Stranger in Paradise

by stan graham

  “I have a photo would that do?” Janice brought out a faded colour photograph from her handbag showing a nondescript middle aged man with greying hair dressed in a pair of grey slacks and a blue shirt.

  “Well it would be better if I had something that actually belonged to him, a ring perhaps.”

  “I have this signet ring that I gave him when we got married would that do?” Janice dived into her handbag again to produce a heavy gold signet ring bearing a large initial A engraved in italic.

  “Splendid.”

  Pamela had sat and held the ring for ten minutes before saying “Are you sure this belonged to him because I don’t seem to be getting anything from it?”

  “Yes of course it is I had Jane remove it before the undertakers took him away.”

  Pamela tried again. Still nothing. Perhaps she should just say something encouraging to Mrs Bond, she knew that many would take that route, but she did try to be honest.

  “I’m afraid I cannot contact him dear.”

  “Do you think it’s because I moved away? Perhaps he is still at Stripford looking for me and he will never find me.” Janice burst into tears.

  “Distance is no obstacle to the spirits. Are you sure he is dead?”

  “What are you inferring, of course he is dead I went to the funeral myself. You silly woman.”

  I knew this was all a load of rubbish but it was worth a try even if it just exposed that woman as a fraud.

  Smythe has sent us all a circular purporting to come from head office, saying ‘Please will all residents cease throwing food out for the birds and squirrels as it encourages other vermin such as rats and mice.’ I suppose that is reasonable enough although I shall be sorry if the squirrels leave.

  Poor Janice. I guess that Pamela woman is just not psychic however much she wants to be. I must try harder with her. Can't think why Janice wants to contact me. She never talked to me much in real life. Poor cow.

  It’s Saint Swithin's day and it is pouring with rain again. It has already rained

  about nine days this month. I hope this doesn’t herald rain for the next six weeks. You would think that we deserved a bit of sunshine now and again.

  I woke at seven and the sun is shining through my curtains. So much for those old wives tales. Midday and it’s starting to cloud over.

  What is it about this place always raining? I am sure it never used to rain as much when I was a child. Perhaps it’s something to do with this global warming we keep hearing about. After all they have rainy seasons where it never stops in some of those African countries so perhaps along with the heat and sunshine we will get that also. Anyway it rained for about an hour and then dried up. Hopefully we are done with it for the time being.

  I am not looking forward to the school holidays starting. If Easter was anything to go by we are going to be inundated with grandchildren being dropped off so that the parents can do what they like. I’ve got nothing against children it’s just that they make so much noise.

  I am very excited, I have just got back from a trip to London. Jane phoned the on Tuesday and said that she was coming down to London to do a bit of shopping as it was her birthday, she’s a Cancer you know, and would I like to meet her at Waterloo.

  Luckily I had just had my hair done so I said yes I would love to. I decided to wear my purple blouse, Jane has not seen it before and nobody in London knows me so I can wear what I like. I settle on a black crinkle skirt and a light blue jacket that I can roll up and put in a bag if it gets too hot. I dither about my make up but finally decide to paint my toenails a dark red. You are never too old to make the best of yourself.

  I managed to catch a train to Waterloo at 9.32 and it arrived at 11.28, nearly two hours but it was worth it. I had to get the one after 9.30 so as to get a cheap day return ticket, as long as I don’t return between 4pm and 6pm I am okay.

  The journey was boring, as I hadn’t had time to buy a magazine before leaving. I didn’t dare to buy a cup of tea when the porter came round with his trolley, as I didn’t want to have to go to the toilet while on the train. I did talk to a young man that was seated opposite; we exchanged remarks about why we were travelling to London. He was going for a job interview, which wasn’t very interesting. He was very nervous about it.

  Apparently he had been to about a dozen interviews so far without success, well I could have told him that he needed to tidy himself up if he ever wanted to get a job. But I held my tongue and told him I thought he would do very well. I am afraid I lied and told him he looked very smart. After all he did loan me his Daily Mirror and said I could do the crossword in it if I wished.

  Jane was waiting for me at the exit by the ticket collector and bustled me away to a café for a cup of tea and a slice of cake. I gave her a birthday card I had bought for her with a £20 note inside and told her to get herself something nice.

  She thought my blouse looked very nice. ‘My, aren’t you the one, quite the bohemian,’ she said. I gave a little smile.

  I had to visit the toilet as a matter of urgency. Then we got a bus to Oxford Street and wandered along looking at the shop windows. Such a selection, I am not a provincial person but I have never seen so many clothes shops in one place, I suppose that’s why they call London the capital. There were a lot of foreign looking people, I suppose they were tourists visiting on holiday. It was so exciting.

  We ate at a Chinese Restaurant in a back street in Soho, where you could eat as much as you like for £5. Jane collected two plates and filled them up for us. I don’t know what they were but everything was very tasty.

