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CHAPTER ONE

I realise that almost two years seemed to have rushed by since I last wrote of my beloved father, Len. As I gaze on this frail, dear gentleman, I constantly pose the question, ‘am I crying for me?’ Then I begin to wonder how this dreadful situation came about and ask myself if I’m going mad, or is the rest of the world totally crazy?

Time and again, I have shed bitter tears of resentment as I witness the dreadful state of health that Len is certainly not enjoying. My frustration seems to equate with how he had once been, my mind haunting me with the dignity that he alone seemed to possess.

My husband, John and son, Steve, are still playing a vital role in supporting me and our daughters, Debbie and Mandy, visit whenever possible. Sadly, there is no joy in our visits, just hurt and complete bewilderment as to how someone can exist in such a sorry state – again, superb nursing must be the ultimate answer.

Although sadness lurks like a shadow of gloom, as I said before, there is a bright side to everything, it just seems hard to find at times. Many exciting things have happened to us since I last wrote of Len and his dreadful predicament and I can now pick up at the end of ‘You’ve been wonderful to your father’.

**

That Wednesday, after a truly successful day, Mike, my stepbrother, drove John and I back to our flat in Bedfont and as we left him, we promised to keep him informed. Once inside, John and I both felt a strong resolve to keep cheerful and look forward with hope, to the day we may be offered our desperately needed move.

Steve had apparently rung the council constantly, but nothing seemed to be on the immediate horizon. Debbie and Mandy weren’t too happy about our moving away from them, but both realised that not only did we need to be near to Len, but John’s health was becoming worse and he needed to be away from the stairs.

Friday morning arrived and so did the post. There was a letter from the Dover Council and we both just stared at each other. Then, with shaking hands, somehow ripped open the envelope and gazed with disbelief at the contents. I think we read it several times before it finally sunk in. The offer was for a one bedroom bungalow in the heart of a country village in Kent.

We gripped each other as excitement and worry seemed to fill us at one and the same time. The letter also contained a warning, ‘should we turn down this one and only offer – we would return to the bottom of the list’.

Stunned with disbelief, I looked at John and noticed he had become pale with sudden indecision. I knew this was everything we had hope for, although I hadn’t a clue as to where the place was and frantically tried to get hold of Steve.

I knew he would ring at lunch time with the daily report on his beloved Gramps and we would have to reconcile ourselves to waiting. Needless to say, nothing in our home was accomplished that morning, we were too excited, worried, and indeed shocked that at long last we had heard something.

Eventually the ‘phone did ring and after I listened carefully to the bulletin on Len, I simply burst out, ‘We’ve been offered a place to view. Do you know where it is? Will you go and see it for us?”

“Calm down, Mum. Of course I’ll go and find it. Is Dad alright?”

His voice was firm and strong as usual, but I had a sneaky feeling that he knew something was in the air and promised myself to challenge this ultimately. Meanwhile there were far more pressing questions to be answered. Several emotions gripped me as I gasped, “Steve, can you go now? I mean, Dad is a bundle of worry and I’m not far behind!”

“Yeh, of course I’ll go now. Mind you, I haven’t a clue where it is. I’ll ring as soon as I’ve seen the place – if I ever find it. Take care!”

He was gone and John stared at me enquiringly, “Well, does he know the area? Is he going to ring back?”

It was then I realised how desperate my poor husband was to be settled and my heart went out to him. Being a typical Taurean, hating change, yet knowing it was inevitable, I knew it was up to me to make this sound more like a holiday than a new way of life.

My own mind was in turmoil as I said, “John, I think we should take whatever we are given. I mean, unless the area is absolutely ghastly, we can always put down for a transfer after a year or so. The main thing is to get down there and be near to Dad, especially if the place has a garden for you!”

I realised I had spoken hastily, almost as if trying to reassure myself as well. He smiled slightly, “I was thinking more or less the same. It could mean two moves though, golly, I wish he’d hurry up and ring!”

