Chapter 15
Cath pulled into the driveway of Kirkton’s care home for the elderly.
Her hands involuntarily gripped tightly on the steering wheel. The last time she was here had been that fateful day where Maria had taken a turn for the worse and been driven away in an ambulance, along with a shocked Andreas. It was the last time Cath had seen her, was ever to see her.
But visiting Maria those few times had shown Cath just how interesting the elderly could be; with their stories, their sense of fun, their experience and advice.
And she very much missed her parents, too.
And that’s exactly why she’d decided to contact the home and volunteer, to give a couple of hours of her time each week, and come and have a good old chat with the residents.
With identity checks and documents now completed, she was ready for her first official visit and there was one person in particular she was very keen to meet.
Julie, the care home manager, greeted Cath warmly and gave her a quick tour.
Leaving her in the day room with carer Linda who was on duty, along with several elderly residents sat in their high-backed chairs.
A TV was on low, running the Good Morning show.
Some of the guests were already taking a nap, and Cath was introduced to Betty, who had the most lovely thick, wavy white hair and smiling blue eyes.
She was apparently hard of hearing to her left side, so Linda sat Cath on the green fake-leather armchair to her right.
‘Good morning, Betty. I’m Cath. I’m here to have a bit of a chat, if you’d like that?’
‘Oh, that’d be lovely, my dear.’
Linda had obviously set her up with a ‘soft’ target resident to start. Betty was easy to talk with, and the pair of them spent a happy half hour reminiscing about Betty’s family, including six grandchildren and four great-grandchildren.
Some residents, as Cath was soon to find out, could be rather trickier, a lady called Joyce was getting crotchety and shouting at the television.
Linda went over to calm her. Cath thought she ought to share her time, and moved to sit with a woman who introduced herself as Vera, who after a quick giggle about the animal antics on the telly – the presenters were struggling with a lively puppy in the studio – then proceeded to tell Cath about losing several precious items of jewellery (which Cath was soon to learn she’d never owned, or perhaps not for many years).
Cath had felt quite embarrassed when the old lady’s tone changed, and her finger was pointed firmly in Cath’s direction.
But after briefly mentioning the issue with Linda, Cath was reassured that these accusations of a jewellery heist were a regular complaint of Vera’s, with a new culprit blamed each time.
All a matter of the inevitable ageing of the mind, and frustrations of the ailing body, Linda had explained kindly.
The carer was soon able to settle Vera and her anxieties; no doubt having done it many times before.
Time stole so many things, and getting old – if you were one of the lucky ones to reach those grand ages – seemed sadly to take away so much.
But many seemed happy here in the home too, Cath conceded.
They were well cared for, had plenty of activities should they want, and had company.
There must always be someone around to have a chat with or share the crossword clues, after all.
Remembering Maria, and her own parents, Cath wanted to bring a little extra joy to these people who were nearing the end of their days.
With only twenty minutes left of her initial two-hour session, and her latest conversational recruit now ready for a doze, she caught up with Linda again, asking if Reggie from Tilldale village might be here in the day room?
Linda pointed over to the corner where a sprightly looking chap, with a sharp short-back-and-sides haircut of light grey, was reading a newspaper.
Cath explained to Linda where she now lived, checking whether she thought Reggie would mind hearing that she was there in his house, not wanting to upset him in any way.
Linda thought he’d be more than happy to chat, and led her over.
‘Reggie, this is Cath, kindly come to visit us. Guess where she’s living now?’
‘Morning, Cath. Nice to meet you.’ He looked at her with twinkly grey-blue eyes, and reached out a wrinkled, age-spotted hand.
He had a firm, warm handshake. Cath took to him straight away.
Taking in his tidy appearance, the friendly smile, she decided he kind of ‘fitted’ her house and garden, and the potting shed.
She wondered what he might make of its supper club makeover.
‘So, Reggie, Cath is the lady who’s moved into your cottage in Tilldale,’ Linda explained.
Cath sat down next to the gentleman, leaning in a little to be able to chat.
‘Ah, so how’s the old girl doing now?’ Reggie asked with fondness.
Cath furrowed her brow, trying to understand. Was he talking about his late wife? Was he confused?
‘The cottage, my little Cheviot. She always felt like a “she” to us,’ he explained. ‘Looked after us, so she did.’
