The old gentleman struggled to rise from his bed and, steadying himself with a hand on the wall, shuffled into the next room. Under the gentle glow of the bedside lamp, he peered through misty, tired eyes at his wife lying peacefully:
Shes not moving has she passed on? He sank to his knees beside her. Seems like shes still breathing.
He got up and ambled slowly into the kitchen. He drank some milk, visited the lavatory, and made his way back to his room.
He lay upon his bed, unable to sleep.
Ninety years, both Margaret and I. What a life it has been! Soon enough, well both be goneand not a soul around us now. Our daughter, Emily, passed before she even saw sixty. Thomas died in prison. Theres our granddaughter, Claire, but shes been living in Germany for at least twenty years. I doubt she ever thinks of her grandparents. She must have her own grown children by now.
Without realising it, he drifted off to sleep.
He awoke to the gentle touch of a hand.
Henry, are you awake? came a feeble whisper.
He opened his eyes. His wife was leaning over him.
Whats the matter, Margaret?
I saw you lying there, so still and quiet. You frightened meI thought you might be gone.
Im still here, love. Go back to sleep.
Shuffling footsteps could be heard. The kitchens light clicked on. Margaret poured herself a glass of water, visited the lavatory, and retired to her room. She lay in bed, thinking:
One day Ill wake, and hell be gone. What will I do then? Or maybe Ill be the first to go. Henrys already arranged everything, even our funerals. Never imagined one could arrange their own funeral, but truth be told, its sensible. Whod see to it otherwise? Our granddaughters forgotten us, and only Mrs. Parker from next door comes in to check. Shes got a key, you know. Henry slips her a hundred pounds from our pension each monthshe does our shopping, gets our medicines. And anyway, wed never manage the stairs from the fourth floor on our own.
Henry blinked his eyes open as sunlight peeked through the window. He stepped out onto the balcony. Above the garden, the elder trees leaves were turning green. A smile crept across his face.
Weve made it to summer.
He went to find his wife who sat pensively on her bed.
Margaret, come on, dont fret. I want to show you something.
My legs are no good for this, Henry. What are you up to now?
Come on, come on. He supported her by the shoulders and guided her to the balcony.
See that, love? The elder is all in leaf. And you said wed never see another summer. Here we are.
Oh, so it is! And the suns shining too.
They sat together on the little wooden bench by the balcony rail.
Do you remember when I asked you to the pictures? Back at school, and the elder tree was greening up just then.
How could I forget? How many years ago now?
Over seventy seventy-five.
They sat there for a long while, sharing memories of their youth. So much is forgotten with ageeven yesterdays doings slip awaybut those days, those young days, theyre never lost.
Oh dear, weve nattered on! We havent even had breakfast yet, she started.
Margaret, make us a good pot of tea, would you? Ive had quite enough of that tasteless stuff.
Were not supposed to.
Just let it be weak, and only a spoon of sugar each.
Henry took small sips of that pale tea, washing down his meagre cheese and bread, and thought back to the days when breakfast was strong, sweet tea, and homemade buns or sausage rolls.
Their neighbour popped her head in, smiling approvingly.
How are you both today?
What do you expect from two ninety-year-olds? Henry joked.
Well, if youre joking, youre doing just fine. Do you need anything from town?
Mrs. Parker, would you get us some meat? Henry asked.
Youre not supposed to eat much meat.
Chickens all right.
All right, Ill get you some. Ill make you chicken noodle soup.
Could you get something for my heart as well, please? Margaret requested.
I bought you tablets not long ago.
Theyre gone already.
Shall I call for the doctor?
No need.
Mrs. Parker tidied the table, washed the dishes, and left them to their morning.
Margaret, shall we go back to the balcony while the suns out? Henry suggested.
Lets; no need to sit in the stuffy flat.
Mrs. Parker soon returned, stepping onto the balcony. Enjoying the sunshine, are you?
Its lovely here, Mrs. Parker, Margaret smiled.
Ill bring your porridge out, and then Ill start the soup for lunch.
Shes a good woman, Henry commented as she walked away, Whatever would we do without her?
And its only a hundred pounds a month you give her.
Weve left her the flat, and the solicitor witnessed it.
She doesnt know that yet.
They stayed out on the balcony until dinner. For lunch, Mrs. Parker brought chicken soup, delicious, with finely chopped meat and soft potatoes.
Thats just how I used to make it for Emily and Thomas when they were little, Margaret remembered.
And now, in our old age, its strangers who cook for us, Henry sighed.
Thats just our lot, Henry. Well go and not a soul will shed a tear.
Come now, lets not dwell on it. Time for a little nap.
You know, they say, An old man is but a child again. Our days revolve around soup, naps, and teajust like children.
Henry dozed briefly, but sleep eluded him. Was it the weather? He wandered into the kitchen, where two glasses of juice stood, thoughtfully left by Mrs. Parker. Taking them both carefully, he brought them to his wife, who sat gazing out the window.
Why the long face, Margaret? he smiled. Have some juice.
She took a sip. Cant sleep either?
Must be the weathermy blood pressures all over.
Ive felt poorly all morning, she muttered, I dont imagine Ive much longer. Give me a proper send-off, wont you?
Margaret, dont talk nonsense. What would I do without you?
One of us must go first.
Thats enough. Lets get some air.
They sat out until dusk. Mrs. Parker made them cheese fritters, then they settled to watch the tellya habit every night. But new films were hard to follow, so they watched the old comedies and childrens shows they favoured.
Tonight, they only managed a cartoon. Margaret rose from the settee.
Ill head to bed. Im tired.
Ill come along too.
Let me look at you properly, she suddenly asked.
Whatever for?
Just because.
They gazed at each other a long while, perhaps both remembering the days when everything was ahead of them.
Let me see you to your room.
Margaret took Henrys arm, and they moved slowly together.
He tucked his wife in gently, and made his way to his own room. His heart felt heavy; sleep would not come. It seemed hed barely closed his eyes when the clock read two in the morning. He rose and went to check on Margaret.
She lay watching the ceiling, eyes wide open.
Margaret He took her hand. Her hand was cold.
Margaret! Mar-ga-ret!
All at once, his own breath caught. With difficulty, he made it to his room, took out the folder with their arrangements, and set it upon the table.
He returned to Margarets side, gazed at her face for a long while. Then he lay beside her and closed his eyes. He dreamed of Margaret, young and lovely as the day he met her seventy-five years before, walking toward a warm distant light. He ran to her, caught her hand
In the morning, Mrs. Parker stepped into the bedroom. They were lying side by side, peaceful, with the same happy smile upon their faces.
Once she gathered herself, she called for help.
The doctor arrived, shook his head in quiet wonder.
They went together. They must have loved each other dearly.
They were taken away. Mrs. Parker sank onto the chair by the table, where her eyes fell upon the funeral agreement and the will, all in her name.
Then she bowed her head into her hands and wept.
An Elderly English Couple’s Final Summer: A Poignant Day of Quiet Routines, Fond Memories, and Lasti…
