Casting Off

by P. I. Paris

‘That’s all right, love. I’ve been admiring the view. Come on, let’s go for a walk.’

  He told her excitedly about his news, providing as many details about the property as possible. He was used to her quick, agile mind and she fired so many questions at him that he started laughing.

  ‘I should have taken you with me! You would probably have beaten the poor man down to a lower selling price.’

  They stopped to look at some cormorants drying themselves on a rock nearby. For a while they were silent, enjoying the moment and each other’s company. There was one piece of information he hadn’t mentioned.

  ‘The bungalow . . . it has two bedrooms.’

  They turned to look at each other. He loved this girl like a daughter and, whatever else had taken place between them, now he felt only protective. He was also so grateful. Without her his life would probably be mapped out before him, just as Smiler had implied on the day of the march.

  ‘I have some news of my own,’ she said. ‘I met Matron.’

  ‘Did you? When?’

  ‘I rang her and she invited me to dinner at her home.’

  ‘Goodness, I’ve not heard of that before. What happened?’

  ‘Let’s walk,’ she said, so they carried on, leaving the birds to their sunshine. ‘I told her everything. She was extremely kind. I lost count of the number of times I broke down. When I had finished, we talked at length about what I wanted to do if I had the opportunity.’

  ‘And do you know? You’ve never told me.’

  ‘I hardly knew myself,’ said Julie. ‘It was only as we were discussing some of the potential openings that it became so obvious.’

  ‘The suspense is killing me!’

  ‘I want to be a carer. I love elderly people. They seem to like me and . . . well, I’m not squeamish about anything physical.’

  ‘Now you say it, yes, you would be brilliant,’ said Walter.

  ‘That was her view as well. She has a sister who manages a home in Edinburgh and called while I was still at the house. I had given permission for my background to be revealed.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Everything happened so quickly, a bit like your bungalow. I went down the next day to meet Amanda, the sister. There’s an extension being built at the home and she’s offered me a job as a care assistant when it’s finished. I probably can’t start until November, but I can see hope in the future for the first time in years.’

  They stopped walking. Walter looked at her in amazement, then swept her into his arms laughing.

  ‘That’s marvellous! I’m so happy.’

  ‘But I won’t be with you in your new home.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. You can visit any time. The spare room will always be ready. I’ll even decorate it in your favourite colours.’

  They held each other in silence for a long time. They both knew that however much they might wish to keep the relationship as it was, there would be an unavoidable change. Julie’s new life would gradually give her the confidence to leave behind that frightened girl who so desperately needed comfort. He would be involved with his family and not be a resident in a care home. This would alter him in more subtle ways. But neither of them referred to these fears and reluctantly they finally pulled apart.

  ‘If Amanda is anything like her sister, then you can be confident of her full support and discretion. I have a great deal of respect for our Matron. In a funny way, I think I’ll miss her when I’ve gone.’

  ‘You’ll miss Angus, and he’ll be lost.’

  He thought about his old friend. They had built their bridges again, after all those decades of anger, hurt and shame. The two men had never referred to their conversation about whether Angus could still perform sexually and Walter hadn’t spoken to Julie about it. The weeks had gone by and somehow other events had taken on more importance.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

  ‘I was wondering if we could give my mate a really good laugh . . . at Deirdre’s expense.’

  Forty Five

  Thursday, 25th August

  I am weak and cannot endure the sordid horror any longer. Dorothy has said nothing of my outburst since returning from hospital and has been vague about her fainting spell. There is more to this than she has revealed. I will not ask her, just as I know she will not ask me what I have been doing to make money. Does she suspect why I have done it? I am making a mess of everything.

  Forty Six

  ‘Yes, I know you’re shocked I answered the telephone! I’m shocked that you called such a number!’

  It was more than a week since Dorothy had ended up in hospital and she hadn’t spoken to Andrew other than to arrange the meeting that morning. After collecting her, he had driven to the local park, where they found a bench in a quiet spot. The weather was pleasant, but it was rare for Dorothy to sit outside these days, so she had brought a blanket and laid this across her legs. He had been subdued since they met and was now on the verge of tears.

  ‘Oh, don’t upset yourself, love. I understand you’ve never done anything like this before. But what possessed you this time?’ Her son remained silent, staring at his feet. ‘You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard over the last few months. I doubt there is anything you can say that will shock me.’

  When there was still no response, she tried to shift the conversation to less confrontational ground. ‘The home has significantly increased its fees. I had to do something to raise money. The idea for the sex line came from Joan. She’s rather more worldly-wise than Miss Ross or me. It wasn’t meant to do any harm. If we hadn’t done something, I would have been forced to move and leave all my friends.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he said, looking at her for the first time.

  ‘I didn’t want to worry you with my problems and you don’t have that sort of spare cash. I know how you fret about things.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You haven’t answered my question, about why you’ve called such a number.’

  A couple of pigeons bobbed their heads nearby, hoping they might be thrown some food. She could remember the time when her father caught pigeons which her mother would turn into a very tasty pie.