“He’s only just set off and his helicopter is in for service.” I teased, knowing this was probably one of the longest waits we would have to endure.

John was busily paging through several maps to try and find the place, but to no avail. I decided to warn our daughters and hopefully gain some sort of reaction. Although neither was happy about our leaving, both ultimately agreed that unless the place was hopelessly derelict, we should take a chance. We all knew that Steve would be more than truthful with his impending report.

Finally the ‘phone did ring. My hand seemed to come alight when I heard our son’s voice. “Mum, there is good and bad, but the area seems really lovely, it is certainly pretty and apparently quiet!”

“Tell us the bad?” I gasped as John joined me to listen.

“It’s very small and I mean, very, very small. The lady on the end allowed me in to have a quick look round. At least they seem friendly and I think we can make it look great!”

His voice filled with emotion as his dearest wish was for us to be nearby, if only to help him with Len. John then boomed, “What’s good then?”

Steve would have made an excellent salesman, he knew exactly how to ice the wretched cake. Everyone knew of my dread of trying to find a parking space and Steve added, “There’s a place to park, right outside the bungalow. There is a huge garden – wants doing up a bit, but won’t take long. Mum, I can really see you and Dad in there!”

John’s head nodded as he asked, “Will our furniture fit in?”

A slight little cough from Steve indicated it would not as he added, “There’s a big shed outside, we could do that up, lay some carpet and turn it into a study or something. That would take the overflow!”

A deafening silence seemed to hang in the air. Finally, John gulped, “When can we see it then?”

I knew we had to make up our minds and Steve obviously had the same idea, “I could pop down to the council and get the keys, but you will have to ring them and give permission. If you decide to take it, my mates and I will work solidly over the weekend and I will come and get you as pre-arranged, on Wednesday. At least you’ll see it at its best!”

“It’s a hell of an ask, son. I mean are you sure your mates will be available?” I choked.

“Yeh, it won’t take long and I can still slip away and see Gramps!”

Seconds later, and swayed by Steve’s enthusiasm, John and I made the decision that was to become a new and exciting way of life for us, but it wouldn’t make much difference to Len, he was still desperately ill, yet at least we would be close at hand and hopefully in a position to offer some comfort to him, especially should another dreadful warning become imminent.

**

Steve swiftly discussed the impending move with us and I challenged him, “You knew about this offer, didn’t you?”

“I knew there was to be an offer, but needed to be sure what and where it was,” he chuckled and added, “Now ring the council and make sure I can get the keys!”

Debbie and Mandy would help us to pack – no turning back now, I thought as we had accepted the place. It was apparently only four miles from the dear little home where my beloved father now dwelt and seven miles from the home of our son and his family.

I must admit it seemed an eternity as we waited for Wednesday to arrive. Steve was rushed off his feet and never missed a visit to Len as he hastily issued the daily bulletins and I knew he needed some relief as well.

When he did arrive, we had two short days in which to choose carpets and arrange for all the other details that crop up when moving house. We decided, or rather Steve decided that the sooner we did move, the better and I had to agree. John was now dreadfully restless, excited, worried and filled with frustrated indecisions. Although we tried for the Monday after our visit, Saturday seemed far more appropriate and again my mind screamed ‘Saturday’ as I tried desperately to lay to rest, my fears of that particular day.

The drive down was pleasant as we tried to joke and make light of the situation, but I was quite worried about John, he loved to be involved, yet his health wouldn’t permit him to do just what he wanted and consequently he would become irritable. I knew this put added pressure on Steve, but he drove along happily and came out with the odd quip to keep us cheerful.

When we arrived in Sheperdswell, our first stop was to visit Len. He did seem to recognise us and we tried to share our latest news with him. Although a slight interest appeared to flicker, it was clear he didn’t understand what was happening. I was thinking the news of our impending nearness, would reach parts that medication couldn’t – typical cock-eyed optimist.

