Harry's Bloomer

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Harry knew something was wrong when Jane arrived. Tuesday he went to the day centre. His daughter came Wednesday to say hello and get his shopping. He never needed much. Usually a bit of cheese, square and yellow, none of this fancy malarkey that smelled like old clothes, skimmed milk - it was 10 pence less than semi-skimmed, frozen peas, he’d liked peas since he was a kid when he used to help his mother shuck them on a Sunday morning and feed the shells to the pig. Jane sometimes bought a pizza. That made him feel good, modern like his grandchildren. They were always having pizza and, one time, took him to one of those pizza places with too much noise and flashy colours. And of course there was his bread, simple, white and cut. He always asked for bloomers because then he could say to Jane, ‘Have you got your bloomers in that bag,’ and giggle. Jane used to laugh too. Maybe today was Wednesday.

 

‘What day is it?’ he asked.

‘Tuesday. I thought I’d surprise you. I’ve got a new part time job. A dial-a-ride driver. My round includes you.’

‘That’s not a job for a girl, driving round humping tired old biddies into a van. Why can’t you get a nice job, in a shop, selling bloomers.’ Harry giggled to himself again.

‘For heaven’s sake, I’m not your little girl anymore, Dad. I’m perfectly

capable. I thought you’d like me to drive you.’

‘What happened to Ted. I liked Ted.’

‘He’s ill, so I’ve been told. I’ll ask if Ted can drive you next time, all right? Now if you’re coming, get your coat.’

‘All right, all right. No need to get shirty. Ted was never shirty. I liked Ted.’

 

Harry manoeuvred his support frame down the hallway to the cupboard under the stairs. Inside was his going-out coat. He’d bought it when Martha was still alive. Now it had given up the battle against gravity, like his face. It hung limp, grey and exhausted against the back of the cupboard door.           

 

‘Where are your shoes?’ asked Jane.

‘I can’t get my shoes on.’

‘You can’t go without shoes.’

‘Ted never worried about shoes.’

‘I’m not having my father go out and about without shoes. What would people think?’

 

Harry put on his grumpy look. People usually backed away when he did that.

 

‘I don’t care what people think. I just want to be comfortable.’

‘Why do you have to be so awkward, Dad. I’ve got a job to do. If you want to come, get your shoes on. Otherwise stay here.’

‘God save me from diligent daughters,’ muttered Harry under his breath as he sat on a chair with a soft grunt while Jane hurriedly tied his shoe laces.

 

The dial-a-ride van was parked conveniently outside the house but Harry’s

Tuesday had been ruined by his daughter’s intrusion. He could see no reason to make

life any easier.

 

‘This path seems to get longer every week,’ he said as he inched his way towards the gate leaning heavily on to his frame and gasping at every move.

 

Mrs Harrison lived next door. In fact, as far as Harry could see, she seemed to live by the window sill. Every time he came out, her curtains twitched like a snake.

 

‘Got a new driver then,’ she called through the open casement. ‘You sure you should be out? You don’t look too good, if you don’t mind my saying.’

 

Harry stopped to take an extra breath then moved on.

 

‘Still, probably does you good to get out,’ she called. ‘Change of scenery. Where’s Ted today?’

‘See, everyone wants to know where Ted is,’ said Harry as Jane closed the gate.

‘Have you heard about Ted,’ said a woman once he’d settled into the back of the bus. She always sat behind the driver and he’d been told her name dozens of times but could never remember it. Big woman for her age. He always thought old women ought to be small and wizened. ‘Had a heart attack last weekend,’ she continued. ‘He’s at the County Hospital in intensive care.’

 

Harry said nothing. Other women started commenting on the news and their chatter droned on while he sat inside his thoughts. Ted was fun. He counted on him as a sort of mate. They swapped secretive fags whenever they got the chance. He liked Ted.

 

As Jane helped him off the van she said, ‘Would you like me to take you to see Ted, Dad? We can go tomorrow when I bring your groceries round. I’ve got to do another drive in the morning but I can be with you by lunch time.’

 

‘Okay,’ said Harry. ‘But don’t bring me any of that veg.’

‘What veg?’

‘You know. Looks like a green shaving brush.’

‘That’s broccoli, Dad.’

‘Whatever. Don’t like it. Tastes like mouldy boot leather.’

 

Harry was sitting by the kitchen table when Jane came round the next day. He’d slicked his hair back with cream he’d found in the bathroom cabinet, put on his only clean shirt and managed to get his shoes on.

 

‘Dad, you’re looking really smart,’ she said.

‘Well you might look bit more pleased about it.’ Harry leant forward to look at his shoes. ‘Hate these shoes. They pinch my toes. Couldn’t get the laces done up. You’ll have to do it.’

 

Jane placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. Ted died last night.’

 

Harry said nothing. Just continued staring at the floor.

 

‘I’ll make some tea,’ said Jane.

‘Took me an hour to get these shoes on.’

‘Ted would have appreciated that, I’m sure.’

‘Ted doesn’t worry about things like that. Its what’s inside that counts he always says.’ Harry went silent. ‘I liked Ted,’ he said quietly.

‘I’m really sorry, Dad,’ said Jane as she put a cup of tea in front of him. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

Harry took her hand as she released the saucer. ‘Will you stay, you know, for lunch.’

‘Of course I will Dad.’

‘Am I an awkward cuss?’

 

Jane gave him a brief cuddle. ‘No. You just like your independence that’s all.’

 

Harry looked at her and remembered the little girl he used to play with. He leant against his frame and heaved himself upright. ‘I’m just going to the toilet.’

 

‘Not with those shoes on. You’ll fall.’

‘Make your mind up, girl. Yesterday you told me to wear them.’

‘The laces aren’t tied.’

 

Harry dropped back down on the chair. Ted was right. People were a lot more important than a fuss over shoes. He got to the kitchen door in his socks and turned to Jane busying herself over the sink.

 

‘Thanks for all your help,’ he said and closed the door behind him.

‘I’ve got your bloomer, Dad,’ she called. ‘Do you want some slices for lunch?’ but Harry didn’t answer.