CHAPTER 20
Donald Vickers had been up and awake for hours already, long before the local market received its first visitors but that was normal. His daughter Gabrielle was in bed, but that was normal too.
It was still morning, at just that time when the mind feels most refreshed after waking up early, then drifting off again into a contented slumber. Gabrielle opened her eyes and moved her shoulders into a slightly more comfortable position. She looked around the room, as she did every morning at about the same time, brushing aside the length of dark hair that obscured her vision to the right. Everything was in order, she could see. Books just so. Pictures on the walls as they should be, with the exception of one which leaned slightly and which no amount of tinkering and straightening ever had any observable effect. She studied it carefully. It showed an ordinary, everyday kitchen, full of colour and life, crockery scattered in carefully chosen random positions, food on the table and ready to eat. There was a kettle on the hob, steaming away merrily, filling that part of the picture with a haze of water vapour. Gabrielle introduced it to her visitors as ¨Mother’s Whistler¨. What else? A chair set close to the bed at a slight and precise angle which never varied, and clothes folded neatly across its cushion. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be, where she liked to have it.
No, not quite. Her eyes fastened on the bedside cabinet. True, it contained a small alarm clock which was never set and hence never rang as time was more or less meaningless in this room, a photograph of a youngish woman having the appearance of Gabrielle as she might be expected to look when older, a diary in brown Morocco leather with a brass clasp and lock, a notebook and selection of pens and pencils and a water jug which she had almost emptied overnight, being unusually thirsty. Ah yes, that was it. Nothing was missing, but the water jug had been refilled. Being rather too old to believe in fairies, however delightful the thought might be, Gabrielle could guess that her father had been in the room and that had been sometime in the past... she looked at the clock... two hours, as she was awake briefly at six and it was now coming up to eight.
Pleased with her deduction, she eased herself up with some difficulty on the headboard, tucking in the pillows for support, and began to plan the day. Breakfast first and that very soon. Should she have it in bed or should she be adventurous today and take it downstairs, since she felt unusually fit and well? Maybe downstairs, she thought. It was easier for her father that way, although it didn’t seem to bother him. Nothing ever did. A thought stirred at the back of her mind at that point, a thought that struggled for expression, but which failed to surface. Resolutely she tucked it away with her almost compulsive tidiness in the hope that it would become clear later. Somehow she felt it was important. Anyway, she had to get up as she had been sweating profusely during the night and the sheets were damp. They would need changing. Slowly she slid her legs over the side of the bed and sat balanced on the firm edge. Almost immediately she became aware of another effect of diminishing the contents of the water jug, a rather pressing effect which her sweating had done little to diminish. She reached out her hand to the buzzer set on the side of the bedside cabinet and pushed the button. Her father must have been on his way up at that very moment, because the bedroom door opened almost immediately.
’Hello, my lovely girl. How are you this morning?’ he said in his usual cheerful voice.
’I need the toilet,’ she answered pragmatically. ’And I’d like a bath straight away, because I’ve been sweating again. I can manage on my own today, too.’
Without a further word, he placed one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees, and lifting her from the bed, carried her to the bathroom. While she sat in a slight fever of impatience, he turned on the bath taps before leaving and closing the door. For the next few minutes she could cope by herself while he changed the bedding. A quarter of an hour later he tapped on the bathroom door and received a call to enter. The last of the water was just gurgling away down the waste pipe. He took a large towel, the fluffy blue one with an interesting and intricate woven pattern, bought in London so many years before, and wrapped it around her thin body. Supported under her shoulders, Gabrielle sat on the edge of the bath for a moment, while her father shifted his grip, lifted and carried her back to bed. Pushing the towel away from her shoulders, he dropped a clean nightdress over her head and helped to settle it past her hips. There was no false modesty about the action. If there had ever been a time for it, that time had long since gone. Father and daughter sat on the bed together and talked.
’You look well this morning, Gabby,’ he informed her.
’Yes. I feel it. In fact, I thought I might have breakfast downstairs, then sit out in the garden if it’s warm enough.’
’It’s a beautiful day, Gabby.’ He ruffled the top of her hair. ’Just like all other days in which you play a starring role.’
’I bet you say that to all your girlfriends,’
’Oh, I do,’ he assured her.
’Not difficult though, is it, when I’m the only one you’ve got?’ Again the elusive thought. ’Apart from the manageress of the supermarket and she’s ancient, must be forty five if she’s a day.’
Her father was exactly that age and well she knew it. He grinned at her, but didn’t rise to the bait. That could be reserved for later
’You should get out more, dad. It can’t be good for you to stay in so much.’
