The Coming of Age November Part 3

26th November. Have car serviced, as it is time to visit Mother again.

The mechanic says, ‘Oh, there’s something interesting under here. Do you want to have a look?’

‘Oh Yes,’ I say, and kneel down on the garage forecourt to peer under the car.

‘Look,’ he says, excitedly, ‘both shock absorbers have sheered right off. I’ve never seen that before. Didn’t you notice anything?’

I cannot see anything remarkable under the car. But I say ‘Gosh.’ anyway.

‘Well, it has seemed a bit bouncy,’ I say, ‘I thought the roads were bumpy.’

‘You could have had a nasty accident.’ He seems to find this prospect thrilling.

I remain kneeling on the forecourt, gazing up at him while I think how I am to rise again. I would normally go on to all fours and push my bottom up first but this is not a dignified procedure. Why can’t I remember that I am not young anymore? I now feel not only simple but decrepit into the bargain. Then I realise that there is a strapping young man to hand so I ask the mechanic to pull me up.

Oh well, at least when I visit my mother it makes me feel young again– usually about five years old.
That evening Sarah, Harriet and Alex all ring to wish me luck and send good wishes to be passed on.

27th November. I arrive at Mother’s earlier than usual because of the dark evenings. I have brought a supply of teabags with me, so can make tea. As soon as I have finished, the television goes on. Try to surreptitiously read book on knee while pretending to watch Ready Steady Cook, Countdown and Richard and Judy.

‘Why aren’t you watching?’ says Mother, accusingly.

‘I am’, I say, guiltily closing the book. I play Countdown for a bit and manage to make a few words but fail dismally on the numbers thing.

‘You could go on Countdown’, she says as usual. ‘Why don’t you? What about Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’

I can just think what Martin would say if I appeared on a television quiz show. It would be the final justification for his leaving me. I can imagine him. ‘She always did have a trivial mind, with no real appreciation of culture and the inner life.’

‘It’s very difficult to get on’, I say feebly.

After trying to understand the plots of Emmerdale, Coronation Street and something set on the moors somewhere – every character seems to have changed, if not in appearance then in motivation and situation since I last saw them in July – I am exhausted and longing for insentience.

At 10 o’clock, it is time to go to bed. I vaguely suggest I could watch the news, but no it is time for bed. Luckily I have bought a portable radio with me and I smuggle this into the bedroom and listen very quietly to The World Tonight. I can’t tell mother I have bought a radio with me as she has not listened to the radio for years and cannot imagine why anybody else would want to.

She has a lot in common with Martin I realise. As soon as the thought of Martin crosses my mind, I start to worry.

28th November. In the morning I do what I have come for, that is choose all the Christmas presents for mother to give to everyone from the Lakeland Catalogue, ring up and place the order and give Mother’s credit card number. Find some organic jellybeans for Alice and Letitia, which might satisfy Sarah as well as Mother. Then I address and sign all her Christmas cards.

I am anxiously bracing myself for a visit from toyboy Tom but mother says,

‘No, I don’t talk to him any more.’

‘What about the Disability Group? Didn’t he used to take you?’

‘I can’t be doing with any of them. I told them I didn’t like the restaurant they go to but they wouldn’t change it. Let them get on with it I say.’

We go out to lunch, with the usual manoeuvrings of the wheel chair. I do get a compliment though.

‘You are better than Maureen. She’s not careful enough with the wheelchair. I always think she’s going to tip me out.’

My cousin Maureen is a good few years older than I am.

‘She is over 70,’ I have to point this out at every visit, ‘and you are quite heavy’.

‘Humphh.’

I am very careful today. I do not want to put my back out and have to spend three months flat on it but untouchable now that I have found the lovely Actuary. I do not tell my mother about The Actuary naturally enough but go on at length about how much time my grandchildren take up. I wish I were braver.

Then I sneeze.

‘Why don’t you sneeze properly?’ she demands.

I remember that I am grown up, indeed so up, that I am almost down again.

‘There is no proper way to sneeze,’ I say boldly.

Then I wait, fearfully, expecting to be told off for bare-faced cheek. But the reprimand doesn’t come. I am surprised. Has the balance of power in our relationship shifted? Perhaps I am braver.

On my return home I sigh with relief that I haven’t had to lie about Martin’s health, whereabouts or activities as mother has not mentioned him at all.

29th November. I suddenly realise we are nearly at end of year and I still haven’t finished Moby Dick.

Eric and Nora have been on a coach trip to the Christmas markets of Germany. These trips are advertised seductively in the local paper. I have read the ads and often wondered how I could face Christmas without going on one. Eric and Nora have put my mind at rest. They spent about 27 hours in the coach; the driver didn't know where he was going and when they arrived the market had not yet properly opened. There were only a few stalls selling wreaths of plastic holly, Father Christmases with ugly faces, gnomes and bottles of unknown liqueurs. They had fours hours there which was more than enough in the circumstances, before they had to board the coach for the 27 hour journey home. It makes my visit to Mother seem positively arcadian.

30th November. Mavis tells me that the house next door but one, which has been on the market for some time, has been bought by a lone man. I instantly mentally arrange a dinner party and invite Val. Then she says that the lone man is none other than Dr Houseman. I mentally uninvite Val. Her feelings for Guy Prodger are still too raw. In spite of Jeremy who seems to have dropped into her life and straight out again like a French onion seller. Vera Buddle is incensed. According to Mavis, she is going round saying he should be horsewhipped and then be driven out of the town. Guy Prodger the wild-eyed dentist has returned to his wife, after publicly apologising for his ‘moment of madness’. Mrs Houseman is still in The Blacksmith’s Arms.