Monopoly

It’s funny the habits you get into. I’ve been leaving the old van on the downhill corner of the estate forever. It’s nice and handy for a bump start. But now I’ve the new battery, well, I don’t know myself. But as I say, you do things without thinking. When I get to the van, the red Toyota is parked bang in front, but it’ll be no bother today, not with the new battery.

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Bisto leaps into the passenger seat from the driver’s side and then whines for me to get a move on. In goes the key while I smile at the dog and act like I’m driving some shiny new motor that’s never given me a minute’s trouble. The starter coughs and wheezes. No worries, though, we’re up and running and it’s a pure pleasure to slip into reverse and edge past the red Toyota.

​

Mary Healey’s Centra is right on the edge of the estate. It’s two terrace houses knocked into one and it’s crowded with all sorts of stuff. Anyway, I stop in front of the shop and leave Bisto in the van. I look back. She’s switched over to my seat and stares at me with her head tipped to one side. She gives me two short barks, just to let me know. 

 

‘That wolfhound of yours — you need to muzzle it.’

 

It’s Annie Flavahan. She often wheels herself around the estate at this time in the morning. ‘No worries, Annie, Bisto wouldn’t hurt a flea. It’s just she shows her teeth a bit when she smiles. It gives people the wrong idea.’

 

‘Do I look like I’ve had the  frontal  lobotomy then, Mally? A dog that smiles? Does it do long division as well?’

​

She growls a lot does Annie, but she’s alright. I’m not going to say I feel sorry for her. That wouldn’t be right.

 

But she’ll be eighty next birthday and she’s enough to put up with, so I cut her a bit of slack. She’s gone from walking sticks to a zimmer frame in the last year. We’ve a bit of history as well, have Annie and me. It makes a difference.

 

‘You’ll have a cup o’ tea later, so? And some toast?’ I say. ‘I’ll be back just after five.’ It’s the best way to make sure she’s alright but you have to be careful. If she thought you were checking up on her, she’d roar at you.

 

She nods in the direction of the van and Bisto. ‘White Fang there is the one with the teeth. Toast’s no good to me anymore.’

 

‘Sorry, Annie, I forgot. I’ve  digestives as well. You could dunk them.’  She hardly wears the dentures now. She says they’re agony.

 

I’ll be late for the Doc if I don’t get away but I walk her back to the flats anyway. She can struggle with the lift sometimes. By the time we get there she’s puffing a bit but I let her have first crack at the lift button. She pecks at it with a bony finger.

 

‘You need to press a little harder, Annie. The contacts are worn. Here, let me.’

 

As she shuffles into the lift, there’s a squeak from one of the wheels on the zimmer frame. She scowls. ‘It’s been like that since I washed off the dog mess. Your dog’s mess.’

 

There’s no way I’m getting into that argument again. ‘That’s no bother, Annie. I’ll fix it on Sunday. See you later.’

 

As I get to the Doc’s place, it starts to rain. More a misty drizzle, really. He always comes to the door does the Doc when he hears the van and we usually have a bit of a chat before I start my jobs in the garden. You couldn’t find a nicer person to work for. When I had the garden centre, I’d  spend  a  lot  of  time in the polytunnels and I  really  missed them when it closed down. Once I was back on my feet, I thought I’d look out for a bit of land to rent and put up a tunnel. I mentioned the idea to the Doc.

​

‘Mally, you must do it here. There’s plenty of room. What about next to the greenhouse?’

 

That was six months ago. I keep nagging him about the rent but he just shakes his head and smiles. I only found out a few days ago that he’s ninety-four. You wouldn’t think it. He once told me that the problem with getting so old was that all his friends had died. He lost his missus last year and I know they never had kids but

 

I’m not sure if he has other family.

 

I rake the drive and collect up the last of the leaves from the paths. I spend the rest of the morning sorting some firewood. After lunch, it’s into the tunnel. Bisto’s a great help, of course. She’s grand and quiet if I’m stood at the bench, but the minute I crouch, she’s the tongue in my ear or the tail in my face.

 

I go to the house before I leave. It’s lovely. Georgian probably, on three floors. It’s chilly enough inside particularly now with the cold snap. It’s not so bad in the kitchen where the Aga gurgles away. I reckon he passes most of the day sat next to it, reading his books.

 

I knock on the back door and poke my head inside. ‘How’s it going, Doc?’

 

The book must have slid to the floor. It’s by his feet, open, with a few of the pages wafting in the draught. His head’s pitched to one side and he’s snoring. Not loud, mind. More like a cat purring. I try to close the door quietly behind me. Even so, it wakes him.

 

‘Come in, Mally, I was only dozing.’

 

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Doc.’

 

‘No, it’s alright.’ He’s dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a large, checked handkerchief.

 

This’ll be the second Christmas without his missus. He was on his own last year. I didn’t realise. He never said anything at the time. I still feel bad about it. Sat all day he was, with nothing but a book for company. ‘I’ll be back on the 28th, Doc.’

 

‘That’s fine,’ he says, smiling.

 

‘I was wondering though, whether you’d mind if I popped over on Christmas Day. We could have a drink. Or…’ I stammer. ‘What about the dinner? Are you fixed up?’

 

‘I’ll be alright, Mally. Breda will bring something in on Christmas Eve.’

 

‘Sure, you’ll need the turkey and the ham and the sprouts. And the pudding after.’

 

‘I don’t think I could manage all that, Mally. Whatever Breda brings will do me fine.’

 

I stammer again. ‘I’m not great at the cooking so I thought I’d get one of those boxes delivered. There’ll be plenty to eat. I’m having a couple of friends round. Will you join us?’

