No! I Don’t Need Reading Glasses! (36 page)

I eventually settled, oddly, for some linen sheets.

‘I know, it's odd – rather than taking a picture or something,' I said to Mrs Evans when I eventually came downstairs. ‘But these sheets really remind me of staying here. I never have linen at home. And to be honest I've got enough ‘things' at home, pictures, ornaments, etc. But these sheets will be lovely.'

‘And they'll see you out,' said Mrs Evans, repeating that weirdly comforting phrase that never gets said to you when you're under sixty.

‘Yes,' I agreed. ‘They'll see me out.'

Then I thought of something else. ‘And do you think I might be able to have his old fishing hat as well? ‘I asked. ‘Or would that be too greedy, do you think?'

‘Take it!' said Mrs Evans, going out into the hall to find it. ‘I know Mrs Sylvie won't mind. She's already taken his gardening hat to remember him by. But we've taken that horrid old Alpine coat of his down to the charity shop with the other stuff. Bad memories.' She paused. Then, ‘And take the pillow cases with you, as well. They go with the sheets. There are so many here … they're all due for the auction. They won't be missed.'

When I got home I immediately put the sheets on my bed and they're absolutely lovely. The cool, slippery feel of them just takes me back instantly to Archie's house, and our lovely cuddly nights together. I've hung his hat in the hall, too – just like nervous spinsters used to do in the old days to give burglars the impression that there was a Man in the House.

I wasn't really expecting to hear from Louis ever again, and certainly didn't want to,
at all
, but I got a call from him, asking if I'd see him. He was just on his way to Heathrow to go back to the States and he needed to talk to me, he said. Urgently.

This time I didn't prepare the house to make it appear as if I were an interesting person. I slapped on a bit of makeup, pulled a comb through my hair and that was that. I was on the phone to Penny when the doorbell rang and instead of telling her I must go, and rushing down the stairs like a breathless teenager, I kept the phone to my ear and opened the front door with the other hand, signalling Louis to come in. When I'd stopped talking to Penny, I put on the kettle rather sourly, preparing to make him a cup of coffee as he stood uncomfortably by the kitchen table. I was determined
not to rage or cry or show my emotions at all. I would remain cold and dignified. In the event, it wasn't difficult.

‘I have to explain,' said Louis, putting his arms on my shoulders and turning me round to face him. ‘I'm sorry. You must have thought I was so rude the other day, when you'd come down specially.' He shook his head. ‘I had this assignment, and then I guess I've been so worried about Mom, and there's you. It's been wonderful, but to tell you the truth, it's broken my heart, all this …'

‘This age difference?' I said rather icily. ‘And, no doubt, the return of Masani.'

‘How did you know about that?' Louis sat down, looking a bit taken aback. ‘You should get a job on the
Rant
, Marie. You'd make a good journalist!'

‘Your mother told me,' I said, coldly, as I sat down opposite him. ‘And she also told me you did this all the time – fall for women, and then unfall for them. And it was clear I was just another one.'

‘Marie, with you it's
different
, I swear it,' said Louis, seizing my hands. And for a moment I felt the old flicker of sexual longing. But I battened it down. ‘You
know
it's different! If you and I were more the same age and I'd met you years ago, we'd be married with kids by now. I love you! There! I've said it! And I want us to know each other for ever and ever! And I want you to meet Masani and love her, too, and …'

He blathered on to such an extent that in the end I felt positively sorry for him. The awful truth was that he meant every word he was saying. Right at that moment. He was
one of those men who have been cursed with this ability to charm women, and he uses it not because he's a slimy creep, but because when he meets women he really
does
love them at that moment. And he can't help telling them.

‘You've got a lot of charm, Louis,' I said, looking intently into his eyes and hoping I appeared like some mad old witch. ‘But you should remember to use it carefully. If you don't watch out, you could hurt someone. As I'm sure you already have. Frequently. You nearly hurt me. Very much. Now don't get up hopes about this Masani. I hope you'll be happy with her, but try to think ahead before you blurt out your feelings this time – for her sake,' I added, feeling suddenly very sorry for this poor little African girl who was all ready to fall into Louis' web of charm.

But I don't think he'll change. He left, swearing undying love and friendship, and yet I have a funny feeling I won't hear from him again.

But who knows?

And who, I'm afraid, cares?

‘Well,' said Penny, when I rang her, ‘You could always spend it with us …' She was going to spend Christmas with her daughter and son-in-law. But I knew that really she wanted to have it with her relatives on her own, and why not? I do. It's funny how much you can tell just by the faintest pause in someone's voice what their real feelings are. ‘I mean,
we'd love to have you … couldn't bear to think of you sitting at home all on your own.'

‘That's really kind of you,' I said, ‘But I'm sure I can find somewhere …'

I thought of Sylvie or James or even Marion – they'd all offered. But otherwise, would Christmas on my own really be all that grim? Mightn't it actually be rather a relief? There'd be no one in London, I could do exactly what I wanted, and I know quite a few friends who say how much they hate Christmas and just spend it curled up watching old films on the telly by themselves, and having a great time.

I was just sitting down and wondering what I could do, and feeling a bit empty now all the excitement of the trees is over, Archie gone and Louis out of the picture, when the phone rang. It was Jack, asking if I would go on Skype.

I logged on, and there he was. Gene was by his side, hopping up and down.

‘Stop hopping, darling!' I said. ‘I can't see your face! By the way I've nearly finished your jersey!'

‘We've got some news for you, Mum,' said Jack. He had a big grin on his face.

