The Winter We Met

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘Wednesday is one of the quieter days of the week, even with Christmas coming, and you’re in extra early tomorrow, right? To be honest I’ll relish having the shop to myself. I get to play my own Christmas music. Motown festive classics, here we come. Little feet will love jigging along.’

  ‘Well, ring me if there are any problems and tomorrow we’ll discuss your idea for the window display for the week before Christmas. I’ve also got an idea I’m impatient to try. We could start setting it up tomorrow afternoon and I’ll stay late to finish it off.’

  ‘Count me in too’ he said and smiled. ‘Any clues?’

  ‘How about one based on books? We’ve never done that before. Some passers-by might think that all we sell is toys. I’ve had a look online and seen how you can build an effective looking Christmas tree out of books, by stacking them horizontally. We could also give selected stories prominence in the window, with toys related to them by their side. For example that new book that came in, A Winter Woodland – we got a squirrel plushy and electronic rabbit. I’ll have a look on my walk in Springhaye Forest this afternoon for other accessories, such as twigs we can spray with that fake snow I got in, if you think the idea has got potential.’ I included Seb in a lot of the decision-making like Angela had always done with me. With a new store opening there could be career opportunities for him. The doorbell rang and a man with a scarlet face and matching flat cap pushed past me.

  ‘I’d like to speak to the manager,’ he said loudly. The twins’ mum looked up.

  ‘How can I help?’ I said and took off my hat. I bit my lip, hoping this wouldn’t take long. I was joining Lynn and some of the residents to collect material for Christmas decorations. I had to be there by two o’clock and it was almost half past one. I wore my jeans, my thickest anorak, and had my beanie hat and gloves to boot. We had a couple of hours of daylight before sunrays would start to be replaced with frost.

  He delved into a plastic bag and pulled out a picture book. It was one of our biggest sellers about a Christmas elf. The front was sparkly and eye-catching.

  ‘It’s five quid cheaper on Amazon. This is an absolute rip-off.’

  ‘Is there anything wrong with it?’ I asked, politely.

  ‘Yes. The price.’ He marched to the till. ‘It hasn’t been read. I was saving it to give to my son at Christmas. It’s like new.’

  I went over. Seb approached another customer who’d waved their hand for assistance. The man thrust the receipt into my hand. He’d bought it almost one month ago. I took the book from him and he folded his arms as I flicked through the pages. I pointed to several chocolate stains, in the shape of fingers.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I can’t take this back. There are signs of wear and tear.’

  ‘Are you calling me a liar?’ He started to sweat and his arms fell to his sides. ‘I told you –no one has read it. It must have got dirty here.’ He jerked his head towards the little twins looking at books.

  ‘We check every story before we sell it. Is it possible your son found it without you knowing?’ I heard my heart thumping.

  ‘Not unless he’s grown six feet and can reach to the top of my wardrobe,’ he said and sneered. ‘I’ll take my future business elsewhere if you’re going to be difficult. It’s a pity as this is one of my son’s favourite shops.’

  I held his gaze and noticed the deeply set rings under his eyes and the coat that had a small rip on the sleeve.

  ‘What is your son called?’ I asked. Uncomfortable as it could be, I enjoyed trying to resolve customer complaints.

  ‘Max,’ he said and snorted. ‘Why? Are you going to put him in toddler jail?’

  I thought for a moment. ‘Curly black hair and freckles? He has an obsession with trains?’

  The man’s jaw dropped. ‘How did…?’

  ‘I like to get to know all our regulars.’ I went behind the till. ‘I can’t offer you a refund but how about a voucher for the same value? It’s valid for twelve months.’

  We looked at each other, he swallowed and rubbed his nose. ‘Cheers.’

  The doorbell rang as he left. Seb came over and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Sorted,’ I said and beamed. ‘His son, little Max, often pulls his mum in here. They’re good customers.’ I stared at the grubby book. ‘We can afford to write off the loss – just this once.’

  ‘Now off you skedaddle,’ he said. ‘Motown is calling me.’

  I hurried out, whistling as I made my way to my car parked further down the road.

