by Jane Gilley
The next day Gloria put on another of her new dresses, a three-quarter-sleeved cherry pink floral dress with a pale blue background – the perfect dress, she’d decided, for summer holidays – in order to spend what could potentially be an exciting morning boating, with Joe and Vittori.
It was still sunny but the wind had risen to a force three, which meant their tour boat in the harbour wallowed around more than it would have done if they’d taken the excursion the day before.
Gloria admitted she felt a bit seasick and Vittori told her not to look down at her feet but to concentrate on the harbour views of boats and yachts. Seagulls glided above them in the warm air currents.
Joe sat next to her, his arm linked through hers, with Vittori sitting opposite. The boat lurched in places, especially when another boat went past, a feeling Gloria didn’t like. The person steering reeled off a commentary, telling them how relatively new the harbour was and yet how much life it encouraged to the area, by way of shops, restaurants, sailing businesses and tourists.
When the boat docked they clambered off and found a nearby café for a cuppa. Gloria was glad she’d taken her jacket and scarf because Joe was right. It had been chillier than she’d expected.
‘Warmed up now?’ said Joe.
Gloria nodded. ‘I feel better than I did. Didn’t expect to have an upset tummy, though, going boatin’.’
‘Sometimes it happen,’ said Vittori solemnly, drinking his espresso. Gloria could see he’d once been a very handsome man. She’d even noticed Florence giving him the eye across the table last night! He wore a dark green polo shirt with a light jacket and smoked Gauloises French cigarettes.
‘But did you enjoy the experience?’ said Joe.
‘I’ve had a lovely morning, thanks to you both helping me with everything. So yes. Ooh look, they sell postcards here. Might buy a couple and send ’em home.’
They joined Florence, Freda and Dot on the afternoon trip to the brass band concert at Eastbourne Bandstand. Most of the other coach party travellers had seen it before and went for a walk down the pier, or met up with friends and family, instead. Gloria sat in the sunshine, thoroughly enjoying the lively familiar music and heartily joining in when people were singing or clapping along with the tunes.
‘Do you fancy a little dance with me, Gloria?’ said Joe. ‘This song Chanson d’Amour is my favourite tune.’
‘We can’t do that here, Joe, I’m sure.’
‘They won’t mind! Besides they’ll think we’re a couple of old fogies who’ve lost their marbles! It’s handy being old sometimes.’
‘Go for it, Gloria!’ Freda encouraged.
Gloria grinned. ‘Ha, ha. Okay. All right. Come on then.’
He stood up and helped Gloria to her feet and they moved away from the seating area. Gloria hadn’t danced in years. Joe looked very smart, today, in his dark blue jacket. He was a true gent, Gloria realised. He put his arm round her waist and they just danced side to side in time with the music. Gloria couldn’t stop smiling. It felt lovely and took her back to the tea dances she used to go to, with Arthur. People in the audience were smiling at them, too; no one was being unkind or tutting.
She realised she’d never experienced the kind of joyful fun she was discovering on this impromptu holiday with her new-found friends. No wonder some of them kept coming back year after year. It was truly marvellous. Although, that day on the beach near Sheringham with Tilsbury, Gloria thought with a smile, had come a keen second.
The next day Gloria awoke and stretched. She had to keep pinching herself to be reminded that she was actually here, in Eastbourne, with the sea and beach right there, across the road, beyond her bedroom window. She made herself a cup of tea and tidied her room. She didn’t like the idea of the chambermaid coming in and finding her living the way she used to live.
She’d made a promise to Green’s Nursing Home as well as to herself twice that she would never hoard or be messy ever again and was reasonably confident she’d keep that promise. She’d seen first-hand how disruptive it was to people’s lives, especially hers and Mabel’s.
Gloria knew the sightseeing tour on the green and cream Eastbourne buses was going to be great. Joe came with her and Dot and her friends were there and Florence came too. Vittori’s granddaughter had come to take him back to her house for the day, since she lived nearby. A few of the other coach party holidaymakers had family members in East Sussex and visited them while they were down here, too.