Gene pushed in the way. ‘Yes, Granny! We're coming back!'

‘For Christmas? How lovely!' I said. That was
wonderful
news!

‘No,' said Gene, ‘We're coming back, coming back properly. To stay!'

‘Stay for how long?' I asked, nervously. I still couldn't quite believe it.

‘No, no, stay … live!' said Jack, beaming. ‘I'll tell you all about it when we get back properly, but we've been thinking about it for a few months. That's why we've been so hopeless about Christmas. I'm
so
sorry. I know how much you've been wanting us to come back and I couldn't bear you to get your hopes up and then disappoint you. The fact is, we just can't adjust here. Chrissie's working too hard. And although everyone's so friendly, we haven't made any real friends. And you know we don't want Gene being brought up American. All the usual reasons. You were right, Mum. It's the gee-whizzness of it all. And Chrissie's been offered her old job back and she's taking it part time and I'll have a much better chance of working … and anyway London's our home …'

Well, I didn't know what to do or say. I just felt wave after wave of happiness flooding over me. Tears came to my eyes. I felt as if a huge boulder had been rolled away from my shoulders and suddenly I felt, well … would it be too much to say
born again
? I couldn't speak.

‘Mum? Mum? Are you all right?' said Jack, leaning forward.

‘I'm so so happy,' I sobbed, reaching out to touch his face on the screen. ‘Oh darling … how wonderful … and when are you coming? I'll be at the airport to meet you … oh darling … what wonderful,
wonderful
news!'

‘We'll book a flight as soon as possible. It'll be a nightmare and terribly expensive, but we'll be home for Christmas if it kills us,' said Jack.

Haven't written the diary for far too long, because I've been doing nothing but rushing about making mince pies, ordering the turkey, putting up the decorations (I was
very
careful with the ladder and got Penny to come and hold it) and finishing Gene's jersey, as well as trying to sort out Jack and Chrissie's house for them. The tenants have left it in a dreadful state and I've had to repaint bits, and had a huge rush to get the carpets cleaned so it's now looking absolutely spotless and just as Jack and Chrissie left it.

They're coming back tomorrow and I can't speak for joy. I can hardly type this. Forget facelifts, I feel about ten years younger just with happiness and have been dancing in my kitchen like a whirling dervish. Suddenly realised, however, that Brad and Sharmie next door would be able to stare out of their upstairs windows through my glass roof, and get an extraordinary view of the old neighbour capering about. Then I thought, ‘Well, let them! Who cares!' And continued cavorting about the kitchen to Gladys Knight and her marvellous Pips.

I've bought Chrissie an art nouveau lampshade which I know she'll like, and Jack a book on surrealism and Gene's getting a
huge
set of Lego. It's all just so wonderful. As if all the stress of this past year has been wiped out at a single stroke.

And to cap it all, I've finally cancelled the
Daily Rant
! I'm giving it up for good!

They're all back!

I drove down to Heathrow and parked the car and went on legs that were quite shaky with excitement to the barrier. There were the usual Indians and Arabs and Chinese, all no doubt with their stories to tell, and none of them knowing what I was feeling, all staring desperately at the gate and scanning the faces of people emerging with their trolleys. There were loud flight announcements, the sounds of some computer game bleeping and whizzing in the background, and the general buzz of the terminal. I was so excited I could hardly contain myself, hanging on the rail and willing them to come through. I was even trying to read the flight numbers on the labels on people's suitcases … impossible, of course. Why is it that when you're waiting at the barrier the people you're waiting for are always the very last to come through?

And at long last, there they were! Gene was pushing the trolley – far too big for him – and looking around everywhere. The moment he saw me, he left the trolley, dodged under the barrier and raced up to me. I held on to him for dear life, as if I'd just rescued him from that raging dream tsunami. Then Jack and Chrissie came up and we all got a bit tearful. I could hardly speak.

‘Oh, it's wonderful to see you!' I said, in a breaking voice. ‘I can't tell you …!'

‘Where's my jersey, Granny?' said Gene. ‘I want to see my jersey!'

I produced it from my bag with a flourish and he immediately threw off his coat and pulled it on. ‘It's brilliant!' he said, twirling round in it. ‘And I like the elephants. How did you do them, Granny?' and he started making elephant noises, followed, after a moment, by elephant pooing noises.

‘That's enough,' said Jack, as we tried not to giggle at these head-turning sounds. ‘Come on, Gene, we've got to get back now. I can't wait to be home.'

‘Nor can I,' said Chrissie. ‘Oh, it's
so
good to be back!'

‘You go ahead to the car, Mum,' said Jack, as he took the trolley from Gene. ‘We'll follow you.'

Gene and I forged ahead to the car park. He took my hand and started jumping up and down as we walked. ‘I want to come over and see your house, Granny,' he said. ‘And then can we play the elephant game? And can I tell you what I want for Christmas?'

‘Of course, darling,' I said. ‘What
do
you want?'

‘Well, I want some Lego,' he said. ‘And a guinea pig. But what I want as well,' he said, looking down, rather shyly, ‘well, you see, Granny, there are these people in Africa, and they're so poor, they've got nothing to eat. And Dad says you can buy a goat and give it to them for Christmas, and they can get lovely milk from it and that will give them vitamins and they'll be happy and well. And it'll say ‘love
from Gene' on it. Could we do that Granny? Could we? Would it be too expensive?'

And as he looked up at me, his big eyes full of trust and warmth, I felt my heart break.

‘Of course, darling,' I said, squeezing his warm little hand in mine. ‘We'll send just as many goats as you like.'

And we did.