The Cure Is Sometimes...

By Joan Plant

Aged 71 and in poor health, Mary is resigned to the fact that she has not long to live. She inherits an amulet, together with some money, a house, and a young lodger. She reads her grandfather's diary and learns that her life will be turned around completely. She now has sixty years instead of just six months. At midnight her body will lose 24 hours and any injuries she has sustained will never have happened. She will suffer all the pain and trauma, but only until the new day begins. She must keep her situation secret and will have to leave her friends and family after a few years. Gerald learns of the secret and helps her with her first disappearance', when she becomes Noelle. He also establishes the means by which she can keep track of her grand daughter, Kate, throughout the following years. She becomes, in turn, Nolly, Avril, Emma, Glenda, and Annette, falling in and out of love, suffering terrible injuries, experiencing great happiness and sadness, yet still retains her sense of humour and zest for life. Given a similar set of circumstances, how would you cope?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AUK Authors
• Release date: Jun 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781783331314

Book preview

Title Page

THE CURE IS SOMETIMES...

by

Joan Plant

Publisher Information

The Cure is Sometimes... Published in 2013

by Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

Copyright © 2013 Joan Plant

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The right of Joan Plant to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Quote

‘The remedy is worse than the disease’

Alexander Pope - Essays (1625)

‘Of Seditions and Troubles’

The Cure Is Sometimes...

Chapter 1

It was the first Wednesday in July when Mary became absolutely certain that she was being followed. Wherever she went the youth was there, on the edge of her vision.

The thought had first crossed her mind two weeks earlier, when she was watching her grand-daughter playing the weekly after-school game of rounders. He had been sitting on the bench under a tree beside the stretch of grass the girls used for a pitch, and as she walked past she thought his face - thin, finely-boned with the merest hint of a budding moustache - seemed familiar. She realised he had been there the week before, too.

The following day she had spotted him in the library. On Friday, she had picked Kate up from school to take her to dancing class, and thought she had seen the boy get on the bus, but she only caught a glimpse as he went up the stairs. She didn’t go out over the weekend, her asthma had been too bad, and she had developed a nasty cough. On Monday, when she went to collect her pension from the post office, she saw him looking in the window of the newsagent across the road.

Now here it was, Wednesday again, and she was positive. She had found a sunny bench to sit on to ease her arthritis, and he was sitting on the next bench but one, in the shade, watching the game. She was curious. Why was this schoolboy following her around? (And why wasn’t he at school?)

She lit a Woodbine, inhaled deeply and coughed while she watched her grand-daughter hit the ball and make a run. Kate was the centre of her life, and had been ever since her husband had been killed four years ago in an air raid. Kate’s mother had insisted that they share the air-raid-shelter during the night attacks. If only Harry hadn’t gone back home for his glasses they would still be together. How she missed him. He had been a good husband.

Alice and Michael, Kate‘s father, had invited Mary to move in with them after the bomb had destroyed her home. Of course, the front room was very full now, with her big brass bed and other bits of furniture. Alice was a good daughter but Mary had never felt so happy watching her grow up as she did now, seeing Kate blossom.

She knew the girl was by no means beautiful, but she was beginning to show the promise of the woman she would become, with a willowy gracefulness that made her look taller than she really was. She felt closer to her grand-daughter, with her sense of mischief and fun, her sympathetic nature. Alice had always been practical - like her dad - but Kate reminded Mary of herself when she was young.

She noticed that the boy was watching the girls. Perhaps he was attracted to Kate but the child was not yet fourteen and far too young to be bothered with boys.

Mary decided it was time to voice her concerns. She gathered together her handbag and Kate’s cardigan and walked over and sat on the end of the other bench.

She regarded the end of her cigarette and exhaled slowly, bringing on another coughing fit. When she had regained her breath she looked sideways at the boy. You can stop hanging around after my grand-daughter. She isn’t interested in boys.

The boy smiled.

I’m not interested in your grand-daughter.

"Oh no? Then why are you here?

He smiled again. Can’t I enjoy a lovely summer’s afternoon in a public park?

I think you should stop following us around and find another interest.

But I’m not following your grand-daughter. It’s you who I’m interested in. Or should I say ‘in whom my interest lies‘?

Don’t try to be clever with me. I used to be a teacher.

I know of that.

He did? For a few moments she studied him carefully. Do I know you, young man?

Not exactly, but you have seen me around.

Indeed. I seem to see you wherever I go. The library, the post office. It was you on the bus the other day, wasn’t it? She wondered what his response would be. It certainly was not what she expected.

Yes it was me, and yes, I have been following you, or I’ve managed to be in the places where I thought you might be. I’ve wanted to speak to you. The pause was significant. You are Mrs. Mary Sanderson, aren‘t you? - Miss Mary Margaret Anne Brooks before marriage?

She was astonished. Nobody had mentioned her maiden name for over half a century. She’d almost forgotten it herself.

Why do you want to know?

You love your grand-daughter, don’t you?

She became wary. Was Kate about to be kidnapped?I’m not a rich person, young man. There was no use him following that line of thought.

She was racked by a fit of coughing. The boy moved towards her but stopped as she pushed him away. He waited until she was breathing normally again.

I know you’re not rich, (How did he know?) But you do love her.

I would have thought that was obvious.

And you’ve not been in the best of health these last few weeks.

What else have you noticed?

Again, he answered her question with another of his own. How much longer do you think you have to enjoy her company?

You are impertinent! You need someone to teach you some manners. She stood, about to move away, but he touched her arm.

Please, I’m not being impertinent. I really want to know. What does your doctor tell you?

