Chapter 5
FIVE
The sky is that strange grey, suffused with orange, that casts an almost ethereal glow in the streets, indicating snow. I had hoped it might snow on Christmas Day, imagining me, Mum and Tony ensconced in the cosy lounge watching old movies and feasting on Quality Street – just me and Mum, obviously – but I guess the one thing I can’t plan is the weather.
I’ve just pulled into the car park when Sue calls.
‘Hi, hun, I was just wondering, do you think the pensioners would appreciate a six-foot dancing snowman at the party?’ she asks cheerfully.
‘Ermm. Because you just happened to have one hanging about?’
I close the car door and head into the town centre, the solar lights from the car park welcoming me up the stone path to the shopping centre.
‘Something like that. Actually, it belonged to my next-door neighbour. The husband who erected it in his garden every year has sadly passed away,’ she explains as I take the short walk to the store. ‘His wife always hated it, apparently, but endured it.’ She laughs loudly. ‘She found it clearing out the loft with her son, who didn’t want it either. He said it would give his little kids nightmares, although the kids around here always thought it was hilarious.’
‘A dancing snowman would give them nightmares?’ I ask, puzzled as I shrug off my coat.
‘Well, it does have rather angry-looking eyebrows.’ She laughs her big, contagious laugh once more, and I can’t help laughing too. ‘It looks a bit like Denis Healey, but you’re too young to remember him.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want to keep it in your street? It sounds like the local kids might be expecting it.’
‘No, my neighbour says it would remind her of her husband too much. So it’s the charity shop or somewhere that can make use of it.’
‘If it sings and dances, then why not? I think the pensioners would love that.’
‘Okay, hun, speak to you soon,’ says Sue, before hanging up.
In work, I hang my coat up then google a picture of Denis Healey, and can’t help laughing. He was once a Labour MP, apparently known for his bushy eyebrows. I really can’t wait to see this snowman and I’m so looking forward to the pensioners’ Christmas party!
Gemma and I head to the Blue Teapot for lunch and order steaming bowls of bacon and lentil soup, with sourdough bread.
‘Are you looking forward to your walk this evening?’ asks Gemma, as she half-turns around to look at a good-looking bloke heading for the exit.
‘I am actually. It might relax me a bit, and not leave time for me to do any chores that I don’t need to.’
You could eat your food off my kitchen floor, it has been scrubbed so many times lately.
‘I’m going to the cinema with someone from my yoga class to watch Barbie .’
‘How old are you exactly?’ I laugh.
‘I know, but apparently there is a lot of stuff for adults in it too, and you know I have always had a soft spot for Ryan Gosling.’
‘Now we’re getting to the real reason.’
I think of the guy in the pub the other evening, who had a look of him. But then Gemma never mentioned it, so maybe it really was the gin.
‘It makes a change, doesn’t it? We don’t exactly have a lot of choices of things to do in Fellview.’
‘That’s true enough. Have you ever thought about moving somewhere a bit livelier?’
‘I did consider to moving to Carlisle once, but, well, I kind of love it here. In the summer months I can’t think of anywhere more beautiful,’ she says, taking a sip of her latte. ‘And my best friend lives here, so I think I would miss her a little too much.’ She winks.
Gemma, being a bit of a social butterfly, has many people she can do things with, but is a bit like me in that she only has one or two that you might call real friends. The type you could land on their doorstep any time of the day or night if you needed to.
‘Right, that’s lunch over.’ I glance at my watch. ‘Back to work then, let’s see what the afternoon brings.’
I still feel a little guilty about turning Eileen’s dinner invitation down, so fill a little velvet pouch with some samples from work that include a mini lavender pillow spray and some bath foam. I knock on her door when I arrive home.
‘Lauren, good timing. I’ve popped the kettle on.’ She smiles broadly as she opens the front door.
‘Much as I would like to, I can’t really stop as I have an evening out planned,’ I remind her. ‘I just came to give you these.’
‘Oh gosh, of course, you did tell me you were busy this evening, what am I like?’ She rolls her eyes and laughs.
She invites me inside for a minute as she opens the purple velour pouch.