  As you know I am not one to complain but when I asked for a cup of tea they served me with this green stuff. Jane said it was green tea and was supposed to be very healthy for you. Well I can tell you it was nothing like PG Tips. They didn’t even have any milk to put in it. Anyway Jane paid so I suppose it was aright but I suggested that we go and get a decent cup of tea afterwards. We had to go to MacDonald's for that and I insisted that it was my treat.

  Afterwards we wandered arm in arm down Regent Street just watching the world go by, then we went to see Buckingham Palace. Isn’t it big?

  Jane said that there was no Royal Standard flying because the Queen, bless her, wasn’t at home, I expect she was taking her grandchildren shopping or to the park. There were guards standing by the gates with great big hats on called bearskins. They certainly looked hot. There were lots of people standing watching; Of course they don’t do this sort of thing in foreign parts.

  Jane bought us both an ice cream cone with a chocolate flake bar in it, they were very expensive, I winced when I saw how much she paid out for them, I could get myself a dinner for that.

  Then we made our way to Trafalgar Square where we fed the pigeons. There is a man there who makes his living by selling bird food to the tourists so they can feed the birds. One little boy had them all over him and he burst into tears, poor lamb.

  Finally at 6pm we made our way back to Waterloo Station where Jane bought me some magazines for my journey home. She waited until I was aboard the train, gave me a wave as the train pulled out from the station at 7pm and I sat down to read my magazines, Woman, Woman’s Own and Closer.

  The journey home was uneventful. A porter on the train came along with a trolley of drinks and sandwiches. I bought a cup of tea in a cardboard container; at least it wasn’t Earl Grey or Green but a nice cup with milk and sugar.

  We arrived at my station at 9pm. I don’t like being out at this time of night so I hired a taxi to take me home.

  It will be hours before I calm down enough to get some sleep so I will just fill in my diary about the days events.

  Today is something of an anticlimax. It’s raining, I have overslept and am still feeling tired from yesterdays excursion. Jane phoned last night, just before Midnight to make sure I had got home. I told her I had and thanked her for a lovely day. I wouldn’t want to be doing it to often though, it takes it out of you at my age. I didn’t tell her that of
course, don’t want her to think I am becoming a burden.

  Just think in all my years I have never seen Buckingham Palace before and when I do the Queen has gone out shopping. Still I suppose we shouldn’t begrudge her time spent with her grandchildren. Anyway I have to wash my blouse and a few bits that I wore yesterday just to keep them fresh. I hang them up in the bathroom.

  I am starting to feel depressed, I suppose it’s natural to feel let down having to come back here after yesterday.

  If only Jane could have taken me back with her to Stripford. I do miss my old home, it might have had its faults but at least it was home and you knew you could rely on the people there. What a foolish old lady the children must have thought me when I agreed to move here.

  Something very strange has happened. Today is the anniversary of our wedding. It would have been, oh I don’t know, many more years than I care to remember and I have just received a postcard from an old friend of Arthur’s called Terry something or other. He says that he got my address from Peter and that as he is on holiday at Folkestone he had thought we might get together. Well that is certainly a no no. I didn’t realise people actually went there for a holiday, if I remember rightly that was where June went to live when she got married.

  I am amazed that Peter should pass my address on to all and sundry. Besides I barely know the man and certainly don’t want to renew our acquaintance. How am I expected to afford a holiday on my pension. I do remember him, he was one of the two youths that were with Arthur when we first met and had been the best man at our wedding where he made some crude remarks. I hadn’t realised that Arthur had kept in touch for all these years.

  Apart from the postcard there wasn’t any mail. Not sure if the children even realise what day today is. I haven’t any plans to celebrate it anyway, maybe just a glass of sherry this evening but I don’t want to be getting too maudlin about the past.

  I kept in touch with Terry over the years. He was the one that had known all about June. I think he used to visit her and her husband down in Folkestone fairly often. What’s he doing sniffing around my Janice that’s what I would like to know? Never did trust the little weasel.

  When Peter next phoned I gave him a piece of my mind. “Peter what do you mean by giving my address to a complete stranger? How dare you?”

  “But mum he said that he was the best man at you and Dad’s wedding.”

  “Maybe he was but you still had no right to tell him where I live.”

  “Sorry mum but I didn’t think it would do any harm.”

  “Well it did. He wants to come and visit me.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “I choose who I want to give my address out to and don’t you forget it.”

  Well I think that told him, he sounded very quiet and subdued by the time I finished although he hasn’t been in touch since, and I still don’t know why he had phoned in the first place, still he will get over it.

  Yesterday was the longest day, which means that it is going to start getting darker earlier in the evenings.

  I am reading a book called The Godfather, it’s about an American gangster who had this big family, and they are called Mafia or something like that. Apparently there has been a film made of it. Its really violent what these men do to each other, thank goodness they don’t live in this country, we are so much more civilised. It just makes me depressed to think that these kinds of thing can happen. They have stopped broadcasting Deal or No Deal, which I think is a shame. That nice Mr Edmonds, such a happy person and so cuddly even if he has got a beard. It’s been my experience that generally only shifty people wear beards, but I think we can make an exception in his case. He might be coming back in September but I don’t hold out much hope.

