A Good Woman.
What would we do without her? And you only pay her two thousand pounds a month. -Ellen, we’ve put the house in her name though.
June 17th
I woke early, the aches in my back reminding me that ninety is not an age for grand aspirations. I shuffled from the bed and wandered into the small spare room next door, pausing to flick on the lamp. The dim, golden glow danced off the old wallpaper as I turned to gaze at my wife. I knelt beside her, listening quietlythankfully, her chest rose and fell, gentle and even.
It was just the two of us, as it has been for years now. Ellen and I, both old as the hillsninety, and not much more time left for either of us on this side of the curtain. No one left nearby. Our daughter, Natalie, passed before she reached sixty. And our boy, Max, he never settledlived too fast, drank too hard. We have a granddaughter, Alexandra, but shes been away in France for nearly twenty years. Shes got her own children by now, I imagine. I doubt she recalls her grandparents much.
Somewhere in my musings, sleep came to claim me.
~
I woke to her touch.
“Arthur, are you alright?” Ellen asked, her voice soft, barely audible.
My eyes fluttered open to find her leaning over me.
“Whats wrong, Ellen?”
“I saw you lying there so still, I worried,” she said.
“Im still breathing, love,” I grumbled. “Go back to sleep.”
Her slippers scuffed down the hall. Soon, I heard the kitchen tap run, the creak of the bathroom door. She returned to her room.
Ellen
So thats how it isIll wake up one of these mornings and hell be gone. What will I do then? Or maybe Ill go first.
Arthurs already arranged our wakeshow odd, to organise your own farewell. But who else would, if not us? Alexandras forgotten us altogether. Only Ivy from down the hall visits anymore. She has a key and helps us with shopping and bits about the flat. Arthur gives her a thousand pounds a month from our pensionanything we have left is hers anyway. We couldnt make it down from our fourth-floor flat on our own now.
~
Arthur
Morning light slants through the window. Sun on the rooftop cherry tree. For some reason, seeing those bright green leaves sets a smile on my faceweve lasted to see another summer.
I wander to Ellen, who sits, lost in her thoughts, on the edge of the bed.
“Ellen, come onlets get some air on the balcony,” I encourage her.
“Oh, Im all out of energy, Arthur!” Still, with my help, she makes it up. I guide her to the small balcony.
“Lookthe cherrys come into leaf again! You said wed never see another summer, but here we are!”
She manages a weak laugh. “I suppose youre right. And the sun feels nice.”
We sit down together.
“Remember when I asked you to the cinema back in school?” I ask. “The cherry trees looked just like this, bursting with green.”
“How could I forget?” Ellen smiles. “Its been whatseventy-five years since?”
We drift back through memories, our youth shining sharper than anything recent. Funny how old age makes you forget yesterday but never lets you lose your childhood.
Eventually she pats my knee. “Weve talked the whole morning away! Time for breakfast.”
“Ellen, make a proper pot of tea, will you? Im tired of these herbal concoctions.”
“Were not meant to have strong tea,” she chides, but then adds, “Ill give us weak black, with just a spoon of sugar each.”
Sipping the tepid brew over a little cheese toast, I remember when wed have strong, sweet tea with pastries or crumpets for breakfast.
~
Ivy pops in, her cheerful voice breaking the quiet.
“How are we today?”
“What sort of business do we have at ninety, Ivy?” I joke.
She laughs. “You must be doing alrightyou can still crack a joke.”
“Would you mind picking us up some chicken, Ivy?” I ask.
“You know youre not meant to have red meat,” she replies, but then relents. “Chicken it is. Ill make you up a noodle soup later.”
She tidies the kitchen and disappears.
Afterwards I turn to Ellen. “Lets get back on the balcony and soak up that sun.”
We sit, feeling it warm our tired bones.
Ivy comes again, smiling. “Missing the sunshine, are you? Ill bring your porridge out. Then Ill start on the soup.”
Ellen sighs as she watches Ivy leave. “Shes a good womanwhat would we do without her?”
“And I only give her two thousand a month,” I mutter.
“But weve put the flat in her name, Arthur,” Ellen reminds me.
“She doesnt know that. Not yet.”
We stay on the balcony till lunch. Chicken soup, rich and thick, fills our bowls. Ellen tastes it with a sigh.
“I used to make this for Natalie and Max when they were little.”
“And here we are now, eating food made by a neighbour, not family,” I say sadly.
“Maybe thats our lot, Arthur. When were gone, maybe no one will even shed a tear.”
“Enough gloom, Ellen. Lets nap awhile.”
She perks up at that. “They say, Old age is second childhood. Soup, naps, an afternoon snackjust like when we were kids.”
~
I rest briefly, but sleep eludes me. The weather’s changingmust be why. I drift into the kitchen, spotting two glasses of juice Ivy’s left. I carry one gently to Ellen.
“Why so glum, Ellen?” I tease.
She sips, then sighs. “Cant sleep?”
“No. The weathers unsettled.”
“Ive felt off all day.” She shakes her head, sadness in her eyes. “Arthur, if I go before youbury me right, wont you?”
“Stop it, Ellen. How could I manage without you?”
“One of us will have to go first.”
I hush her and we take one more trip to the balcony, watching the sky fade to dusk. Later, Ivy brings us cottage cheese pancakes for supper. We eat, then settle in front of the telly. These days, we only ever watch old comedies and cartoonseasier to follow than the new modern stuff.
After one cartoon, Ellen stands. “Im off to bed. Im tired tonight.”
“Guess Ill turn in, too.”
She pauses. “Let me look at you properly a moment, Arthur.”
“Now whys that?”
“Just let me.”
We gaze at each other, recalling all thats passed between us. After a while, I take her arm and guide her to her bed, tucking her in.
Sleep wont come easy tonight.
The digital clock claims two in the morning when I finally rise, ill at ease. Theres something wrongI pad quietly to Ellens room.
She lies there, eyes open.
“Ellen!” I grasp her hand.
She doesnt answer.
Suddenly it hits me, short of breath, heart pounding. I stumble back to my room, lay out the documentsthe will and the restfor Ivy.
I go back to Ellens bed, just sitting there, watching her pale face for a long while. Then I lie down beside her and shut my eyes.
In the empty hush, I see Ellen as she once was: young, bright, beautiful, walking into a shimmering light. I follow her, take her hand.
~
In the morning, Ivy finds us side by side, peaceful smiles frozen on our faces.
She calls the ambulance. The doctor arrives and shakes his head in astonishment.
“They passed together. Must have loved each other a great deal.”
They take us away. Ivy slumps in a kitchen chair, exhausted. Then she saw the documents and will made out to her name.
She bows her head over the papers and begins to cry.
