Raymond had lied about his arthritis to Marjorie. It was getting into all his joints now. He’d argued with his doctor as to whether it was partly hereditary or not.
‘It’s unclear,’ Dr Hien told him. ‘But we think familial concurrence has some bearing, yes.’
Why did professionals always talk in riddles? But when Raymond told his doctor about symptoms he’d found online, pertaining to something he thought he might have, she’d told him she would check him over and assess for herself what may or may not be wrong with him, based on clear medical evidence – not Google say-so!
Raymond knew Dr Hien would argue blue was black if he let her. But the point was, on his recent visit to her she’d told him that his increasing pains were probably his arthritis getting worse. She’d given him some medication, a list of exercises and a squashy ball for his hands that he quite enjoyed using now.
‘You know, Dad,’ Simon said suddenly, snapping Raymond out of his reverie, ‘I think we should do something about these steps by the back door. Makes it awkward going down to the garden, when you’ve got something in your hand. You’ll be tripping over them next.’
‘Well, son, you’re right, of course. I’ve no idea why someone would build a bungalow and then have steps of any sort coming off it. It certainly makes carrying tea or a meal out into the garden most precarious.’
Raymond had made Dianne’s mug of tea exactly how his wife liked it – quite strong, with only a little milk and just half a teaspoon of sugar. And then he picked it up and carried it outside to where she was in their sunny garden. Simon followed behind with the other two mugs of tea, setting Raymond’s down beside him before retreating to the shade by the house, to read his sporting newspaper.
Raymond sipped his tea, enjoying the comforting feeling of the hot sun on his face.
It was stickily hot today after the thunderstorms yesterday. Should’ve cleared the air a bit but it hadn’t. There’d be no working in the garden today. Not that anything really needed doing. But Raymond did like to potter, liked to keep on top of things. Before Simon had rung and said he was coming round to see them today Raymond had thought it best to put his feet up and chat to Dianne in their favourite spot. Isn’t that what long hot summers were for? Relaxing? Yet he could have easily fallen asleep in the sun if it wasn’t for Simon calling round.
When Raymond gave up his carpentry business and Dianne retired from nursing, they’d decided to sell the family home and retire to this little one-bedroomed bungalow. They’d also given Simon and his wife, Jo, a cheque for £10,000 from the proceeds of the sale of their house, ‘to help with anything you need help with!’ and then they’d gone on the journey of a lifetime, visiting the famous blossoms in Japan, sightseeing in New York and finally staying with Dianne’s sister in California for three weeks, before hanging up their travelling hats to spend the rest of their days, enjoying being near to their family and grandchildren.
Dianne had loved their little garden when they first moved in. It wasn’t so big that they’d be constantly working on it. Neither of them had wanted that. It was just right. It was one of the reasons they’d bought the bungalow, six years ago.
‘We need to get something manageable now we’re retired,’ Raymond had told her in the garden centre, when they’d first moved in. ‘Slugs like all the little colourful perennials and annuals you like! And you know I don’t like killing slugs.’
She was the one for flowers but she’d relented.
‘Okay, but we’ll still have a little patch of my favourites as well as your shrubs,’ she’d laughed. ‘Or I can put them in a raised bed.’
‘Ah, but slugs can climb, my love!’
Yes, he was a shrub man, through and through, he’d told his son, which had made Simon laugh.
‘Sounds like you’ve got a beastly ailment when you say it like that, Dad; doesn’t it, Mum? Or you sound like a superhero! Not Superman but Shrub Man!’ Simon had grinned.
Simon was a postman and had married his childhood sweetheart, Jo, a hairdresser and they’d had twin girls.
‘You see? I get to have girls in the family, after all!’ Dianne had informed Raymond proudly, all those years ago, when Jo had let her hold them at the hospital, a few days after their birth. Their skin tone was a soft caramel, much like hers; their hair in dark wisps, too. She’d always wanted to present Raymond with a daughter but it hadn’t happened. Yet now she had two girls to mollycoddle. Oh, it had been joyous babysitting them, whilst the twins were growing up and then keeping up with their exploits when they went off to college, unsurprisingly, both wanting to be hairdressers and opening their own salon.
‘Confusing to your customers though,’ Dianne had said when the girls had told her what they wanted to do.
‘But we have to be together, Gran,’ Maya told her. ‘It’s what we’re about. We’ll make it work. I’ve told Esha I’m happy to dye my hair if there’s a problem.’
And she had, too. Aubergine purple! Dianne couldn’t imagine a worse colour but it actually suited her. Luckily her sister Esha never had to dye her wonderful dark curly locks, although in the course of their work she had experimented with lots of different ‘looks’. But Dianne and Raymond had been completely proud that their granddaughters’ business had been a roaring success. Both girls were married now, with tiny babies of their own.
Raymond loved to reminisce in the garden with his wife, especially on beautiful summer days like this. It was their thing. They always took their tea together, at the bottom of the garden where the hedge shaded them from their neighbours, near Raymond’s crimson azaleas, until they fell or his lacecap hydrangeas for which – they were both surprised – he’d won prizes several years ago!
‘We do have to make the most of life, though, don’t we, love.’ Raymond smiled but the air around him was warm and still, apart from a couple of sparrows squabbling in the bird bath.
‘Well, I went to the second afternoon tea party at the community centre yesterday as you know,’ Raymond told her. ‘And I took my suggestions, as Simon recommended I should. It’s so nice to have your say and be heard, sometimes, isn’t it, dear? Did I enjoy it, you ask. Well …’ He looked down at the grass between his toes. He liked the feel of his bare feet on the cool lawn, even though Simon had mentioned earlier that his father ought to have been wearing sandals, in case he trod on something unpleasant. ‘There was some trouble there, unfortunately. One of the ladies was very rude to a young girl who I can tell has problems of her own.’
Raymond finished his tea; his wife’s had gone cold when he picked up her mug.
‘I think I might just try it again next week, too, love. I’m starting to make some new friends there and I know you said you wanted me to do that sort of thing when you got ill. Wouldn’t have dreamt about going anywhere without you at first, though, would I? But I’m improving now because they’re an easy crowd to get on with, in general.’
He stood up with a bit of a wheeze as the deckchairs were quite low; perhaps he should buy some new ones, more upright, easier to get in and out of. But he and Dianne had had those deckchairs forever. So it was quite hard for him to think about giving them up. Just like it was hard to give up his darling wife to the dreadful accident she’d had last year.
‘We’ll leave you alone now, love; Simon’s taking me to go watch the footy again with him. That’s nice isn’t it? He looks after me now his Jo’s left him. That was a shock though, wasn’t it? Never saw that coming, did we? The girls are good about taking turns visiting them both, though. So he’s not too lonely. Truth be told,