He hobbled over towards her as she parked the car outside his small bungalow. ‘I was worried you wouldn’t be able to find me. I’ve been so looking forward to your visit. I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss you.’
‘That’s so kind of you,’ Helena smiled, taking the wrinkled hand he held out and shaking it. ‘I hope you haven’t been outside for long? It’s a little chilly today.’ His hand felt frozen to the bone.
‘Let’s go inside, shall we? I’ll put the kettle on,’ Derek said. Memories of her own grandfather came flooding back as she followed him inside. He shuffled from foot to foot, clearly finding even the smallest movement uncomfortable. It was slow progress, but eventually they made it through to the kitchen.
‘Sorry, I’m awfully slow these days. It’s my hip, you see. I’m riddled with bloody arthritis and I seem to be having a flare up.’
‘Well I’m in no rush, so don’t worry about me. Unless you’d like to sit down while I make the tea?’
‘No, no, don’t you worry. I went to the shops this morning to make sure I had some nice biscuits. I don’t get visitors very often, you see.’ He looked so happy to have her there.
‘So you’re a friend of Johnny’s?’ Derek asked as, with wobbling hands, he loaded a tray with teacups and proper saucers, a plate of chocolate biscuits and a jug of milk.
Helena nodded. ‘Yes, he’s the nephew of a great friend of mine.’
‘Such a good man,’ Derek said. ‘You know he didn’t only cut down my hedge, oh no. He insisted on doing all sorts of odd jobs around the house for me, completely free of charge.’ Helena hadn’t known that, but it didn’t surprise her in the slightest. He had done the same for Margery, repainting her front door, repairing her gate. Johnny was one of the kindest people she had ever met. She could imagine him going out of his way to help someone like Derek.
‘That was nice of him,’ Helena said. ‘It must be hard trying to get all those jobs sorted out.’
‘It is rather, I used to be a dab hand at DIY, back in the day,’Derek laughed, an infectious cackle which ended in a great wheezing coughing fit. When it passed he continued, ‘It was what my Mary always used to say was one of my few uses!’ He smiled, gesturing to a photograph of a beautiful young brunette in a silver frame on the windowsill. ‘There she is,’ he said fondly. ‘The love of my life.’
‘She’s beautiful,’ Helena said.
‘She died three years ago.’ Derek shook his head, as if still unable to believe it was true. ‘Bowel cancer. Not a pleasant way to go, my poor Mary.’
Helena offered to carry the tray, following Derek back through to the sitting room. He lowered himself gingerly onto a coral armchair, wincing as his joints folded beneath him. Helena placed the tray on a small side table covered in a lace tablecloth. She brought Derek his cup of tea. The cup trembled violently against the saucer below as he took a sip.
‘Ahhhh, lovely,’ he sighed with pleasure, smacking his lips. His skin was like a piece of paper that had been crumpled up into a ball and then smoothed out.
‘Would you like a biscuit?’ Helena asked, offering him the plate.
‘I never say no to a biccie,’ Derek winked as he helped himself. He had a youthful, cheeky energy that Helena immediately adored. ‘I could get used to this kind of service!’ he laughed. As he took a bite a shower of crumbs sprinkled onto his brown jumper.
Helena looked around the room as she sipped her cup of tea. It was crammed full of memories. Every surface proudly displayed a range of framed photographs, mainly of Derek and Mary, but there was another face too, a strikingly handsome young man, who featured in many of the pictures. Helena presumed from the family resemblance that it was Derek and Mary’s son, which Derek confirmed to be correct.
‘That’s Daniel. Sadly he lives in Australia now, married an Australian girl. I don’t get to see him often. He’s always telling me I should move over there and join him, but there’s no way I couldleave Mary. She’s buried in the graveyard here in the village,’ he explained. ‘I visit her every day for a chat.’
‘You must miss her terribly,’ Helena said.
‘I do,’ Derek nodded, his blue eyes shining with tears. ‘To tell you the truth, I find myself talking to her at home too. I can’t believe she isn’t here anymore. And I need someone to talk to. Otherwise it’s just silence, all the time. Sometimes I swear I can hear her answering me.’ He looked so tiny sitting in the huge armchair, so vulnerable and frail, Helena’s heart ached for him.
‘What about your son, do you speak to him often?’
‘He rings on the telephone once a week, on a Saturday.’
‘That must be nice.’
‘Oh yes!’ Derek beamed excitedly. ‘It’s the highlight of my week. But I get so nervous I’m going to miss the call that I find myself sitting here for hours, afraid to move from my chair with the phone right next to me, staring at it, willing it to ring! I don’t dare even go to the bathroom to spend a penny.’
After Derek had told Helena all about Daniel and his growing family, Helena in turn began to explain a bit about the Community Café, to see if it sounded like somewhere Derek might like to go.
‘Oh my dear it sounds like a fabulous idea. I can still drive, you see, so I could make my way there with no trouble. It would be lovely to have somewhere to go and have a cup of tea that’s not too far away. And a biscuit! Maybe even make some new friends…’
‘How would you feel about a piece of cake? I’m planning on having a large selection to choose from!’
‘Oooh I do love cake! Mary used to make the most fabulous coffee cakes, and walnut cakes, lemon drizzle…’ Derek’s eyes misted over at the memories.
Helena made a mental note to add those to her menu. ‘Wow. It sounds like she was a wonderful cook.’
