The Woman Who Kept Everything

by Jane Gilley

  But by the time Gloria’s train had reached Grantham she’d had another impetuous thought and decided to get off there and board another train. This time for London.

  ‘Well, I don’t think I’m ready for an old people’s home just yet and I’ve never been to London!’ she declared to a pigeon that was obliviously pecking at crumbs along the grey platform.

  Chapter 21

  Oh, Tilsbury!

  She wished he was here with her. She’d only been gone a few days but it felt like a lifetime ago when they’d bathed together in the sea, somewhere down the coast from Sheringham. It had been such fun and such a contrast to her time spent with Mabel, which had been upsetting and bleak. She desperately hoped David would look after his mother now. He’d promised he would. He’d also promised that she would have the room with a sea view for two weeks until they could sort out the best arrangement for her.

  How lovely for Mabel to see the sea every day! What a treat.

  But – oh – London!

  The bustle; the colour; the crazy, exhilarating ambience. Black taxis. Red buses. Silver buses – were those silver buses? Buses with all manner of flashing advertisements daubed over them. Flags. Tall, imposing buildings and massive shops with glitz and glamour. People from all walks of life, scurrying along as though they had somewhere important to go. Vehicles crowding the roads; pedestrians crowding the pavements. A large plane soaring overhead. The underground with its confusing warren of tunnels. And a helpful little man who told her what an Oyster card was and showed her where to get one.

  It was like being given total freedom to explore the city …

  She didn’t ring Clegg about her London trip and as far as she knew he hadn’t the foggiest about the Skegness trip either. Last time she looked, this was her adventure!

  When she came out of King’s Cross station and before she went anywhere else she made her way into a brightly coloured café. She was hungry and didn’t want to be walking far, not knowing where the heck she was, with hunger pangs stabbing at her belly.

  ‘Here, ducks. I’ll have one of them sandwiches, there. What you got?’

  ‘Well they’re not really sandwiches, ma’am. They’re chicken burgers.’

  ‘Ooo. I’ve heard of them. All the kiddies eat ’em now don’t they?’

  ‘Do you want to eat in, lady, or take out?’

  ‘Well I’d like to sit a while before I go off sightseeing. Is that okay?’

  The youngster nodded with a smile. ‘Order and pay here and then go take a seat anywhere. This your first time to London?’

  ‘Oh yes and it will be my last, if you know what I mean! Ha, ha. But don’t worry, I’m having fun!’ Gloria said with a twinkle in her eye.

  She thought the food was tasty if a little salty and she drank tea from a paper cup; afterwards, just sitting, watching the world go by in a colourful, noisy blur; feeling excited about her latest adventure.

  Then clutching her small trusty suitcase, Gloria made her way back into the station, amongst the jostling throngs of tourists, to where people were feeding their tickets into the gate slots, which then opened to let them through for the underground. She did the same and then asked to be shown which tube to get on to take her to Big Ben. It was such an iconic landmark and of all the places she could visit in the capital, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament was where she most wanted to go.

  She finally came out of Westminster tube station, having asked lots of people where to go and getting lots of help – and there was the sight she’d been dying to see: Big Ben. She cricked her neck looking up at it. At the intricately patterned tower with gold decorations. Was it real gold? There were narrow windows beneath the clock face, too. She’d never noticed those before on the telly. And somewhere inside the Houses of Parliament, she knew, MPs were plotting and planning and revising the laws of the land.

  Oh, but London was magnificent! It was so thrilling just being there; being part of the throng and buzz of everyday life in that huge city. Of course, it was tiring too, yes, but oh so exciting.

  ‘My dear Tilsbury. It’s a shame you and Jocelyn can’t be here, ducks. It’s just magical. This is just one of the best things I’ve ever done in me life. Well, apart from our trip to the seaside, of course!’ she said to the sky; to the other tourists around her; to the light breeze, whipping deftly through people’s lives.

  ‘They’re places you see on the news all the time and, just think, I’ve been there too now!’ she was going to tell them all when she got home.

