Sign of the Times (13 page)

Chapter Seventeen

“Hello you,” Jennifer interrupted her friend’s thought process and sat down.
 
The attentive barman quickly brought her a drink and she settled back to listen to Maggie.
 
She reminisced for a very pleasant half hour with her and then with an anguished look at her watch, said she had better get back.

When she arrived home, her mother was asleep, so she put the shopping away, checked the cooking instructions on the beef olives and switched on the kettle.
 
Ripping open the packet of plain chocolate digestives, she demolished the first one in seconds, realising she was ravenous.
 
She had made porridge for her mother this morning, but there hadn’t been enough milk for two. The latte she’d had with Maggie was her only sustenance all day.
 
Her tummy rumbled and she helped herself to a second biscuit, as the kettle came to the boil.

Jennifer tiptoed through to the living room, peeking into her mother’s room en route to ensure she hadn’t woken up.
 
Settling herself down, she picked up her magazine.
 
She was addicted to entering competitions.
 
She hadn’t won much, just a measly CD case and some kids’ film binoculars, but she lived in hope.
 
Occasionally she won cinema tickets, but ended up letting them expire, as she was afraid to leave her mother alone for that length of time.
 
A win of thirty pounds worth of M&S vouchers, meant they had some pretty nice food for a few days.
 
She used to subscribe to several specialist competition magazines, but when she lost her job, she couldn’t afford the subscriptions.
 
Her favourite competitions were those you had to create a slogan or jingle for, as she assumed less people would enter, as it required a bit of thought and she would have a better crack at winning.
 
This month’s edition had arrived in the morning’s post and she was looking forward to seeing what prizes were on offer.
 
Sipping her coffee and picking up the magazine and her pen, she circled those of interest to her; £500 of jewellery in a Bond Street jeweller’s, a BMW 5 series, a vintage 2CV, a fortnight in Tenerife all inclusive, a seven day trip on the Orient Express and a villa in Spain worth £200,000.

As Jennifer went to get her box of postcards, a noise startled her.
 
Her mother must be awake.
 
Sighing, she set down her magazine, jerked open the door and traipsed into the bedroom.
 
Her mother lay with her eyes wide open, unable to pull herself up to a sitting position.
 
Maggie adjusted her pillows and gently pulled her mother’s frail body upright.

“Thanks dear.
 
Can you check my pad?”

Jennifer nodded grimly.
 
She felt so guilty, but sometimes she hated the fact this was her lot.
 
Pulling the blankets aside, she hoisted her mother’s nightgown upward and checked the incontinence pad. She knew from the smell of urine which emanated from her mother, even before checking the pad
,
that she needed changing.
 
Taking the pad away, she bent down to get another from the bedside cabinet and grabbed a wipe too.
 
When she got back up, she realised her mother was widdling once again, totally unaware, over the sheets she had just changed that morning.
 
Blinking back tears and not wanting to humiliate her mother further, she waited until she’d finished, then wiped her, as you would a baby and put the new incontinence pad on.
  
Thank God she wasn’t doubly incontinent.
 
Jennifer dumped the sodden pad in the outside bin, washed her hands and retrieved some clean sheets from the linen cupboard.
 
She manoeuvred her mother around the bed, took away the wet sheets, cleaned the rubber sheet with antiseptic wipes, dried it off and then slipped the fresh sheets under her mother and over the mattress, all the while clasping her mother’s skinny frame to her.
 
Her mother, relaxed against the pillows, politely enquired of her daughter if she could have a cup of tea.
 

Jennifer headed back to the kitchen carrying the stinking sheets, which she bunged in the washing machine. Throwing some washing powder into the dispenser, she turned the machine on.
 
Tea duly served to her mum, Jennifer retired to the living room to finish hers and enter some competitions.

“Here you go Mum. Your favourite, beef olives and roasters.”

“Oh thanks so much, dear.”

She sat companionably with her tray on her lap whilst her mother swallowed forkfuls of her meal.
 

“Can you turn on the TV?
 
I’d like to watch the news.”

Jennifer got up from the rocking chair where she usually sat in her mother’s room when they ate together and switched on the TV.
 
Instantly, the headlines began to zoom up in front of them, dead on six o’clock.

Jennifer cleared away the plates and noting that her mother was already asleep, settled down in the living room, after switching on the TV.
 
She flicked through the channels, finally plumping for
Who Wants to be a Millionaire
and sat back to relax with a few chocolate digestives and her competition magazine.
 
This was the only time she really got to unwind, after her mother had gone to sleep.
 
It was just a pity she couldn’t do anything worthwhile, like go to a pub, or a disco, or the cinema, or anything really.
 
She was stuck in here night after night.
 
If she didn’t find a solution to all of this soon, she was going to go stark, raving mad.

“Twelve second class stamps please,” Jennifer handed over the money to the cashier. “Thanks,” she said, stuffing the stamps into her purse.
 
It was a beautiful sunny day.
 
She had a little time before she would have to go back and prepare her mother’s lunch.
 
So she sat in the park, putting stamps on her postcards.
 
After soaking up the sun’s rays and admiring some men out jogging, she picked up her shopping and dropped her postcards in the post-box. It had been a long time since she’d been with someone. She missed that affection, but when would she get the opportunity?
 
It was hard enough to meet someone nowadays, even if you had a job and a social life and were used to meeting lots of new people. How on earth would she ever meet anyone if she never went anywhere?
 

The phone rang and Jennifer hastened to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Jennifer?”

“Maggie. How you doing?”

