Getting The Picture (13 page)

‘I could have been a secretary,' I told him. Because I could, if Mother hadn't thought it not a suitable job for girls, and then of course Graham didn't want any wife of his working. I thought how Sophi would laugh if I told her that.

‘You would have been an excellent one,' George said. ‘Some people have a natural flair for order.' And then we arranged a time for another chat about money. A natural flair. I liked that.

Anyway, I went into town with Helen and Lady F this afternoon and have got myself a new red coat for our Bournemouth adventure. Can you see me in it? I was going to go for a beige anorak like normal, but then I was thinking about you and me and us wearing trousers, and I thought, why not? The shop assistant wasn't sure. ‘It's very bright,' she said, but I asked her if she would wear it, and she said yes, so I said, ‘Well, why should young people be the ones to have all the fun?' She had nothing to reply to that. Nor did Helen and Lady F when I turned up at the bus stop wearing it. You should have seen their faces.

I am blossoming, Lizzie. It's only taken seventy nine bloody years but it feels good. I miss Martin, though. I got him some oranges in town. I'll take them to him after I've popped this in the letterbox. Young Robyn was here earlier with a note for him. It's just as I told you. All children love Martin. It's as if he can enter their world.

Well, I hope Amy doesn't catch another cold after falling in the river. And her not being able to swim either. Well, at least Troy jumped in and rescued her, and although I'm pleased the water was only knee-high, I can imagine how worried you all were. It doesn't sound like my idea of a fun afternoon at all. There is absolutely no need for us to go on a boat trip in Bournemouth. We shall stay firmly on dry land.

Yours aye,

Flo

97.
letter to robyn griffiths from martin morris

Dear Robyn,

Thank you for the note. I am obviously upset that you don't feel our extra tuition time is necessary anymore but you need to think of your mother in these situations. She has told me several times how happy it makes her that you are learning the same poems her own mother loved. And you are the only one who can really look after her at the moment, aren't you?

I don't think it would be best for you to have your poems and stories back either. Although you say that you are now determined to write more nature poems, I would hate for the pieces you wrote about The Pilgrims to be found by unsympathetic readers. Non-writers, such as your mother, could easily misinterpret the exercises you carried out and take offence. I am sure the last thing either of us would want to do is to cause unnecessary anguish. Why don't I continue to look after them for the time being, and we can discuss what we should do when I come around for our usual meeting next week? I will be back in fighting form by then.

In the meantime, do look after yourself,

Martin

98.
letter from martin morris to mo griffiths

Dear Mo,

So I have around my chair a number of things that have an association with you: that photograph of you taken at my studio, your copy of
The Mayor of Casterbridge
, a book of John Clare's poems that Robyn and I have been reading and which you always loved, the packet of cornflower seeds stolen from your husband's room and that he has told me since were your favourite flowers, which is why he's upset to have lost them.

It still seems a poor recompense for what you took from me. My own daughter.

But at least this is one thing I am not too late for. You see, the other thing I have in front of me is a letter to your granddaughter. What if I were to put the wrong letter in the wrong envelope and sent Robyn this one instead? It would be such an easy mistake to make and young Robyn would be sure to ask questions. And one thing will lead to another and the truth will come out. To think for all those years I thought I had no power over you, or what we were doing.

M

99.
note from brenda lewis to steve jenkins (attached to letter 90)

Dear Steve,

George has written this letter about a Residents Committee. Could you organize something just to keep him quiet? I've attached it.

Thanks,

Brenda

100.
letter from florence oliver to lizzie corn

Dear Lizzie,

No, I am not sure how I would get on with meditating either, although I can see it's nice to sit still and have the kiddies quiet for a bit. You'll have to teach me in Bournemouth, although maybe you'll need a bit of a rest by then. Troy does seem a whirlwind. I bet you wonder what he'll have you doing next.

We are in our own little whirlwind here. ‘You're very popular all of a sudden,' Beth Carter said the other day. She has a bit more time to herself now that Keith has taken up translating
The Odyssey
from the original into English. ‘Does he know ancient Greek?' I asked Beth, but she said no. He's going through it word by word from an old dictionary he got from a secondhand bookshop apparently. She doesn't care because it takes up all his energy and he spends less time fussing over her. Which is why she has time to notice things like how Martin, George, and I have become quite a little threesome.

So everyone is happy although when Keith spreads his books out in the sitting room and hushes us, I can tell it annoys George.

Well, everything annoys him really. Apart from Martin. ‘Are we still up for the seduction then?' I asked Martin the other day, and he said perhaps we'd better put it on hold for the moment because of this Residents Committee. But it's as if Martin's taken the job over for himself. They're always in corners having deep chats, and the other night they went off to the pub together without telling me.

‘What about my photos?' I asked Martin, not so much because I wanted them as I wanted to be part of it all again.

‘We'll do those soon,' he said.

But I don't know. Tonight, when the woman from the grocers came to talk about foreign food, I went over to sit with Catherine and Helen on purpose. ‘Look what the cat's brought in. We're very honoured, I'm sure,' Helen said, but I bit my tongue. It was only when the woman's wig started to slip and you could see her bald patch that I looked around at where George and Martin were sitting. Martin was open-mouthed, not from the bald patch but as if learning about different cheeses in France was all he ever wanted to know about. Even when the woman passed around this plate of cheese that smelled like Graham's armpits after he'd been on the parade ground, Martin took two chunks.

‘This is definitely what they eat in France,' he asked, and when the woman nodded he crammed them into his mouth.

‘How soon is soon?' I'd wanted to ask Martin, but of course I didn't. Graham taught me the importance of waiting.