‘Um, if you don’t mind, I don’t wanna get off the bus just yet, Joe. I’d just like to sit here and watch the world pass by and see everythin’ once and then mebbe get off the next time round, when I see somewhere I fancy goin’.’
And so that’s what they did. The other ladies got off and on at the various attractions Eastbourne had to offer but Joe stayed on the bus with Gloria, seeing as it was her first time here. They got off at Beachy Head to take in the air or rather nearly get swept away since the wind had picked up by the middle of the day.
‘I know, Joe! Let’s pop into that pub over there for a spot of lunch. My treat for you showin’ me the sights!’
‘Oh! Are you sure? Well that would be nice, Gloria. Thank you.’
The ambience of the pub was very welcoming with its idle chatter, clinking glasses and a warm, traditional feel in the décor. They chose a table indoors and ordered fish and chips and a glass of lager each. Gloria squeezed mayonnaise over her fish when it arrived and they, mainly, ate in silence.
‘You see, this is what I miss with my wife Carol. We used to go to those tea dances and we often had a couple of holidays a year to different places,’ said Joe as he put his knife and fork together, afterwards.
‘But you like Eastbourne now.’
‘I really enjoy it, Gloria. You get to meet so many nice people – like yourself, of course. You remind me a bit of my Carol. She liked trying new things. She was a courageous sort. But she – um – she got leukaemia.’
As Joe’s gaze fell, Gloria reached across the table and held his hand.
‘Oh dear, that’s sad, Joe. Life’s very hard, I know. But we have to go on, don’t we? We have to be positive in our outlook. That’s what I’ve learnt from all youse anyway. And your Carol would’ve wanted you to go on, too. She’d’ve still wanted you to have some happy times, Joe, even though she’s not actually here with you. D’you remember that programme called Waiting for God? That actress, what was her name – oh yes – Stephanie Cole. She was hilarious, wasn’t she? So funny. I loved it. She was always lamenting about life, wasn’t she? But I can see that you’ve got to lift yer head towards the sun and keep fightin’ for life.’
Joe nodded. ‘You’re right. But it’s difficult sometimes. And when it’s difficult, I sometimes um – I shouldn’t be telling you all this,’ he said, tears forming at the edges of his eyes.
‘It’s all right, Joe. I know what you mean. You really don’t feel like goin’ on sometimes, do you? It’s like there’s no point when you can’t be with yer wife or husband who’s passed. And our families nag us to keep going, don’t they? They keep telling us we’ve got to carry on trying to find meaningful stuff to do, even though we might only have a few months or a few years left. But it still feels pointless, doesn’t it? Because we’re only really just waitin’ to join them, aren’t we? We just want to be with them. Our loved ones. Just like that Waiting for God programme really.’
Joe nodded, vigorously, sniffing. ‘That’s exactly it, Gloria.’
Gloria sighed deeply. ‘I know and, truth be told, Joe, back when I was depressed, I used to think that I couldn’t wait for my Big Sleep either. You see, I was very lonely after me adoptive mum, Alice, died ’cos I didn’t have any other family at the time, apart from Arthur and our son, Clegg. But when my lovely Arthur died I really started hoarding things. I guess I was locking myself away from the world and what I thought might be more misery. But since them days – and that’s not so long ago now – since then, I’ve been feeling a b
it more upbeat about things because I got some help from a social worker called Kate at a nursing home I stayed in for a while. And now, well, I’ve been havin’ so many weird, amazing adventures that I think I actually want to go on a bit longer.
‘It’s like I’ve just woken up from a long sleep and realised there’s lots of other things I still want to do. I probably even missed out on loads of things when I was living with my Arthur ’cos we didn’t really do much together except raise Clegg. So I’m curious to keep going and find out what else is round the next corner. I mean, I’ve no idea what’s next for me, either, Joe, but … well, I’m just curious to find out. While I’ve still got the chance to, you see. And that’s a chance that my Arthur and your Carol don’t have any more. So we’re quite fortunate, in that respect, when you thinks about it, aren’t we?’
