Chapter 4
The next day, it was a sunshine and showers kind of morning.
Cath had already done a spot of weeding around the bluebells and primulas that had burst into life in the small garden area to the front of the cottage, and with no tuition booked until late afternoon, she decided to take a drive out to make her weekly visit to the care home in the nearby town of Kirkton.
Working in the garden always made her think of elderly Reggie, the cottage’s previous owner, who’d evidently toiled away, nurturing the plants and shrubs here.
There was a pot of bold-pink tulips stood in welcome at the side of her front steps; the ones he’d planted just before he’d had to leave.
One fall too many meant that he was no longer able to care for himself or the house and garden, which he’d loved so much.
Cath got into her racing-green Mini Countryman and set off, driving past the village stores and on through the short main street of Tilldale with its pretty stone cottages, heading out and on through winding countryside roads towards the hills.
Mid-April sunshine was peeking out from behind bulbous clouds.
The hawthorn hedgerows were now bursting into life, with a sprinkling of delicate white blossom.
Sparrows and finches, busy darting in and out of their hedgerow nests, were adept at skilfully negotiating the sharp thorns.
A huge blue tractor was trundling, ploughing the rich brown earth in a field beside the road, a flock of seagulls swirling eagerly behind it, ready to settle in its ridged-mud wake and peck up the worms.
Kirkton was a small, traditional market town, nestled in the valley at the base of the rolling, predominately moorland Cheviot Hills.
It was a town very much at the heart of its rural farming community with its sheep and cattle mart, a couple of small supermarkets, butcher’s shop, cafés, hardware store, three pubs, and one remaining bank left on the high street.
The care home for the elderly was set on the outskirts of the town, bordering green country fields.
Cath had first visited the home last summer, when she’d helped out Andreas by visiting his frail-in-body but sharp-minded mother, Maria, when he and Dan had needed to spend a few days away.
Though going into a home could be a tricky time for the aged and their families, Cath felt this was a truly lovely place to while away your latter years.
It had once been a vicarage, and had been extended.
The rooms were large and airy with high ceilings.
The staff were evidently kind, and there was an interesting array of characters in residence, whom she was getting to know, one by one.
The day room seemed to hold a world of varying life experiences between its walls.
She’d recently volunteered as a ‘friend of the home’, and enjoyed her regular visits, aiming to get there most weeks, and taking turns to chat with the various residents.
She tried her best to share her time fairly, but had to admit she always loved her chats with Reggie.
Since meeting Reggie, Cath had felt like she’d become the cottage’s custodian, taking on the legacy of the little house and its pretty garden with its flower and shrub borders and small vegetable patch, all planted by Reggie many years ago.
The cosy kitchen had been his late wife Elsie’s domain, she’d learned, and Cath still sensed her and Reggie’s light and warmth through the house.
As soon as she’d walked in for the viewing, the cosy cottage had had a wonderful feel about the place.
After Elsie’s passing, living there on his own those later years, Reggie had done his best to keep it all going.
Now, Cath was buzzed in through the front doors of the home. A vase of cheerful yellow, pink and white chrysanthemums, set on an elegant dark-wood table, made the reception area feel welcoming. The staff knew Cath well by now, and carer Linda nodded for her to go on through to the day room.
‘Hello, everyone!’ Cath gave a warm smile and waved to the twelve or so residents who were sitting in the room.
She spotted Joan, who’d lifted her bowed head to smile and wave across at her.
She’d been a Land Army girl, drafted up from Newcastle-upon-Tyne to the Northumberland countryside, and her stories from her Second World War days were always fascinating, though she often struggled to remember what she’d had for breakfast. It was obvious the elderly lady was looking for a bit of company.
Cath headed over. ‘Hi, Joan, and how are you today?’
‘Oh, doing fair, pet. Nothing to grumble about. And it’s lovely to see you.’
Cath was soon settled in the empty wingback chair beside her, and hearing all about her past, shawing turnips, backbreaking work by the sound of it, and then found herself smiling along with Joan who was remembering the fun they’d had dancing at the nearby RAF base in Milfield.