’One day, my darling daughter, when you are fit enough, then I’ll go out on the town. You’ll come with me and we’ll dance until dawn. I’ll make all the young men green with envy when they see a beautiful young dolly bird in my arms. The only thing is it has to be proper dancing and none of your modern disco stuff. I’ll teach you how to move with grace. Do you want to get dressed before you come down?’
’Yes please. The blue skirt I think and a matching blouse. It doesn’t matter which one.’
Donald searched through the wardrobe and quickly found the items his daughter wanted. Other clothes were in drawers near to her bed and those she could reach easily.
’Breakfast in ten minutes, alright?’
She wrinkled her nose at him. ’I’ll give a buzz when I’m ready,’ she said.
It never took her less than half an hour to dress herself, often much longer. It was his way of returning her jibe about his age. She smiled happily as she sorted her clothes out and began the protracted process of fitting them over unwilling limbs. The skirt was easy enough at least, being a wrap round style, as nearly all her skirts had to be. Underwear was simply difficult and trousers a plain impossibility without help. She rarely wore trousers for that reason. Besides, she liked to feel feminine. Suddenly tired, she leaned back on the pillows and closed her eyes. It would have been easier to allow her father to dress her, but she hadn’t given up yet. Besides, she reflected, he had so much more to do and it showed. He was looking weary, in spite of his unfailing cheerfulness, a cheerfulness that was more often assumed than real. Of that she could be certain, knowing him so well as a result of their peculiar circumstances. They were more closely tied than many a married couple, she knew that beyond a shadow of doubt. Quite how she knew it, quite how it was possible for her to know it wasn’t clear, yet the knowledge was there just the same. It took its toll though. He did look weary.
For the third time the same elusive thought tried to surface. This time she caught it. She ran through the sequence in her mind. Father, tired, break, that would do it. She would tackle him about it during the day, almost immediately in fact.
Her hand reached out for the buzzer. Moments later she was being carried downstairs, all fifteen of them, turning carefully at the bend in the staircase where her shoes had damaged the wallpaper so often before and into the garden where breakfast was laid out. She was deposited gently in the large reclining chair with narrow arms that had been brought outside especially for the purpose. There were two places set. Donald sat opposite the girl and poured out cereal for both of them.
’Haven’t you had breakfast yet?’ she asked in surprise. He didn’t normally wait for her.
’As a matter of fact yes. I just got hungry again, that’s all.’
It was the opening she was looking for, and she took advantage of it.
’What time did you get up this morning?’ she asked.
’I don’t know. The usual time, I suppose.’
’About five o’ clock?’
’Yes about that.’
’Poor dad, you work far too hard you know.’
’Nonsense, Gabby. Don’t forget your pills.’
’And don’t try to change the subject. I suppose I have to take the red one.’
’I suppose so. They’re meant to be more effective than the old ones.’
’Yes, I think they are. At least I don’t have so much pain. The trouble is they make me sweat such a lot. This is the fourth morning in a row you’ve had to change the sheets. You must have better things to do than wash constantly on top of everything else.’
’It doesn’t matter, Gabby. It’s no bother.’
’Come on dad, you’re tired enough as it is. You can’t fool me, you know. Anyway, it’s not just the sweating. I get some awful dreams as well. Not nightmares exactly but nothing very pleasant either.’
’What sort of dreams?’ Donald asked casually.
’It’s hard to say. You know what dreams are like. Nobody seems to remember the exact details when they wake up. All I know is I get a feeling of desolation, of having lost something, something very precious. I’m sort of in space and drifting away, unable to get back.’
Donald regarded his daughter gravely.
’I’m not getting morbid, dad. I’m under no illusions about what’s going to happen and it wouldn’t be natural if it didn’t scare me sometimes. But it’s not that. That’s something I can cope with. You taught me how to do it, after all. No, this is different and it’s the drugs talking. It’s as though I was looking deep into my soul and finding nothing there, just an empty space where it ought to be. Now that is frightening.’
’Is this every night?’ he asked.
’It has been, yes. I’m sure it’s the new medication. It never happened before I got those red pills.’
’Alright, poppet, I’ll have a word with Doctor Watkins today. He did say there might be some side effects but he also said the pills can be changed for something else if needed.’
’They’re very good otherwise, I will say that, but there’s more than one sort of pain and this one is the kind I could live without. It’s an extra, you see and I’d really prefer not to have to cope with that on top of everything else.’
She drew a deep breath.
’Anyway to return to you, it’s time you had a break of some sort. You never go out anywhere.’
’All right,’ he agreed equably. ’I’ll take you to the river this morning and we can feed the ducks. We can go anywhere you like, for that matter, as long as it’s not too much uphill work. I’ll push, you steer.’
Gabrielle looked at her father with an expression of frustration mixed with more a tinge of annoyance.
