her chair as if to give her question more force. But there was only desperation and silence in reply. ‘He’s not your cousin, is he? Oh Lord, what have you been doing? Tell me what you’ve done!’

  The distraught woman removed her hands. The surroundings were a blur, just the same as everything she had stood for and believed in for so many years. It felt as though her life had been built on sand and the foundations were dissolving in the rising waters of despair, leaving nothing firm to hang on to.

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ she cried. ‘I can’t tell anyone.’

  With this, the teacher who had inspired generations of children, who had gained the respect and admiration of all those who knew her, rushed out of the room sobbing uncontrollably. Dorothy slumped back into her chair, terribly worried and upset. She tried to make sense of it. Somehow this was all linked to these calls.

  What had they done? Deirdre had talked about evil walking the streets and how they had invited it to sit with them at mealtimes. Well, that was nonsense in the case of Julie. But hadn’t they given evil a direct line into her bedroom? How many times had she sat in her armchair while strangers had tried to fill her head with images – disgusting, confusing scenes that she didn’t understand? Her tiny sanctuary had been fouled.

  ‘These calls have got to stop, regardless of the consequences to me,’ she said aloud. As if to mock her, the room was suddenly filled with ringing. ‘Go away! Leave me alone.’

  Now it felt as though the telephone itself was evil, as if the plastic had been moulded by the devil, who was watching, making it ring and willing her to answer. The sound seemed to echo around the room, becoming louder and more threatening until Dorothy was frightened of it. The devil smiled.

  ‘Lord, help me. Tell me what to do,’ she cried.

  Ring-ring . . . ring-ring . . . RING-RING.

  ‘What do you want!’ she shouted into the receiver.

  There was silence at the other end of the line. Not the heavy breathing or menacing silence that she was often subjected to; this was different altogether, as if the shock felt by the other person was so great that it was somehow transmitted physically down the line. Her heart was racing and she was on the verge on putting down the receiver when the caller spoke.

  Dorothy uttered one word, put a hand to her mouth and crashed to the floor in a faint.

  Forty Three

  It was all very confusing. Dorothy knew she was in bed, but everything seemed wrong. There were strange sounds and smells, and the light wasn’t like it usually was in her room. Even the mattress didn’t feel right. Then she became aware that there was a figure sitting on a chair nearby. The person got up, walked over and uttered something she didn’t catch. Dorothy couldn’t distinguish any features. The mist fogging her brain made her afraid.

  Oh no. Is this how dementia begins? I can’t work out anything.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked in a small, fearful voice.

  Then the man, for she at least knew it was a man’s voice, spoke again.

  ‘For goodness sake, Mum, put your glasses on.’

  He slipped something onto her nose and everything became instantly clear.

  ‘Andrew!’

  ‘Hello,’ he said, sitting down and taking one of her hands. ‘You gave us all quite a scare.’

  ‘Where am I?’

  ‘Hospital. You fell and knocked yourself out. But you’ve been checked over and you’re all right apart from a wee bang on the head.’

  Dorothy gingerly reached up and discovered that she had a bandage on her brow.

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘It’s best not to bother trying. The important thing is that you’re all right. Matron called me after you had been taken away in the ambulance, so I came straight here.’

  ‘It’s nice to see you, dear. How was Malta?’

  Andrew laughed, but there was something about his manner that betrayed a contrasting emotion, one that wasn’t concern about his mother’s health. He was attempting to hide something. Dorothy was still too dazed to make anything of it, but there was a hazy memory at the back of her mind that made her uncomfortable.

  ‘It was great, Mum. We all had a fantastic time. It’s just been so busy at work since we got back. I’m sorry I haven’t visited or
been in touch.’

  ‘Well, you’re here now, dear, and that’s what matters. How are Susan and Olivia?’

  ‘They’re good, thanks. Olivia’s a handful.’

  ‘It would be nice to see her. She won’t know who her old granny is.’

  ‘Less of the old. And we will bring her around, I promise, just as soon as you’re back on your feet.’

  Dorothy studied her son. He squeezed her hand and smiled, but it was unnatural. She had brought him up from baby to boy to man. What had happened? Miss Ross had been terribly upset, angry with her . . . she had decided that the calls must end . . . then the telephone had rung and she didn’t want to answer it . . . but then she did . . . and there was . . .

  Her expression suddenly changed from confusion to comprehension.

  ‘You!’

  ‘What, Mum?’ he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  ‘It was you on the other end of the line!’

  Forty Four

  Walter leant against the railings that ran along the harbour and watched the waves crashing against the rocks below. The tide was high and the sea was rough, in complete contrast to the beautiful day it had turned out to be. He thought it was strange how independent they could be of each other.

  The idea of independence made him smile. His daughter had been delighted when he told her he was intending to move out and buy something near the family. She had been contacting estate agents and posting him details of potential properties ever since.

  A little bungalow had particularly caught his eye and the previous month he had caught the train to Aberdeen. Becky had picked him up at the station and they had viewed it together. The owner had recently died and her son wanted a quick sale. The place needed quite a bit of work, but it was all possible with the money he still had.

  He hadn’t said anything about grooming or the fears he had for his granddaughters. These concerns could be broached later on, once he was settled. Walter became aware of someone standing nearby.

  ‘Julie!’ he said, taking her into his arms.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. My bus was late.’