Chapter Seven
As part of preparing for his escape, Jim gobbled down one of the bland-looking sandwiches, pulling a face at its lack of taste. He couldn’t identify what sort of meat was in this floppy lump and the bread was not only distinctly stale but pure white in colour. It was utterly tasteless after Gracie’s lovely wholemeal bread and they’d taken all the goodness out of it by removing the husk.
But nonetheless it was free and would fill him for a while, so he ate another couple of the sandwiches anyway because these officials had kept him waiting a long time for this so-called interview and he was actually hungry now. He’d always had a hearty appetite – well, he had done till Gracie died, anyway.
He moved towards the door, thinking to leave, then turned back and packed a few more of the sandwiches and some of the little cakes into a couple of the polythene bags he always kept in his knapsack because you never knew when they’d come in useful for putting plants or cuttings in. And they were useful for other unexpected needs too, like today’s debacle.
Afterwards he put the bags of food gently back into the top of his backpack for a later meal because he didn’t have much food left at home – or much appetite for it either, a lot of the time. It was probably the anger that had made him hungry today. But things were going downhill so rapidly he felt it was best to be prepared now in case he had to run away to avoid being forcibly removed from his house and locked up inside an old folks’ home.
He remembered a song Gracie had loved and had always sung so beautifully along with the record. ‘Fly Me to the Moon’, it was called, well, he thought it was. He wished he could do that now, fly far away. With her beside him, of course.
He kept glancing at his watch. He needed to hurry because he wanted to get away from here before the young chap returned. Besides, this was such an airless place it made him feel as if he were suffocating and he desperately needed some fresh air to breathe real life into his mind and body. Being outside would allow him to think more clearly about his current problems, he hoped. It usually did anyway.
He visited the conveniences, then investigated where all the other doors in the hallway led and found one that opened straight into the outside. He studied a yard which had a line of dustbins set neatly next to a gate. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he was able to leave through that gate without being seen by that other young fusspot at the front desk.
Taking a few deep breaths of fresh air – well, as fresh as you got near the centre of a town – he walked quietly along the alley behind this big square monster of a building, which had lots of small, square windows in it. He’d bet that inside the place was full of small square offices like those on the floor he’d had to get out of the airless lift at. Ugh! Imagine spending your life shut up in a place like that.
He came out of the alley at a nearby street and turned away from the town centre instinctively. He’d never liked going into busy town centres, though of course you couldn’t always avoid it. The streets always stank of traffic fumes and inside most shops you got the reek of stale bodies and of sickly air fresheners, which were nothing like natural flower scents, whatever the labels on them said.
When a taxi slowed right down as it drove past him with the driver bending his head to look sideways at him as if asking whether he needed a ride, he nodded and asked to be taken home. He knew it was extravagant not waiting for the bus, but he needed to sort out a few things then escape from this part of the world before they could try to shut him in a shared bedroom inside another stuffy building.
It was going to hurt to leave the only home he’d known for so many years, hurt so very badly, but he wanted to get as far away as possible in case they used his home address to trace him and come after him. He wasn’t quite sure who was running the world in this way, but he didn’t intend whoever it was to catch up with him and stuff him inside a building for the rest of his life.
At home, he shoved some basic necessities into his knapsack, underclothes and packets of nuts and biscuits. He had some left so shook open a bin liner and put them in that. Thank goodness for his years of being a Scout, and then a Scout Leader. You learnt a lot of useful practical stuff in the Scouts. He could pack bags with the best of them, and do it quickly and efficiently too.
Next he phoned an old friend who lived in a nearby village and asked Brook to come over early the following morning and pick up a few boxes then store them in his second shed until Jim could come and retrieve them. He knew Brook would say yes when he heard about them taking away the car. He and his wife had been good friends of Jim and Gracie for many years.
A rather fancy box contained the family photos, though he took one small photo of Gracie and another of their wedding out of it to carry with him for comfort, then was tempted into taking a few more. How young and full of hope he and Gracie had looked at their wedding! They’d felt it too, young and optimistic, with a happy life stretching in front of them.
Where had all their years together gone? Disappeared without leaving a real trace in the world, he thought sadly. If only they’d been able to have children, he might not be on his own now. You liked to think your family would carry on when you were gone. He didn’t even know where any relatives were these days. They’d scattered all round the world, the Tuckers had, and so had Gracie’s lot, the Westerbys.