And then afterward, when Brenda was taking the cheese woman out, Annabel Armstrong stood up and walked into the middle of our circle of chairs. She's been less herself recently even more than usual, but there was no need for Helen to mock. ‘Aye, aye,' she said, ‘here's the cabaret. More virgins, I expect.'

Annabel curtseyed then, held her dress out around her and started to sing. It was a thin warble that felt like you wanted to turn the radio up to hear properly. ‘Daisy, daisy, give me your answer do...'

And of course Helen had to join in. ‘I'm half crazy.' She was winking at us as she sang. She's been unbearable since palling up with Catherine, but to give Lady F her credit, she hushed Helen.

Annabel's little face was all flushed, and she put her hand up to her heart.

‘All for the love of you,' she warbled, and then blow me down but Martin didn't join in. ‘I can't afford a carriage,' he sang and because he didn't seem to be teasing her, the rest of us joined in too. ‘But you'll look sweet, upon the seat...'

And at the end, when we all bellowed out together, ‘...made for two', Annabel curtseyed again before going up to Martin.

‘Thief,' she said, and then she walked out of the room.

I was as quiet as the rest of them then, not sure what had happened, but before anyone could say anything, Brenda bustled back.

‘Well, that was a very nice talk,' she said. ‘So interesting.' We were still looking at each other, a bit shell-shocked. ‘I do believe she's tired you all out,' Brenda said.

For some reason, I looked at George.
I'll punch you if you say anything about Annabel
, I was thinking. But he just shook his head. ‘She was very stimulating,' he said. ‘And now it's up the rolling hills of Bedfordshire for me.' And we all got up and left, although Brenda said she was planning to make us an extra cup of good British tea as a treat. She doesn't always let us drink tea so near bedtime but I suppose she felt a bit put out by the speaker's comment that French coffee was better.

But now I'm sitting here writing this, and I wonder why George didn't say anything because it wasn't like him not to spill the beans on anything out of the ordinary. It's a mystery, and you know me and mysteries, Lizzie. I need to find a way of getting to the bottom of it all.

Yours aye,

Flo

101.
letter from martin morris to mo griffiths

Dear Mo,

I went out and planted your cornflower seeds today. There's a spot around a bench here that I think you would like. I nearly toppled over when I was leaning forward to make sure they were pushed in properly. It's one of the perils of getting old. You lose your sense of balance and forget how far you can go before you won't be able to get back again.

Robyn and I are back in our old routine. She's a good girl, just wants to please her mother. I'm not sure I can teach her much more so she mostly works away on her own, while I look through Nell's things. Of course, I never sent her your letter, Mo, but I did ask her about you the other day. She didn't want to tell me at first, but I started talking about those funny poems she wrote about us all at Pilgrim House and she opened up a bit more. ‘She was kind, but quiet,' Robyn said. ‘Granddad mostly did the talking for her, but I think she always got on with Auntie Angie more than Mum. That's what Mum says anyway.'

Of course, you preferred Angie because of me, but that doesn't mean that Nell's not important to me now. They're becoming my family as much as yours. And when we get Angie back here, then we'll all be together. As we should have been.

George didn't deserve any of you. He and I went to the pub the other day and I asked him about Angie. He didn't say anything about her, but just started going on about this important mystery job that keeps her in France. ‘So you speak to her often?' I asked, and his eyes didn't even start to water. Muttered something about talking to a machine. ‘So when was the last time you saw her?' I asked, and he said she'd come back briefly for your funeral but went away again straight after.

‘You could see her,' I said. ‘You could get her back here.'

‘No,' he said, and he did this straightening his shoulders thing he does. As if someone's shoving a stick down his back. I could tell it annoyed him, having to admit something in his life wasn't going the way it should.

‘I could help you,' I said. ‘All you need to do is to stop telling your girls what to do, and praise them even if you're not sure they deserve it. Especially then.'

He said he'd think about it, but that he'd always been unsure about praising too much. It builds up false hopes, apparently, and he'd always thought the inside was more important than the outside. He doesn't let up, does he? Mrs. Oliver says she's changed her mind, and that he's a good man, but I wouldn't know about that. Good men, in my experience, never win in the end.

Talking of which, I am afraid I had to go in and talk to Brenda about Annabel Armstrong. I have managed to pass her insults off as part of her sickness, but things are getting a bit too serious now for anything to spoil my plans.

M

102.
letter from george griffiths to brenda lewis

Dear Brenda,

I had a visit from Steve Jenkins today to talk about the Residents Committee. There is absolutely no point having such a committee if it is to be run by a member of the staff. It should be a chance for residents to speak freely about points that concern them. I am also disappointed that you delegated such an important job to a junior employee. I have been talking to several of the other residents about this matter, and you have left us no option but to take matters into our own hands.

Yours sincerely,

George Griffiths

103.
answer phone message from george griffiths to angela Griffiths

Hello Angie,

This is your father. It is Thursday afternoon, and I have just come back from a walk around the park with the other male resident here. There are some daffodils already out along the edges but they had been trampled by the boys playing football. A parkkeeper was attending to some mulching at the far side, and although I was tempted to complain, I came to the conclusion that ball games are all part of growing up. I hope the weather is clement with you. Do keep in touch. I always enjoy your cards and the photographic insight into another culture.

Your father

104.
email from nell baker to angie griffiths

Yes, I've noticed Dad has been a bit strange recently too. Not only did he thank me for visiting the other day but he even tried to make a joke when we went to the optician. Every time she asked a question, he said ‘eye'. The trouble was she was Scottish and thought he was teasing her. He didn't notice her face getting redder and redder. At least he didn't complain about the fact she was a woman. Remember when he'd only see male opticians, dentists, and stuff. Perhaps he's mellowing. It can happen.

And as for Martin, I don't know why you keep going on about him. Hand on heart, he's absolutely fine. I might not be the best judge of men, but I'm sure about this one.