The great i am, p.23
The Great I Am, page 23
‘Ah well,’ Ada said. ‘It was worth a try.’ And sighed.
Gwen heard the sigh and was saddened by it. ‘I’ll ask around,’ she said. See if I can find a lead. I wish I could be more help.’
‘Not to worry, duck,’ Ada said. ‘We know you’d help if you could.’
I could give them a donation, Gwen thought. And after a pause she said, ‘What do you call your GoFundMe page? I could tell people about that.’
‘Thank you,’ Ada said. ‘We called it The Peabody Campaign.’
‘Right,’ Gwen said. ‘I’ll make a note of it.’ And did, as soon as she’d switched off the phone. And then because it was the one thing she knew she could do to help her mother-in-law, she found the site and sent them £500. It pleased her to purring point. Now all she needed was a call from Melanie.
Melanie had her phone in her pocket but she’d muted it because she was sitting in the main hall of the School of Life Sciences listening to a welcome address from the Principal of the Biological faculty and she didn’t want to miss a word of it. It was extremely wide ranging and covered so many subjects she needed to concentrate. She and the rest of the Freshers had been told about the extra-curricular activities that were on offer and she’d made a note of the ones that interested her, underlining the Dramatic Society and the Local History club as the ones she’d try out first, and now they were being introduced to the curriculum.
‘This course,’ the Principal told them, ‘was described in full in your welcoming documents and as you will have seen, spans the entire scale of biological systems and offers a broad exposure to cutting edge research in molecular, cellular and whole organism biology. During the course you will learn a great deal about the major global challenges we face.’ Then she stopped and smiled down at their eager faces. ‘It is, as you can see, extremely demanding, but I feel sure that that is why you have come here to Warwick.’
Yes, Melanie thought as she applauded, it is. That’s exactly why it’s the course I want to follow.
‘Good wasn’t it,’ the student sitting next to her said, as they all began to move out of the hall.
‘Very,’ Melanie said, smiling at her.
‘My name’s Annie,’ the girl said, smiling back.
‘I’m Melanie. Let’s go and have a coffee.’
They went to the nearest café and had coffee and doughnuts which they ate at a table for four which rapidly became a table for six as others joined them. They were a cheerful group, exchanging names and telling one another where they came from and what schools they’d attended. They were awed to hear she’d gone to Charterhouse and asked her quite a lot of questions about it, which she answered as briefly as she could, not wanting to seem a snob, which she most certainly was not, and after a while they moved on to talking about what parts of the course they thought they were going to enjoy the most, which was a lot easier to deal with.
But then one of the group, who was a lanky six-footer with a shock of red hair, horn-rimmed glasses and freckles, and very unprepossessing, suddenly leant forward, looked at her directly and said, ‘I know who you are. You’re the rich kid with the red Humber. I watched you park it on the first day. You are, aren’t you?’
I knew I should have bought another car, Melanie thought, trying not to blush and failing. She’d known it the minute she arrived and was trying to find a space to park among the clapped out jalopies in the car park. But it was done now and she had to face up to the results.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s my car.’
The lanky boy was cock-a-whoop. ‘You must be one rich kid,’ he gloated
She put him right at once. Sternly. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not rich and I didn’t buy it.’ And to pre-empt his next question, ‘My father bought it for me.’
He wasn’t put down in the slightest. ‘Then you’ve got one rich daddy,’ he said. ‘Let me guess. He’s a footballer or a TV star.’ And his audience laughed.
‘Very funny,’ she said icily. ‘He’s a politician, if you must know.’
‘Would we know him?’ Lanky persisted. ‘Is he famous?’
‘No and No,’ Melanie said, glaring at him. Then she stood up, leaned down towards her new friend Annie, so that only she would hear, and said, ‘I’m off to book a seat on that coach.’
‘What coach?’ Annie said, looking puzzled.
‘The one to Warwick,’ Melanie told her. ‘On Saturday.’
‘Wait for me,’ Annie said ‘I’ll come with you.’
