Dream a Little Dream (20 page)

‘This empty home. Every day I do the same thing. I sit here and watch me programmes, I get me brass and china from the cupboards and polish it all, I hoover – make meself a bacon sandwich in the morning and a Heinz tomato soup at lunchtime – a roast in the evening if I can be bothered … it’s the same. Every day,’ she says, giving a big sigh. ‘Do you know what I’ve been doing since Samuel died?’

‘No …’ I say, intrigued as to where this is headed.

‘Waiting.’

‘For what?’ asks Real Brett from my side, swallowing hard, seeming as though he doesn’t want to hear the honest answer this sweet old lady might be about to give.

‘To die.’

I’m not one for morbid chats – I’m never sure how to navigate my way around the topic, and seemingly Real Brett feels equally uncomfortable. We both sit there, sipping on our teas, unsure how to respond and allowing Ethel to continue her admission.

‘Don’t want to be all doom and gloom – but that’s what I’ve been doing. Watching the seconds slowly tick by,’ she admits, looking down at the gold watch on her wrist. ‘My life stopped when Samuel’s did – and I know he’d hate me saying that. But life lost its purpose. I made us a happy home life, and then, all of a sudden, there was no one here to share it with. I still don’t know what me purpose is outside this room – perhaps I’ve fulfilled it already in me lifetime with me kids and that, but I think there’s more to life than sitting in here on me tod waiting for the Grim Reaper,’ she chuckles, removing her glasses and rubbing at her eyes. ‘I’ve wasted enough time for now. I’d be happy if I popped me clogs tomorrow – I’ve had a good run – but until I do I’d like to have one more adventure.’

My heart simultaneously bleeds and soars. It bleeds for Ethel’s loneliness and emptiness – despite once having a home filled with family, but it soars for the corner she’s turned and how perfectly she fits into the show I’m trying to create.

‘And if you could go anywhere in the world or see anything, what would you choose?’ I ask her, as Real Brett stands and offers her another of her own biscuits before sitting down and dunking one in his tea.

‘You know, I saw that Denise Van Outen lady on the telly with Lorraine the other week talking about how she
climbed some mountain some years back and then went on to see The Great Wall in China …’

My brain works quickly to decipher through the hundreds of articles I’ve read on the Mail Online over the years. ‘Yes, she climbed Kilimanjaro with Gary Barlow, Cheryl Cole, Alesha Dixon and a whole bunch of other celebs for Comic Relief, then climbed the Great Wall of China,’ I nod, enthusiastically. Both trips were quite a while back, but we all know how they like to rehash old ground in interviews – I’m pretty sure she even found her way to Machu Picchu at some point.

‘Well, I quite fancy that meself.’

‘Kilimanjaro?’ I ask with a squeak, wondering what the insurance would be like for something as strenuous as that. I’m pretty sure some of the celebs suffered from altitude sickness and were given serious medical attention. From what I remember reading, it was quite a strenuous climb even for those gym-obsessed celebs.

‘Don’t be daft – have you seen how slow I am?’ Ethel tuts, rolling her eyes at Real Brett, as though I’m barking for even suggesting it.

Real Brett politely manages to curb a laugh, but I still feel him shifting in his seat beside me.

‘I want to go see The Great Wall,’ concludes Ethel with a decisive nod.

‘Oh,’ I voice.

‘What?’ she asks.

‘Nothing,’ I shrug, wondering how we’d be able to get around the issue of there being millions of steps for her to climb up and down. Suddenly my idea of getting old folk to see the magical sights the world has to offer doesn’t
seem quite so straightforward. In fact, I’m beginning to sense a great big hole of disaster looming within the pitch as I ponder over just how physically able the old folk I find are actually going to be. It’s certainly something I’m going to have to give a lot of thought to – especially as insuring something like this isn’t going to be straightforward.

‘I’ve looked it up,’ Ethel says, refocusing my brain as she reaches over to her laptop and brings the screen to life. ‘This place has wheelchair access – not that I’m in one yet, mind,’ she says, looking past me and talking to Real Brett. ‘But I do know my limits.’

I move off the sofa and crouch beside her seat, the faint smell of urine hitting me and tickling the hairs up my nostrils, taking me by surprise.

‘The Badaling Great Wall,’ I read, impressed that she’s already done her homework and relieved at the prospect of such places being accessible to all.

‘What is it about there that makes you want to go so much?’ asks Brett from the sofa, nibbling on a fresh biscuit – I’m sure it’s his fourth already.

