Shes a good sort, that woman. What on earth would we do without her?
And yet you only give her forty pounds a month.
Helen, you know full well weve already put the flat in her name.
Many years ago, I remember old Michael rousing himself with some difficulty from his bed, then ambling slowly into the next room. The light of the bedside lamp made the world dim and shadowed as he squinted down at his wife.
He knelt beside her, listening closely. Seems well enough, he murmured.
He rose, meandered to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of milk, took a brief trip to the bathroom, then shuffled back to his own room.
He lay back on his bed, sleep eluding him, thoughts drifting.
Were both ninety years old, Helen and I. How long have we lived? Soon enough, well be at heavens gate, and were all alone here.
His daughters were gone Natalie had passed away before sixty, and Max had gone too, a victim to his own reckless ways. There was a granddaughter, Susan, but shed moved to France over two decades ago, hardly a thought for her grandparents. Likely her own children were grown by now.
He didnt remember falling asleep. He awoke to the gentle touch of a hand.
Michael, are you all right? came his wifes soft voice, barely audible.
He opened his eyes. Helen was bending over him.
Whats the matter, Helen?
I just saw you lying there so still.
Im still here, alive and kicking! Off to bed with you!
He heard her shuffling through the hall, the kitchen switch clicking on.
Helen filled a glass of water, took herself to the bathroom, then walked quietly back to her own room. She lay down, her mind spinning.
One morning Ill wake and hell be gone. What will I do? Or perhaps Ill go first.
Michaels already arranged for their memorial teas. Id never have thought it could be sorted ahead of time, but perhaps its for the best. Who else is there to see to it?
Susans forgotten all about us. Only our neighbour Ivy pops in. She has a key to our place. Michael gives her twenty pounds each from our pension she picks up groceries, odds and ends. What else is there for us to spend money on? And what with living up on the third floor, we cant go down ourselves anymore.
Michael opened his eyes to the sunshine streaming through the window, and shuffled out to the balcony, looking out over the budding hawthorn tree. A smile crept onto his face.
Look at that weve made it to another summer!
He went to check on Helen, who was sitting thoughtfully on her bed.
Helen, dont mope! Come, I want to show you something.
Oh, Im not terribly steady these days, she grumbled, struggling to her feet. What have you got planned?
Come on, now!
He slipped an arm gently behind her shoulders and led her to the balcony.
See the hawthorn its fresh and green! You said we wouldnt make it to summer, and here we are!
Oh, just look at it! And the suns shining too.
They settled onto their bench in the sun.
Do you remember, I invited you to the pictures once, back at school. The hawthorn was green like this then too.
How could I ever forget? How many years has it been?
Over seventy seventy-five, I think.
For a long while, they reminisced, recalling their youth. So much gets lost to the years, even the events of yesterday, but the memories of youth never leave you.
Oh, weve nattered away the morning! Helen said at last, rising. And I havent made us any breakfast.
Brew us a proper cuppa, Helen! Im tired of herbal.
We cant have strong tea anymore.
Oh, just a weak one, but put in a spoon of sugar.
Michael sipped the pale tea and nibbled at his cheese sandwich, memory wandering back to the days of strong, sweet tea for breakfast, with pastries or scones.
Ivy popped her head in, offering a warm smile.
How are you both today?
How do you think ninety-year-olds get on? Michael quipped.
Well, if youve a joke in you, alls as it should be. Anything you need from the shops?
Ivy, get us some chicken, will you? Michael asked.
You know youre not supposed to.
Chickens allowed.
Right, Ill sort it. Ill make you a nice noodle soup.
Ivy tidied the table and washed the cups before heading off.
Lets go back to the balcony, Helen, suggested Michael. Well catch a bit more sun.
Lets.
Ivy joined them later, saying, Missing the sunshine out here, are you?
Its lovely out here, Ivy! Helen replied with a real smile.
Ill bring you some porridge out, and start on that soup for your lunch.
Shes a good woman, Michael remarked as Ivy left. What would we do without her?
And you only give her forty pounds every month.
Helen, you know full well we put the flat in her name.
She doesnt know that.
They sat out on the balcony until lunch, and then enjoyed Ivys chicken noodle soup with bits of meat and mashed potatoes.
I always used to make this for Natalie and Max when they were little, Helen remembered.
And here we are in our old age, eating meals made by someone else, Michael added with a sigh.
Well, dearest, thats just fate, Helen said quietly. When were gone, there will be no one to mourn us.
All right, Helen, we mustnt be gloomy. Lets have a little nap.
Michael, they always say Old age is much like childhood. Its true, really: soup for lunch, a nap in the afternoon, tea at four.
Michael managed a short doze, but rest wouldnt come. Perhaps it was the weather changing. He wandered into the kitchen, where Ivy had thoughtfully set out two glasses of juice.
Carrying them carefully, he made his way to Helens room, where she sat at her window, pensively watching the world.
Whats troubling you, Helen? he smiled gently, holding out a glass. Lets have some juice.
She sipped, glancing over at him.
Cant sleep, can you?
Its the weather, I reckon.
So am I, since this morning. I just feel that I havent long left, she said, her voice trembling. Promise youll see Im properly laid to rest.
Helen, dont talk like that. However would I manage here without you?
One of us must go first.
Enough! Lets get some air on the balcony.
They stayed there until dusk. Ivy came by with warm cottage cheese scones. They ate and watched the telly together as always, before bed. New films made little sense now, so they stuck to old comedies and cartoons.
That night, just one cartoon, and Helen rose from the sofa.
Im off to bed. Im tired tonight.
Ill turn in too then.
Let me have a proper look at you, Helen asked, suddenly.
Why?
Just let me.
They sat gazing at each other for a long time, their eyes searching for the distant days of youth, when everything still waited ahead.
Come, Ill walk you to your room, Helen said, taking her husbands arm as they made their slow way together.
He tucked her gently into bed, then returned to his own room, his heart weighed with sadness. Sleep evaded him for hours.
It felt to Michael as though he hadnt slept at all, but the digital clock read two in the morning. He got up and went to Helens room.
She lay with her eyes wide open.
Helen!
He took her hand.
Helen! Hellen!
And suddenly, he found it hard to breathe. He returned to his own room, took the old envelope with their documents, and placed it carefully on the table.
Then back to Helens side. He looked down at her face for a long time, at last laying beside her, closing his eyes.
He dreamt of Helen as shed been seventy-five years before young and beautiful, walking toward a bright light in the distance. He hurried after her, caught her hand.
In the morning, Ivy came in quietly. There they lay, side by side, eyes closed, peaceful smiles on their faces.
At last, Ivy called for help. The doctor who arrived looked at them, shook his head in gentle astonishment.
Gone together. They must have loved each other greatly
They were taken away. Ivy sat down at the kitchen table, noticed the will and the deeds addressed to her, and bowed her head into her hands, weeping at last.
