Go Not Gently (Staincliffe) - страница 11

‘Yes.’

‘How about Friday?’

‘Oh.’ A note of disappointment.

Did she want to go tomorrow? I was meeting Rachel for lunch but that left gaps either end of the day. And I couldn’t see it mattered which order I did things in. ‘Unless you want to go tomorrow.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘Does it matter when? Are there visiting times?’

‘Oh no. We can visit whenever we like. I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression. It’s quite a nice place really, comfortable.’

‘How about half-past ten? I could come and pick you up.’

‘I’ll get the bus.’

‘I think it’ll look better if we arrive together. If it’s no trouble.’

‘Of course, yes.’

I checked her address and arranged to pick her up a little before ten thirty the following morning.

No sooner had I put the phone down than it rang again.

‘Hello. This is Michelle from Wondawindow Systems. We have some very attractive special offers on at the moment. I’d like to arrange a convenient time for our rep to call on you, at your own convenience, without any obligation, to discuss options with you.’ Her voice was brisk, cheery and full of laboured reassurance.

‘No thanks.’ I got it in quickly, but she hardly drew breath.

‘The Wondawindows System not only improves security and reduces maintenance but can dramatically cut heating costs and increase the value of your property.’

‘No.’

‘Have you thought about window improvements?’

‘No. I-’

‘There’d be no obligation.’

‘I’m not interested.’ I put the phone down before she had a chance to carry on. The things some people do for a living.


Ray was working on a conversion job (old houses to new sheltered flats). He was doing all the woodwork: floors, window and door frames, built-in cupboards. Several weeks’ work. It would supplement the money he made on the furniture he created in our cellar. One consequence was he’d be better off for a while, another was that I had to take on more of the domestic jobs. He’d do the same if I got very busy. To date we’d never both been inundated at the same time.

I got Maddie and Tom from school and walked them back. I bunged potatoes in to bake, whizzed up coleslaw in the processor and grated cheese.

While the spuds cooked I sorted the clean clothes and put them in the kids’ drawers, left Ray’s pile on his bed, put mine away. I joined the children, who were watching a bizarre cartoon. I was completely baffled, unable to follow the plot or even tell what type of creatures the characters were meant to be.

‘Why’s she doing that?’ I asked.

‘Shush,’ Maddie complained.

‘She’s saving him,’ Tom explained.