Joe nodded but Gloria could see he looked glum. So she put her arms round him and held him a while. She felt him relax into her and then sensed he was about to start sobbing, when his body suddenly heaved. Ah, poor Joe. Men cry too. She knew that.
‘It’s okay, Joe. Let it out. C’mon let’s go outside and you can have a moment. I still get them too, you know. So don’t worry. I won’t be tellin’ anyone.’
Tears streaked his face. ‘But I miss her so much. Always have.’
‘Course you do, ducks. They’re in our hearts. My Arthur is too. I sometimes cry myself to sleep, thinking about him. I think everybody does that, Joe. There, there. C’mon now. Look, let’s get the bus back and then you go have a lie-down before dinner. We’re back home tomorrow, anyways.’
Chapter 28
The last night of her Eastbourne adventure had Gloria singing at the top of her voice with everybody else at the dinner table; glasses of sparkling wine clinking, toasting the wonderful time they’d all had, new friends made and even Joe had recovered and was joining in enthusiastically. Phone numbers and addresses were swapped. Gloria had given Clegg’s details, not completely sure where her fortunes would take her next.
After dinner, Joe caught up with Gloria in reception as she was making her way back to her room.
‘Thanks for listening, Gloria,’ he whispered, looking around him, making sure no one was watching. He then placed a small gift into her hand. ‘But please open this later.’
They all had sore heads the next day at breakfast and by the time they’d climbed back onto their coach, most had fallen asleep before the coach hit the A11.
Gloria got dropped off around the corner from the travel agency where she’d booked her holiday, a mere few days ago. Everyone was saying goodbye and hugging her and talking about meeting up same time, same place next year.
‘That’s if we’re still alive then, hey, Gloria?!’ they giggled, as they were being collected by their respective families and friends.
Joe had already kissed her goodbye and left with his daughter, after introducing her to Gloria. But because Gloria wasn’t being picked up by anyone, she was finally left standing on the pavement, quite alone with just her tiny suitcase and a bag of gifts for company. She let out a mournful sigh.
She always felt downhearted once she’d experienced something powerful or enjoyed something wonderful. Euphoria, she noted, never endured. There was always a ‘coming down’ period afterwards. Ying and yang. Hot and cold. Happy and (too much) sad.
She hoped Joe would be all right. He lived with his daughter now so at least he had some company. It was certainly better than going back to an empty house like she knew Florence would have to do. But perhaps Florence liked living on her own.
‘Wonder where I’ll end up?’ she said out loud and felt in her pocket for a handkerchief to wipe away the tears of self-pity starting to drip down her cheeks.
Her hand closed around the tiny gift Joe had given her. She took it out, placed her suitcase and the gifts on the pavement and opened the prettily wrapped present.
It was a locket. It looked to be nine-carat gold, no less. Gloria gasped.
And inside was a tiny picture, that Joe must’ve got from somewhere, maybe off a brochure, of the bandstand at Eastbourne where she’d danced with him …
And then Gloria really did burst into tears, standing on that pavement as people scurried around her heading off in all sorts of directions to who-knows-or-cares where, as huge blobs of salty tears washed over her.
* * *
‘Thanks for coming to get me, Joss,’ said Gloria, as she wriggled out of Jocelyn’s clapped-out Mini, at the gate of her friend’s council house.
They were greeted by six howling rescue cats swirling round their ankles at the door. It was obviously feeding time. There were two tabbies, three ginger toms and one pregnant black and white cat – all in varying degrees of neglect. Inside her house were three adorable black and white kittens.
‘I see you’ve narrowed them down a bit since last time. You had near on twenty at one time, didn’t you? Are you still rescuing them?’
Jocelyn nodded. ‘I am, for me sins. Can’t help myself, Glor. I know they make a mess and too much noise, half the time. And I know it’s what sent Tils out me door. But I feel so sorry for them when people are rotten to ’em. I’ve rehomed a few. I work with the Cat Protection people on that score. But I lost two last year. Got squashed by maniacs speedin’ round these estates. Sad, really. Anyways. Here, Marv. Look what Gloria got us.’