Doctors! What do they know? She recalled her last visit to the surgery. Six months to a year, if she cut down on the cigarettes and watched herself. And the cough - it had got much worse over the last few weeks - but the cigarettes helped. Sometimes her chest felt so tight she couldn’t breathe, but a smoke helped to loosen all the phlegm.

The boy was still looking at her, but she ignored his question.

I’m going to live a long time yet. I’m going to watch Kate grow up, and I’m going to dance at her wedding. Just you see. Her frail body was seized by another fit of coughing.

The boy spoke slowly and deliberately.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if you didn’t have that cough? Wouldn’t it be lovely if you could watch Kate grow up? Wouldn’t it be lovely if you really could dance at her wedding?

She dropped the cigarette stub and trod it into the path.

You and I both know that is not likely to happen, don’t we?

The boy smiled again. Please take this home and read it when you are on your own. He thrust an envelope into her hand and strode towards the exit.

Mary stared after him with her mouth open. How did he know so much about her? And why had he been following her? She was intrigued. She felt apprehensive, but in no way threatened. After all, he was just a boy, but it was all rather odd.

The game finished and Kate came running up, dragging her satchel. Mary stood and tucked the envelope into her handbag. She would deal with it when they got home.

They left the park and walked towards the High Street. Kate looked wistfully at the sweet shop. Do you think I could have some sweets Nanna?

If you like. She smiled as Kate paused and scuffed her foot on the pavement. But you’ve got no coupons, have you?

Kate shook her head.

Never mind, I still have some left. They entered the shop. Mary couldn’t help thinking how it had looked before the war. Shelves loaded with row upon row of jars filled with an array of gaily coloured sweets of every shape and size. Now there were just half -a-dozen jars, including one of bright yellow powder.

Can I have some Ling Foo Fizz as well?

Instead of, but not as well. Kate pouted.

Okay Nanna, I’ll just have the Fizz. She looked at her finger, which was still yellow from the last lot. The unrationed powder was supposed to make a slightly fizzy lemon drink, but the children preferred to lick their fingers and dip them into the bag to suck the sweet-sour powder. There had been quite a rash of yellow tongues and fingers round the school lately.

Mary bought another pack of Woodbines and they made their way home. They stopped by the Gaumont for a few minutes, ostensibly to see what was on next week, but really so that she could get her breath back. It really was getting worse. She’d have another smoke and a good cough when she got home and that would soon put her right.

She must expect some little aches and pains; after all, she had passed the allotted three-score-years and ten.

She put her arm round Kate’s shoulder - the girl was almost as tall as her grandmother now.

Come along Katykay. Let’s put the kettle on. Your mum will be home from work soon and she’ll appreciate a nice cup of tea.As they passed the top of Dampiet Road Mary ruefully regarded the building work going on. All the rubble had been cleared from the bomb-sites and they had begun knocking down the three remaining houses in the terrace. A notice stated that a block of six modern flats would be erected. She was thankful that Alice and her husband, Michael, hadn’t moved in next door when the house became empty.

They had preferred the next street, where there was a bit of a garden to grow his beloved chrysanths when he came home from the army. If they hadn’t made that choice there would be nowhere for any of them to live now! But it didn’t do to dwell on the past. She must think of the future - what there was of it. The two-up-two-down house in Carlton Street had enough room for her and her bits.

As she took the key from her pocket, Kate held out her hand.

Let me open the door, Nanna. I want to see if there are any letters.

Who are you expecting to hear from? smiled Mary.

Nobody - I just like to see the stamps. Kate ran ahead and into the house.

Were there any?

No, Nanna, just a gas bill. I wish we had friends and relations all over the world, so that they could write to us, and I’d get lots and lots of stamps

You and your stamps - if you got all those letters you’d have to write back, and you don’t even like writing your homework.

This would be different. If I had a pen-friend I’d write all the time.

Mary put the kettle on the gas stove. "Why don’t you ask that Mademoiselle at school to find you a pen-friend?"

Then I’d have to write in French! Kate screwed up her nose.

Would that be so very bad?

Kate looked thoughtful. Perhaps that’s not such a bad idea. Then I could go and visit her in France.

Mary put the empty milk-bottle on the doorstep, taking the key from the lock as she did so. She opened her handbag to put the key away and saw the letter. Pity it didn’t have a foreign stamp on it, then at least Kate would be happy. She was still in two minds whether to open it, but not while Kate was there. I’ll do it later, she thought, and took the bag into her bedroom.

Within ten minutes of the kettle boiling Alice had returned from the hospital and gratefully taken the cup of steaming tea from her mother. She was a striking young woman, but her bobbed hair had more than a few grey streaks showing now. Mary regarded her daughter fondly. She had made a good job of bringing up Kate on her own for those years, obviously it had not been so hard for her as for some who had several children, but Mary knew how difficult a young girl could be, and she had always had Harry by her side. Mary could see a lot of Harry in their daughter as her tired face began to relax. They had the same smile and the same red hair.

She saw how weary Alice looked. Would you like me to make the supper?

Thanks, Mum, but not tonight. When Michael gets home, Kate can pop out and get us some fish and chips, she smiled at her daughter. Mary was racked by another fit of coughing and Alice patted her mother between the shoulders.

Jean got me some liver today. Jean, her friend at work, was married to a butcher and, as offal was off the ration, it was not easy to come by unless one was in the know. You can make us some of your faggots and pease-pudding tomorrow. Why don’t you take some of your jollop and go and have a lie-down?

Mary went to her room and stretched out on the bed. She looked at the print of a stag that she and Harry had bought on their honeymoon - two days at Ramsgate, and it had rained all the time! She smiled at his photo on the dressing table beside her handbag. How handsome he had looked then, with his stern face and bushy moustache. She sat up, lifted the bottle of cough mixture from beside the bed and took a sip. She knew it couldn’t

It cure her, but it did ease the soreness in her throat. Perhaps the doctor knew what he was talking about, after all, and she really didn’t have much time left.