  But what could prove she’d actually been to London? What could she give everyone so they knew she’d truly been there, on her own, and had this amazing adventure? She’d never had a mobile phone like Clegg and his family, so she wasn’t able to take photos or text or whatever people did. It had to be something more tangible.

  Ah, yes! Easy-peasy! Ha, ha! She’d send them postcards from one of the souvenir vendors, like Mabel used to do! She’d have to choose specific postcards of Big Ben or with Big Ben somewhere in the photos, so everyone knew she’d really been to London.

  Gloria found exactly what she was looking for in one of the souvenir shops back near King’s Cross station, where she’d soon be ready to board her train for Grantham, in order to go back to Norwich.

  ‘D’you sell stamps too? And I’ll need to borrow a pen to write them. And is there a letterbox anywhere nearby?’ she asked, holding four postcards in her hand.

  Gloria was sending one to Clegg and Val, one to Jocelyn and Marvin that she hoped Tilsbury would see, one to Green’s Nursing Home and, of course, one to Mabel, care of her David, back in Skegness. And these postcards would serve two purposes:

  ‘One, by saying, instead of a phone call, that I am alive and well and enjoying my solo adventures, all over the nation! And, two, to prove that I’ve ticked one of the must-see boxes off my new bucket list, which I’ve just invented. Top of the list – must see Big Ben! Done and dusted. Thank you very much!’

  Chapter 22

  Later that same evening, Gloria Frensham stared at her naked body in the full-length mirror in the hotel bedroom. She’d never ever looked at herself, properly, without any clothes on. She’d never had a full-length mirror to do that for one thing. Only the side light was on by the double-for-sole-occupancy bed. She couldn’t bear to look at herself in full light. She felt rather risqué looking at herself like this, anyway!

  It made her giggle to think of Tilsbury on the beach only a matter of days ago, running around in his birthday suit, without a care in the world! And why not? Their bodies weren’t actually disgusting in any way. They just hung differently to when they were younger. There were a few creases and a bit of flab, too, of course. And they weren’t so firm any more.

  But as she looked more closely in the mirror, Gloria could see that it wasn’t just the shape and look of her body nor even the scar from the caesarean she’d had bearing Clegg. It was the way she was holding herself that made her look despondent and sad.

  Standing as she usually stood, she noted that her shoulders slouched. There was also resignation in her face. Too many knocks and not enough fun or parties, she realised. So it was her general demeanour that made her look old; made older people, she thought, look old.

  ‘So that’s it. That’s why we’re old!’ she concluded. ‘Youth and liveliness are down to always having something to look forward to. And unlimited energy. And never letting stuff get you down. Yep, I can see that now. Inner energy; an inner vibrancy!’

  She realised she mainly felt so old because she didn’t seem able to hold on to her own energy or joie de vivre for too long, now she was nearly eighty. Even all the positive, new things she was suddenly gleefully experiencing – since leaving her dull, empty life in her old house – seemed to slip away like the sand between her toes on the beach near Sheringham.

  ‘So you always need something to look forward to,’ she said slowly to her reflection in the mirror. ‘You need a reason to get out of bed, old girl. And you need to
keep making memories. Especially when you’re an old fogey.’

  Having booked into the Norwich city hotel for two nights was the best thing she could have done now, she realised. She wanted to have a long soak in a bath as well as a rest and wash her new but smelly clothing before going back to deal with Clegg and Val. She also wanted to have a jolly good think about things, after her madcap adventures in Sheringham with Tilsbury and the unsettling experience with Mabel, as well as careering round London’s sights, all of which had been a marvellous, much-needed respite.

  She knew she couldn’t go on gallivanting about but she had no intention of going back to Clegg’s until she was fully relaxed and completely ready to deal with her son. She wasn’t quite ready to do that yet. He’d always been stubborn but he was also too strong for her to deal with at the moment.

