Authors: Josephine Falla
“I’ve got a cat,” he said. “Ginger.” Ginger dutifully jumped on the sofa and sat down with his head on Mr. Forbes’ knee. “Actually, it’s not my cat, it’s Mrs. Brenner’s.”
“Ah, now Denis and Robert tell me you tried to do something in Mrs. Brenner’s garden and the police got involved.”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t my fault, they were so stupid.” William launched into a description of the complex events of the day the police took him off to the station. Mr. Forbes listened with raised eyebrows and a patient expression.
“How are you managing for money, William?”
“Oh, yes, well, that’s alright, the two Social men sort it out for me, you know.”
“Denis tells me you had a little altercation at the bank the last time you went there.”
“It was disgraceful.” William became angry as he thought about it. “Apparently I’ve got some money but she wouldn’t let me see without my passport and Robert had got the passbook thing so I couldn’t have a cheque book.”
“Why would you want a cheque book?”
“It’s my money, my human rights,” announced William, sure of his ground here.
“I see,” said Mr. Forbes, making further notes in his little blue notebook. “You were not happy in the pyjama shop, I believe.”
“Wasn’t I?” The question caught William off balance. “I can’t remember that. But they are stupid, these assistants, you know. They don’t always understand what you say to them.”
“Or the pharmacy.” Mr. Forbes was obviously like a terrier that won’t let go.
“Can’t remember that, either.” William wriggled uncomfortably.
He wanted to tell Mr. Forbes he’d been to see Mrs. Brenner in hospital but he suddenly remembered that was when he had had a motor scooter and before he had got a bus pass. So he decided to keep quiet.
“Are you religious, William?”
“No.” Best avoid all mention of the Almighty. William wondered what would come next.
“Why did you put your kitchen table in the garden?”
“Can’t remember.”
“William, is your memory still on the blink? Do you recall anything at all of what happened to you before you came to live here?”
“Not much. Except the red curtains.”
“Red curtains?” Mr. Forbes looked startled.
“Someone sent me to a place with red curtains. Where you kept asking me about what I remembered about the past, about the days when, and I said I didn’t and couldn’t and you wanted me to stop drinking, but I like drinking. I don’t want to go there again.”
“Ah, I see. Well, you are so much improved, William, I really can’t see you being asked to go there again, so I should stop worrying about that.” Mr. Forbes smiled.
William felt mightily relieved. Mr. Forbes idly turned over the list that he was holding and studied William’s ‘for reference’ items.
“Well, I believe you have a bus pass now. And you’re still interested in getting a cheque book, but I wouldn’t touch that money if I were you. Yes, you need a dressing gown, good idea; what money are you thinking about, William? Your account money I suppose. Leave it alone, if you can. Your garden is a bit of a mess, I agree, just have to tidy it up if possible. What’s this about a booklet and an apple pie woman?”
William breathed again. Mr. Forbes had unknowingly skated over the difficult questions. He explained about Mrs. Watson and the apple pie and her suggestion of line dancing and said he preferred cookery because he wanted to know how to cook artichokes. Mr. Forbes stared at him over that, but seemed to accept it.
“A telephone would be a bit expensive and unless you can control these outbursts of anger it won’t work, William. That’s why it is not recommended for you. Not after what happened before.”
“Why, what happened before?” William spoke belligerently and Mr. Forbes stiffened up, expecting an outburst right now.
“You made some very rude and aggressive phone calls you know. It led to a lot of trouble.”
“Well, I wouldn’t now,” said William, without giving away the fact that he had actually got a phone now.
Mr. Forbes thought for a while. “Well, I must say that the picture is better now, although there are a few worries, perhaps about money and memory. Your benefits seem to be keeping you going at the moment. I will think things over and will join the others at your annual review. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”
William looked at him and thought hard.
“Yes, why am I here?”
Mr. Forbes sighed. “Well, this is not the ideal place for you I must admit, but it’s all the council had when you turned up. A house is not the best place for you and perhaps a modern flat would have been better. Do you want to put in for a change?”