Even as Steve helped Len with his lunch, I could sense the dreadful unrest in John, he was desperate to see our new home and I must admit, so was I. Looking at the tired, old, treasured gentleman that was my father, I tried to reassure myself that life would be easier for us all, once the move was over and then realised ‘over’ was certainly the operative word.

Tiredness, sadness, excitement mingled as we climbed back into the car and Steve drove down seemingly endless country roads. Finally, he pulled up and we saw the tiny bungalow, it was the last one in a row of four. A quick look around us and we sensed the people here would be very nice, there was a definite air of peace about the area as we finally entered what was to be our new home.

Anxiety and hope seemed to register in Steve’s face. The whole place had been decorated as promised and looked beautifully clean, but it was small and I knew certain articles of our furniture wouldn’t begin to fit in. The shed would certainly have to take a lot of overload. John was more interested in the garden as Steve and I tried desperately to see how we would fit everything in. I think we had more measurements and pieces of paper than any architects’ office.

Just inside of the front door was a small hall, a coal shed led from there and the lads had even scrubbed and painted it – a little office for me and several huge lumps landed into my throat as I gazed in wonder, at the sheer volume of work that had been completed.

There was still much more to do and even after we had ordered everything, Steve would make sure carpets etc., would be fitted and ready for us to move directly into. It was then we all agreed that the following Saturday would have to be a better day. Adrian was off and as always had offered to help us. And Len still needed regular visits and reassurance, once again, the honours would fall on Steve.

As we all had a meal that evening, Karen was almost as excited as we were, realising just how much we had accomplished and promised to help in any way she could. She was sure we would be happy and probably thought she would see more of her husband, once we were able to relieve him of so much responsibility where Len was concerned. Nevertheless, they all loved that beloved old gentleman and seemed to suffer pangs of his own helplessness and this obviously warmed my heart.

Thursday morning saw us choosing various items for delivery as we now thanked God for the homework we had worked so hard on, there was so much expense in spite of all the help. We then rushed back to give Len his lunch and he did seem a little more alert as he ate everything on his plate and probably wondered why we were in some sort of hurry.

Even as we did rush back to the bungalow, we realised just how near to Len we would be and this gave us a tremendous boost. For the first time, we met one of our neighbour’s relatives and they called out in greeting. Somehow, we knew, we would learn to be very happy here.

Friday morning, we made a brief visit to Len and then it was time to get back to Bedfont, back to that wretched front door that had once belonged to my beloved father. Steve would have to leave almost immediately and when I thought of all he had to do, I wondered he wasn’t sick with worry, but he was happy and just like his grandfather, loved to be involved and helping.

Debbie and Mandy came down over the next couple of days and teased John unmercifully, he is a dreadful hoarder and they giggled helplessly as we tried desperately to throw useless articles away, whilst praying he didn’t notice and retrieve them. Even now, he will sometimes ask where some item or other went, but space was sparse to say the least.

Although there was a sadness about the move for them, they did throw themselves completely into the task. They almost felt as bad as I did about the door that faced ours and I knew they missed their beloved grandfather. We even reflected on when we had moved him in, but ended up with heavily watering eyes and I knew the move would be a boon for all of us. I had to admit that a nice couple had moved in, but it wasn’t Len and I knew that it would haunt me forever.

With an almost eerie feeling, I realised that my daughters would never visit our drive again after our departure and my heart went out to them, but my husband needed this move and my father was already at the other end. I knew Mandy would miss us more than anyone, she was, after all, our baby.

Eventually, everything barring the kitchen sink was packed. Debbie suggested that she would have Mandy’s two younger children, this would enable her and Adrian to move down with us and help us to put the bungalow into some semblance of order, they are both born homemakers. Andrew, their eldest son would also come along and help with the lifting.

There had been so much to get through, but we had done it along with a daily report from Steve as to Len’s condition and progress on the bungalow. By Friday, John was a bundle of exasperating restlessness and not eating properly, again a rare situation for him and exceedingly worrying for me. I was severely grateful that our son would be up first thing in the morning.

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