by Anna Jacobs
‘I’m fine. They had to put in a pacemaker as well as a stent, so they kept me in prison for an extra day or two.’
‘Prison! That’s a bit unfair to hospitals, isn’t it?’
‘It’s what it felt like. Those nurses were so bossy. Anyway, never mind them. What’s been going on round here? Did I miss any excitement?’
‘You did. I’ll put the kettle on, then tell you about all the goings-on.’
‘Good goings-on or bad?’
‘Both.’ She came out of the hut and sat beside him, bringing him up to date on what had been happening to Winifred.
‘Well, I never! You’re sure she’s all right?’
‘Yes. And you’ll never guess what’s happened!’
He saw tears fill Janey’s eyes, but she was smiling so that was all right. ‘Go on. Tell me.’
‘She’s invited me and Millie to go and live with her. Isn’t that wonderful, Mr S? She needs to have someone around and I’ve been feeling so lonely in that flat. And it’ll save me money as well.’
He fumbled for his handkerchief and passed it to her, so that she could mop her eyes. ‘I’m glad for both of you, lass. If Winifred’s been having trouble, she definitely shouldn’t be living on her own. She’s ten years older than me, you know. She’s wonderful for her age. She’ll see me out, that’s for sure.’
‘Don’t talk like that!’
He laughed softly. ‘By my age most people have faced the fact that life doesn’t go on for ever. The important thing is to enjoy what life you do get.’
‘Well, I hope yours goes on for a long time yet. Anyway, there’s something else wonderful. I know we said you two were like honorary grandparents, but people know you aren’t. She’s asked me to call her Auntie Winnie instead. People can’t tell immediately whether that’s right or not. Neither of us has any actual family. Not now.’
‘Eh, that’s really good.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘You could, um, call me Uncle Dan if you wanted. I’d like that. I never see my grandchildren and I enjoy young company.’
‘Really? Oh, I’d love to.’
He reached out to take hold of her hand. ‘That’s good, lass.’
She patted his leathery old hand. ‘Won’t your sons mind? You do have relatives.’
He snorted in disgust. ‘I don’t see much of my sons. Terry lives in Reading. Simon’s wife left me some food in the fridge and they rang up last night to check that I’d got home safely, but they didn’t come near me.
‘They left a message that they’d come round to see me at the weekend. I could die and they’d not know it.’
He shrugged but she could see he was upset about that.
To take his mind off it, she said, ‘You know how we were talking about setting up a garden-share scheme at Auntie Winnie’s?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, once I’ve settled in and you’ve recovered properly, will you help us plan and organise it? You could be the expert adviser, no hard digging but helping folk get going. You know so much about plants. It’s far too big a garden for me to look after and it frets Auntie Winnie to see it looking such a mess.’
To her relief he brightened up at once.
‘Well, if Winifred’s still OK with the idea, I’m in for it too. It’ll give us both something to do and it makes sense for folk with too much garden to share it with those who don’t have one. Think of the good vegetables we can grow for you and young Millie once we’ve got the soil up to scratch, and without all those nasty chemicals. I shall start making plans and checking my catalogues when I get home. That’s something I can do without tiring myself out.’
He’d have liked to go and visit Winifred today, but the extra walking would have been too much for him, he knew, so he contented himself with phoning her later on and having a good long chat.
He saw his smiling face in the mirror as he put down the phone. Well, he should be happy: he had friends now, an adopted niece and something to look forward to.
He missed his wife, always would. Alzheimer’s was a dreadful thing to happen to anyone. But Peggy had passed on and that was that, so very final.
You had to make a new life for yourself when you lost someone or you’d just moulder away.
But it would be good if he could still be a useful member of the community. He didn’t like to sit around watching TV all day like some retired people he knew. He liked to do things.
In Australia, Steve was woken by the alarm clock his mother had bought him ringing loudly in his ear. He hadn’t set the stupid thing, so why was it going off?
Cursing, he fumbled for it and knocked it off the cardboard box he was using as a bedside table in the new flat. Only it carried on ringing, out of reach now.
He groaned as he sat up. His head was thumping and his mouth tasted foul. He tried to remember the previous night and couldn’t work out what he’d been drinking. No, it hadn’t been booze. His friend Nate had scored some pills that were supposed to make you feel good. Only Steve couldn’t remember a thing, good or bad, after taking one, and he felt awful now.
He’d tried a few things to get high, but they didn’t always work.
He struggled to his feet and found the alarm clock, fumbling till he’d stopped it making that awful racket.
As he turned to get back into bed and continue sleeping, the door of his room opened and his brother Nick yelled, ‘Don’t go back to bed, you dill! It’s Monday. Good thing I set your alarm clock. Hurry up or you’ll be late for work.’
Steve gave him a rude sign, but on consideration he decided Nick was right. He’d better not be late again or his supervisor would go ape.
His brother was already dressed and ready for work, but Steve couldn’t find any clean clothes.
‘Can you lend me a clean shirt, Nick?’
‘No way. You spilt coffee down the last one I lent you, then left it on the floor. I washed and ironed all mine and I told you to do yours but then your so-called friend rang and you went rushing off to meet him.’