So they said ‘see you around’ to their new friends and set off arm in arm to book two seats for Saturday’s adventure. The sun was shining, their new world was open for them and by then Melanie had completely forgotten she was going to phone her mum.
Gwen’s phone call, when it came, was not the expected call from her daughter but a pleasant surprise from her solicitor to inform her that her application for a decree nisi had been accepted and would be considered in the first week in November. He would write to inform her husband, should she so wish.
‘Thank you for telling me Mr Isaacs,’ she said. ‘I’ll let my husband know, if that’s in order. You have to choose your moment with him otherwise he just ignores you.’
‘Yes,’ Mr Isaacs said. ‘So I’ve noticed. I will write and inform you as soon as I have a date for the hearing.’
She thanked him and hung up. The news had pleased her but there were other things on her mind at that moment and chief among them was making sure that she was properly prepared for her first day back at college and had bought herself a cheap car so that she didn’t have to drive the Merc and look as though she was showing off. The Great I Am could wait. He’d got plenty to keep him occupied making his vacuous speeches in the House and showing off to his friends.
She was right about one thing. He wouldn’t have been the least bit interested in what she was going to do but that wasn’t because he was planning his next vacuous speech but because he’d just received an invitation to a meeting of some of the wealthiest and most powerful men in politics and he was swollen with pride and pleasure and a marvellous sense of having arrived. He’d won his rightful place among the rich and powerful at last. He was one of the elite. The letter was signed by Dominic Cummings and Matthew Elliot, who were both people he knew, and it was scheduled for October 8th. Roll on October, he thought, as he entered the date in his diary. I can’t wait. With a good team they’d soon put those fool bureaucrats in their place. He had half a mind to send a note about it to the lady wife until he remembered she was menopausal now and talking rubbish about getting a divorce. I’ll leave it ‘til she’s more receptive, he thought. There’ll be a time for it, sooner or later. She can’t stay stupid for ever. And he went whistling off to find Sir Timothy and impress him.
His lady wife was standing on the forecourt of a local garage that Friday afternoon, with the sun warming the top of her head and Joshua standing protectively beside her, discussing the suitability of a second-hand red Kia with the sales manager. Joshua had checked it over and approved of its condition and she’d had a good look at the boot to make sure it had enough room for all the things she would need to take with her on a placement and had found a safe place on the back seat for Honey. Now all that was left was to find out what it would be like to drive.
‘Could we take it for a spin?’ Joshua asked the salesman.
‘For you Mr Freemantle,’ the young man said, beaming at him, ‘any time.’
So they spun the little car all round Guildford for the next half an hour. And Gwen was very pleased with it. So pleased, in fact, that when they finally came spinning back to the garage, she wrote a cheque for it and bought it there and then. The signature on the cheque widened the salesman’s eyes for a startled second and he looked from her to Joshua obviously wondering what they were doing together, but a cheque is a cheque and after a few more minutes, the sale was made and the car was hers. She and Joshua drove back to the surgery in convoy and triumph.
‘Now,’ she said, when they’d parked their cars and were walking towards the surgery, ‘You must let me cook you a very special supper to say thank you for helping me.’
‘That would be great,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘See you around seven? Must rush or they’ll be sending out the search parties for me.’ And he went striding off into the surgery.
He’s such a good man, Gwen thought, as she headed for her flat. He works harder than any other man I’ve known, even Pa and the boys and they’re very hard workers, and he still makes time to help me choose a car. I shall cook him something really special.
It was the happiest afternoon. Firstly she took her patient Honey for a long walk as a reward for being a good dog and bought stewing steak and kidneys on their way home. Then she put on her apron and set to work, baking a steak and kidney pie, preparing a mixture of vegetables, peeling potatoes, choosing a bottle of Beaujolais and finally making a treacle pudding just big enough for two. She’d only just finished setting the table when she heard his knock at the door and there he was, beaming at her with a box of chocolates for her in his hand, and stooping to stroke Honey who was wriggling a rapturous greeting. Oh it was going to be a lovely evening!