Her eyes went to the handbag as she thought of what the boy had said about dancing at Kate’s wedding. Stupid nonsense! But he had given her that envelope. It couldn’t hurt to see what it said. She crossed to her bag and took it out.

It was made of heavy cream paper. There was no address, just ‘Mrs. M. Sanderson - By hand’ written in beautiful handwriting in very black ink. Whoever the boy was, someone had taught him to write properly. She carefully opened it. Inside was a single sheet of note-paper to match the envelope, with the letter-heading of Cobold’s bank in the City.

"Dear Madam,

If you are Mary Margaret Anne Brooks, born 24thMarch 1876, and would care to attend at the bank at your convenience, unaccompanied, bringing your birth certificate, you will learn something to your advantage."

It was signed ‘J.C. Cobold’

If that young man is playing games, she said to herself he is certainly going to a lot of trouble.

She waited until she heard Michael’s key in the lock, some murmuring and the door slam as Kate left, then took the letter out to show Alice and seek Michael’s advice. She was on very good terms with her son-in-law. When Alice first brought home this tall, fair man with a rangy build he seemed very reserved with not a lot to say for himself, but as she got to know him better she realised that he had a wry sense of humour. Before the war he had been clerk for a firm of barristers in the City, which had moved to Stratford when the office had been bombed, and they had kept his position for him when the war was over and he came out of the army. She told them about the boy and her fears and wondered if it could be a trick.

Alice thought not. It says ‘by hand’, so he’s probably just a delivery boy, Mum. I think it sounds exciting. Perhaps some rich relative has died and left you a fortune.

Mary smiled ruefully. Chance would be a fine thing. I don’t think any of my relatives were rich. Unless Grandfather Brooks found a fortune.

Well there you are then, said Alice.

I don’t think so. He died of a fever on his way to America. I remember my mother saying how pleased Grandma was - she thought he’d gone off with another woman.

Michael didn’t think there was anything particularly unusual about the letter. It certainly seems genuine enough. I know solicitors send out similar letters all the time, but I’ve never heard of banks doing so. Strange that there’s no date.

Mary was still doubtful about the whole business, "It’s that ‘unaccompanied’ thing that worries me.

Michael wanted to reassure her. Why don’t I take the letter into work and make some enquiries about this bank. Then if it’s all above-board you must go and find out what they have to say. I could always come with you and wait outside if that would make you feel better.

The next morning Michael was able to confirm that Cobolds did exist and had a good reputation. He rang their secretary and was able to make an appointment with the senior partner for Saturday morning.

Saturday arrived and Mary dressed very carefully in her best black skirt and pre-war silk blouse. When she came to the table for breakfast, she was surprised to find all three of her family also dressed in their best.

We’re coming with you, offered Alice. It’s not often we get to go up West. We’re going to make a day of it, have some lunch and maybe visit something. Where would you like to go?

Mary had no preferences, but she knew Kate loved the zoo, so she suggested that.

The bus journey took over an hour and they had difficulty finding the bank in a side road just off Leadenhall Street.

Alice hugged her mother outside the door.

We passed a Lyons just down the road. We’ll go there and have a cup of tea. You come along when you’re ready and we’ll celebrate.

Mary entered the building and the door sighed gently closed behind her. She gave her name to the girl at the reception desk.

I have an appointment with Mr. Cobold,

He’s expecting you, and she was directed into an office.

A tall, pleasant, well built man, somewhere in his late fifties, with a thick crop of black hair, greying at the sides, rose from behind the desk and came to shake her hand.

Mrs. Sanderson, I believe. And how may I help you?

She passed him the envelope and watched as he carefully removed the letter.

I don’t understand, Mrs. Sanderson. I didn’t send you this letter.

But this is the right address?

Oh yes, this is certainly the correct address.

And this is your note-paper, and it is signed J. C. Cobold - quite clearly.

Indeed, but my initials are not J. C. - my initials are G. J. It certainly is our paper, or rather - it was. We haven’t used this brand for quite a number of years.

Then it is all a hoax, Mary was not as disappointed as she might have been - she had suspected something similar. And there is no J. C. Cobold?

Well, not any more. This has always been a family firm and my father was Albert William. But my grandfather was Jeremiah Charles.

Mary was seized by a coughing fit, and the banker hurried to fetch a glass of water. While she was pulling herself together he perused the letter again, rubbing the paper between his thumb and forefinger.

This is the sort of paper that was used in Grandfather’s time. I suppose there could still be some hanging about.

Perhaps your grandfather sent the letter.

Oh no, he smiled. He died many years ago and my father became the Manager. There has always been a Cobold son to follow the father into the bank. Until now, that is. My only son, Jeremy, was killed at Dunkirk. This J. C. Cobold couldn’t possibly be my grand---. He stopped abruptly. Would you excuse me for a moment?

He hurried from the room to return several minutes later with a dust- covered cardboard folder. I thought I remembered. Before he retired - aged 83, I might add - he left some specific instructions. He took out some yellowing sheets. I’ve never had any reason to open this before. See? This is the same paper with the same heading, and he has signed it the same as on your letter. He peered closely at the two documents. Exactly the same. He passed the two papers to Mary with a puzzled frown.

Mary was equally confused. Does this mean that he wrote my letter? But how could he know my name?

