Page 12 of The Seaside Supper Club

‘And how’s that young man of yours?’ Reggie asked kindly.

‘Ahm, Will’s good, thanks.’ She had to smile, only an eighty-eight-year-old would call Will ‘a young man’. Like her, Will was in his early fifties.

‘Will, that’s it. Nice chap, I remember him well from the village. Fireman, he was. So very sad about his wife, and the girls … they were all so young when it happened. Such a terrible illness, cancer. Doesn’t matter if you’re young or old …’ He gave a sigh.

‘I know. It’s awfully sad.’ Life, and death, could be so precarious, thought Cath.

‘And here we all are.’ Reggie glanced around the room, his eye snagging on the wall clock. ‘Biding away our time. Watching the clock tick by.’ The irony, the randomness of it all, apparent.

‘But that’s why we shouldn’t waste it. Any of it,’ Cath responded, as Reggie nodded in agreement.

Jane, Will’s late wife, was several years younger than Cath was now, when she’d passed away. Will had shared some of the struggles they’d gone through facing her devastating illness, and eventually her death. He was, of course, still left reeling from it all. The world could seem so cruel, at times.

‘Well, then, pet. I’m glad he’s found some love again.’ Reggie lifted the conversation. ‘You’re a good girl, too. You’ll be just the tonic he needs. We all need a little joy in our lives, after all.’

‘We do indeed. Thanks, Reggie.’

‘Right, well no use us sitting here getting all morose,’ he added, his eyes giving their usual twinkle. ‘Let’s get the teas in. Where’s that lovely Linda when you need her?’

Cath was sure that Linda, the care assistant, would have plenty enough to do. ‘I’ll go and fetch us one.’ She knew the care home set-up quite well by now, and was familiar with the little kitchen area that the more able residents and their guests were welcome to use. As she stood up, ready for her tea-making mission, she called out, ‘Anyone else for a cup of tea?’ Several frail hands went up, along with a few cries of ‘Yes, please.’

‘Oh, and don’t forget the custard creams, lass.’ Reggie gave a cheeky wink. Despite the rather sad start to the conversation today, it was great to see that his spark was in no way diminished.

With tea and biscuits duly served, Cath settled down to chat with Reggie once more.

‘Oh, this is nice.’ He gave a gentle smile as he tucked into a biscuit. ‘Nothing like those gorgeous buttery mince pies at the Christmas do, though. Ah, what a day that was. We’re still all talking about it here, the food … the dancing. Magical, it was, lass.’ His smile had broadened and his eyes held a nostalgic sparkle. ‘Be wonderful to have something like that again. A proper get-together, and a trip out for us lot. We need a bit of waking up and shaking up, at times.’

‘It was a really special day,’ Cath reminisced. She, the supper club gang and a host of village helpers had put on a big Christmas lunch bash, with turkey, trimmings and all the works. The village hall had been renovated for the cause, and they’d managed to turn it into a real winter wonderland. But it had also been a huge, snowballing project, and had been a ton of work. ‘Well, let me have a think on it, Reggie. No promises, but I’ll see what me and the village gang might come up with.’

She didn’t particularly want to commit to another huge project. At the time, she’d very much needed something else to focus on and distract her, but now that she had Will in her life, and she’d managed to build her tuition business, plus helping out occasionally in the village stores, she was plenty busy enough. She very much needed the funds from this extra work too, to support her new cottage and the ongoing costs of solo living. Her post-divorce savings had started to dwindle. Whilst she’d loved putting on the festive event, it had taken a hell of a lot of organising and energy, which had in turn taken a lot out of her.

But it did sound lovely … another event. As long as she didn’t jump in feet first, biting off more than she could chew. She’d have a chat about it with her supper group team. Without their input and support, a further social function would be a non-starter, anyhow. But her mind was already beginning to mull with the seeds of something. With only twenty minutes left of her visit, and Cath aware that the home’s lunch preparations would soon be started, she made her farewells to Reggie, and moved on once more. It was a bit like playing musical chairs to cheer up the guests.

‘Morning, Betty.’ The elderly lady was positioned just a few seats along, and Cath took up the chair next to her. She had thick white hair and vivid blue eyes. She was always well groomed, with her hair neatly styled, her floral lilac dress teamed with a jacket-style cream cardigan. She had a touch of glamour even in her late eighties.

‘Good morning, Cath.’

She loved to talk about her family, and the latest antics and achievements of her many grandchildren, proceeding to tell Cath about her grandson who had secured a new job over in Zurich with his accounting office. Whilst being naturally disappointed that she might not get to see him quite so often, Cath could hear the tone of pride in her voice. ‘It’s lovely to hear of the young ones doing well.’

‘Oh, yes, and he’s done brilliantly,’ agreed Cath. ‘What an experience for him. A whole new culture and lifestyle.’

‘Yes, pet. There are so many stories of doom and gloom these days. You almost don’t want to see the news. But there are so many other any stories they don’t tell, the happy ones, the successful ones. The younger generation are not the lost cause that they often make out. It does make me cross.’

‘Very true.’ Over her years of teaching Cath had seen the good, and of course, sometimes the bad. She’d felt she’d played a crucial part in those young people’s development, in encouraging many and varied talents, hopes and dreams. It was a constant source of pride for her, too. ‘We need to inspire the younger generation, not slam them down.’

‘And I so loved meeting young Lily – well, all of you – at your wonderful Christmas lunch. Oh, and the kind gifts the Brownies had made; I still look at my sweet little wooden robin. He’s perched on the dressing table in my room. Oh, when will you be having one of those lovely dos again in the village?’ asked Betty, smiling hopefully, from her wingback chair.

‘Ah yes, that was a grand day, that was,’ agreed Reggie loudly, with a big cheesy smile on his face – he’d clearly been earwigging.

With that, a sudden chorus broke out from around the day room, like a flock of birds twittering to life. Dozing heads lifted, and eyes shone, as though everyone had suddenly perked up at the memory.

‘Eeh, I loved the dancing,’ said Edna. ‘Took me right back.’

‘And singing along with the carols …’ added Peter.

‘And all that bloomin’ marvellous food …’ said Reggie with glee.

‘Such a delightful day,’ added Betty warmly.