  Jane called so I told her what had happened but she already knew, Peter had told her. She only calls once a fortnight now, too expensive I suppose. I don’t mind because there is never anything to say anyway. She said that Peter had probably meant well but being a man what could we expect. She didn’t know why he had phoned but thought it wasn’t anything important.

  I remember the day my dad left as if it was yesterday. The tension had been building up for days. I knew something was wrong but didn’t know what I could do about it. Consequently I was walking on eggshells so as not to get in anyone’s way.

  Mum and Dad had been having a row about her wanting more housekeeping and he was saying that he didn’t have any more to give her.

  “Well if you didn’t spend so much time down the pub spending money on that tart then you would have,” she screamed.

  “You only waste what I do give you.”

  At this my mum hit the roof. “Go and live with her, you think I don’t know what you get up to you dirty bastard, I just hope she has more luck with you than I ever had. You waste of space.”

  I stood there “Don’t keep arguing,” I sobbed.

  “Now look what you have done,” shouted mum, before running out into the back garden.

  “It’s not your fault love, me and your mum have just grown apart.”

  He gave me a hug and walked out the door. I kept expecting him to return in a day or so as he had done in the past, when he had gone walkabout as mum used to say. I would perk up every time I heard the front gate open and rush to the window only to be disappointed. I checked the post to see if he had written to ask me to go and live with him. In the end my mum told me he wouldn’t be coming back, that I had been abandoned just like her. I cried for days.

  I was in the town doing some window shopping with June one Saturday when she said “Isn’t that your dad over there.”

  I looked over and sure enough there he was with a blonde woman on his arm going into a pub. “No I don’t think so,” I lied.

  “Come on let’s go and get a milkshake,” I hustled her into a nearby coffee bar.

  I didn’t go out for a couple of weeks after that and it was several months before I saw him again.

  I have got a real stinking cold, my eyes have been streaming and I have been coughing and spluttering. I went down to the shops yesterday to get some groceries and this woman in a great big Range Rover deliberately drove through a puddle and soaked me. They can be so inconsiderate these drivers. I mentioned it to Mr Pope as I came into the compound and he was very sympathetic. Well I knew when I got home that I was in for it. I made myself a hot drink of honey and lemon, filled up my hot water bottle and took myself to bed. This is the fourth cold I have had since I have been here. The place is just not healthy, it’s far too damp. There is moss growing up the brickwork and on the roofs of both Churchill and Beresford blocks. The trees overhang and stop the sun drying the place out.

  Last week I found mildew growing round the inside of my windows despite a regular wipe with bleach. As for the bedroom, I really fear for my health. I went into the bedroom the other day and it smelt like a grave. Of course I instantly threw the windows open to air the place, despite the risk of insects, but then I found that there was mould growing all over the back of my wardrobe. I washed it down with bleach but it shouldn’t be happening.

  I have complained but one might as well talk to oneself for all the good it does. When I mentioned it to Smythe he said that I should leave my windows open more often. That is all very well for him to say but that only encourages the invasion of creepy crawlies, which I cannot abide. Maybe I should take a leaf out of Arthur’s book and write to the Gazette, not that Arthur ever wrote to the Gazette you understand, that’s the name of the local paper here. No he used to write to the Stripford Newsletter. Long letters about everything under the sun.

  I couldn’t understand what he found to write about but he seemed to have some influence because sometimes things that he complained about got fixed.

  We were on the bus one day when he said “Read that sign Janice.”

  I looked up to where he was pointing and the sign said “To carry 73 passengers, 47 seated, 22 standing,”

  “How do the other 4 passengers travel?” He
asked.

  Anyway he wrote to the paper and the very next week when we got our bus the sign had been altered. He was really pleased about that.

  I often notice people wandering about the High Street with clipboards in their hands asking questions of passers by but although I try to make myself approachable with a nice smile they never stop me to ask their questions. I can’t help wondering why this is. I buttonholed one such lady. “Ask me anything,” I said.

  “Where can I get a decent cup of tea love? I’ve been on my feet all morning.” She said.

  “No I mean would you like me to answer your questionnaire?”

  “I would love to dear but I’m afraid you don’t fit the profile we have been asked for.”

  I have ordered a DVD player from Argos it was only £29.99 plus £4.95 for delivery. I asked for it to be delivered. I can’t be doing with lugging heavy items like that home. They are really clever things, you can buy a disc that has a film on it, just like a video but it lasts forever and so much easier to store. I was a bit nervous about ordering it after the problem with the Microwave but I explained all this to the salesman and he said he would make sure of it personally.

  Now I have to go to Woolworth’s to get a DVD to watch. I fancy ‘Brief Encounter’ with Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson, if I can find it.

  They didn’t have it in stock but offered to order it for me but it was too expensive so I declined. The young lad who was working there told me I might get it a lot cheaper at a car-boot sale. I bought a copy of ‘Casablanca’ instead, for £6.99 so that he wouldn’t get into trouble for losing a sale.