  She knew her resolve and energy had come and gone in waves over the last few days. One minute she’d felt ecstatic about what she’d been seeing or feeling and the next minute she’d plunged down to the depths, like when she saw how ill Mabel looked because of the way she was living. But at least she’d helped Mabel with her situation. She felt very proud of herself for that fact. Being out and about had – overall – been fantastic and liberating for Gloria but she was very tired now.

  Well, maybe her tiredness was also partly because she knew she’d have to go back at some point. Back to Clegg and, ultimately, back to the realisation that sooner or later she’d have to go into an old people’s home because she wouldn’t always be able to manage her life by herself. It wasn’t a thought she relished. But it was a truth she knew she’d have to acknowledge, just like Mabel would have to.

  Maybe if Arthur had still been alive it wouldn’t have seemed such a daunting process. She’d never envisioned Arthur dying in his fifties. She remembered back to when they’d just moved into the home she’d inherited and him saying, ‘I’d love to grow old with you.’

  Gloria chuckled at that thought. It was obviously said as a romantic gesture. They’d certainly never entertained thoughts of sitting together, staring out of the window, in an old people’s home, when he made that statement.

  Yet would any of her marvellous new experiences be a lasting, comforting memory – when she was wrapped up in the mundane ordinariness of the daily sitting around the edge of a soundless room with other tired old people, rarely visited by family – when that time came?

  But it was pleasing that it got easier and easier to sleep when her head touched the pillow …

  * * *

  The next morning Gloria couldn’t bring herself to get up or open the curtains or anything. She lay in bed, her eyes feeling heavy. She’d had a manic few days running around, when she never normally did anything of note. But – oh boy – did she still feel tired. She needed more sleep. And she would have a lie-in because she could. She drifted back to sleep.

  It seemed, the next minute, someone was pounding on the door. She awoke, groggily. The chambermaid.

  ‘Please! No! I’m here another night. You can do the room tomorrow. I, er, I’m not feeling well!’ she said.

  ‘Okay, ma’am.’

  The chambermaid moved on to the next room, probably thinking she’d get to finish her shift early, for once.

  Gloria snuggled back under the comfortable duvet and slept. Little did the chambermaid know that Gloria had turned over a new leaf. There’d practically be nothing for the chambermaid to do when she came back the next day because Gloria had tidied up after herself as she went along – all her clothes, now they’d dried, were folded neatly in her little suitcase and she’d even scrubbed the bath and basin clean, using one of the hotel flannels.

  ‘Waahh!’ Gloria yawned, as she awoke to the sun piercing through the tiny gap in the hotel curtains. The clock on the TV said 16:20. Good Lord!

  ‘But I must’ve needed it, eh, room!’

  She got up, opened the curtains, squinted as the afternoon sun bathed the room in a bright light, and ordered a sandwich from room service.

  ‘Where to next, room?’ she said, her mouth full of cheesy pickle and ham. Or should she while her remaining hours away watching hotel TV?

  But perhaps it was time to go back now. There was nothing else she wanted to do right now; nothing specific; nothing else she wanted to see. Even her new bucket list sat empty in her heart. The London trip had been a whirlwind stunner and something she’d never envisaged she’d get to do. In fact, in these few short exhilarating, frenzied days she’d done everything her heart had desired. She was amazed she could have done all that without thinking about things in too much depth. She’d just needed to jump up and run off every which way. It had actually been that simple. Yet she was seventy-nine, for God’s sake, soon to be eighty.

  She’d never had a mid-life crisis before! Or was it an end-of-life crisis?

  It had started with Tilsbury, taking her out for an innocent cream tea. But thank God he’d done that. It had saved her. It had also saved Mabel, she noted with pride. She hummed to herself, as she packed her remaining items.

  But what the heck should she do next?

  Chapter 23

  ‘But it can’t be, love. I only made one small call to my friend!’

  The kindly receptionist did not pout or stamp her foot or stick her tongue out at the irate customer in front of her. She’d been trained not to. But Gloria was sure she would have liked to.

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but the hotel prices are listed in your room. And I know you say you only made a small call yesterday afternoon but it is always more expensive calling from hotel bedrooms.’