 

‘That’s very kind of you, Mally, but you wouldn’t want an old fella like me putting a dampener on things.’

 

‘As long as you don’t fall asleep with your nose in the bread sauce, you’ll be grand.’ I don’t much joke with the Doc, he’s not really the sort, but he seems to enjoy this one.

 

He hesitates but then speaks more quickly than usual, as if he’s already thought about what he was going to say.

 

‘Why don’t you come here, Mally? I’ll get Breda to air the sitting room and light the fire. We can stroll around outside after lunch and you can show your friends all the marvellous work that you’ve done in the garden.’

That’s the Doc alright, he doesn’t even ask who the friends are.

 

***

 

I slide the plate of digestives across the table towards Annie Flavahan.

 

‘Why would you want to go round there on Christmas day?’ she says. ‘I heard he has no telly.’

 

‘Come  on, Annie, we  won’t  need  a  telly. It’ll be great. The house is beautiful and the gardens are so private. We could play a game of something after the dinner and have a good chat.’

 

‘A good chat, is it? Have you booked Graham Norton then?’

 

 ‘There’ll be champagne in the hamper.’

 

‘You’ll need more than champagne to get a good chat out of Mary Healey. She’s all over the place. She took so long telling me about her knackered freezer the other day, there was rust on the wheels of the zimmer when I got home.’

 

You can’t win with Annie. ‘Will you have another cup of tea?’

 

‘No, I must get back to cover the cage. It’s Walter’s bedtime. He goes quiet if he doesn’t get enough sleep.’ Walter’s the budgerigar.

 

‘Will you manage the lift on your own?’ I say.

 

‘Never mind about the lift. Put a drop of oil on that wheel. The squeak’s crazing me.’

 

***

 

She’s serious enough is Mary Healey, but she’s sound alright. Even so, she either witters away or says nothing at all. It’s never something in the middle. But that’s just Mary.

 

We’re doing  the  washing up after Christmas dinner at the Doc’s and we’re flying it. I have to run to keep up with the drying. She’s wearing a paper hat from the cracker. It reminds me of when I was a boy. Nan would always wear hers till she went to bed that night, and make us kids do the same. ‘It’s only once a year,’ she’d say. ‘Might as well make the most of it.’

 

It seems like Mary’s in a quiet mood. I  try  and  start  a  bit  of  a  conversation. ‘You’ve a  grand  shop, Mary. You’ve  so many lines, it must be a nightmare trying to keep everything in stock.’

 

She shrugs and gives me a faint smile without slowing up on the dishes.

 

When everything’s done, we make four mugs of tea and join Annie and the Doc in the sitting room. They’re sat at a card table sorting out a game. Bisto is curled up on the hearth rug. I was going to leave her in the van but the Doc insisted.

 

‘We’ve no telly to watch,’ says Annie, as blunt as you like. ‘Monopoly it’ll have to be.’

 

The Doc sorts the property cards while Mary doles out the money.

 

‘You can be the dog, Mally,’ says Annie, handing over the little silver terrier. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t crap like the one by the fire.’ She gives the cat to Mary. ‘Suits you, Mary,’ and takes the racing car for herself.

 

But Mary surprises all of us. ‘Thanks, Annie. Mind how you go with the racing car. Bound to be a bit quicker than the zimmer frame.’

 

I’m the first to get knocked out, then it’s the Doc’s turn. The girls have the board carved up between them.

 

There are houses and hotels everywhere.

 

Annie rolls out the dice. ‘Seven. Damn it. You’re all luck, Mary Healey.’

 

‘O’Connell Street with a hotel. That’ll be one thousand two hundred,’ says Mary, ‘It’s a dear place to spend the night, right enough.’ She drains her champagne glass and nudges the red, plastic hotel with a finger just to emphasise the point.

 

‘That was a great game,’ says the Doc. ‘I haven’t played Monopoly for years.’ Annie’s still glowering when he changes the subject. ‘It’ll soon be dark. You three must have a little walk outside and see the garden. Mally’s done wonders.’

 

‘Will I fetch your coat, Doc,’ I say.

 

‘No thanks, Mally. I’ll stay inside. Maybe close my eyes for a few minutes. It must be all the excitement.’ He winks at the two women.

 

We’re not out too long. We keep to the paths, for Annie’s sake, and I show them the pond and the rose garden. Bisto leads the way.

 

‘You must come back another time and I’ll take you round properly,’ I say.

 

When we get back to the house, the Doc is still in the sitting room. His head rests against the wing of the chair and his chin is on his chest.

 

‘He doesn’t look right,’ says Mary. She crouches down and takes his hands. ‘Sweet Jesus, Mally. He’s not breathing.’

 

***

 

We wait an age for the doctor to come, then the undertaker. By the time everything is sorted, it’s nearly midnight. Just before we leave, Mary finds an envelope with my name on it.

 

‘It was slipped between the pages of his book,’ she says. She hands it over. ‘There’s no stamp on it. I’d say he meant to give it to you before … you know.’

 

We squeeze into the van and drive back to town. I drop Mary off first then head for the flats. I take Annie all the way to her door.

 

‘Don’t be too sad, Mally. It was a grand last day for him.’ She pats the back of my arm. ‘And you were right about the telly,’ she says with a rare smile. ‘We didn’t need it at all.’ She raises a hand and touches my cheek.

 

‘Will you read the Doc’s letter?’

 

 ‘Tomorrow, Annie.’ I say. ‘We’ll read it together.’