‘Oh, how lovely, Lauren, you shouldn’t have!’ she says as she examines the contents. ‘Sleep spray, hey? That might be a good thing as I haven’t slept properly since Geoff died,’ she tells me, her eyes filling with tears.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I say gently. ‘Actually, do you have a mobile phone?’ I ask.
‘I do, although I don’t get many calls. Why do you ask?’
‘There’s a sleep app I can download for you, if you like. It always helps me to drift off if I’m overtired or if my mind won’t switch off.’
‘Along with the pillow spray? You might have to knock and wake me up in the morning,’ she jokes.
Sod it. Maybe I don’t have to change my bedding before I head out for the evening.
‘Go on, I’ll have that cuppa.’ I smile as Eileen invites me to the lounge.
The room is neat as a pin with a pink sofa and matching curtains. The main wall is covered with photos of her family, who she doesn’t see too often as they live down south.
An artificial tree stands in the corner decorated with multicoloured fairy lights and reminds me so much of the one in the house when Gran was alive, it brings a lump to my throat.
She soon returns from the kitchen and sets down a tray with a pot of tea, two cups, and a plate of shortbread. I sip the tea, but politely decline the shortbread, as I have baked a cake to enjoy later with the walking group. With a naturally sweet tooth I do have to watch my sugar intake, which is why I tend to bake cakes for other people to enjoy.
We chat for fifteen minutes, as she asks me about my day, and I ask her about what she has been up to.
‘Not much. I had a stroll to the shops this morning, then I had a video chat with my grandchildren. They are teenagers now, so they will no doubt be wanting money or some electronic gadget or other for Christmas,’ she tells me. ‘I imagine you’re mad busy at this time of year in the shop.’
‘You’re not wrong. I love the buzz at Christmas time though.’
I enjoy the hustle and bustle, the faces of the excited children and the scent of the crisp, outside air every time the doors open. I don’t even mind the queues. Everyone seems in good spirits at this time of year. At least most people anyway.
‘Oh, it’s such a beautiful store. My husband used to love the café there on the second floor. I was surprised when they closed it down,’ says Eileen, taking a bite of shortbread.
The space was used to extend the floor that sells children’s clothing and toys, due to demand.
‘I know, it was a shame, although I think they had a lot of the competition from the Blue Teapot café next door.’
‘Probably. I must admit, I miss my working days sometimes,’ says Eileen with a faraway look in her eyes.
‘What did you do before you retired?’ I ask, realising I know nothing about Eileen’s previous life, only the person she is now, and even that is not on any deep, personal level.
‘Geoff and I ran a café in Kendal near the river,’ she tells me, a smile spreading across her face. ‘Christmas was magical. We had a huge tree outside and served up hot chocolate with all the trimmings and my lemon biscuits. Families would call in after a long walk,’ she recalls. ‘They were happy times.’
‘That sounds wonderful. I love working in the shop, but I could also imagine myself behind a counter serving hot drinks on freezing days to walkers. Maybe I could even bake some of the cakes.’
‘I do miss the days in the café sometimes,’ Eileen tells me. ‘I didn’t really want to retire but, to be honest, we were both worn out by the time we sold up. Growing old is such a nuisance,’ she says, and I imagine how hard it must be for those who still have an active mind, but grow tired. ‘And you could definitely serve your own cakes if you had a café, they’re wonderful,’ she says kindly.
We’re having such a pleasant conversation I have to tear myself away, and even consider not attending the walk, but I am the one that has organised it. Besides, it is always nice to make new friends. I don’t really have many, apart from Gemma, and a friend from my school days that I stay in touch with, but only meet up with occasionally since she moved out of the area. Eileen could most definitely become a friend, age being no barrier to friendships once you allow yourself to consider the possibility. I guess there are opportunities for friendships all around if we actually look for them.
‘Ooh, before I forget, I’ll get that casserole for you,’ says Eileen, getting to her feet.
She heads into the kitchen, before returning and presenting me with the food in a red earthenware dish.
‘Thank you, Eileen. I will enjoy that.’
‘No, thank you for stopping for a chat. And for the lovely gift, it was thoughtful of you.’ She smiles as she escorts me to the front door.
‘And I have your number now, so I’ll give you a little text in the morning and tell you how I slept,’ she says, holding her phone tightly in her hand.
‘Great. Thanks again, Eileen. Sweet dreams.’