“We’ve come to take you back home,” he said softly. “You remember me, right?”
She looked at Mike and shook her head.
“I’m a friend.” Mike took her by the hand and started lifting her out of the chair.
“Where are you taking me?” she sounded panicked.
“Home,” Mike answered.
“Isn’t this home?” she enquired.
Mike shook his head. “It used to be your home. But now it belongs to someone else.”
“WHO?” she exclaimed. “Did they swindle us out of the house?”
Mike smiled. “No. They bought it from you.”
“Good. Because I hate swindlers.”
“Me too,” Mike said. “Nothing worse than swindlers.”
“And charlatans,” she said, as Mike began leading her out the door.
“I hate charlatans,” Mike agreed. “I arrest them whenever I can.” He started edging her down the stairs, back to the front door, and she became quite wrapped up in their conversation.
“You know, someone came to my door, just the other day, and tried to sell me a Hoover, when I already have a perfectly good one. And I told him that I didn’t need one, and guess what? He came back the next day, offering me a set of encyclopedias,” she said angrily.
Mike nodded at her. “Well, thanks for letting me know about this. I will certainly keep an eye out for him.”
She nodded. “And so you should. Dreadful man, trying to sell me things I don’t need. And have you seen the tube, these days? Always selling, selling, selling. You can’t turn it on without them trying to sell you something and swindle you out of your money.”
Mike tutted. “I know. Terrible.” And we went like this all the way back to the car and back to the old-age home.
