Tom closed the door behind him and stood his stick next to the brolly.
‘Only me’, he called and headed for the loo.
The house was quiet.
‘That hill’ll be the death of me!’
He went into the living-room and slumped into his chair, next to hers.
‘I’ll have to have five.’
He looked automatically at the clock breaking a line of family photos on the mantelpiece.
‘Oh, I must have dozed off.’ He’d had twenty-five.
‘Let’s have a cuppa, eh?’
He slowly got out of his chair and made his way through to the kitchen.
‘Same as usual?…..I thought so.’
A few minutes later, he was back with his ‘Keep Calm’ tray carrying two mugs and half a packet of Hobnobs.
‘These’ll tide us over till dinner-time.’
He leant forward and picked up the paper. There was nothing he liked better than tackling the cryptic with his cuppa.
‘Here’s a short one for you. “Pursue hospital in legal matter”. Five letters, staring with ‘c’, ending with ‘e’. What can we make of that, then? I’ll leave you with that one and I’ll try another.’
Tom solved a few whilst sipping his tea and smiled at the photos. Adam had bought him a crossword compendium for his last birthday, but it wasn’t the same as the newspaper ones, somehow. Mind you, he was still using the rubber-tipped pencils Hannah had got him a few Christmases back.
‘Oh, and your middle letter’s an ‘a’. So that’s C_A_E. Must be ‘chase’. Yeh, that’s it. ‘Case’ with an aitch in it, meaning ‘pursue’. Clever clogs, aren’t we?’
Tom got up, loaded his tray and padded back to the kitchen.
‘I’m going to have a little read in the conservatory and watch the grass grow.’
Tom wasn’t one for gardening. That had always been Shirley’s speciality, but he liked looking at it, if not weeding it. There were two novels on the coffee table—Shirley’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and his Ian Rankin thriller. Shirley was the real brains in the family. He just wanted ‘a good read’. He read for an hour, but then lost concentration and stared out of the window, enjoying the flowers Shirley had planted last year. Suddenly a deep rumble in his stomach reminded him of dinner.
Back in the kitchen, he called out ‘I’ll start getting some fodder. You must be getting a mite peckish by now. Fancy a spot of salmon?’
Tom was no cook but he reckoned he was a decent ‘steamer’. He put a pan of water on to boil and fetched the vegetables from the ‘futility room’, as Shirley called it. He then set about scrubbing potatoes, chopping carrots and preparing sprouts. Fiddly things! Still, they were Shirley’s favourite. He put the potatoes in first, then went back to the living-room.
‘We’re missing ‘Pointless’! Good heavens! This won’t do, will it, old girl?’
He finally found the remote and brought up the smiling features of Alexander Armstrong.
‘It’s the Head to Head already. Right, what’s this question? Capital of Malaysia? Oh, we know that, Shirl’. We had a stop-over there on the way to Hannah in Brisbane. What did you use to call it? Koala Lumpy? You carry on watching, while I put the veg on.’
Tom checked the spuds were softening up and added the carrots and sprouts. He then went into the dining-room and lifted the plates and glasses out of the cupboard and took the everyday cutlery from the drawer. After he’d set the table, in the same two positions as always, he got back in front of the box just in time for the jackpot.
‘Five thousand pounds! Blimey! What would we do with that, Shirl’? I know! Give it to the grandchildren! I can read your mind! They look a nice young couple, don’t they. Takes you back, doesn’t it? Fifty years this September……I’ll…..I’ll go and dish up.’
The veg was doing nicely. He popped the salmon under, not over them and poured himself a beer and Shirley her elderflower cordial.
‘Grub up! Don’t let it go cold after I’ve been slaving over a hot stove for hours!’
The meal was so-so. A tasty sauce would have improved it but Tom wasn’t into recipes and culinary niceties.
After dinner, the evening was spent triumphantly finishing the crossword, reading the next few chapters of his Rankin, watching a medical documentary and snoozing to the relaxing tunes of Classic FM. Tom woke with a start during ‘The Lark Ascending’. They’d once heard the ‘Jaws’ theme on Film Night and Shirley had re-Christened it ‘The Shark Ascending’. Typical!
‘Well, if I’m going to sleep, I may as well be in bed.’
He looked at the time on the clock and dragged himself to his feet. At the mantelpiece he picked up a photo and kissed it before putting it back with the rest. He crossed the room to the door and turned again.
‘See you in the morning, my love’, he croaked and switched off the light.
This story was written in response to a neighbour’s embarrassment when telling me that she still talked to her deceased husband. I hope this piece will help to convince her and many others like her that it’s perfectly normal.
Our loved ones are still with us. We no longer see them but we know they’d be interested in what we have to say. Keep talking!
By Ian Gray