I haven’t the faintest idea. This one seems to be a list of various colonials living abroad. Here is ‘L.H. Brooks, followed by ‘Personal - America - South Africa - France. It seems as though the two men were acquainted. Once again he shuffled through the papers in the folder. Wait a minute. Here is another one. ‘To whom it may concern. Should any employee receive at any time instructions on headed notepaper such as that herein with my personal signature, and written in my hand, or written in the hand of, and with the personal signature of L. H. Brooks, the person should carry out any of the said instructions.’ And at the bottom, in a different handwriting ‘This is signed by my hand - L. H. Brooks’ - I’ve never heard of anything like this before. It’s most intriguing

But the letter doesn’t give you any instructions. It just instructs me to be here alone with my birth certificate. She took the certificate and handed it to him along with another. And here are my marriage lines, as well.

Mr. Cobold inspected the documents. Well they look in order, but I’m afraid I don’t know anything to your advantage.

There was a tap at the door and the girl entered.

Excuse me, Sir, and you Madam, but these have just been delivered, and she handed a package and a letter to Mr. Cobold. I was asked to give them to you immediately.

He opened the letter. It seems as if I do have some instructions after all. If I am satisfied that you are indeed Mary Margaret Anne Sanderson, nee Brooks, born in Islington on the 24th of March, in the year 1876, I am to give you the contents of the smaller of the two packages in this parcel, and furthermore, if you have obeyed the instructions that accompany it, after a period of three weeks, on your return I am to open the larger of the two. He inspected the two certificates before handing them back to her and opened the package, which contained a small parcel and a thick large brown envelope.

You are who you say you are, Mrs. Sanderson, so it pleases me to give you this small package. He handed it to her with both hands and a smile.

Mary untied the string and unwrapped the brown paper to reveal a small wooden casket. Inside the casket were a chain of yellow metal and a spherical cage of the same, holding what looked like a dull grey stone about the size of a walnut. She lifted the trinket from the casket to reveal an envelope. Inside was a letter, which she read.

Tell nobody, except Mr. Cobold, but wear this next to your skin, day and night, for a period of three weeks. When the three weeks are up, come and see Mr. Cobold again. If the stone has remained the same he will give you the sum of money contained in the second package. She looked across the desk at the large thick brown envelope, then read on - If the stone has changed in a certain way, he will give you the complete contents of the package.

She looked up. In what way ‘changed’?

I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to tell you that, Mrs. Sanderson. But when we meet again in three weeks’ time, I’m sure all will be made plain. This is signed ‘Lionel H. Brooks’ - does that mean anything to you?

Not really. Grandma Brooks always referred to Grandpa as ‘that Henry’. I suppose he could have been Lionel, but he died a long time ago when I was just a little girl.

She gathered together her gloves and handbag and stood to leave.

Don’t you think you should put that on?

She found that the chain slipped easily over her head, and tucked neatly inside the neck of her blouse. I’ve certainly got something to think about. She put the box and letter in her handbag, and shook hands with the banker. I’m still not absolutely satisfied that this isn’t some sort of game someone’s playing, but I’ll go along with it. After all, what have I got to lose?

He escorted her to the front door. Well said, my dear lady, and I look forward to seeing you at the specified time. I shall keep the whole morning free. I find this whole affair fascinating and can’t wait to see how it will all turn out.

Once outside the building, Mary looked around. She almost expected the boy to be watching her. But he was nowhere in sight. She made her way to the teashop where her family waited. Although the walk was only a few hundred yards, she was quite breathless when she got there.

They were sitting at a table in the window and Kate came running to greet her in the doorway.

Oh Nanna, we’ve been so excited. Was it a long-lost relative who sailed the seven seas and has found a pirate’s treasure?

What an imagination you’ve got. Of course not. She took her seat with the others and Alice picked up the teapot, asking Should I make it a strong one?

Yes - no - as it comes.

So it’s not bad news then. Is it very good? Alice poured the tea and handed her mother the cup.

Mary regarded the expectant faces. No, it’s not bad news, but I don’t know how good it really is.

Is there any money involved, Michael could always put his finger on the main point.

Yes, there is some money.

Very much money, Mother?

I don’t really know, darling. I shan’t know for another three weeks. She raised her hand and nearly touched the slight bulge the pendant made, but just caught herself in time and patted her hair instead. She took a packet from her bag and lit a cigarette.

They just wanted me to prove who I was and - she invented, they have to make some other enquiries. I’ve to come back in three weeks and then there will be some money for me.

How much? iterated Alice.

They didn’t say. We’ll have to wait and see.

I expect you are just one of a number of legatees Michael volunteered. They’ll have to know exactly how many of you there are so that they can divide the bequest proportionately. That’s how it works with solicitors.Mary was relieved that she need not make any further explanations.

Yes, that’s probably it. Where are we going to have our lunch?

They went to the Strand Corner House then caught the tube to Regent’s Park. They enjoyed their day out at the Zoo and were pleased to see that a lot of the animals which had been evacuated during the war had now returned.They sat on a bench to watch the world go by while Mary got her breath back, had a cigarette and another cough.

I think I’d like to do something with animals when I leave school Kate remarked as they watched the penguins waddle round their pool.

Her grandmother put an arm across the girl’s shoulders and smiled. Such as?

I don’t know. Perhaps a vet.

Mary was doubtful. I don’t think women can be vets. It’s more of a man’s job.

Don’t you be so sure. Alice had been listening to the exchange. You just think of all the jobs that were only for men before the war. Lots of them have been done by women while the men were away and women won’t want to be just housewives and take a back seat like before.

Steady on, broke in Michael. Do you mean to say that you don’t want to look after Kate and me like you always have?

I don’t mean that. Of course I do, it’s just that I’ve got used to going to work, and I like my job. I don’t want to give it up.

Well the money comes in handy Michael agreed.

