Top-drawer Friends

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Maggie was certain. The pine chest of drawers, now staring at her in Amanda’s front room, was the very same she’d given to Mrs Duddy a couple of weeks ago.

 

‘I saw an ad in the Gazette,’ said Amanda. ‘I’d no idea it was yours. I knew you’d something like it but when you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all, as they say.’

‘I can’t believe she’s got rid of it,’ said Maggie. ‘Of all the cheek.’

Amanda looked flustered and searched for words. ‘Are you sure it’s the same one?’

‘Definitely. There’s a scratch on the corner there when I broke a vase.’

Amanda stared at the chest for a few moments. ‘Would you like it back?’

‘That’s pointless.’  Maggie downed the remains of her coffee and replaced the cup sharply on its saucer. ‘Anyway, you’ve paid for it,’ she snapped. ‘It’s yours now.’

 

An awkward silence wrapped itself around them.

 

‘I made a particular effort to give it to her,’ Maggie said quietly. ‘I heard she wanted one when I was at the hairdressers. I even got my brother to take it in his van.’

 

Amanda shrugged her shoulders but said nothing.

 

On her drive back home, Maggie resolved to get to the truth. Mrs Duddy might be in a wheelchair but that didn’t entitle her to make fools of people.

 

As the door to Mrs Duddy's bungalow opened, Maggie lowered her eyes to waist height.

 

‘Hello Mrs Duddy. It’s Mrs Wallace. I dropped round a little while ago with a chest of drawers.’

Thelma Duddy looked surprised. ‘Yes...I remember.’

‘Can I talk to you for a few moments?’

‘About the chest?’

 

Maggie nodded.

 

‘I see. All right. I suppose you’d better come in.’

 

Maggie followed the wheelchair into the back room and sat herself down without invitation. It was impossible to talk to someone when they come up to your waist.

 

‘Do you still have the chest?’ she asked without ceremony.

‘Actually no. But I imagine you know that otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’

‘What happened to it?’

‘I sold it I’m afraid.’

‘Well, I’ll give you marks for honesty,’ said Maggie as she sat back and folded her arms. ‘But why ask for one if you’re going to sell it? I could’ve done that.’

Thelma lowered her head. ‘Did you enjoy giving it to me?’ she said eventually.

 

Maggie took a breath. What sort of question was that?

 

‘It’s all right. No need to answer. I’ve needed a wheelchair for two years now and still haven’t worked out how to deal with people who want to help me.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Maggie slowly.

‘People feel sorry for me,’ said Thelma. ‘That’s okay. It’s understandable. To be perfectly frank, I feel sorry for me too.’

 

She wheeled herself to a book shelf and picked up a small box, opened the lid and removed a necklace. It was encrusted with diamonds and rubies and was either insanely expensive or a garish fake.

 

‘It’s not real,’ said Thelma. ‘It was given to me by a friend when I was first unable to walk. What d’you think of it?’

‘Well it wouldn’t suit me,’ said Maggie.

‘Nor me. I accepted it at first then decided I shouldn’t if it was unsuitable so the next day I gave it back to her.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She was very hurt and angry. She’d been given it as a teenager and it meant a lot to her.’

‘So why did she give it?’

‘Maybe she felt good about giving to someone less fortunate, a sort of symbolic sacrifice. I suppose it was my job to accept with good grace.’ Thelma paused. ‘I haven’t seen her since.’

‘But that’s awful.’

‘It’s all so difficult.’

‘You should’ve said you’d changed your mind when I phoned first,’ said Maggie. ‘I wouldn’t have minded.’

‘I hadn’t changed my mind. But someone had given me one by the time you arrived. You’d made a special effort to drive here and all I had to say was no thanks.’ Thelma bowed her head and struggled for a handkerchief from her shoulder purse. ‘I just couldn’t say it.’

 

Maggie wished hard that she wasn’t there. She found herself apologising, not for offering the chest of drawers but asking what she’d done with it afterward. What business was it of hers?

 

‘I thought of asking you to pick it up again but I didn’t know your number. Anyway it would have been more inconvenience. I didn’t think you’d know if I sold it. After all, you weren’t likely to read the ‘for sale’ ads.’

‘A friend of mine bought it,’ said Maggie. ‘Just coincidence. I even gave her a hard time.’

Thelma felt in her purse again. ‘Look here’s the £25 I got for it. I’d like you to have it.’

‘I can’t take your money,’ exclaimed Maggie. ‘I feel bad enough as it is.’

‘But it’s yours really. I feel I got it under false pretences.’

‘No you keep it. You need...’

‘I need it more than you? Yes, that’s what they all say. You might be right but it doesn’t make it any easier.’

 

Maggie stared at Thelma for some moments. This was a feisty lady who deserved so much more than she’d been dealt. What would create the bigger problem, taking the money or refusing it?

 

‘My name’s Maggie,’ she said.

‘Thelma.’

 

It was the first time Maggie had seen her smile.

 

‘Why don’t we go out for a meal one evening,’ said Maggie. ‘Then we can both enjoy the money. You can tell me all about yourself.’

‘That’s a lovely idea.’ Thelma gave a broad grin. ‘You never asked me why I sold yours and not the other one.’

‘I was wondering,’ smiled Maggie, ‘but I hadn’t got the nerve.’

‘Yours had four drawers. I could only have used the lower three. I should’ve mentioned that when you phoned.’

‘I’m so glad you didn’t,’ said Maggie.