  ‘Thanks for popping in,’ said Gran, twenty minutes later, as I caught my breath. She was staring out of the window, watching a barge glide past.

  I’d practically skipped into the hospital on Monday, when she’d finally been discharged, however she didn’t brighten up when I told her all about the movie screening and how enthusiastic everyone one was. Her back still ached and for the first time ever she talked about getting a Zimmer frame.

  I bent down and gave her a hug. She didn’t take her eyes off the canal.

  ‘Where’s Buddy?’ she asked.

  ‘Getting cuddles in the lounge before our walk. I don’t expect you’ve heard back yet from the council, following your assessment.’ I sat on the bed, next to her.

  Gran lifted a cup of tea. It was on a little table on wheels, in front of her bedroom armchair. Wedged by her side, against the chair’s colourful throw, was her favourite weekly magazine. It looked unread.

  ‘We only saw the social worker yesterday.’ Finally she turned away from the window.

  ‘How do you think it went?’

  Gran shrugged. I didn’t like talking behind her back but I’d had a quiet word with the social worker, Hazel, as I walked her out and explained that Gran was still feeling the aftereffects of her fall. As it was, the care needs assessment hadn’t taken long. Gran still needed help washing and dressing. The only thing that had changed since her last assessment was that her mobility had slightly worsened. Time would tell as to whether her fall was a one-off or something that would happen more often from now on. I’d had to push her to be transparent with Hazel and the occupational therapist. Gran was all for putting on a brave face but that wasn’t going to help her get into another care home speedily.

  I lay awake last night, worrying about her future. It was about a month now until the residents would be forced to leave. Social Services had reassured us that Gran would be found somewhere even if it was a temporary placement and I’d been making calls to places on the directory. But I hadn’t found one yet that was suitable even though the staff all sounded very friendly on the phone. Those that met Gran’s needs had a waiting list. Others were mainly for dementia patients or didn’t have ensuite rooms. What if it was months before we found the perfect place? What if this current low mood turned into full-blown depression?

  ‘How are you feeling about it all now?’

  She reached for the magazine and browsed, even though it was upside down. ‘I only got upset in hospital because I was in shock.’

  I reached forwards and closed the magazine. ‘The social worker… she seemed genuine, right, and seemed to really care?’

  ‘Hazel said I could ring her any time. That meant a lot. One thing I learnt a long time ago – acceptance makes life a lot easier. We can try to fight against things that have happened and can’t be taken back, but what’s the point? Far better to get on with dealing with them. It is what it is.’

  I’d learnt that at a young age, too.

  ‘What do you think of the care home I rang up yesterday? You looked at the link I emailed you? The rooms are ensuite and Upperhyde is only ten miles away. The warden sounded very accommodating.’

  ‘Upperhyde is a busy town and this place… Darkthorn House, it’s right in the middle by a busy road instead of a canal.’ The corners of her mouth sunk. ‘Darkthorn doesn’t sound very friendly.’

  ‘I think it sounds sexy, like a Game of Thrones character.’

  Normally she would have laughed at that.


  ‘So, I’ll book a visit?’

  ‘Whatever you think is best,’ said my Gran, never before in her whole life.

  I looked at my watch. ‘Nik’s meeting me in reception. I haven’t seen him since Sunday.’

  ‘Oh, he’s been here a while.’ Momentarily, her features brightened. ‘He popped in to say a quick hello and to see how I was. Apparently he’s been messaging Glenda about the photograph collection.’

  ‘I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers.’ That was so cute.

  ‘When he was in Birmingham he found a market stall selling 1940s postcards and wanted to know what she thought to including those along with our photos.’ Gran’s eyes twinkled. ‘You should have heard her talking about him in the lounge. I’ve never seen her so fired up. She passed his texts around, like badges of honour, and didn’t once complain about her indigestion or back… It’s kind of sad in a way.’

  ‘How so?’ I asked, a warm glow infusing me as she became more animated.