‘What do you mean by “so-called friend”?’
‘He’s bad news, that one is. The word is he’s dealing.’
‘No way. Nate just uses a bit of the good stuff occasionally for recreation. Everyone does these days. He didn’t sell it me, he gave it me to try.’
‘And look what it did to you.’ Nick stared at him. ‘You’ve got a really dopey look on your face.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘We both promised Ma we wouldn’t do drugs. If I find you getting into them again, I’m out of here, and then how will you pay the rent? You owe me for the next two weeks, by the way.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
When Nick had left for work, Steve went to raid his brother’s room for clean clothes, but found a brand-new lock on the door.
For two pins he’d break it down.
He raised one fist, then let it drop again. No, better not. He might damage the door, then he’d have to buy a new one.
He fumbled through the clothes scattered around his bedroom floor and found a shirt that didn’t look too bad. He’d have to do some washing tonight.
It was all his mother’s fault for abandoning them so suddenly. She should have been here, helping them get used to it.
What the hell was she doing in England that was more important than looking after her sons, anyway?
He agreed with his dad that she was hiding something from them. But what?
Chapter Eight
Her landlord lived in the ground-floor flat, but he was away so Janey rang the company that managed the flats to say she wanted to give notice.
Kieran himself rang her back within the hour, instead of letting his property manager deal with it.
‘Just out of interest, where are you going, Janey?’
She explained about Winifred.
‘That’s great. Look, there’s no need to give notice. Just pay until the day you leave.’
‘That doesn’t sound fair to you.’
He laughed. ‘I’m not short of money and I’ll ea
sily find another tenant, I promise you. Oh, and you might like to congratulate me. Nicole and I got married last week.’
‘Never! I didn’t see any announcements.’
‘We didn’t tell anyone except her younger son and my brother and his family. Given the circumstances, it seemed better to do it quietly. Which didn’t make it any less joyful an event.’
His voice had grown all soft and she smiled in sympathy. ‘Well, I certainly do congratulate you. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together. Are you going to move out of the flats as you said you might after you got married?’
‘Yes. We’ll need a bigger house because Paul will be living with us. We’ve bought a house, but we need to put in a new kitchen and bathroom, and buy some furniture, then we’ll reveal all by throwing a party, to which you and young Millie will be invited.’
Janey had been worried about Nicole, who was a local librarian and had been kind to her, so she was glad the two of them had got married.
Nicole’s house had been burnt down by her older son in a drug craze. Dawn had told her Nicole would be able to sell the plot for land value and the insurance company would no doubt pay for the house and contents, but still she’d worried. She knew what it was like to suddenly lose your home and possessions from when her father threw her out for being pregnant.
Smiling, Janey put down the phone. She had fallen lucky with her landlord. Kieran had been recovering from a serious road accident and had bought a small block of flats with his compensation money. He had been generous with his tenants, each of whom seemed to have some sort of problem, not charging top rent.
He’d even helped Janey trap her rapist and get him arrested. Well, Kieran had been a famous investigative journalist before his accident, hadn’t he? So he knew how to do that sort of thing.
If anyone deserved to be happy it was those two.
Janey sighed wistfully. Perhaps one day she’d meet someone she could love, too. Good things seemed to happen on Peppercorn Street – well, most of the time, anyway. She was so glad she’d come to live here.
She looked round her small furnished flat: one bedroom, a tiny shower room and a living room/kitchen. It wouldn’t take long to pack her possessions, then she’d contact a company doing small removals. The sooner she moved in with Auntie Winnie the better, as far as she was concerned.
That thought made her realise that whatever Dawn said about the risks, she was going to move to Number 5.
Dawn went to see Winifred about a rental lease for Janey, showing her the standard form.
‘Does she really need a lease? I’m not likely to throw her out.’
‘Yes, but if anything happened to you, your heir might throw her out.’
‘Ah. I see.’ Winifred looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You’re right, then. I’ll sign this straight away. She’ll be quite secure here while I’m alive and I’m thinking of changing my will and leaving her a little something, so that she’ll have money behind her. What do you think?’
‘That’d be very kind of you.’
‘I shan’t say anything to her, so please keep this to yourself, Dawn.’
‘Of course. Besides, Janey would be happiest of all if you managed to stay alive. She’s very fond of you and she’s absolutely thrilled to have an adopted family. That poor girl has been dreadfully lonely. She didn’t even have a computer or TV at first.’
‘I’m thrilled too. I understand loneliness. Don’t worry. I’m not sick or anything. I’ve been very lucky in my health, but at my age you have to plan for the inevitable. Now, how about a cup of tea and a piece of cake?’
‘Sounds good. You bake the best cakes of anyone I know.’
Winifred went pink with pleasure at this compliment.
The doorbell rang as Janey was about to start sorting out her kitchen equipment. She went to the intercom and heard Dawn’s voice, so pressed the button to let her visitor in.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
Dawn shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’m full of tea and cake after visiting Miss Parfitt.’
Janey laughed. ‘I’m going to put on weight living with her. She does love making cakes.’