’I won’t say no to a little outing,’ she said, ’and you can push me if you like, but that’s not what I meant.’
’I didn’t for a moment suppose you did. Well, what do you mean?’ Gabrielle was no fireball of emotion but she had a mind of her own and there were times when it paid to listen to her. Donald listened now.
’When did you last have a holiday?’ she demanded.
’A holiday? I’m self employed, Gabby. Self employed people don’t get holidays.’
’All right, I’ll rephrase that. You’re a writer, dad. When did you last have anything published?’
’Last week as it happens. I showed it to you, remember?’
’I remember, a single article of less than five thousand words. I’m talking about something major. When was it? A year ago, two years or what?’
’Um... Five years ago, actually, a little over.’
’At about the time I could no longer attend school and had to have tuition at home, then.’
’Yes,’ he admitted.
’And ever since then you’ve done nothing except look after me.’
’But that’s the job, Gabby. Anyway, I’ve been making notes and working out outlines of plots. I haven’t been totally idle.’
She continued as thought she hadn’t heard.
’And before that, you were busy looking after me and mum as well.’
’Leave your mum out of it, Gabrielle. She doesn’t belong in this discussion.’
Gabrielle reconsidered, shuffling chaotic thoughts around in her mind. Her father was easy going to extremes but when she was given her Sunday name, he was serious, and would brook no argument. She could remember her mother but the memory was by now shadowy, blurred and incomplete. Donald didn’t mind talking about her but there were certain areas he would never discuss. She knew he missed his wife still.
’You can’t really classify yourself as a self employed writer when you don’t write. The odd article doesn’t count. You need some time to yourself, dad, time just to wander around, talk to people, think of something other than the eternal cleaning and cooking and seeing to my needs. I know you’re not complaining. You never do. Just the same, you’ve had years of it and you’re wearing yourself out. I worry about you, dad, I really do.’
He smiled fondly at her. ’Gabby by name and Gabby by nature.’ A moment’s pondering. ’Assuming the truth of what you say and I admit nothing at this stage, what do you suggest I do?’
’Take a holiday, a week away. More, if I can persuade you. Have a complete break. You need it. Go to the Mediterranean and chat up a beach girl or two.’
’And get my face slapped?’
’It must be a long time since that happened, if ever. It might be worth it.’
She smiled tremulously. ’You’re the only father I’ve got. I’d like to keep you a bit longer. Actually, I’m being selfish. Who’s going to look after me if you can’t do it just because you’ve driven yourself too hard?’
’Selfish? You? You don’t understand the meaning of the word, my dear daughter. Anyway, I might throw back the question at you. Supposing I do take a few days away, who would look after you? I mean, you’re pretty independent on your good days, but there are limitations even then.’
’Residential care, dad. I know it costs, but surely we can afford it. If you can’t, then I can. It would give me the chance of meeting other people as well,’ she finished with a wistful tone to her voice but with a none too well hidden gleam in her eye denoting the pressure was on. ’We don’t get into town so often nowadays. At least say you’ll think about it.’
’Alright, I’ll think about it,’ he protested laughingly.
’Seriously? Promise?’
’I promise, my love. In fact, I’ll look in to the residential home on my way to the doctor’s.’
’We’ll both look in. That’s where you can take me and from there to the booking office at the station. You can buy yourself a ticket for when you go away. I don’t suppose I can persuade you to get your face slapped in the Mediterranean but there are plenty of places in England you can visit and if you go by train you can relax a bit more than if you drive. Only you have to go a long way off so you can’t get back here easily to see how I’m getting along.’
As Donald brought the wheelchair into the garden and prepared to lift Gabrielle into it, a bicycle bell tinkled merrily and a well known voice hailed from the gate.
’Morning, Gabrielle. Morning Mr. Vickers. Are you going out?’
It was Tom, a regular visitor.
’Hello Tom,’ Gabrielle smiled sweetly at what was undoubtedly her favourite caller. ’Yes, we’re just going into town, nothing very special, except for organising dad’s holiday. Like to come? Have you got time?’
Tom whistled. ’A holiday, Mr. Vickers? I didn’t know the word was in your vocabulary. The world must be coming to an end. Yes, I’ll join you if I may. I have no lectures until this afternoon. Here, let me do that.’
He eased Donald out of the way, picked up Gabrielle as though she was a child and deposited her in the chair, lifting her feet into a comfortable position on the footrests and tucking her skirt firmly below her thighs. He gave her a swift and affectionate peck on the forehead before standing behind the chair, ready to push.
As the three sauntered along the pavement, greeted by passers by, Donald reflected on the first time they had met Tom, not so very long ago. It had been on such a day as this, as Donald was pushing Gabrielle into town to do some shopping.