It’s not just that. I’ve got responsibilities there now. There’s a chance of a promotion next year, and I’d like to put in for it.

If that’s how you feel, then I shan’t stop you.

And if Kate wants to be a vet. I don’t see why she shouldn’t.

Neither do I. Michael hugged his wife. Of course, she’d have to go to training college or university or something - and it won’t be cheap.

Mary was thinking of what Mr. Cobold had said. Perhaps there would be enough money in her ‘inheritance’ to pay for Kate’s training as a vet. Mary knew that if it was a sizeable amount she would have little need of it. Her little pension would see her time out, although a few small luxuries wouldn’t come amiss. Perhaps some Players Navy Cut instead of these Woodbines.

She retired early, it had been an exhausting day and the arthritis in her back was playing up after all the walking.

Mary kissed Kate goodnight with Sleep tight, and Don’t let the bed-bugs bite, from Kate.

Mary welcomed the comfort of her cosy bed. I won’t need a lot of rocking tonight. she told herself as she undressed. She took out her earrings and the pins from her hair and was about to take off the pendant when she remembered the letter. She read it again, lingering on the instruction ‘next to your skin, day and night’. She had always removed any jewellery before bed, but the pendant was supposed to change. If she took it off perhaps it would stay the same. She would do as she had been bidden, and hope she didn’t strangle herself with the chain during her sleep.

For the first time in a month she was not woken in the middle of the night by a coughing fit.

The following three weeks had a dreamlike quality for Mary, sometimes the days dragged and at others they galloped along. Her thoughts kept reverting to what she remembered of Grandpa Brooks.

She had only met him a dozen or so times when she was about three or four years old. She remembered one Christmas - lots of people and Grandma and Grandpa Brooks sitting at either end of a long table with candles and white serviettes. She remembered being frightened when Grandpa had set light to the big pudding but he had hugged her and told her not to be afraid - that she should have the first taste.

She remembered that he was a big man with a lot of dark wavy hair and a moustache. Once, in the garden he had lifted her onto his shoulders so that she could see three blue eggs in a nest in a tree. He had called her Mary, Mary, quite contrary and she had asked him what ‘contrary’ meant. He had laughed and said it meant ‘opposite’. She asked how she could be like old Mrs. Porter who lived on the opposite side of the road. After that he called her ‘Mary, Mary, NOT Contrary’. She recalled that he had always seemed to be laughing - just as Grandma had always seemed to be frowning.

Mary remembered her grandmother more clearly, as they had visited quite often until she passed away. A small plump woman, always dressed in black, with lots of fussy ribbons round her neck and a lace cap on her grey hair. She had a small prune-like mouth with tightly pressed lips and often said that her troubles had always begun when she married ‘that Henry’.

During the final week Kate broke up from Grammar School and they spent more time in the park. Sometimes they went to the swimming pool and once she thought she saw the boy at the other end. But he made no move to contact her.

Kate was excited to receive a letter with a French stamp from a girl called Monique.

Alice learned that there was only one other candidate for the promotion.

Michael confirmed his holiday for the third week in August and booked a week for them all at a guest house in Southend.

Although the weather was by now quite hot on some days, Mary was careful to wear clothes with a high neck to conceal the pendant, which she often fingered when she was alone. Alice had given her a sleeveless, low-necked sun dress but Mary pleaded her cough and arthritis as an excuse not to wear it.

But Mum, your cough seems to be better.

It was true, her cough seemed to have improved, obviously the summer suited her old bones, and the arthritis seemed easier as well.

She had broken herself of the habit of looking at the pendant three or four times a day, especially when she retired, but on the Tuesday before the next appointment she noticed that the stone had lost its dull grey colour and was cloudily transparent. By the Thursday it had become clearer, more like a crystal, and was developing a yellow tinge, and on the Friday night it was a glowing amber.

As before, all four of them prepared for the trip up west, trying to suppress their excitement, Mary more than the others, for she was fully aware that she was to inherit something over and above the money promised by Mr. Cobold.

If you inherit a million pounds, you won’t let it change you will you? queried Kate.

Of course not. I shall still be the same miserable old woman I’ve always been.

Oh Nanna, you’re not miserable.

No, that’s one thing you never have been. added Alice. You always seem to look on the bright side of things.

Nothing’s ever so bad that there isn’t something good to find about it.

How about rationing? remarked Michael.

It’s bound to end soon. Alice rejoined the conversation.

Don’t you be so sure. I’ve a feeling it will be around for some years yet. Michael followed the news more than his womenfolk.

Well, think how much healthier we all are - how slim and fit. Mary accepted the cigarette her son-in-law offered.

What’s this, Players?

Well, as it’s such a special day, I thought perhaps we’d celebrate. Things could be a bit easier now.

He was probably right. Mary had a feeling that her life might change considerably from now on. She might even have a few more months than the doctor had predicted.

As before, they left Mary at the door to the bank and retired to the teashop. Mary squared her shoulders and entered. Miss Jackson greeted her respectfully from behind the desk.

Good morning, Mrs. Sanderson. Mr. Cobold’s waiting for you. Would you like some tea or coffee?

Oh, nothing, thank you. Her stomach was full of, if not butterflies, certainly caterpillars about to hatch. The banker was waiting in front of the desk and made sure she was comfortably seated before taking his place behind it. He could see that she was in no mood for any small talk.

What news of the pendant Mrs. Sanderson?

She lifted it from beneath the collar of her blouse to show him the glowing crystal.

I think we can safely say there has been a significant change, he smiled as he opened a folder in front of him.