He stared bleakly round the rest of the house, which looked an utter mess now. Eh, his wife would throw a fit if she saw it. He could do better than leaving it like this for people to view scornfully, so he phoned the local charity shop and asked them if they’d like to come round the following afternoon and clear out the rest of the things in the house he was leaving because it was going to be demolished and he was going to live in another part of the country.
‘You want everything clearing out?’ the voice at the other end asked, sounding cautious.
‘Every single thing, including the cooker and washing machine if they’re any use. They’re in good working order and I was told by the owners that if I don’t want to take them they’ll be going to the tip.’
‘Who said that?’
‘It’s written on a piece of paper, by someone at the council, I suppose.’ He shook his head sadly. The wasteful fools took all sorts of half-used things to the tip these days. It made him so angry at times, when these could have been reused or repurposed as folk seemed to call it nowadays.
‘We’ll do that happily, sir, as long as you leave us the paper authorising this.’
‘I’ll leave it on the mantelpiece in the living room.’
‘That’ll be fine, sir. Tomorrow afternoon, you said. Thank you for thinking of us.’
They couldn’t see him shrug. Well, he didn’t think he’d ever need a house full of furniture again so why not give it to someone with the sense to get more use out of it. When he settled down somewhere once more, he supposed it’d be in accommodation supplied with a job. Surely he’d find a job again, working in some place in the country with a decent garden. He just couldn’t abide to living in a town. And you didn’t need much furniture for just one person.
If he didn’t find a live-in job, maybe he’d buy a little caravan for himself and find a permanent place to park it, deep in the country, somewhere with allotments nearby where he could still grow things. He went to bed intending to think about that, but was so tired he slept quite well for the first time since he’d lost Gracie.
The following morning, Brook arrived soon after dawn and took away the boxes of things Jim wanted to keep and when invited to take any of the furniture he could use, he selected a couple of small pieces, Gracie’s sewing box for one.
‘Where are you going, Jim lad? Do you have a phone number for it or for a mobile?’
‘I don’t know where so I don’t have one, and you know I don’t use one of those fiddly little phones. But you have my email address, don’t you, Brook lad? Gracie got one for me on that damned computer of hers and I can always get someone to help me check it. I hardly ever use it, mind, so don’t expect a quick response, but she said it’d work wherever I went.’
‘Yes, I do have it. And I can keep your things here in my old shed for as long as you need, with or without you contacting me. What’s more, if you’re ever short of somewhere to stay in an emergency, you can come to us for a while. Just turn up. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes. And it’s a great comfort. Thanks. I’ve got cousins I can go to as well. For the moment, I just want to get away from here because I don’t want to watch these developers knock my home down and flatten my lovely trees and shrubs.’
‘I’d feel the same. Don’t you need a car of your own to get away in, though, now they’ve taken that company car away from you? There’s a place that sells second-hand vehicles just down the road on the way into town, you know. They’re well thought of locally.’
He wasn’t doing that and giving anyone a chance to trace him wherever he went. ‘I feel like a good long walk first. You know how I love going for walks. It’ll clear my head to tramp across the countryside and make me feel younger again, I hope. I can get a B&B somewhere when it grows dark, and I’ll buy a car in a day or two, when I tire of walking.’
‘Well, as long as you’ve got enough money to do that, I’ll say goodbye and let you get on with your preparations. Take care of yourself, lad. And don’t forget that we’re here if you need us.’ Brook gave him one of those abrupt manly hugs that always embarrassed Jim, then got into his car and drove off.
Now, there was a good friend, he thought. Only, he needed to be on his own for a while now to find himself again. It was over fifty years since he’d lived on his own. It was going to be hard getting used to it. He went back to his preparations, turning a couple of times to ask Gracie something, then remembering that she was dead and losing a few more tears.
It was very early the following morning that Jim walked away from his home. He didn’t look back. Tears trickled down his cheeks and he let himself weep. He had a lot to weep for, couldn’t hold them in sometimes and didn’t care who saw him crying now. But he didn’t meet anyone out so early, let alone anyone he knew, which was a bit of a relief in one way because it took him a while to stop crying.
He wished he still had what he thought of as his own car. He’d had the inside of it organised to suit his needs and had always carried a few small emergency items. Those damned developers had refused to sell it to him whatever he said or did. Heartless, they were.