  ‘Most of the men who ring do so because they’re having problems in the bedroom department. I usually end up chatting to them about their lives and families. Some men aren’t very nice but most of them are just . . . well, they’re not monsters. I know it’s embarrassing, but if you can’t talk to your mother then who can you talk to?’

  Dorothy stopped. It was up to him to speak, if he was going to. She had opened the way as much as possible.

  ‘Susan and I . . . we haven’t made love since Olivia was born. Not once.’

  ‘That’s nearly two years.’

  She put a hand over one of his and nodded, although he didn’t see the gesture. She thought for a while about what he had just revealed before replying.

  ‘I remember what a terrible time Susan had during her pregnancy and the birth. It may be that making love is simply too painful for her and she’s frightened of even trying.’

  ‘After all this time?’

  ‘These things happen.’

  ‘She would have told me, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘We all keep secrets for our own reasons, dear. Have you spoken to her?’

  ‘No, I’ve just become more frustrated and . . . angry, I think.’

  ‘They’re not good feelings to harbour. Why don’t you talk about it? Such situations are best discussed and brought into the open rather than being left to fester.’

  They talked for a while until she suggested that they had a cup of tea in the park’s little café, where they also had facilities. So they continued their conversation over scones and, despite the initial reason for getting together, neither of them could remember when they had had such an enjoyable time.

  Forty Seven

  Dorothy was sitting quietly in her bedroom, thinking about the conversation with Andrew in the park. They had realised that day
how much they both missed spending time together, just the two of them. She smiled, remembering how he had teased her, wanting to hear about the most entertaining telephone calls! She had told him not to be so naughty and pour another cup of tea.

  Andrew had promised to speak to Susan and then visit to let her know the outcome. That was a week ago and now she wondered if he had sat down with his wife and discussed their delicate issue. Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Miss Ross, who had been going around town collecting the adverts that had been put up to promote the sex line.

  ‘Mission accomplished?’

  ‘Oh my feet,’ said her friend, taking off her coat and hanging it on the peg next to the red hat, before walking over and flopping into her chair. ‘It’s a good job I made a list of the places where they had been put up.’

  ‘You managed to remove them all?’

  ‘Every single one,’ she said, taking out from an old-fashioned leather satchel a pile of small, now rather grubby cards and throwing them into the wastepaper basket. ‘And I hope I never have to go into one of those terrible public houses ever again.’

  ‘Did you manage to put up the replacement leaflets?’

  ‘Yes,’ said her friend, taking off her shoes and wiggling her feet, ‘in the library, the tea shop, the charity shop and everywhere else we agreed, all except the newsagent’s. I couldn’t face seeing Nigel Ridley and his leer.’

  Dorothy had insisted that the sex line should be discontinued and a new non-profit-making venture started. She had decided to call it the ‘Pearls of Wisdom’ advice line. Her two friends had agreed to be involved in helping answer calls to the new number, which would be at the standard rate.

  Miss Ross had suggested that they also changed the telephone. In any physical sense, it made no difference at all, but getting rid of the object that had allowed so much heartache to enter their lives had been a sensible suggestion. They could put the receiver to an ear, knowing that it had no connection or history with disgusting conversations, memories and images.

  ‘This worries me so much,’ said Miss Ross. ‘I’m full of admiration for your social conscience and what you intend to do . . .’

  ‘It’s what we’ve all agreed to do.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re the one who needs to earn money in order to remain in the home. This won’t make you anything.’ She paused for a moment, then added quietly, ‘There’ll be nothing more from . . . my cousin.’

  The two women had never discussed, or even referred to, that terrible day when the caller asked for the headmistress. Miss Ross had screamed that she ‘can’t do it any more’ and Dorothy had assumed that whatever had been going on did indeed stop, which meant there would be no more cash from this person, whoever he was.

  ‘I can’t express in words how much I have appreciated your help. However, it’s time I stood on my own feet and had more faith that providence will provide, although I don’t think it will provide tea unless I make it,’ she said, going over to the dresser in the corner and switching on the electric kettle.

  ‘It is loose leaf?’

  Dorothy looked at the packet of tea bags, which was all she had. She didn’t want to cause any disappointment but neither could she lie. Her eye was drawn to a small pair of scissors nearby. Picking them up, she quickly cut the corners off two bags and tipped the contents into a spare cup.

  ‘Yes, dear,’ she confirmed.

  ‘I’ve never been a great believer in providence. I’ve always been more of a Prudential sort of person. You have a great number of very commendable characteristics, but when it comes to money you’re a walking disaster.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. Trusting to the Lord can hardly make the situation any worse.’

  ‘Well, as they say, it’s your call, if you’ll excuse the pun.’

  Dorothy, pouring boiling water into the teapot, hoped that her deception wasn’t really such a great sin.

  ‘Here are the spare flyers,’ said Miss Ross, pulling out leaflets from her satchel. ‘The printer did a good job. They were ready for me when I called, as he had promised.’

  ‘They look so much better than our handwritten cards,’ said Dorothy, taking one and sitting down to examine it in more detail. ‘Pearls of Wisdom. Elderly ladies available for advice. If you have a problem, are feeling lonely or you just want to talk . . . we’re here to listen. We’re not professionals, but we’ve been around a long time.’