It pleases me greatly to give you this £100, and to inform you that an account has been opened with us in your name and six hundred pounds per year will be paid into that account in twelve parts at monthly intervals. I just need your signature on these papers. He looked over the top of his reading glasses to see her pinching herself.That means I’m rich.

I wouldn’t say ‘rich’ exactly, but it will pad out your pension somewhat, and you should be able to live fairly comfortably for the foreseeable future.

I shall be able to buy Players’ instead of Woodbines. She couldn’t wait to tell the others and started to stand up but he stayed her with a gesture.

There is one other thing. You have a benefactor and he purchased a house in Chingford, Number 3, Daisy Close, which was gifted to you three years ago. I have the deeds here.

Three years ago! But why didn’t you tell me then?

I’m afraid these papers only came into my possession three weeks ago - the same time as your pendant. Of course, if there had been no change I was to give you the money and keep the knowledge of the bank account and the house until I received further instructions. He shook his head. This is all quite extraordinary. Perfectly legal, but quite extraordinary. He took one last paper from the folder. Just one final thing. There is a stipulation that goes with the house.

Here it comes, she thought. She knew there had to be a catch somewhere.

He continued. Since the purchase there has been a tenant.

She nodded her head, so the house was occupied and she wouldn’t be able to live in it after all. Never mind, the rent could come in useful.

A paying tenant? she inquired hopefully.

"Nothing is said about that, but it appears he only uses one room from time to time, and the stipulation is that you let him continue to use that room for just a few more months. If you accept the stipulation you can move in at any time you like.

And if I don’t accept the stipulation?

Then I am to keep the keys until I receive further instructions. He was clearly upset at having to tell her this. I must do as my client asks.

Then I accept. She shrugged her shoulders. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to sharing a house with other people, and surely it would be less crowded with two people in it than the house in Leytonstone with four. And he did say ‘just a few months’

She signed the necessary papers and he handed over the keys to the house and agreed to act on her behalf so long as there was no conflict of interests with his other client.

You would be well advised to open a bank account in Chingford, and if you let me have the details I will arrange the monthly transfer. Although I will, of course, be pleased to see you at any time, a local bank will save you having to come into the City.

She thought that was very sound advice, she put the address and keys to the house in her bag and he accompanied her to the door.

Mary’s family were overjoyed at her good news and decided to go straight to Chingford.

Alice wondered who the mystery tenant would be.

That worries me a bit, too. Mary admitted.

Kate, who had a penchant for horror stories, suggested that he might be an axe-murderer and Mary shivered at the thought.

I don’t think my benefactor would put me in any such danger. Besides, I’ve a sneaking suspicion Mr. Cobold knows who it is.

Although they had sometimes visited the swimming pool they weren’t very familiar with the rest of Chingford, but Lloyds Bank was easy to find, and Alice and Kate went window shopping while Michael accompanied Mary inside to open her account. It was all quite simple, except for the matter of her address.

I’m only looking today. I don’t know when I’m going to move in. I might not be comfortable with this man. I might want to wait until he leaves. So she gave the Leytonstone address, and then changed four of the big white £5 notes for singles. They emerged into the sunshine and saw the other two outside the bookshop.

Do you see anything that takes your fancy? You can have anything up to thirty shillings.

Oh Nanna, you are a darling. Kate rushed ahead of them and gazed eagerly at the shelves. She was spoilt for choice but finally selected the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe.

As they left the shop she took Alice and Michael by the elbow. Now, you two, I’d like to treat you both to something you’d really like. Something you wouldn’t buy yourselves.

You don’t have to do that, Mum, it’s your money. You should treat yourself.

I intend to, but you three are my only family and I don’t see why we shouldn’t all feel the benefit, adding mentally while we still can.

If that’s what you want to do, Mum, but let’s wait until after we’ve seen the house. Have you any idea whereabouts Daisy Close is? Mary shook her head. They asked at the post office and were directed to a side street. Michael, thinking of Mary’s arthritis and cough, wondered aloud if it was far.

Not too far. It’ll take about fifteen minutes, and Daisy Close is about half way down on the left. Nice quiet little road that is. Mary liked the idea of a nice quiet little road and felt that fifteen minutes walk would be no hardship.

They turned into the Close and discovered two detached houses with small front gardens on each side. Number 3 was at the bottom, partly obscured by a shoulder-high privet hedge, in need of a trim. Michael held back some branches to open the gate and Mary had her first view of the house.

Why, it’s a bungalow! How marvellous.

The frontage of the house was perfectly symmetrical, with bay windows on either side. The roof sloped on each side and there was a squat chimney stack dead center. Mary took the keys from her bag as they walked down the lavender-lined path to the front door, which had a stained-glass window in the upper panel and similar windows at either side. A red-tiled porch sheltered the entry from the elements. Mary pressed the bell-push on the doorpost.

Why are you doing that? It’s your house.

Well, if the mystery man is in the altogether, I wouldn’t want to walk in on him, would I? Mary smiled. She inserted the key and the door opened onto a wide hallway with a parquet floor. The only natural light came from the front door, the beaded glass panels in the doors leading to rooms on the left and right of the front door and the open doors at the end of the hall.

Kate found a switch inside the door and flooded them with soft light. See Nanna, you’ve got electricity.

Along the left side was a hallstand and on the right was a bookcase with two framed pen-and-ink drawings above it, one of a clown juggling some balls and the other of a girl riding bareback on a horse.

Mary opened the door on the right onto a large, comfortably- furnished, living room with a window seat built into the bay and corner fireplace with a carved wooden surround and mantelpiece. The room was clean and tidy, although the curtains could do with a wash.

They crossed the hall and Alice opened the door on the left. It was a mirror image of the other, including the window seat and had a large light oak wardrobe.

This will be your bedroom, Mum.

