Page 3 of Old Girls Behaving Badly

‘I think I may have found something,’ I said.

‘Something? Don’t you mean somewhere?’

‘Well, actually it’s a job.’

‘A job? Things aren’t that bad, are they? Look, Mum, Dad can’t just sell the house and leave you to it. You’re entitled to part of his pension, savings and all that. You do know that don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, not really knowing what I was due. At the moment I was just thinking of what I could do short term. It was all very well being told you were entitled to something, but how long would it take to resolve all the financial issues. Did Douglas want a divorce? How could we possibly live separately but still be married? Shouldn’t I try to be independent and untether myself from the rock, or was it too late because the rock had untethered itself from me?

‘The job is just something I’ve been thinking about for a while,’ I lied.

I’d spent the previous day with my head in my laptop. Firstly looking for properties I could afford with my half share of the house. The problem with that was the equity release we had done. It had been primarily to pay off the student loans both Chris and Alice had accrued, but then Chris had needed help with a deposit on his house and Douglas had suggested a new and rather extravagant car and why not a cruise, while we were at it. It wouldn’t matter down the line, when it needed to be paid back. Douglas had done the maths and we could easily afford a nice downsize with the remaining equity, he’d told me. Now though, dividing that into two was a bit of a joke. Douglas would be all right; his pension was larger than mine and his ninety-eight-year-old mother was still alive – just – and had pots of money squirrelled away for him. Mine was not.

I’d closed down the search for properties when my filters had taken me too many miles away and the options had become unbearable. Instead, I’d found a link to a wanted position for a companion in The Lady online magazine and had fallen down a new rabbit hole of possibilities. The words live-in had sprung out at me, also efficient and quick-witted. Surely those were skills I had. After all, hadn’t I spent most of my adult life looking after others? I needed an income if I was to be independent and I had to find somewhere to live. Combining those two problems into one situation could actually be the answer. Most importantly, I really wanted to be out of the house during that open week. I’d sent off my details and was now waiting to hear back.

Chris took another gulp of his beer as I told him all about the advert.

‘It sounds rather like you’re running away,’ he said with a sad sort of frown stretched across his forehead.

‘I’m not running way.’ I laughed. But actually I thought that I might be and it was possibly forty-three years too late.

3

DOROTHY

Dorothy Reed had been in the boathouse all morning sitting on the balcony, overlooking the Thames, and watching the traffic on the water, trying to feel soothed by the white noise of the weir. It was busy, as it usually was, and she took a little comfort from the many boats meandering past her. Their own boat was below her: a narrowboat painted in a beautiful chalk blue with a glossy black bottom. Her husband, Philip, had bought her nearly fifteen years previously and had her restored in a boatyard in Essex before bringing her home to Hampton. She was called the Castillo del Mar, which translated to Sea Castle. It was a small joke for a small vessel, her husband had told her as he proudly showed her off.

The narrowboat hadn’t been out of their boathouse for the year since Philip’s death, though. Dorothy’s son, Miles, had asked her if he could take her out in the spring, but she had said no, as she couldn’t bear to see anything else of her beloved Philip’s taken away. Not yet, and possibly not ever.

Dorothy glanced at the watch on her thin wrist – it would need another link taken out of it before long, as it was perilously close to sliding off her arm. It was nearly twelve-fifteen and she had lost the entire morning up here, sitting, watching, seething. Lavinia would be here soon and she wasn’t at all ready.

She closed the doors and stepped back into the living area of the boathouse. It was another space they had renovated with a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. Dorothy had filled it with the art she no longer made and a collection of houseplants, books and gorgeous scented candles. She had a lovely walnut sideboard and a long velvet sofa in a rich teal with gold cushions. Her house was more traditionally decorated in creams and greys, but out here she liked a bolder look. Miles had suggested she rent it out in the summer months to make use of it, or to get a lodger for a bit of company, but Dorothy couldn’t even think about that at the moment.

She walked down the steps and noticed her neighbour, Erik, relaxing on a sunlounger with a paperback book in his lap. He turned to her, shielding the sun from his eyes with his hand.

‘Good afternoon, Dorothy,’ he said. ‘Gorgeous day, isn’t it.’

Dorothy walked over to the low fence that separated the two gardens and rested a hand on the top of one of the panels. She was in the shade of the weeping willow that softened the hard edge of the lawn before it stopped at the water.

‘It is,’ she agreed.

Dorothy liked Erik very much. He was in his late sixties and had lived next door for the last five years. He was divorced from his wife and had a grown-up son who visited often. Erik had a narrowboat of his own and Philip and he could talk for hours about adjustments to the engines, or new latches for the windows, storage solutions or how best to fix a pump. Erik also had a penchant for crime thrillers and liked to discuss plot twists with Dorothy, but not so much recently.

‘I’m about to put the kettle on if you fancy joining me,’ he said, sliding a bookmark between the pages and getting up off the lounger.

‘I would like that very much; however, I have my daughter-in-law coming to assist in me choosing a companion this afternoon.’

‘Oh? Didn’t know you were in the market for help.’

‘I’m not, but we have this family wedding in Norfolk and Miles seems to think I need assistance while we’re there. Also, after my little fall the other week, they’ve got it in their heads that I need watching or something. They’re glossing it up as companion, but all I’m hearing is minder. I had a dizzy spell and fell over – that was all – and they want to move a carer in. It’s all very frustrating.’

‘Ah, I see. And you obviously don’t think you need help.’

‘I know I don’t need help, but they won’t listen, so I shall have to do my utmost to frighten off the applicants.’

‘Can I come and watch?’ Erik asked, with a grin.

Dorothy laughed for a moment and then seemed to catch herself.