And it was. In fact it was even better than she expected.
Honey was fed and bolted his food so quickly he was back under the table sitting happily between their feet as soon as the pie was dished up. They talked shop while they were enjoying the pie and making inroads into the wine, which seemed absolutely the right thing to be doing, especially as it was about treating a couple of rescued hedgehogs.
‘Old Mrs Cooper brought them in,’ Josh said. ‘The one who takes in rescued greyhounds. She found these two poor things in curled up in her shed and brought them in because she could see they weren’t well.’
‘And were they? Gwen asked, pausing with her next mouthful already on her fork.
‘No. They weren’t well at all,’ he told her. ‘Poor things. She was right. They had round worm and fluke and they were seriously undernourished. We treated the infections there and then and weighed them and she’s going to bring them back in a week’s time, to see how they’re going on. She’s a tender heart and very patient. If anyone can coax them back to health, she’s the one.’
‘Maybe I shall meet her and see them,’ Gwen hoped. ‘I remember her greyhounds. They were undernourished when she got them too.’
‘I’ll give you a call when they come in,’ Joshua promised. ‘Then you can come across and see them.’
‘If I’m in,’ she reminded him. ‘I start at college on Monday, don’t forget.’
‘I haven’t forgotten,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Are you looking forward to it?’
‘Can’t wait,’ she admitted happily. ‘You ready for your afters?’
‘Just about,’ he said, smiling again. And helped her clear away the first course. But when she’d turned the pudding out onto its curved dish and poured the remaining treacle over it and carried it steaming to the table, his face was such a study of disbelief it worried her.
‘Oh dear,’ she said, feeling alarmed. ‘Don’t you like it? I can get you something else if you’d rather…’
‘I love it,’ he told her. ‘It’s my favourite pudding. How did you know? My mother used to make it for me on my birthday as a special treat. Every year. How did you know?’
‘I didn’t,’ she said, cutting him a generous half, ‘but now I do, I’ll make you another one on your birthday.’
‘You have,’ he said. ‘That’s what’s so amazing. It’s my birthday today. And before you ask, I’m forty-one.’
‘In that case,’ she said, ‘many happy returns!’ And put the slice on his plate.
He ate it with such evident pleasure it was a joy to see and when he’d swallowed every crumb of it, and scraped up the last shred of treacle and licked the spoon clean, he pushed the plate to one side and leant across the table to take her hand. ‘That,’ he said, ‘was the best meal I’ve had for years. You’re a …’ And then he hesitated. ‘I can’t find the words to tell you what you are.’
‘You don’t have to,’ she said. ‘It’s written all over your face. You like my cooking.’ He was stroking her hand with his thumb and looking at her so lovingly, that she was finding it difficult to breathe.
‘It’s not just your cooking,’ he said. ‘It’s more than that. Much, much more. I could tell you in three words. Only I don’t know whether I ought to say them.’
Then they were both bereft of any words at all, he because he was afraid he’d already said more than he should have done, she because her heart was beating so powerfully she couldn’t speak. They sat one on each side of the table, caught between hope and disbelief
Eventually, he gathered what little courage he could and said what he wanted to say. ‘I think I love you.’
She felt so happy she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘That’s five words.’
‘Five or three,’ he said, lovingly, ‘they mean the same thing.’
But it didn’t matter how many words were spoken now because their faces were saying everything that needed to be said. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her finger tips tenderly, one by one, and she leant forward across the table towards him to stroke his face with her free hand. The table was frustratingly in the way.
‘Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,’ he said between kisses.
And when she nodded, they strolled into the living room with their arms round each other and sprawled on the sofa together, where they could kiss as often as they wanted, which meant one kiss after another until they were both breathless.
‘We should be in bed,’ he said.
She was too far gone to say more than ‘Yes.’ But it was all she needed to say. Seconds later they were in her welcoming bed and making love so passionately and pleasurably that for the first time in her life her climax made her cry out.
Afterwards they slept, curled up together. Or to be more accurate, they overslept.