The next door they tried was locked. This must be the tenant’s room. The two rooms at the end of the hall were a toilet and bathroom.

Alice looked in the medicine cupboard above the wash basin. It contained a tube of toothpaste, an unused face flannel and a bar of Wright’s Coal Tar soap. No razor or shaving cream she observed. He must have a beard.

Perhaps it’s Father Christmas giggled Kate.

A tall cupboard contained some neatly folded towels on a shelf, and over the bath were a long shallow window and a geyser for hot water.

Through the remaining door was the kitchen, which basked in the bright light of the afternoon sun. It was well equipped with a drop-leaf table, an electric cooker and a larder.

The larder showed signs that the man was used to feeding himself, perhaps they could allocate set times to use the bathroom and kitchen maybe. Mary was coming round to the idea of living here. She certainly liked the house and sharing would not be a permanent arrangement.

Mary found a key hanging up beside the back door and they trooped out into the garden. A small vegetable patch was planted in neat rows. Six tomato plants were tethered to stout canes. There was a strip of lawn with a washing line suspended over it and, at the end of the path, a small shed and coal bunker. The bunker was half full and the shed contained the usual gardening tools, a lawn mower and a work bench.

Look, Father Christmas rides a bike. Kate pointed to a patched inner tube and small can of oil beside some rags on the bench.

As they returned to the house Michael put his arm round Mary’s shoulder. Well, Ma, what’s the verdict? Are you going to come and live here?

She locked the back door behind them. I think I might. It is a very nice house. I like the electricity. (In Leytonstone the house was all gas.) It’s got a manageable garden. It’s light and airy, yet has a comfortable feel about it.

Do you think you could be happy here?

Ye - e - e - s. She was hesitant, but I think I might be lonely. I’ve got used to being with you all. Besides, what about the cooking and the ironing? Since she had moved in with them she had tried to relieve Alice of some of the chores.

Alice knew that in recent months the aches and breathlessness had made it difficult for her mother to help. Don’t let that worry you. I managed before you came to live with us and I’ll manage now.

You want to get rid of me, is that it?

Don’t be silly. I’ve used you like an unpaid skivvy sometimes. But it’s time we thought about you and what you want.

And you won’t be lonely when Father Christmas is here. added Kate. And we can always come and visit. Specially now I’m on holiday.

They locked the front door, and made their way back to the town centre, not talking much as they walked, knowing that Mary had a lot to think about. Luckily there was a bench by the bus stop, and she was able to get her breath back as she and Michael enjoyed their Players. Her chest was not racked by the usual cough.

I knew these were better than Woodbines she remarked contentedly, as she exhaled a long plume of smoke. Changing the subject, or, to get back to the previous one --. They looked at her expectantly. It all depends on this lodger - tenant - whatever you want to call him. He’s probably at work today or out shopping, but he’s coming back - that milk won’t keep forever. Tomorrow’s Sunday. If I come back late morning, he’s likely to be there and I can meet him and make up my mind.

Can I come with you, Nanna? I can’t wait to meet Father Christmas.

Right, we’ll get over there about half past eleven and if we take some eggs and bread and butter, I can do a little salad for us, there’s plenty of stuff in the garden.

That’s fine. Alice agreed. We’ll have our roast in the evening.

Chapter 2

The next day Mary woke to the sound of the kettle whistling, and Kate brought her a cup of tea. Wake up, Nanna, the sun’s shining and it’s going to be hot. I wonder if Father Christmas wears shorts in the summer - or if he goes swimming. Mary had a mental image of the elderly gentleman wearing a pair of holly-printed trunks trimmed with white fur to match his cap and a green-and-white spotted inflated rubber horse tucked under his arm.

She grinned and sipped her tea.

You do know it’s not going to be him, don’t you?

Of course I do. She hugged her grandmother. But can we go to the pool this afternoon after we’ve met him?

I don’t see why we can’t spend an hour or two there.

I’ll go and get my swimmers.

As she prepared her breakfast thoughts kept chasing each other round Mary’s brain. If she moved they would have to get a van to take her bed and the few bits and pieces she had kept. And, she really would miss the family; though if she was being honest, she did enjoy the quiet times, when Kate was at school and the others were at work. She also thought that Alice and Michael would enjoy some time together, just the two of them. Michael had been away for a long time in the army, and now that he was back - well it was only natural, wasn’t it? There could be a lot of advantages to the move. She was almost talking herself into it.

Then she thought of one disadvantage she hadn’t taken into account. The doctor had said that her days were virtually numbered, although she had not told the family. With her cough and arthritis another winter could be her last. What if she became so ill that she needed nursing?

Well, even if she remained here she wouldn’t expect Alice to stay home and look after her. If she moved to Chingford, with the extra money she could probably afford to have someone come in - there might even be enough for a private nursing home when the time came.

They laughed and joked as they prepared for the ‘adventure’ as Kate had started calling it.

We’ll take enough for three. Mary put the eggs and bread in a shopping bag, along with an apron and a sunhat. If I’m spending the afternoon at the pool I’m going to be prepared.

They continued laughing and joking on the journey, but as they turned the corner into Daisy Close the mood became more subdued. Once again Mary rang the doorbell, fully expecting someone to answer, but there was still no one at home. They walked through to the kitchen.

Let’s have a cup of tea. Mary filled the kettle and switched it on. There was a novelty! She was used to filling a whistling kettle and setting it to boil on the gas. She found where the china was and took out three of everything, worked out how the drop-leaf table functioned, and set them on the table. She saw that the key was in the lock of the back door.

Katykay, why don’t you go and pick one of those lettuces from the garden.

In the larder Mary saw that a tomato and some of the cucumber was gone and there was less milk in the bottle.