Alarmed, William said, “Oh no, that’s not what I meant. Actually, I quite like it here now. I’ve got friends.” He puffed himself up as he said this. He recalled Mrs. Brenner referring to him as ‘my friend’ and Mrs. Watson, the apple pie woman, Mrs. Jenkins and all the people in the pub. “No, I don’t want to move. I just wanted to know about – about my life. About the days when. I think I could deal with it now.”
“I see.” Mr. Forbes seemed deep in thought. “William, I think we will defer that discussion till you have your review. At the review there will be several people you know and who have helped you along in the recent past. We shall have to decide how much support you now need, whether it is more or less than you are currently having. And that seems like a good time to address your queries about what happened in the past that has caused you problems now. I look forward to seeing you at your review.”
William, unnaturally subdued, offered Mr. Forbes a cup of tea, which he declined, and then showed him out.
“Thank God that’s over, Ginger,” he said, ”like being in front of the Head at school. Tell you what, let’s have a long, long drink. And then, when we’ve had something to eat, I’m going to have another one. Is there any of that apple pie left? And then I shall go to the pub and there I shall have several more, whatever. And if they have to carry me home, too bad.”
They didn’t have to carry William home, but it came pretty close. A couple of men, Bill Watson and a mate of his, kept him pretty well upright until he reached his own front door; when he got inside he made for the sofa and stayed there until half-past nine the next morning. There was no way he could have got up the stairs. “That’s what a dose of psychiatry does for you, Ginger,” he muttered, as he fell onto the sofa, “sends you round to the pub quicker than anything.” Then he passed out.
Next day, he suffered from perhaps the worst hangover he had ever had. Ginger despaired of ever being fed and rummaged round the kitchen to find something edible. Late morning, Maisie Watson, having heard from her husband of William’s excessive drinking the previous night, turned up with some nice light soup and crusty bread, which he could just about manage and was very grateful for. She inquired if he had signed up for the line dancing and was disappointed to be told no. She was interested to hear that he had agreed to go to the cookery class though, and added it to her list of confirmatory facts about poor William and his hard life.
He took it easy that Saturday but decided he would go to see Mrs. Brenner again on the hospital bus on Sunday. He knew of the bus as he had seen it starting from outside the newsagent’s. It would be easier for him with Ginger in his carrying case, without the problem of the umbrella and the parking. He could try to explain about the gardening enterprise which had gone so badly wrong. He wouldn’t like her to come home and just be faced with what he had managed to do to her prized garden. Also, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen with Ginger when she came home. Would the cat automatically return to his previous home? To his surprise, he realised he would find that rather upsetting. But if the cat stayed with him and refused to go back to Mrs. Brenner’s it would be equally difficult. He remembered too that he had agreed to install and pay for a cat flap from Ed. He wasn’t used to pondering such subtle problematic issues and he set off on Sunday in rather a bad mood.
Arriving at the hospital, he felt like a knowledgeable old hand, going directly to the lift and getting out at Acute Admissions. He went straight into the ward and into the small side room where he had found her before. She wasn’t there! Only a large and formidable lady with a bandaged leg was facing him, seated on a wheelchair.
“Who are you? Go away,” she shouted, pulling her alarm cord. When a nurse came running in she pointed at William and said, “What is this man doing in here? I never asked him in, I don’t know him.” She was waving her arms about and getting very excited.
“Just a mistake,” said William, “where’s Mrs. Brenner?”
“Just next door in the small ward. There there, Mrs. Davis, no need to get all worked up. We had a very silly man in here not long ago, with a big umbrella and would you believe it a cat or something, but he’s not here now.” The nurse continued to calm her patient and William backed out hastily. He didn’t care to hear himself described as a very silly man, but this was not the time to have an argument, he could see. He went into the small four-bedded ward next door. Mrs. Brenner was there, dressed, and sitting in an upright armchair. There were three other ladies, two of whom were also seated, looking rather glum in their chairs; the other one was an Asian lady who was lying in bed.
“William Penfold! Oh, how lovely to see you! Have you brought Sandy? Bring up a chair and come and sit down.”