  ‘She’s never had photos of a husband or children to show everyone. Her… what shall we call it… sweet spot for Nik – well, I’m seeing her with new eyes.’ She glanced at me sideways. ‘Talking of sweet spots, how’s my favourite barman? He couldn’t swap his shifts so that he could go on this jolly with you?’

  ‘I don’t know. Now, did you watch that new detective show last night? The Coffee Shop Mysteries? It’s right up your street. The main character—’

  Gran’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean, you don’t know?’

  ‘Oliver and I don’t live in each other’s pockets.’

  Nik had hardly texted since Sunday and now he’d turned up early today to visit Glenda on his own, without telling me – this new distance between us was no doubt caused by Oliver’s abrupt behaviour.

  ‘Jess? What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said in as innocent a voice as I could muster and I stood up.

  ‘Well, if you don’t want to tell me…’ She gazed out of the window again.

  ‘Okay… look… we had an argument.’

  ‘What?’ She turned back.

  ‘I can’t face talking about it, Gran. Not at the moment. Let’s just say I’ve hardly spoken to him since Sunday night.’

  ‘Oliver has got a heart of gold – like you have. Life’s too short for long silences. I often wonder if I should have made more effort with your mum as her occasional visits, after prison, started to peter out… but I didn’t want to rock the boat for you.’

  ‘You did your best, Gran, and you and me – we’ve always had each other.’ She drifted away, back into deep thought. I leant over and kissed her on the top of her head before making my way to the reception area.

  Nik was in the lounge, crouched down next to Phyllis. He patted her arm as she played with a fiddle muff. It was another of the dementia items Lynn had ordered in and was perfect for restless hands, with a soft small ball attached inside and beads and tassels along its hems. He got up and sat next to Glenda. He laughed loudly with Nancy and I heard him say something about decorating her wheelchair with tinsel. Fred, Pan and Alf stood by the building’s entrance doors, along with Lynn and Buddy. The walk was just going to be a slow one. Lynn said a bit of gentle exercise would do them good. Everyone wore boots as the forest was always muddy in places, regardless of the weather. Lynn zipped up her coat and put on thick pink gloves that had sparkles sewn through them. Her woolly hat was crowned by a fashionable fur pom pom. It made a refreshing change to see her wearing something other than her navy uniform. A rucksack stood by her feet.

  ‘I think this walk is going to be what we’d have called a constitutional, back in the day,’ said Fred, a cigarette bobbing up and down as he spoke. He wore a tweed trench coat and matching trilby hat and leant on a walking stick. Its handle was shaped like a duck’s head.

  ‘The nice cup of coffee Lynn has got in her flasks and the fruitcake she made,’ said Alf, ‘that, me old mucker, is the main reason I’m going.’

  I went over to Nik to tell him we were ready. Several of the residents were wearing Christmas jumpers. ‘Jeez, sympathies, Glenda,’ he was saying. ‘I had backache once for a couple of weeks and that felt bad enough. What do you think has caused your bad hip?’

  ‘Oh, a fall. It’s the osteoporosis. I found out I had it when I broke my wrist in my fifties, falling off a ledge on a hike. It was a team-building weekend with work, in beautiful Somerset and very pleasant apart from that. How did you injure yours?’ she asked.

  ‘You don’t want to hear that… it was down to me being silly.’ Nik gave me a hug.

  Thank goodness for that. Oliver hadn’t entirely put him off.

  She smiled. ‘It can’t be sillier than me tripping off a ledge whilst I was powdering my nose. I think I must have a mild disorder that makes me perspire more than others.’

  ‘There’s nothing silly about anything that makes you feel good,’ he replied.

  ‘So, your… well, let’s not call it silliness, then,’ she said. ‘Your misfortune – what happened?’

  ‘I’ve got to go. How about another time?’ He tightened his scarf.

  I pushed his shoulder. ‘Did a kangaroo punch you out? Or you tripped over a didgeridoo? Did wearing a cork hat mean you couldn’t see where you were going?’

  Glenda rolled her eyes.