‘Ah, well, she’s doing absolutely fine. I’m living there on my own, and she’s made me feel very welcome.’ Cath took up the ‘she’ word, liking how it sounded so personal. She’d never before imagined a house as a he or she, but hey, ships were always a she, so why not?
‘Well, tell me all about how you’re getting on? When did you move in? How’s the garden? Are those apples ready on the tree, yet? You can eat them straight off the branch, you know. Lovely and juicy.’
‘Oh, yes, they are. They make a lovely crumble too.’
‘That’s grand. My Elsie used to make a wonderful apple pie with them, with a sugary-crisp shortcrust. Marvellous with her homemade custard.’
Now there was an idea.
The pair of them chatted animatedly. Reggie seeming to love hearing all about their old cottage, and a few ‘select’ details from Cath about her moving up and in there, with any tales of Trevor and that torment being brushed lightly over.
It was evidently getting near to the residents’ teatime with the dining room being set up through a set of glass double doors, and Cath would soon be making a move to leave.
It was then that Reggie touched Cath’s arm gently. ‘There is something you might be able to help me with, lass.’
She wondered what he might be about to ask.
‘Well, there were some letters. I’ve misplaced them somehow. I thought I had them here with me at the home. You see, my daughter, Sarah, helped me pack up the cottage, bringing what I needed across here. But there was one thing we never found after the move. I have to say it broke my heart a bit …’
‘Oh?’ Cath felt for him.
The twinkle in his eyes had dulled. ‘There was a bundle of letters – some mine, some Elsie’s – all kept together from my National Service days.
They’re pretty tattered by now, as you’d imagine.
They were the ones I’d written when I was doing my service with the RAF.
’ He sounded very proud. ‘Started my basic training in Watchet, Somerset, when I was eighteen, and then I got moved out to Egypt – 1955 that was. Bloomin’ hot out there. ’
‘Oh, I bet. And you wrote to Elsie all the while?’
‘Of course I did. We’d not long started courting when I had to leave Northumberland, but I knew she was the girl for me, right from the start. I wrote to my Elsie every couple of days.’
‘That’s so lovely.’
Reggie was on a roll about his service life, and Cath was enjoying listening. ‘Next, was my Cyprus posting. I was batman to the Air Officer Commander in the Middle East Forces.’
‘Oh, sounds very impressive.’
‘Well.’ He touched the side of his nose, as if in confidence. ‘It had a posh title but basically, it was a bit like being his personal servant. I organised his kit, polished his shoes and set out his clothes, in the main. All good experience, mind.’
‘Sounds like it. And getting to see some of the world, too.’
‘Yes, it was a great experience, and I made some good mates, especially in Egypt. But it was hard for me and Elsie – and all those other couples. We didn’t see each other for two and a half years, but I kept writing a few times a week, and Elsie always wrote back.
I used to love seeing those blue airmail envelopes come for me.
They kept us going those letters, so they did.
Our link.’ He gave a happy-sad sigh, which seemed to hold so many memories.
Cath felt a tug inside at his words, and at their devotion, the story also pulling her back to those gorgeous letters from a seventeen-year-old Will, her sweetheart ‘Matty’.
Those letters had evidently been a lifeline for Reggie and his Elsie. It sounded so very romantic to Cath, happening at such a hard time for them and for the world.
‘Anyway, we kept those letters all these years, bundled up in a navy velvet ribbon, one that Elsie used to wear in her long brown hair back in the day. I can picture her wearing it now. She had such lovely hair. My girl. My Elsie.’ His smile was filled with nostalgia and love.
‘They were separate at first, those letters, and then once I’d got back to her with my forces training over, we and the letters could be together again. I proposed. And we never spent a day apart until she died.’
Cath felt a tear mist her eye.
‘They must be at the cottage somewhere. But I can’t for the life of me think where. Me and Sarah had it all packed away, every box, every drawer. Oh dear, unless they got scooped up by accident in the rubbish. But if you could check for me … You haven’t seen anything like that, have you?’
‘No, I’m sorry, Reggie. The only thing I’ve found was an old mixing bowl in the kitchen. And I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve used it to make a cake or two.’
‘That sounds the best thing for it.’ He smiled. ‘Elsie would love that.’
‘That’s good.’ Cath was happy to think she’d done the right thing.