Kate returned just as the kettle boiled and started to wash the lettuce. Ugh, there’s a slug.

Don’t worry, it won’t eat much.

They were both laughing when they heard the front door open. Mary wiped her hands nervously on her apron and they both stared expectantly at the door into the hall.

‘Father Christmas’ was revealed as a youth, with a key in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He pocketed the key and held out his hand with a little bow.

Pleased to see you again, Mrs. Sanderson. Philip Buxton at your service

Mary was dumbstruck as she limply shook his hand. She wasn’t just lost for words; she was in a desert of silence and incomprehension. Kate looked from one to the other. Have you met before?

The boy was in control of the situation. You must be Kate. I encountered your grandmother in the park one day whilst you were playing rounders.

Mary took a deep breath and managed to pull herself together. This is the boy who gave me the letter.

Indeed. I meet many different people in my job and Mrs. Sanderson and I had an interesting conversation.

Your job? Mary queried. She was beginning to recover her wits.

I work for an enterprise called City Messengers. We deliver and collect all over London.

That’s why you’ve got a bike! Kate interjected. He gave another little bow.

Correct, mademoiselle. I see you’ve made some tea. Could I have a cup? No sugar for me, please. Mary mutely took the milk from the larder and poured for them all. Philip looked at the preparations and set the chair to the table. Excuse me for a moment. He left the kitchen and they heard a key turn in a lock. He returned with another chair. Now we can all be seated.

Mary didn’t say much during the course of the meal. She had had qualms about sharing the house with an unknown man, but a teenager - that was different. Why it would almost be like having another Kate around!

Kate asked enough questions for both of them, to the boy’s obvious amusement. How old are you?

Nearly sixteen.

You’re not very big. You’re not much bigger than me, and I’m only thirteen.

I am small for my age. My mother was petite.

Where is your mother?

She died a long time ago. He smiled. I’m an orphan.

Oh poor you. Kate couldn’t imagine what it was like to have no family. But who looks after you?

He frowned.

Nobody looks after me. I am quite capable of looking after myself. Let me tell explain. All the children in the home I lived in before the war were evacuated to Devon. We were billeted with various farmers. I was ‘farmed out’ along with three other boys, to a pig farmer, Mr. Horstead. Philip almost spat the name, We had to do all the dirty jobs on the farm. We had to feed the pigs before we went to school and again after we came home. We lived on bread and margarine and stew most of the time. When the teacher went into the army we only went to school for half the day - mornings one week and afternoons the next, but we didn’t get any time to relax. We had to go picking potatoes for another farmer, and in the autumn we had to pick lots of blackberries so that Mrs. Horsestead could make jam with our sugar ration and sell it at the fair. He smiled ruefully. That’s how I got used to tea without sugar - never had any during the war. Yes please, I would like another cup.

I left school as soon as I was fourteen and came back to London. I lived rough for a couple of days then another lad introduced me to City Messengers. They put me onto this house and lent me enough money to get a second-hand bike and I’ve been here for the best part of two years. He grinned at Kate, who was round-eyed at this narrative. Mary was equally fascinated by the lad’s story. He had had to grow up very quickly - no wonder he seemed so self-assured.

They cleared away together and when all was tidy Philip turned to Mary and said Well Mrs. Sanderson. Will we get along together? Are you going to be my new landlady?

She held out her hand for him to shake. Yes indeed. I think I am. I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.

I take it that you will be moving in shortly?

As soon as I can arrange for a van to bring my things. Will that disturb you?

Not at all, any time during the day will suit. I shall be out at work. He turned to the girl. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Kate. I hope we’ll see each other again soon.

Kate had completely fallen under his spell.

We’re going swimming - why don’t you come with us? Mary thought it would do no harm to remind her that, although young, he was quite a man of the world.

I’m sure Mr. Buxton has other things to do.

Actually, I have no pressing matters to attend to. I would very much like to come for a swim. I’ll just go and get my trunks.

Mary paid the entry for all three and found herself a pleasant spot on the grass, donned her sunhat and lit a cigarette while she watched. Kate jumped in from the side but Philip mounted to the top diving board and executed a fairly competent swallow dive. She hoped Kate wouldn’t follow his example, but the girl was sensible enough to haul herself onto the side of the pool and watch him. He cut a fine figure with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His skin was quite pale and she thought that he could benefit from more time in the sun.

Kate was showing all the signs of hero-worship which worried Mary a little. True, he was treating her with the courtesy and respect of a man beyond his years, and she hoped he would continue to do so but she would keep a watchful eye on them as long as she could. On a lovely day like this she felt as if she would live forever. The sun must be doing her good.

As Philip waved from the bus-stop Mary asked,

What did he find so funny this afternoon?

I told him that when we didn’t find any shaving things I thought he was Father Christmas.

No wonder he laughed. He hasn’t started shaving yet. Two thoughts occurred to her. Hadn’t most men started shaving by the time they were sixteen and didn’t he have a slight moustache when they first met? But she could have been mistaken, and he was small for his age. Although his circumstances had forced him mentally into adulthood, perhaps physically he was a late developer.

You like him, Katykay, don’t you?

Oh yes, Nanna. He’s not like any other boy I’ve met.

I don’t suppose you know many sixteen-year-olds.

"Oh there are some at school but

Reviews for The Cure Is Sometimes...

[jjmcgaffey · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I really don't like this book. It's well-written, of course, but I dislike Chips enough that I never really get caught up in it. Chips is so totally self-centered and manipulative - the only saving grace is, Chips is only a dog and doesn't actually think out the manipulations. So it's only annoying, not intolerable. My least favorite of Terhune's books, I think.