When he persisted with his nagging, they told him they no longer owned the car. They’d done a mass deal for all the company cars and couldn’t make any exceptions and would he please stop being such a nuisance? He was to hand it over at the end of the week, as they’d already told him, because this batch of vehicles was due to be taken away next Monday and it’d need a good clean.
No, it wouldn’t ! he thought indignantly. He always prided himself on keeping it immaculate. You weren’t an individual these days, just a number, and your own needs couldn’t be catered for. These big companies seemed only to serve the great god Money – and their senior executives’ needs. Oh, yes. They didn’t go short!
He wiped his last few tears away and walked slowly on towards the main road where he started trying to hitch a lift. And for the first time in ages his luck was in, which he hoped was a sign that he was doing the right thing.
A kindly lorry driver stopped almost at once and took him right out of town, away from the stinking fumes and the heartless folk who pulled your life to pieces and couldn’t make any exceptions.
Eh, he was still upset about that, upset about losing everything he’d once valued. In fact, his head was a blurry jumble of anguish but he thought he managed to answer the driver’s questions, more or less anyway. He hoped he had, because it wasn’t this chap’s fault. He seemed a nice young fellow.
Only Jim couldn’t be sure he’d been as polite with him as he usually was with strangers. He told the chap he was heading to the same part of the country as the sign on the side of the lorry and got a quick smile in response.
‘I’ll be able to take you most of the way there, then, Grandad.’ His voice softened. ‘Will you be all right after that? You seem a bit upset.’
‘I’ve just lost, um, a good friend.’
‘Oh, sorry to hear that. My commiserations. My grandad’s friends keep dying and he gets upset too. Well, you would, wouldn’t you?’
After a minute or two he realised the driver was waiting for him to speak, so he said, ‘Thank you for picking me up.’
‘My pleasure. Will you be all right after I drop you?’
‘Yes. It’s just that I, um, only heard yesterday, haven’t got used to it yet.’
‘I’m sorry about that. It can be hard. I lost my mother last year. I still remember things she used to say and it makes me feel sad. Eh, I loved her strong Lancashire accent. Funny thing to miss, isn’t it? I’ve never met anyone who spoke quite like her. She didn’t lose the accent even after she married Dad and moved south.’
Jim nodded and made a sound in his throat. As he’d hoped, the man took it as a sign to carry on, doing most of the talking from then on, thank goodness.
They seemed to get to Bristol more quickly than Jim had expected and he asked the young guy to pull up in a layby on the outskirts of the city.
‘Will you be all right from here, Grandad?’
‘Yes, thank you, lad. I’ll get another lift quickly, I’m sure. Folk are usually very kind. I need to turn off the main road now. I’m really grateful for your help today.’
‘I enjoyed your company. Good luck!’
Jim stood watching him go, smiling till his face ached as the man insisted on giving him a can of some bright red fizzy drink he’d never touch and a piece of his wife’s homemade cake, which did look good.
He let the smile fade as he watched the vehicle move away. What this kind chap had enjoyed most had been having a tame listener. And it had been a small payment to give him in return for the lift. Besides, the mindless chat had saved Jim the trouble of forcing out words very often.
He set off walking, a slow, steady tramp along the side of the road, looking for a turn-off into the countryside. He needed some fresh air now, not these car fumes. He was grateful that it was late spring and quite mild today. It made walking a pleasure. He decided to stick to small villages as much as he could, so avoided following any signposts that directed travellers to bigger towns and turning towards villages instead.
During the next few days he found places to sleep in old and sometimes half-ruined barns and sheds. He was more or less comfortable because he slept more soundly after a day’s walking than in a bed with no Gracie beside him. And he was no longer shut up in rooms he considered airless, with windows that only opened a little.
He forgot about providing food for himself the second day. He’d been so lost in thought and memories that darkness caught him unawares. There were no shops nearby, just a few houses in a small group. He was so hungry he was reduced to scrabbling in the dustbins of a nearby house whose occupants must have gone away recently. Luckily, he found some unspoilt food.
Eh, Gracie would have been disgusted about him eating that. But he needed something to eat badly by then, because the walking had made him ravenously hungry.
He dreamt of his wife, which was lovely till he woke up to bleak reality again.