Joshua was the first to wake and it was the quality of the daylight that woke him. Even in his love-drowzed state he knew it was much later than it ought to be and he looked at his watch to check. It gave him a jolt because it showed that he was due in the surgery in ten minutes. Hell’s teeth! Ten minutes. I shall be late, he thought and got up at once and started to dress. He’d struggled into his shoes and trousers and was pulling his shirt over his head when Gwen woke up and called ‘Good morning, Joshua’ to him.
‘Morning my little lovely,’ he said, buttoning his shirt.
‘Are we late?’ she asked.
‘Hideously,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘We’ve overslept. I’m due in the surgery in,’ - he checked his watch again - ‘six minutes.’
She was alerted now and got out of bed at once. ‘Oh my God!’
‘Take your time,’ he said, bending to kiss her. ‘Have some breakfast. I’ll let them know you’re on the way.’ And he was gone.
He’s so quick, she thought. I shall have to rush too. But she did need some breakfast. He was right about that. And a shower and clean clothes. And she had to feed Honey and take him for his walk. I’ll be as quick as I can, she promised herself. And to her credit, she was, although she arrived in the waiting room much later than she usually did.
The receptionist took her late arrival phlegmatically. ‘Mr Freemantle told us you’d be late,’ she said, ‘and would you go to room four with a blanket. Young Tom’s got a Siamese.’ And she mouthed the words, ‘Bit tricky.’
It was an understatement. The cat was underneath the table, with its back against the wall, spitting and snarling and leaping away from any approaching hand and its owner was crouching on one side of the table trying to talk it out while Young Tom was down on his arthritic knees on the other side watching for a suitable moment to make a grab for it.
He looked up when Gwen made her entrance with the blanket over her arm and sighed with relief. ‘Now we shall be all right,’ he told the owner. ‘Here’s our Gwen come and she’s an expert at calming terrified animals.’
It was gratifying to be described in such a way by an old hand but Gwen was well aware that they had a considerable problem on their hands. The cat was terrified and injured. She could see the blood on its right hind paw from where she stood and it was as tense as a spring.
‘If you could just let me get down where you are,’ she said to the owner, ‘I’ll see what I can do. Is this a tom cat or a female?’
‘Female,’ the owner said. ‘Her name’s Queenie. She’s been mauled by a dog.’
‘Poor thing,’ Gwen sympathised as she knelt on the floor. Then she gave her attention to her patient and began to speak to her in her soothing voice. ‘Don’t be frightened little Queenie. You’re a good cat. A very good cat. Yes, yes. We’ve got you. You’re going to be all right. You’re a very good cat.’ Even so, it took a long time and a lot of cajoling before she could lower the blanket over the frightened animal and lift her out very gently and ease her onto the table.
Then the work proper could begin. Young Tom started off by tranquilising his trembling patient so that he could examine her, which he did in his gentle methodical way as soon as the cat had settled. After that, the consultation became routine. He and Gwen checked the cat’s injury and he explained to her owner that she would have to be anaesthetised because she needed surgery and that he would X-ray her too to make sure she didn’t have any broken bones and then they wheeled her into the operating theatre, where they took an X-ray of her leg and, having satisfied themselves that her bones were intact, Gwen shaved off the fur round her wound and kept an eye on her tube while Young Tom cleaned the wound and stitched it neatly together and dressed it, and then eased the protective stocking into place.
‘We make a good team,’ he said when the job was done and he was washing his hands. ‘I’ll leave you here to keep an eye on her. OK?’
It was more than OK. It was just what she needed. It gave her a nice quiet time in which she could mull over the events of the night and get used to the idea that she had a lover. Even to hear the word in her head made her happy. A lover, she thought, as she checked that the cat was breathing properly. A dear, tender lover. How my life has changed. It was almost too good to be true. In one corner of her brain she knew she really ought to phone her children and find out how they were getting on at school and college but for the moment what was happening in her own life was so rapturously extraordinary that it took precedence over everything else.