William found a spare chair and sat down opposite Mrs. Brenner. Now he was here he wasn’t sure how to express himself, especially as the other ladies in the room were all interested to hear what Mrs. Brenner’s visitor had to say. “Well, it’s about Ginger – I know you call him Sandy – that I’ve come here. Oh, and the garden. I’m sorry about the garden, I was trying to do my best but the police behaved very badly and it does all look a bit patchy here and there, but Denis said it would all grow back. Here’s Sandy. I don’t think I’d better let him out here, that nurse was an absolute idiot last time I came.” He took the carrying cloth off Ginger’s case as he was speaking.
Mrs. Brenner wasn’t really listening. Her eyes were fixed on the cat and she reached forward to stroke him between the bars. “Oh, thank you, William, I’ve missed him so much. I never thought you’d be so kind. Mr. Penfold took it on himself to look after my cat,” she said, addressing the other ladies in the room. “Wasn’t that nice of him?” The other ladies agreed that it was indeed very nice, and said it was a blessing to have a good neighbour and you didn’t get much of that these days. They said Ginger looked very well and Mrs. Brenner had nothing to worry about. One of them said, “Quick, the prison guard is coming back, hide the cat,” and William put the carrying cloth back on as fast as he could. The prison guard nurse came in with her blood pressure machine and they all fell quiet.
“What’s that about the garden?” asked Mrs. Brenner when the prison guard nurse had gone. William repeated his rather confused explanation, but Mrs. Brenner interrupted him. “I’ve heard all about it from Maisie Watson,” she said. “She came to see me the other day. Don’t you worry. I’ll sort it out, or get it sorted out, when I get home. I’m coming home soon, you know. You shouldn’t be doing gardens, you’re not strong enough. You need some proper food. Did you get an apple pie from Maisie? She’s good with pies, is Maisie. She’s a good cook. Has to be with that husband of hers. Hollow, he is.”
William was relieved. “How do you think Ginger will be when you get back?”
“What do you mean? He’ll be glad to have his old life back, I expect,” she said, surprised.
“Well, I was just wondering, he’s used to coming in to me and sleeping there and he’s got a cat flap,” (William thought it best to make the cat flap a reality to save some explanations about Perfect Patios etc), “and I thought that might, well, upset you. If he went on doing that, I mean.”
William had never, at least in recent times, made such a sensitive speech, especially to a woman.
But Mrs. Brenner was made of sterner stuff. “We may have to share him then.” And she smiled.
“Righto.” He was relieved. “ Have a beer,” said William. He’d brought two or three bottles of beer in with him, naturally, and felt duty bound to offer one to Mrs. Brenner, seeing as she was being so sensible.
“Well,” said Mrs Brenner, “Maisie Watson brought in some lemonade for me, so I could have a small shandy. Would you do that for me, William?”
“Certainly,” said William. He made a shandy for Mrs. Brenner, courteously inquiring if any of the other ladies would like one. Two of them did and they emptied their water glasses and William filled them up with shandy. The other lady, who had refused as she was Muslim and didn’t take alcohol, found a delicious bag of homemade biscuits and small cakes, which she offered to the group, so they all went to sit round her bed. The afternoon passed very pleasantly and in fact William got through his three bottles of beer and Mrs. Brenner’s bottle of lemonade, making shandies for them all, except the Asian lady, who refused all their offers. They became quite merry and talkative and time slipped by. The tea trolley came in and the tea lady was quite surprised that she had no takers but the ladies, who were not stupid, said they were quite content with the Coca Cola Mr. Penfold had brought in for them.
Eventually, William got up to go and Mrs. Brenner had a last stroke of her cat, who had been very quiet during all the talking. All the other ladies also wanted to stroke him and to shake hands with William and he felt he was a great social success. He slipped the cover onto Ginger’s carrying case and went to catch the bus, with Mrs. Brenner’s profound thanks ringing in his ears.
“Well, that went off very well,” said William, when they reached home. “I’ve got a nice bit of fish for tonight. You’ll enjoy that, Ginger. Then it’s the pub for me. Perfect Patios tomorrow. That should be interesting. You won’t like them, I’m afraid, but they’re going to put in a cat flap for you before they go.”
The men came at 8 o’clock, which was a shock to William’s system. Or rather Ed was, having sent his van round the back into the alleyway. He hammered very loudly on the door – obviously he didn’t do doorbells – and woke William and Ginger up and possibly all the nearby householders.