“OK thanks. You?”

“Ah, fair to middling.”

“Thought as much.
 
I have the perfect cure.”

“Oh?”

“What are you doing on Saturday?”

When she came off the phone, she was flushed with excitement and prayed it would all work out.
 
Maggie was going to Glencoe to campaign against a multi-million pound visitor centre and had decided Jennifer needed to get out of the house, so she wanted her to come too.
 
When she had protested because of her mother, Maggie had the perfect solution.
 
Her mum would look after her. She was phoning her to check.

The phone trilled a few minutes later.
 

“Jennifer.
 
Mum says that’s fine.
 
I’ll call you tomorrow, OK?”

“Thanks. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

Jennifer was ecstatic. She felt like skipping and whooping and shouting for joy.
 
It was funny, she was going to a march, about what she couldn’t give two hoots, but the point was, she was going
somewhere
.
 
She knew she would have to pick her moment with her mum so that she didn’t offend her.
 

“Mum?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Can I talk to you about something.”

“Oh? That sounds serious,”

“It’s not anything bad.
 
I just wanted to ask you how you would feel about it, that’s all.”

“What is it?”

“Maggie asked me if I wanted to go to Glencoe with her this weekend.
 
Her mum used to be a nurse at the Ailsa.
 
She knows our situation and is happy to help out whilst I’m gone. Would you have any problem with that?”

“No, dear.
 
If she’s a nurse, then she’ll know what to expect, won’t she?”

“Yes,” Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, that’s settled then. Would you mind bringing me some choccy biccies to go with my tea?”

“Sure,” Jennifer would have given her the moon and the stars at that point.

For the rest of the week Jennifer felt like a nervous schoolgirl.
 
She was counting down the days, as if she were going on a long haul holiday.
 
To her, going to Glencoe was just as good.
 
It was the getting away from it all that she was looking forward to, being able to pretend she led a normal life.
 
They were the longest four days of her life.

Saturday finally came and the doorbell rang.
 
It was Maggie’s mum, a sweet woman, still very spry for her age.
 
Jennifer showed her in, hung her coat on the pine coat stand behind them and gestured for Jean to follow her to her mother’s room, where she re-introduced them.

“Thanks so much, Jean. You have no idea what this means to Jennifer and I,” her mum said.

“It’s my pleasure. Let the young ones go away and wreak havoc for the weekend,” chuckled Jean. “Now Jennifer. Why don’t you show me where everything is.
 
Hmm?”
 
Jennifer promptly obeyed and was just showing Jean how to operate the sofa bed mechanism, when the bell rang again.
 
Jean officiously said, “I’ll get it” and off she went.
 
Jennifer looked in on her mum again and raised her eyebrows questioningly, to indicate
 
“Well?” Her mum gave her the thumbs up.
 
Relieved, she bent down and kissed her mother’s cheek and thought once again how unfair their situation was. Jean was able to bustle around better than most her age, whereas Jennifer’s mum was forced to lie in that bed every day.
 
She tried to push these sad thoughts to the back of her mind and said goodbye to her mother

After Jennifer and Jeremy were introduced, they were off.
 
Already Jennifer was thinking,
I’ve met someone new today.
She was sure Jeremy must think her completely mad as she kept beaming at him.
 
They picked up Lee next, in Troon.
 
He was a merry, jack the lad character, who never stopped talking.
 
Jennifer instantly liked him, although she felt sure that his constant chattering would eventually exhaust her, but right now she
loved
chatter.
 
Last stop was Susan and Henry’s semi-detached in Kilmarnock, before heading up the road towards Glasgow and then branching off up the A82 to Glencoe. Of course, they had to stop off at the Stag’s Head for some breakfast.
 
The Stag’s Head, as the name suggested, greeted you with the eponymous stag mounted above the bar, with another in the toilets.
 
The carpets were Buchanan tartan, garish yellow, green, red and orange, covered in stains, best not to ask of what.

There was a crowd of regulars at the bar
,
who, you got the feeling, had been waiting outside for the bar to open.
 
Jennifer noted that the giant behind the bar wore a kilt and was absolutely gorgeous.
 
He looked like a younger version of the guy on the
Scot’s Porage Oats
packet, a big, strapping lad with thighs that would…She flushed at the thought.
 
As she took her plate of sausages, fried egg, bacon and black and fruit pudding, he said, “I like a lassie who likes her grub,” and winked at her.
 
Jennifer was mortified, wondering if he’d noticed her scoping him out.
 
The others, who had witnessed it all from their table, laughed uproariously.

They chatted briefly about their jobs and their lives and Jennifer noticed that no-one asked her what her job was.
 
She always wondered if she’d lie and say she was in Insurance, or whether she’d say she was a carer.
 
Often carers were viewed as not particularly bright, with little or no qualifications.

Breakfast eaten, they bundled into the people carrier again and headed north.
 
Jennifer wasn’t really sure what to expect at Glencoe, at the Black Watch centre, but when they arrived they saw about fifteen protestors, brandishing placards, with some bemused villagers looking on.
 
Maggie soon rallied the troops and before long the numbers had swelled to more than thirty hardcore supporters.
 
Jennifer didn’t include herself in this number.
 
She was, at best, a half-hearted protestor, only here for the social scene.

When Maggie lay down in front of the JCB, Jennifer stood open-mouthed. She had always known Maggie was pretty radical, but she didn’t really think she’d go to such lengths.
 
A larger crowd gathered as events unfolded and Jennifer whispered to Jeremy, “What’s she doing?”