  Gloria had only called to check that Mabel was settled with David or rather she’d called to check up on David’s promise to make sure Mabel was settling in.

  Mabel had been thrilled she’d called.

  ‘Oh, yes, it’s so lovely here, my love. I can see the sea and I’ve had a couple of champion meals down in the restaurant with all the other guests. It’s been a real treat and just wonderful having so many other lovely people around me. Feel so much better already. And it feels like I’m on me holidays. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me, Gloria!’

  ‘Well, I just wanted to make sure you were all right, Mabel, you bein’ my friend of so many years and all. Wanted to make sure your family did right by you, too. And have you spoken to Sandie yet or seen the doctor? Has David rung the farmer, d’you know?’

  ‘Oh yes. I spoke to Sandie. She apologised, Gloria, and that’s all I wanted really. She’s coming up to see me and bringing Chloe and her kiddie at the weekend – only two days to go – so that’ll be nice! And I’ve a doctor’s appointment on the Monday. But I think David’s been having problems with the farmer. Says he won’t be threatened. But social services went down to the cottage and took photos of it. There’d been a leak in the kids’ bedroom ceiling for ages and it caved in when social services went in there, poking around. So it looked even worse than when you were there.’

  ‘Oh well that’s good news. And it’ll give social services some ammo to deal with the ruddy farmer as well then. What did David actually say to him?’

  ‘Well he told him – dare I say it – that he was an arsehole and that a letter would be forthcoming from his solicitor, for treating me like that. Then he slammed the phone down. And my David’s not usually one for outbursts of anger!’

  ‘Oh well, I’m glad things are all sorted out for you now, ducks. You deserve some luck and good fortune now. Well, ducks, I hope you have a lovely time when your daughter’s family finally arrive and I’ll ring you again in a couple of weeks’ time. Ta-ra, Mabel. Lots of love. Bye for now, ducks!’

  ‘Thank you, Gloria. You take good care of yourself too. Bye now. Byeee.’

  The hotel receptionist stated that Gloria’s call had taken 7.48 minutes, which meant the bill was correct. The price of the phone call was £8.15 since calls were priced at £1.09 per minute.

  ‘Cor blimey what a rip-off!’

  Gloria reluctantly h
eld out her credit card to pay for the sandwich and pricey phone call; £16.65 was debited, along with a further £118.00 for the room for two nights with breakfast. She was getting used to paying for everything by credit card, but she didn’t dare to think how much she’d spent already.

  Ah well, Clegg would soon start to put two and two together when he got his statement and her postcard arrived. Sheringham prices it wasn’t.

  Chapter 24

  Gloria pressed her face up to the travel agency’s window to get a better look at the holidays on offer. She was sheltering from the rain under their shop canopy, after leaving the Norwich hotel, unsure of where to go or what to do next.

  She’d come out of the hotel, after paying her bill, and turned left and meandered down a couple of roads, until she’d come across this travel agency. Those idyllic photos of sun-drenched beaches with stone-skimmingly flat turquoise seas were very appealing and if she’d had the enthusiasm as well as the figure for a slinky bikini – and if she’d been in her forties again – she’d have jumped at the chance. But her skin had never liked intense heat. It made her all blotchy. And she’d never renewed her passport. So she wasn’t going anywhere sultry, any time soon.

  A light drizzle had started to fall but the shop’s canopy was keeping her dry. Perhaps she should’ve thought to buy an umbrella in Sheringham, as well as her new clothes. Too late now. But she’d think about buying one today, if she could find somewhere that sold them.

  The drizzle increased in intensity and so more people started to join her; also using this time to stare, longingly, into the travel agency’s window. It was getting cramped under the canopy.

  Perhaps that’s why she suddenly found herself trying the door handle and walking through it before she realised what she was doing. She was the only person in there, apart from the clerks, busily typing at their desks.

  ‘Not very nice out there now is it?’ said one of the three smartly dressed young women, looking up.