After half an hour of chat, with Joan becoming tired, Cath moved on to sit next to Reggie.
He was dressed smartly in grey flannel trousers and a checked shirt.
He’d given a broad smile and a nod as Cath had come in, and had then continued reading the local newspaper, The Northumberland Gazette, whilst Cath was busy chatting.
‘Ah, dear Cath, wonderful to see you.’ His blue eyes twinkled as she approached.
‘You, too. And how are you today, Reggie?’
‘I’m grand. All the better for seeing you. And how’s the old girl? Not causing you any bother?’ Reggie asked.
The ‘old girl’ was in fact his cottage, as Cath had come to learn rather cryptically on one of her earlier visits.
‘Yes, all’s well at the house. She’s looking after me. And your garden is bursting into life. The pink tulips by the door are blooming, and the daffodils and bluebells have been gorgeous this spring.’
‘Well, it’s good to hear all that hard work hasn’t gone to waste.’ He gave a grin. ‘Now then, be sure not to cut the grass too soon over the daffodils. Let them die back naturally. Knot the leaves into a twist, if you like, that’ll keep them tidy.’
‘Will do.’ She gave an ‘aye aye, Captain’ style salute.
‘And how’s that young man of yours?’ Reggie asked kindly.
‘Ahm, Will’s good, thanks.’ She had to smile, only an eighty-eight-year-old would call Will ‘a young man’. Like her, Will was in his early fifties.
‘Will, that’s it. Nice chap, I remember him well from the village. Fireman, he was. So very sad about his wife, and the girls … they were all so young when it happened. Such a terrible illness, cancer. Doesn’t matter if you’re young or old …’ He gave a sigh.
‘I know. It’s awfully sad.’ Life, and death, could be so precarious, thought Cath.
‘And here we all are.’ Reggie glanced around the room, his eye snagging on the wall clock. ‘Biding away our time. Watching the clock tick by.’ The irony, the randomness of it all, apparent.
‘But that’s why we shouldn’t waste it. Any of it,’ Cath responded, as Reggie nodded in agreement.
Jane, Will’s late wife, was several years younger than Cath was now, when she’d passed away.
Will had shared some of the struggles they’d gone through facing her devastating illness, and eventually her death.
He was, of course, still left reeling from it all.
The world could seem so cruel, at times.
‘Well, then, pet. I’m glad he’s found some love again.’ Reggie lifted the conversation. ‘You’re a good girl, too. You’ll be just the tonic he needs. We all need a little joy in our lives, after all.’
‘We do indeed. Thanks, Reggie.’
‘Right, well no use us sitting here getting all morose,’ he added, his eyes giving their usual twinkle. ‘Let’s get the teas in. Where’s that lovely Linda when you need her?’
Cath was sure that Linda, the care assistant, would have plenty enough to do.
‘I’ll go and fetch us one.’ She knew the care home set-up quite well by now, and was familiar with the little kitchen area that the more able residents and their guests were welcome to use.
As she stood up, ready for her tea-making mission, she called out, ‘Anyone else for a cup of tea?’ Several frail hands went up, along with a few cries of ‘Yes, please.’
‘Oh, and don’t forget the custard creams, lass.’ Reggie gave a cheeky wink. Despite the rather sad start to the conversation today, it was great to see that his spark was in no way diminished.
With tea and biscuits duly served, Cath settled down to chat with Reggie once more.
‘Oh, this is nice.’ He gave a gentle smile as he tucked into a biscuit.
‘Nothing like those gorgeous buttery mince pies at the Christmas do, though. Ah, what a day that was. We’re still all talking about it here, the food …
the dancing. Magical, it was, lass.’ His smile had broadened and his eyes held a nostalgic sparkle.
‘Be wonderful to have something like that again. A proper get-together, and a trip out for us lot. We need a bit of waking up and shaking up, at times.’
‘It was a really special day,’ Cath reminisced.
She, the supper club gang and a host of village helpers had put on a big Christmas lunch bash, with turkey, trimmings and all the works.
The village hall had been renovated for the cause, and they’d managed to turn it into a real winter wonderland.
But it had also been a huge, snowballing project, and had been a ton of work.