‘That wouldn’t be a bad thing. You’re far too thin. Anyway, I came to tell you that she’s happy to give you an official lease and here it is. Check it through, then you can sign it too.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be all right if you’ve arranged it.’
‘Wrong thing to say.’ She slapped the paper down on the table, one hand on it to prevent Janey simply signing it.
Janey looked at her in puzzlement.
‘Never, ever sign a contract without reading every word. It doesn’t matter who tells you it’s OK, always check for yourself.’
‘Oh. Sorry. I suppose you’re right.’
‘I am right and don’t you ever forget to do that.’ Dawn looked round, then asked in a gentler voice, ‘When are you planning to move?’
‘Tomorrow, if possible. I was grateful for this flat, but I’ve had some unhappy times here.’
‘You got through them, though. You’re a capable young woman. How are you going to move your stuff?’
‘There are companies doing small removals.’
‘Waste of money. We have a van at Just Girls. You don’t have any big pieces of furniture, apart from Millie’s playpen, so you and I can easily move your things in the van. I’ll nip down to the supermarket and get some empty boxes for you. You won’t have any way of carrying enough of them home.’
‘You’re wonderful, Dawn. I thought I’d have to go to and fro to get what I need. You always understand the practical side of things.’
‘I try to.’ She patted Janey’s shoulder. ‘I’ve dealt with a few girls in your position.’
She was back half an hour later with the van this time, and it was full of empty boxes and some extra cleaning materials. ‘They’re a lot more generous with boxes if you buy something,’ she said airily.
‘Thank you.’ Janey knew this was a small way of helping her and since she had to count every penny and knew Dawn loved to help people, she didn’t let on. She helped carry the boxes up to the flat, excitement rising in her at this tangible sign of the changes to come.
Once Dawn had left, Janey picked up Millie, who was getting restless in her playpen, then rang Winifred. ‘Can I move in tomorrow, Auntie Winnie?’
‘Of course you can, dear. But I’ll have to leave you to sort out the bedrooms to your liking. I’m not up to moving furniture about these days.’
‘I’m happy to do that myself.’
When she put the phone down, Janey danced Millie round the flat. ‘We’re going to live in a proper house with a garden, yes we are, yes we are! And we’re going to have an adopted family. They want us, oh they diddly, diddly do.’
She tickled her daughter’s tummy, which made her give one of her fat chuckles. ‘Isn’t that wonderful, my little darling?’
Millie let out another gurgle of laughter then began to suck hard on her thumb.
‘Sorry. You’re hungry and I’m nattering on. I can’t help being excited. We’ll have something to eat, then I’ll do a big clean of this place. I don’t want to leave a mess for Kieran.’
Angus came back to see Nell the next afternoon. ‘I’m sorry I had to duck out on you yesterday. Crisis with one of my customers. Is it convenient now to check the attic? Perhaps there’s a cracked tile leaking up there.’
‘Yes. But I had another look and it’s more than a leak.’ Since she didn’t dare use the ceiling light fitting, she’d bought a torch and some batteries, and had checked out all the dark corners of the top floor more carefully.
Someone might have modernised the kitchen but she’d bet no one had touched the top floor of the house since she’d stayed there herself as a child. Only it hadn’t been mouldy then.
She took Angus upstairs and stopped in the doorway. ‘It looks all right at this side, but the rear wall feels damp to the touch and some parts are squishy. I found several other patc
hes of fungus, though none as big as the first one.’
When Nell showed him the problem area, he whistled softly. ‘You were right not to risk using that old light fitting.’ He took out a torch of his own, a far more powerful one than hers, and it showed the damage all too clearly. ‘Oh, hell!’
Her heart sank. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’
‘Not good at all. Let’s see if it’s affected the nearby floor.’ As he took a few steps it shook visibly under him. ‘Stay back!’
‘I’ve been walking on it.’
‘You’ve been lucky, then.’ Taking out a penknife, he jabbed it into the planks on the floor near the biggest patch of livid white fungus. The stuff looked so horrible, like a rotting fish’s underbelly, that she hadn’t wanted even to touch it.
She watched in dismay as the knife blade went straight into the floorboard as if it was cutting butter.
‘Damn!’ He pulled out the knife and jabbed it into a few other places nearby with the same result, before checking the rest of the rear wall.
Then he took her arm and pulled her to the doorway. ‘Don’t come up here again without a mask. Some sorts of mould are toxic. And don’t walk near that back wall again, whatever you do. Some of those floorboards are rotten and might not bear your weight. If it’s got into the joists, the whole floor might crumble suddenly under you.’
‘You walked there.’
‘I walked on where it’d been nailed to cross-beams and even then I didn’t like the feel of it.’
She didn’t speak till they were downstairs, then she sat down at the kitchen table, feeling upset. ‘It’s going to be expensive to fix, isn’t it, Angus?’
‘Won’t be cheap. Could even mean replacing the whole roof as well as some of the joists.’
Silence, then she faced it because she never pretended to herself, well, almost never. ‘It’s not worth repairing, is it? I mean, you can see from outside that the place has been neglected for a long time.’