  They were both taking their first sips when the telephone started to ring.

  ‘Goodness, that was quick!’ said Miss Ross.

  ‘I fear it shows the level of loneliness out there. I’ll get it.’

  ‘No, it’s all right. We’re all in this venture together.’ She put down her cup and lifted the receiver. ‘Hello, Pearls of Wisdom. How can I help?’

  As she listened to the caller, Joan came in. Dorothy indicated for her to help herself to tea. The new arrival went quietly over to the corner and picked up the remaining cup and saucer, discreetly blowing into the former, which appeared to have bits in it. Joan sat down just as Miss Ross began speaking.

  ‘Ah, bullying at school. Do you know, Jonathon, I’ve had to give advice about this very subject on many occasions. Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s been happening and then let’s you and I work out a plan of action.’

  Forty Eight

  The sun was shining, so Walter was sitting on the bench just outside the entrance to the care home, which allowed him to see the taxi when it brought Julie. She hadn’t visited since the confrontation with Deirdre and had agreed to come only this one last time. The previous day Walter had dropped a not very subtle hint to Mrs MacDonald that his niece was visiting this morning, knowing the message would reach the intended ears.

  Julie waved at him as she emerged from the car and once they had hugged he led her straight up to his bedroom.

  ‘Is Angus coming?’ she asked when the door was shut behind them.

  ‘He had his reservations but I did my best to persuade him. I hope he doesn’t let us down.’

  ‘I hope he doesn’t let himself down,’ she said. ‘Is the kettle on?’

  ‘Just about,’ he said, going over and flicking the switch. ‘Well, your very last visit to We Care For You. How do you feel?’

  ‘There’s no doubt I’ll miss some of the people,’ she replied, taking off her jacket and shoes. ‘However, it’s time for both of us to move on. Thank you for the money to buy some clothes. They’re so sensible and practical, you would be astounded.’

  ‘Your new haircut looks good. I like it.’

  ‘I thought my career required a change of image. What’s happened will always be a part of me, regardless of my appearance, but I intend to put it behind me as much as possible.’

  He smiled and reached over to stroke her cheek. There was a knock at the door and Angus entered.

  ‘I was beginning to give up on you, mate.’

  ‘We’re glad you’re here,’ she said, walking over and hugging him, much to his delight.

  ‘It wasn’t easy letting Deirdre suspect where I was heading without giving her the chance to stop me. They were coming up the stairs as I was nipping along the corridor.’

  ‘All nicely going to plan, then,’ said Walter. ‘I’ll make tea.’

  ‘This has got to be the most bizarre thing I’ve ever considered doing in my entire life and standing around drinking tea makes it seem even crazier.’

  Julie went quietly over to the door and put her ear against a panel on the other side of which Deirdre had hers.

  ‘What can you hear?’ whispered Mrs MacDonald loudly. ‘Is he there?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Shhh.’

  ‘I can hear whispering,’ said Julie, joining the others.

  ‘Here you are,’ said Walter, handing out mugs. ‘Mrs MacDonald gives herself away every time.’

  ‘Well, what now?’ asked Angus.

  ‘The floor is yours, my old friend
.’

  ‘I don’t know that I can do this, not convincingly. Why don’t you two just do it as normal and I’ll watch?’

  ‘You have to let yourself go,’ said Julie, putting a hand on his arm.

  ‘Maybe I’ve forgotten how to.’

  She took both men by surprise by suddenly speaking out in a loud voice.

  ‘Angus! I’m amazed at what you can do with your rook. You’ve quite taken my breath away with that move.’

  ‘Wait until you see what I can do with my bishop,’ said Walter. ‘You’ll not have ever seen a mitre like it!’

  ‘Go on,’ she whispered, ‘say something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Anything. You’ll be surprised at how easily you get into the swing of it,’ she said. ‘You’ll never get another chance like this.’

  Angus looked at them despairingly.

  ‘I hope that you’re not going to compare my bishop to Walter’s,’ he said.

  ‘That’s it, but give it some welly.’

  ‘That was welly,’ said Julie, ‘not willy.’

  ‘Oh, Julie,’ he said loudly. ‘Yes! En passant.’

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, but get some passion into it,’ urged Walter.

  Angus let out a loud moan of pleasure.

  ‘En passant . . . en passant.’

  In the corridor, Deirdre was horrified.

  ‘Oh my goodness.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Mrs MacDonald.

  ‘This is exactly what I feared. They have got him in there! They’re having a threesome!’

  ‘A threesome? What’s one of them?’

  ‘The corruption is spreading. Our home is no longer safe. This is exactly what I tried to warn everyone of. We’ve got to save him.’

  Deirdre started banging on the door with her hand. If she had thought to try it, she would have found that it was unlocked.

  ‘Angus! Don’t be tainted. Save yourself. Get out while there’s still time!’

  In the bedroom, her cries could be heard clearly. The three culprits looked at each other in surprise at how well the plan had gone. Walter was the first to crack. He bent over laughing, spilling his tea onto the carpet.