‘Nice to be in the presence of something older than meself,’ she cackles before becoming sombre and letting out a big sigh. ‘Did you know you can see it from the moon?’ she asks, looking at us both expectantly with this little nugget of information that holds the key to her dreams.

We both look at her in surprise – on my part this is something I hadn’t actually known before, but I’m not entirely sure whether this is new information for Real Brett or whether he’s gawping in disbelief at Ethel just to humour her.

‘If you can see it from the moon,’ Ethel continues. ‘Then you must be able to see it from up in the heavens. Now, I know my Samuel is up there – that’s a given, he was a kind old fool in his day so I can’t see him going down to hell, even though I did get pregnant before we got hitched,’ she says, shaking her head at the thought. ‘No. He’s up there. I know it. And I want to go somewhere I know he can
see
me.’

And there it is, I smile to myself – my hook. The piece of her story that’s going to melt the hearts of millions across the country – little old lady goes to The Great Wall of China to grab the attention of her dead husband who she’s felt lost without, but has now regained the strength and courage to explore the world’s beauty, if only to feel closer to him.

I know I’d be weeping on my sofa at such a tragically romantic tale.

‘That’s beautiful,’ I sigh, unable to stop a smile appearing on my face.

A loud bang interrupts the moment and makes me jump so high that I end up scrabbling on my knees in the middle of the room.

‘Nan?’ calls a voice. ‘You there?’

‘Sammy,’ she grins in surprise, getting up and walking to the door.

I put my hand to my chest and take a deep breath as I get up to my feet.

‘Nice work,’ winks Real Brett.

‘Right?’ I puff – nodding and waving a fist in the air. I resist the urge for a celebratory dance. Ethel is perfect for
Grannies Go Gap
.

‘This is my grandson,’ calls Ethel, returning with a man in tow.

I was expecting her grandson to be some sort of nerdy computer geek in his teens with glasses and bad acne, but instead, in walks an absolute god of a human being. Tall, shaggy dark hair, juicily kissable lips and the most piercing grey eyes I’ve ever seen.

I practically melt on the spot at the sight of his suited buff body.

‘Hello, I’m Sam,’ he says, his lips pursing in confusion as he shakes Real Brett’s hand before holding his hand out for mine.

‘You’re the one who put your nan online?’ asks Real Brett.

‘Bought me me laptop,’ nods Ethel, looping her hand through his arm.

‘She wanted to get on Facebook and see what we’re all up to,’ smiles Sam, looking down at her. ‘There’s a lot of us. It’s a good way for her to keep tabs – although now she’s on it we can’t seem to get her off. She’s addicted. Comments on everything.’

‘Nice,’ grins Real Brett, patting him on the back. Showing no signs of being bothered by the arrival of this beautiful specimen.

Okay, I might be slightly exaggerating on the whole Adonis thing – he is incredibly good looking, but the fact that he spends time with his nan and has helped her live in the twenty-first century makes him a whole lot more appealing. It’s that fact alone (helped along by his mild attractiveness) that makes me wish he’d rip my clothes off and make love on the retro rug beneath my feet right this second.

On reflection, I think that might be the sexual frustration talking …

‘So, who are you guys?’ he asks, thankfully cutting my crazy imagination off, as his eyes flicker suspiciously between the two of us. ‘If you’re selling something then she’s really not interested …’

‘No!’ I practically scream, horrified that he assumes we’re taking advantage of Ethel and turning crimson at my sordid imaginings. ‘Ethel emailed us.’

‘She did?’

‘We’re from Red Brick Productions,’ explains Brett. ‘Sarah wrote a post for Age Wise sharing details of a TV show we want to pilot and Ethel got in touch.’

‘Really?’ he asks, looking at her with a chuffed expression on his face.

‘I did it all meself,’ nods Ethel. ‘Remembered everything you taught me – even put me name in the subject box.

The pair exchange a smile that is utterly adorable. I might be running ahead of myself here – but I sincerely hope Sammy comes as part of the deal if we get Ethel to The Great Wall. Maybe he could even come with us.

‘We just came to meet your nan and hear more about why she’d like to take part,’ I say, still grinning at the pair of them.

‘Oh right. So you’re researching?’

‘Exactly,’ nods Real Brett.

‘And what’s the show? She’s not signing herself up for something like
TOWIE
, is she? You’re not wanting her to be the new Nanny Pat, are you?’

