A Good Woman.
A good woman, she is. What on earth would we do without her?
And you only give her two thousand pounds a month?
Margaret, love, weve left the flat to her in the will.
Comedy
Colin reluctantly eased himself out of bed, his ageing limbs protesting, and shuffled into the next room. In the soft glow of the nightlight, his half-blind eyes sought out his wife.
He knelt down beside her, listening for a moment. Seems all right, he murmured.
Rising, he made his slow way to the kitchen, opened a carton of milk, popped into the bathroom, and then crept back to his own room.
He lay there, wide awake.
Margaret and I, were ninety years old. How much longer? Soon itll be our turn for heaven, and theres no one left nearby.
Their daughters Sarah was gone before sixty. David, too, had passed hed always been a wild one. Granddaughter Alison, she moved to Spain two decades ago. Never calls. Probably got grown children of her own by now
He didnt remember falling asleep.
A gentle touch woke him.
Colin, are you all right? came Margarets barely-there whisper.
He blinked open his eyes. She was leaning over him, worry written on her face.
Margaret? What is it?
I just looked, and you werent moving.
Im still here! Off to bed with you!
Her shuffling steps retreated, light clicked on in the kitchen.
Margaret drank a glass of water, nipped into the bathroom, and then made her way to her room. As she laid down, a thought crept in:
One day, Ill wake up and hell be gone. What will I do then? Or maybe Ill be first.
Colins already arranged our funerals, she remembered. Never thought you could organise such a thing ahead of time but maybe thats best. Who else would see to it for us?
Alison never comes, hardly spares a thought. Only the neighbour, Jane, pops in from down the hall, with her spare key. Colin gives her a thousand from our pension she does the shopping, brings what we need. We cant go out anymore, not from the fourth floor.
The sun peered in through the window. Colin opened his eyes, wandered over to the balcony, and smiled at the leafy green crown of an old horse chestnut.
Well, look at that. We made it to summer!
He went to find Margaret, who sat pensively on her bed.
Come on, love, dont sulk! Ive something to show you.
Oh, I dont have the strength, she groaned, barely rising from the bed. What have you thought up now?
Come on, youll see.
He steadied her as they edged out to the balcony.
See? That green chestnut tree! And you said we wouldnt make it to summer. But we have.
Why, so we have! The suns bright today, isnt it?
They settled together on the bench.
Do you remember that first film I took you to? We were still in school. That day, the chestnut leaves were just as green.
As if I could forget? How many years since?
Seventy-some Seventy-five.
They sat there, sinking into memories of youth. So much slips away in old age even what you did yesterday but the past, the beginning, never fades.
Oh, listen to us rambling! said Margaret after a while, rising. We havent even had breakfast.
Lets have proper tea, for once! Colin suggested. Im tired of that herbal nonsense.
They said were not supposed to.
Just weak, and one sugar each.
Colin sipped his pale tea, nibbling a small cheese sandwich, his mind wandering to those old days of strong, sweet tea with pasties or warm scones.
Jane, their neighbour, walked in with a familiar smile.
Everything all right with you two?
What kind of trouble can nonagenarians get into? Colin joked.
If youre joking, youre fine! Need anything from the shop?
Jane, would you pick up some meat? asked Colin hopefully.
Youre not supposed to have any.
Chickens all right.
Fine, Ill make you chicken noodle soup for lunch.
Jane cleared the table, washed up, and went on her way.
Margaret, fancy a bit of sun? Colin said.
Why not.
Jane soon returned, peeking out at the couple on the balcony.
Enjoying the fresh air?
Its lovely out here, Jane! Margaret said with a grateful smile.
Ill bring you both some porridge, and then start on your soup.
Once Jane left, Colin watched her go. Shes a godsend. What would we do without her?
And you give her only two thousand pounds a month?
Margaret, weve left her the flat in the will.
She doesnt know.
So they stayed on the balcony until lunch. Janes soup was hearty, chunks of chicken and potatoes melting in the broth.
I always made this for Sarah and David when they were small, Margaret recalled.
And now strangers cook for us in our old age, Colin sighed.
Maybe we were meant for this, Colin. When were gone, no one will shed a tear.
Enough, Margaret. No more sadness. Lets have a nap.
You know what they say, Colin old age is second childhood. Its true. Pureed soup, afternoon naps, tea-time.
Colin dozed awhile, then stirred with unease. Restless, he paced to the kitchen, finding two glasses of juice Jane had left ready.
Gently, he carried them to Margaret, who was watching the window clouds wheel by.
Margaret, love, why so glum? Have some juice!
She sipped. Cant sleep either?
Something in the air, he replied.
Ive felt poorly all morning, Margaret whispered, shaking her head. I havent got long now. Promise youll give me a decent send-off.
Oh, Margaret, what are you saying? How can I go on without you?
One of us will go first, Colin. Thats how it is.
Come on. Lets get some air.
They sat on the balcony till dark. Jane brought cottage cheese fritters. They ate, then watched television together always the same old comedies and cartoons, the modern films made little sense.
Just one cartoon tonight. Afterwards, Margaret rose.
Im for bed. Bit tired tonight.
Ill join you in a minute.
Lets have a proper look at you, Margaret said suddenly.
Whatever for?
Just let me.
They gazed at each other for a long, silent while, caught in the pull of faded years, recalling days when their future glittered ahead.
Come on, Ill see you to bed.
Arm in arm they walked, steady and slow.
He tucked her gently under the covers, then shuffled back to his own room.
A great heaviness pressed on him. Sleep evaded him.
It felt as though he hadnt slept when the clock blinked 2am. He got up, his heart pounding, and made his way back to his wife.
She was lying with her eyes wide open.
Margaret!
He took her hand.
Margaret, love, whats wrong? Mar-ga-ret!
Suddenly, it was as if the air had thickened. His own breath grew laboured. He made his way to his desk and took out the documents, setting them where theyd be found.
He returned to his wife, watching her face for a long time, then lay beside her, closing his eyes.
He saw her Margaret young, lovely, fifty years ago, walking toward a far-off light. He hurried after, took her hand once more.
In the morning, Jane entered the bedroom. They were lying together, the same peaceful smiles on their faces.
At last, Jane called an ambulance.
The doctor who came looked startled. Gone together. Must have loved each other very much
They carried them out. And Jane, drained, sank into the chair by the table. There, she spotted the documents the will, leaving everything to her.
She bowed her head, tears streaming onto her handsShe pressed a trembling hand to her lips and let the quiet tears come, not of grief exactly, but something softer and stranger: a gratitude so fierce it hurt. This tiny flatall its ordinary treasures, the soft plaid on the chair, the tin of teabags, the potted violets sunning themselves on the sillnow belonged to her. Her laughter and footsteps would fill it, her care would echo in the rooms just as theirs had. The chestnut trees green shimmer beckoned through the balcony door, promising another season, another story.
She stood, pulled back the curtains and opened the window wide, letting in the bright sounds of summer. The city sang outside, indifferent perhaps to the departure of a pair of old loversbut here, in this well-kept haven, their last, silent joke and daily courage lingered like sunlight on dust.
Jane made the beds, tidied their cups, and watered Margarets violets one last time. She sat for a moment, feeling the hush, and whispered, Thank you. Then, as the chestnut leaves stirred in the breeze, she smileda real, deep smileand let the day begin.
