Catherine O'Flynn - News Where You Are

Frank thought for a moment. ‘What about Burkett’s wife — is she still around?’

‘She emigrated to Australia after the husband’s death. Mike had a postcard she’d sent stuck to his wall. I don’t know where in Australia.’

Frank nodded. ‘Did he ever mention anyone else?’

Azad paused to think. ‘Yeah, there was someone else I remember. He’d bumped into some old mate of his from the old days — this wasn’t that long ago, a year maybe, since his wife died anyway. Anyway this bloke — Phil — he knew him from when they were kids. They’d done National Service together. Mike thought a lot of him. He mentioned him quite often for a while — they were back in touch with each other. I suppose it was someone to focus on other than his wife.’

Frank had forgotten that Phil had done National Service. He very rarely spoke of it — probably because it allowed people to age him. He thought of the note that Michelle had shown him. ‘Did he ever mention a falling out with Phil? A quarrel over anything?’

‘No, man. I can’t imagine Mike arguing with anyone — he was a peaceful bloke — you know, very chilled. You can’t ask the Phil guy either, I’m afraid, cos I know he died some months back. Mike mentioned it. Can you believe that? I don’t ever want to get old, man, and just see everyone I know die around me. I don’t think Mike had any room left to feel grief.’

Frank started saying his thanks and goodbyes to Azad, but then asked him, ‘What was the music, by the way? The music you heard that first day.’

Azad grinned. ‘Nat King Cole, “Mona Lisa”. Mike had loads of his records. He’d play them on his little portable record player up there. I loved them all, man. His voice and those strings, they do something to my heart.’

Frank smiled. ‘Do you still listen to that stuff?’

‘Oh yeah. Mike gave me all the records. He couldn’t listen to them after his wife died, made him too sad — he made me take them all. I’ve got them at home. Sometimes when we’ve got the kids in bed, I put one on and my wife and me dance in the living room, just like Mike used to with his wife.’ Azad smiled. ‘I’ll miss him.’

Michael Church would be missed. Frank shook Azad’s hand, and wondered if that’s all he’d wanted to hear.

It bothered Mo that her grandmother rarely left her room and often seemed so sad. Mo was sure that the problem could be resolved with enough thought and application. She was always on the lookout for ways to improve the quality of Maureen’s life. She kept an eye out for new products and innovations, she scoured the adverts in the TV listings magazines they had at home and picked up leaflets on hints for the elderly whenever she saw them in the chemist.

Through a process of trial and error she had come to the conclusion that perhaps there wasn’t one single solution to the problem, but she remained optimistic that a combination of small measures would gradually alleviate her grandmother’s sadness. Her ultimate aim was for Maureen to be like the old people in the posters and brochures for Evergreen: admiring a rose bush in the garden with a man in a cravat, clapping her hands in delight at something on the Scrabble board, standing with open arms and an expression of joy as a young child approached. Smiling always.

Today Mo had been a long time in Maureen’s en suite bathroom. Frank had gone to get them some tea and cake and Maureen began to worry that there was a problem.

‘Mo, dear. Are you all right?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘You’ve been rather a long time, is everything okay?’

‘Yes. Everything is okay. Finished now.’

At that the door swung open, making Maureen jump. Mo stood looking pleased with herself.

‘I’ve just been doing some work in your bathroom.’

‘You’re not ill?’

‘Ill? No. I’m not ill.’

‘Oh … good.’

Maureen started to return to her seat. Mo went after her.

‘Granny, don’t you want to see it?’

‘See what, dear?’

‘The improvement. I have made an improvement in your bathroom.’

‘Ah — an improvement, I see.’ Maureen looked at Mo. ‘I don’t know where you get all these ideas for improvements.’

Mo answered with great satisfaction. ‘Research.’

Maureen nodded. ‘Research. Yes. I rather thought so. I hope you don’t spend too much time researching on my behalf.’

‘I like doing it.’

‘Well, it’s jolly nice of you, dear, but really there are no improvements to be made. This,’ she said, gesturing vaguely at the room around her, ‘is all perfectly … adequate. I barely notice the place anyway.’

Mo was undeterred and led Maureen back into the bathroom.

‘Can you spot it?’

Maureen looked around vaguely. ‘I’m afraid not.’

Mo laughed. ‘Actually, it’s a bit difficult to see. Look.’ She pointed at the toilet roll hanging on its holder.

Maureen peered at it. ‘Oh, it’s a different colour, is it? Ooh pink. Lovely! My favourite colour. Much better than whatever was there before. Well done, Mo — that’s a great improvement. I shall be much happier each time I visit the bathroom now.’

Mo frowned. ‘No. I didn’t change the toilet roll. Look more closely.’

Maureen obliged by lowering her head and examining all aspects of the toilet roll and its holder. After a few moments she let out an uncertain: ‘Ah … I think I see.’ Mo was nodding and smiling. ‘You’ve … erm … stuffed toilet paper inside the toilet roll. That’s the improvement, is it?’

‘Exactly. Do you want to know why?’

‘Yes — that might be an idea.’

‘I read it in this leaflet.’ Mo pulled a folded pamphlet out of her back pocket. On the front were the words ‘Tips and hints for the elderly’.

‘It’s full of very good ideas.’ Mo opened up the leaflet and pointed out different parts. ‘They are all very practical! Look — a whole section for people in wheelchairs: “Win appreciation from welcoming hostesses by drying your wheels with a tissue before entering their house. This will avoid unsightly tyre marks and ensure a subsequent invitation.” ’

Maureen’s eyebrows were raised. ‘Goodness. I’d imagine it would be quite difficult for someone to clean their own wheels.’

Mo wasn’t listening. ‘And look — this is the one I’ve done today: “A fast-spinning toilet roll can be disconcerting for the elderly or the one-handed. By padding out the inner tube of the toilet roll with toilet paper, the speed of rotation will be reduced.” ’

Maureen stared at Mo and then at the toilet roll. ‘Well, Mo. I’m quite lost for words.’

Mo beamed. ‘That’s okay. Here’s Dad.’

Frank was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Maureen looked at him.

‘Mo has been making improvements.’

‘Yes. She did mention something about that in the car on the way here.’ He was relieved to detect a trace of amusement in his mother’s face. ‘Did you find yourself often disconcerted by the fast-spinning roll?’

Maureen looked very serious. ‘Goodness, yes. Mo really has put my mind quite at rest. Visits to the bathroom shall hold no fear now.’

Mo skipped out of the room in the direction of the residents’ lounge, eager to spread the word about this simple but effective measure. Maureen’s face changed as Mo left the room.

‘I wish you wouldn’t make the poor child feel she has to cheer me up.’

Frank laughed. ‘It has nothing to do with me. Mo does what she wants.’

Maureen ignored him. ‘I sense you behind all her efforts — trying to jolly me along. All bright and breezy, like on television.’

Frank found himself getting annoyed. ‘Why would I encourage her to try and cheer you up? Why promote such a futile waste of time and effort?’