‘No,’ I declare.

‘She does make a good sausage plait if you need her to
make one, though,’ he admits under his breath, winking at Ethel.

‘I do,’ she nods.

‘But we don’t,’ confirms Real Brett.

‘Oh,’ ponders Ethel, before her eyes light up in delight at a new thought. ‘Will Nanny Pat be on your show, though? She’s old. Not as old as me, mind.’

‘I don’t think she will be …’ I say, trying to let her down gently and utterly confused as to why we’re talking about the Essex Gran. ‘It’s a very different sort of programme,’ I reason.

‘Shame. I like her,’ Ethel said sadly, ‘Great show.’

Even though we obviously weren’t coming here to audition Ethel for it, I can’t help but feel sorry for her that we’re unable to make her
TOWIE
wishes happen for her – she seems so disappointed.

‘You’d have been great on it,’ whispers Sam.

‘Back to the reason we’re here, though,’ says Real Brett, widening his eyes at me and willing us to get back on track. ‘Sarah?’

‘Yes,’ I say, snapping back into action and realizing we have to win Sam around to the idea if Ethel’s to take part. I feel as though I’m back in Damian’s office about to give the pitch again. ‘It’s an idea I’ve recently created – which is why it’s in the early stages and why we need to have someone like your nan as a case study – but the general idea of it is that we take people of your nan’s generation, who’ve never left the UK, and give them the experiences that are currently being enjoyed by people in their late teens, early twenties, who’ve decided to take a gap year and travel the world.’

‘Like going to some rave in Thailand and getting off your tits?’ he scoffs.

‘Samuel!’ gasps Ethel.

His tone and language in front of us all stops me in my tracks. I’m no saint – I’m aware I’ve got a mouth like a sewer at times – but there’s a time and a place. Swearing in front of my elders (especially my mum and grandparents) is definitely a no-no. His attractiveness instantly drops from mild to zero, even if he is attentive and kind to Ethel.

‘Not quite the angle we were thinking of,’ smirks Real Brett, taking over in a friendly manner, unfazed by his outburst. ‘This is more about giving them the chance to see a part of the world that has, for whatever reason, been out of their reach – but that they have a passion to see. It’s inspirational entertainment, rather than drunken debauchery in some eighteen-to-thirties clubbing resort.’

Sam places his hands into his trouser pockets as he cocks his head to one side and nods, mulling over the information we’ve shared.

When he’s not looking, Real Brett turns to me and gives me a cheeky little wink – reassuring me that this is going to end well and that we’re going to bag our first case study by the time we leave this seventies-infused room.

‘I told them I want to go to China,’ declares Ethel to no one in particular.

‘She wants to see the wall,’ I add for Sam’s benefit, taking a swig of my warm tea.

‘And you’d just take her there? Just like that?’

‘Well there’ll be a whole process to go along with it,’ coughs Real Brett. ‘Obviously the main point of the show is to document Ethel’s first journey abroad.’

‘Let her see what it’s like thirty thousand feet in the air,’ I add, grinning widely at Ethel as I say the words.

‘Not sure what I’ll make of that bit,’ Ethel scowls, scrunching up her nose.

‘Nan – you’ve done it before.’

‘What?’

‘What’s that?’ I ask, my ears starting to burn along with my crimson face.

‘Been on a plane,’ he says, frowning at Ethel. ‘You’ve been on a plane, Nan.’

‘Really?’ I swallow. ‘Where to? Ireland? Scotland? Manchester?’ My voice squeaks with each suggestion, willing one of them to be correct so that Ethel is still eligible for the show – but the bigger Sam’s grimace grows I realize that’s becoming increasingly unlikely.

‘We went to Florida for Sharon’s birthday.’

Oh shit.

‘Sharon?’ asks Ethel.

‘My sister, your granddaughter,’ Sam says with a hint of annoyance. ‘We went to Disney World for her thirtieth. Remember? Big family trip with all the little ones.’

‘We did?’

‘Nan, there’s a picture of us all in front of the castle up here,’ he exclaims with exasperation as he points to a frame neither Real Brett nor I had seen looming above the TV.

‘Am I in that?’ she asks softly, as the reality starts to seep through.

‘Yes. You had a great time,’ he reminds her. ‘But you didn’t think much of the food.’

‘All burgers and French fries,’ she nods with disgust, suddenly remembering. ‘A bunch of crap.’