  ‘It was nothing really – a couple of years ago I was buying groceries at the supermarket, down the road from work… some kids were in there, hassling two members of staff. They were still at school but tall and full of bravado and were trying to steal alcohol and cigarettes. One of them grabbed a couple of bottles and bolted. I ran after him and wasn’t as fast – no surprises there, turned out he was the son of an Olympic athlete, he’d fallen in with a bad crowd – but I lunged as he turned a corner and managed to catch his leg, falling in the process. I ricked my back.’

  Glenda and I exchanged horrified looks.

  ‘He could have had a knife,’ she gasped.

  Nik’s shoulders bobbed up and down. ‘I didn’t think about that. It probably sounds worse than it was. Honestly, they were just kids and I was happy to help. Anyone else would have done the same.’

  ‘We must tell the others,’ said Glenda. ‘What a story. What a tremendous thing to do.’

  ‘No… please,’ he said and looked sheepish. ‘I’d rather not have the attention. I mean… people might expect all sorts from me then. I’m no superman.’ He grinned.

  By the look on Glenda’s face, like me she totally disagreed.

  21

  Lynn went to pick up the rucksack, containing refreshments, but I beat her to it. Talking of backache I knew she suffered, having spent a lifetime making beds and manoeuvring residents who needed help with personal care. She smiled gratefully and I was just about to put it on, as we all made our way outside, when Nik reached out his hand.

  ‘It’s okay, thanks,’ I said, having grown up fiercely determined to manage on my own. Only Oliver had chipped away at that, letting me see that sometimes accepting help from men didn’t have to end with regrets.

  ‘You’d be doing me a massive favour if you let me carry it,’ he said. ‘It’ll inject some manliness into my reputation in front of Alf – being the carthorse might make up for the fact that I drink sherry.’

  I hesitated. ‘Well, if you’re sure?’ I handed the rucksack to him and took Buddy’s lead from Lynn. He slipped it onto his back and held the door open to let the residents go through. I held back and indicated for him to follow the residents outside, before me. He gave a thumbs-up and headed out, me behind him wondering what it would feel like to stroke the back of his neck.

  Springhaye Forest was a favourite spot with the more mobile residents during the summer. It was the other side of the canal. The woodland walks were flat and paths had been trodden into shape over the years and before you entered there was a large grassy area, with picnic benches and a car park for people coming from the other direction. On the edge of that tarmac usual
ly stood an ice cream van in the summer. I’d push Gran this far in a wheelchair during the summer months and we’d both enjoy a 99 flake. To get there we turned left out of Willow Court and slowly walked the short distance to the end of the high street, passing some shops that already had Christmas trees in the windows and jolly festive music escaping onto the street whenever it had the chance. There we turned left again, at the book shop that used to be the video store Betty’s husband worked in, and strolled over a bridge. The residents sat down at one of the picnic benches to re-energise. I let Buddy off his lead and he followed the trails of various scents leading to holly bushes sprinkled with bright red berries.

  ‘I’m worn out already. Wish I wasn’t so jolly unfit,’ said Fred. ‘I wouldn’t be able to lift so much as a fire hose these days, let alone a ladder.’

  ‘What about giving a fireman’s lift?’ I teased.

  ‘If I had to. If it meant saving a life. No question about that, I’d do anything,’ he said gruffly. ‘I was thinking the other day about one blaze… all this talk of Christmas reminded me. A young couple had overloaded the plug board with fairy lights in their lounge. They were upstairs putting their little one to bed and a fire started. A right mess it was, afterwards, everywhere black, with melted patio doors and a collapsed ceiling. The full shebang. I never got used to that. Not when a building had been someone’s home. Me and my colleague had to pull all three of them out of a top window. Domestic smoke alarms weren’t so common back then.’

  ‘Were they all okay?’ I asked and glanced at Glenda. The way she was staring up at Nik and pursing her lips I knew she was bursting to talk about the robbery he’d bravely got involved in.

  ‘Damn lucky they were. Of course the whippersnapper was too young to understand that and couldn’t stop crying because the Christmas tree and presents had gone up. Me and the crew had a whip-around and bought him a bike. He joined the service twenty years later, just as I was retiring.’