Jocelyn was thrilled to receive a carrier bag of goodies that Gloria had got for her and Marvin from Eastbourne. There was a bottle of wine, a bottle of cider, some chocolates, two mugs and a couple of tea towels with a printed picture of Beachy Head on them.
‘We ain’t got yer postcard yet, love. But thanks for these anyway.’
‘You’re welcome, ducks. So, seen anythin’ of Tilsbury, lately?’
Jocelyn bent down and picked up one of the kittens. ‘Nah. He still keeps poking around when we’re out but we haven’t seen him in a while now. Could be anywhere.’
‘Joss, why d’you put up with his nicking? I’ve always wondered that.’
Jocelyn shrugged, stroking the cute kitten. ‘Dunno really. Well we all goes back a long way, don’t we, and Marvin feels a bit sorry for him too on account he’s got nowt. Well, he has his state pension. It comes here. All his mail comes here, in fact. But he’s got nowhere proper to live, has he? Actually, love, he went to the council when we got back from Sheringham. They sent him to social services. He was hoping to get a flat or council house or summat. But they said he’d have to find somewhere himself that he can pay for, out his pension, because they only accommodate certain categories of people nowadays, like one-parent families and whatnot. Plus they got a long list of folk with special problems, needin’ assistance, before him. So he’d be at the bottom of that list. He asked how long it’d take before he got to the top of the list and they said it could be years.’
Yes, Gloria had heard it wasn’t as easy to get help from the social, as some people thought. She felt sorry for Tilsbury because since Clegg had kicked him out of her house there really was nowhere else for him to go. So unless social services helped him out with something regular, he was stuck.
But Gloria was thrilled Jocelyn had asked if she’d like to stay at their place, for a few days, as long as she could tolerate the cats, before she went back to Clegg and Val’s.
‘To acclimatise before the shit hits the fan, as it were, love?’ Jocelyn had said with a grin.
Well, yes.
That was a most welcome idea because at that moment, Gloria had one or two more things to sort out before she tackled her errant son and his wife.
Chapter 29
Gloria was pleased Jocelyn could drop her off early so she could spy on Clegg and Val to make sure they went to work. She had no intention of walking straight into a row. But, oh joy! She could see that the children were back home, judging by the activity in Clegg’s driveway. And she would’ve loved to have walked straight over and hugged them and told them all about her adventures and learned about theirs. All that, thoug
h, would have to wait for another time. There were other more pressing things she needed to do before that.
Gloria intended to try and find out exactly what Clegg was doing with her house before they came home, later that day, so there’d be no more surprises when she finally got to talk to them both.
Jocelyn had said the For Sale boards were still outside her house and that there’d been comings and goings – viewings – according to nosy Mrs Daly. But there were no SOLD boards up yet.
Gloria saw a young man she presumed was Adam leave in a car with some friends. Jessie was the last to walk out of the house at 8.55 a.m. They both looked very different now. They’d shot out in all directions. Adam had a large frame like his dad and Jessie was petite, like Val but with long dark hair. Gloria was thrilled at the sight of her wonderful grandchildren, after all these years. Ah well. One day soon they’d have a lovely reunion. But it wouldn’t be just yet.
Gloria still had her key and as soon as the coast was clear she eased herself out from the hedge she was hiding behind and let herself into Clegg’s home. She didn’t like standing for long periods of time at seventy-nine. It had been very uncomfortable hiding behind that hedge just so she could do her bit of sleuthing. She’d got a couple of odd stares, too, from curious dog walkers.
She also needed a bath because Jocelyn’s shower wasn’t working properly at the moment and after the luxurious hotel baths she’d had of late, she knew she couldn’t settle for a cold dribble. But first she went into the kitchen and rooted around in the kitchen drawers, where she knew they kept their day-to-day paperwork.
It didn’t take long for her to lay her hands on what she was looking for – three sets of particulars for her house. But – best of all – there was her photo album, in the same drawer! She took it out and hugged it. It even smelt the same. She had a quick look inside. No, nothing had been removed. It was all there. Even the photo of her birth mum and dad on their wedding day. Phew! What a relief! She didn’t know what she’d have done if Clegg had thoughtlessly DUMPED that!