‘Well, let me have a think on it, Reggie. No promises, but I’ll see what me and the village gang might come up with. ’
She didn’t particularly want to commit to another huge project.
At the time, she’d very much needed something else to focus on and distract her, but now that she had Will in her life, and she’d managed to build her tuition business, plus helping out occasionally in the village stores, she was plenty busy enough.
She very much needed the funds from this extra work too, to support her new cottage and the ongoing costs of solo living.
Her post-divorce savings had started to dwindle.
Whilst she’d loved putting on the festive event, it had taken a hell of a lot of organising and energy, which had in turn taken a lot out of her.
But it did sound lovely … another event.
As long as she didn’t jump in feet first, biting off more than she could chew.
She’d have a chat about it with her supper group team.
Without their input and support, a further social function would be a non-starter, anyhow.
But her mind was already beginning to mull with the seeds of something.
With only twenty minutes left of her visit, and Cath aware that the home’s lunch preparations would soon be started, she made her farewells to Reggie, and moved on once more.
It was a bit like playing musical chairs to cheer up the guests.
‘Morning, Betty.’ The elderly lady was positioned just a few seats along, and Cath took up the chair next to her.
She had thick white hair and vivid blue eyes.
She was always well groomed, with her hair neatly styled, her floral lilac dress teamed with a jacket-style cream cardigan.
She had a touch of glamour even in her late eighties.
‘Good morning, Cath.’
She loved to talk about her family, and the latest antics and achievements of her many grandchildren, proceeding to tell Cath about her grandson who had secured a new job over in Zurich with his accounting office.
Whilst being naturally disappointed that she might not get to see him quite so often, Cath could hear the tone of pride in her voice.
‘It’s lovely to hear of the young ones doing well. ’
‘Oh, yes, and he’s done brilliantly,’ agreed Cath. ‘What an experience for him. A whole new culture and lifestyle.’
‘Yes, pet. There are so many stories of doom and gloom these days. You almost don’t want to see the news. But there are so many other any stories they don’t tell, the happy ones, the successful ones. The younger generation are not the lost cause that they often make out. It does make me cross.’
‘Very true.’ Over her years of teaching Cath had seen the good, and of course, sometimes the bad.
She’d felt she’d played a crucial part in those young people’s development, in encouraging many and varied talents, hopes and dreams. It was a constant source of pride for her, too.
‘We need to inspire the younger generation, not slam them down.’
‘And I so loved meeting young Lily – well, all of you – at your wonderful Christmas lunch. Oh, and the kind gifts the Brownies had made; I still look at my sweet little wooden robin. He’s perched on the dressing table in my room.
Oh, when will you be having one of those lovely dos again in the village?
’ asked Betty, smiling hopefully, from her wingback chair.
‘Ah yes, that was a grand day, that was,’ agreed Reggie loudly, with a big cheesy smile on his face – he’d clearly been earwigging.
With that, a sudden chorus broke out from around the day room, like a flock of birds twittering to life. Dozing heads lifted, and eyes shone, as though everyone had suddenly perked up at the memory.
‘Eeh, I loved the dancing,’ said Edna. ‘Took me right back.’
‘And singing along with the carols …’ added Peter.
‘And all that bloomin’ marvellous food …’ said Reggie with glee.
‘Such a delightful day,’ added Betty warmly.
The Christmas lunch event had been fabulous.
Cath thought back, still amazed at how they’d managed to convert the run-down Tilldale Village Hall into a magical festive venue in a mere matter of weeks.
But it had taken a huge amount of organising and hard work to pull it off, though it had been so worthwhile seeing all the happy faces there.
She’d definitely have a chat with the gang and see what they might come up with. Perhaps something lower key organisation-wise, but it would be nice to use the newly renovated village hall once more. She smiled, any excuse for another get-together with her lovely supper group.
‘Okay, well, leave it with me, folks. No promises, but I will have a think on it.’ She mustn’t get carried away, she warned herself.
But there was a sea of frail, and very hopeful, faces sat before her. Oh dammit, her heart was melting just looking at them, and she was already excited at the prospect of another community event.