Growing Pains

By Neive Denis

Marion Dawson and the Merivale Retirement Village's mahjong team have had a busy year. The Village's expansion program has seen them help turn a number of projects into a reality. New library, new bowling green, new theatre, new residents, and new friendships are among the outcomes, along with crime which almost destroys one of the team's pet pr

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eaglemount Books
• Release date: Nov 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9780645490732

Book preview

Growing Pains

Neive Denis

Book 2 in the Merivale Retirement Village series

Copyright

First published in 2022

Copyright © Neive Denis 2022

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 percent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

Cataloguing-in-publication data

Creator: Denis, Neive, author

Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available from the National Library of Australia

www.trove.nla.gov.au

ISBN: 978-0-6454907-2-5 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-0-6454907-3-2 (digital)

Cover design: T A Marshall, Mackay, Australia

Contents

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Dedication

Other Books by the Author

About the Author

Chapter 1

Would you believe the absolute gall of some people…? Bernard Stuart-Parnell shouted as he entered the Recreation Room prior to the start of today’s mahjong session. They’ve only gone and stolen a pair of my slacks from my clothes line."

His usual practice is to arrive for mahjong with Marjorie Bosworth in tow. Today he arrived alone and a few minutes after Marjorie. His red, sweaty face indicated he had rushed from his unit. And, after holding it in since discovering the offending theft, I felt sure part of his hurry had been to share the news of his stolen trousers. Marjorie appeared the only one not to express any concern at his announcement.

Are you sure? Janet Furlong asked almost apologetically.

Bernard glared at her, and her husband, Ted, seemed compelled to deflect – or defuse – Bernard’s expected reply.

Yeah, are you sure they’ve gone missing, Bernard, and you just haven’t mislaid them somehow?

Mislaid…! What do you take me for? Do you think…? An unexpected arrival interrupted Bernard’s barked response before it reached ‘top gear’.

The familiar greasy overalls-clad figure of Cilla Longhurst sauntered in through the open door of the Recreation Room. After an acknowledging salute to the assembled group, she remained standing just inside the door. Before speaking, and looking somewhat distracted, she cast a glance back over her shoulder across the intervening green verge towards the Admin building.

So much has happened while I’ve been gone. I hope you’ve saved at least one battle for me to help fight. I’d hate to think I missed all the fun. Aah… but then, in the midst of chaos, there is normalcy. With everything else happening here in the Village, it’s wonderful to find at least some degree of consistency to help keep life on an even keel. Good morning Merivale Retirement Village mahjong team members. The announcement by the green boilersuit-clad figure of Cilla Longhurst caused a pause in operations.

Not all battles are won yet. The beast is cowered but not conquered, Rod responded.

Cilla… Welcome home. When did you arrive back?

Thanks, Marion. I finally made it back not much before midnight last night after the late flight managed to encounter all sorts of delays. Then, dropping her voice to a stage whisper and rolling her eyes in Bernard’s direction, she added, And, to avoid unfavourable mention today, I aimed for as little noise as possible as I snuck back into the village.

Rod Maguire strolled over to join Cilla and me, where we stood just inside the front door of the Rec Room. I heard a vehicle soon after eleven o’clock, but thought it was the security patrol crawling along the street. It didn’t sound like it was travelling half fast enough to be you arriving home.

Well, now I’m here. I assume all the dragging of tables and chairs across the tiles means we are playing mahjong this morning. Is there a place at a table for me?

Numbers are down a bit today, so there’s room for you to join Rod Maguire and Marion Dawson at their table, Maria Lancini assured Cilla.

After the usual fussing about setting up tables and chairs and settling everyone at their tables, the morning sped past. In what felt like no time, we were drinking coffee and dispatching the last cupcakes before heading home again. The others made a few polite enquiries regarding Cilla’s recent absence from the Village, but did not hang about long after mahjong finished. Just long enough for Bernard again to express his indignation at the apparent theft of a pair of his slacks from the clothes line.

Again, Marjorie didn’t respond but looked embarrassed by Bernard’s mentioning it once more. While showing little genuine interest, the others offered murmured sympathy before bolting out the door.

Their uncharacteristic hasty departure allowed Rod, Cilla and me to enjoy a second coffee in peace before clearing away after our usual Thursday morning session.

I admit to being surprised by the progress over the few weeks I’ve been away. The new, posh side of the Village was nothing more than a construction site with scaffolding everywhere when I left. Cilla made a sweeping gesture towards the north as she spoke. How have negotiations progressed? We still were a long way from resolving a couple of major issues when I left.

Rod chuckled. "My best comment might be: gained a little ground – perhaps. Yeah, I think we can chalk it up as progress. Don’t you agree, Marion?" I was about to agree when Cilla jumped in ahead of me.

Before you tell me about it, I think I need to go back to the beginning and start again. Over the last few months, since before Christmas, I’ve spent so little time here. If I’m honest, even before I left, I don’t think I had my head around the Merivale Retirement Village Development Plan or how it was supposed to happen. If I did, I’ve forgotten most of the details now anyway. So, take me back to the beginning, please. How long has Merivale owned all that land north of the admin building? I thought the area belonged to some church organisation.

She raised a good point. Rod, I also believed it was church property. Wasn’t the old building on that small knoll a nunnery, convent, or something like that?

Yeah, you’re right, Marion. In days gone by, the establishment on the knoll was home to a reclusive order of nuns. In recent times, their number dwindled. I think Merivale acquired that land a bit later than the area occupied by the existing village. That might have been about ten years ago, after giving the church an undertaking not to develop the land while the nuns remained there.

So, as the extension to the Village is occurring, I assume there are no longer nuns? Cilla asked.

That is correct. Late last year, only three remained, two eighty-something year olds and a young one, possibly a novice. Concern developed at a higher level regarding the standard of training the young one might receive here. The place closed when one of the older members became incapacitated and was hospitalised. It allowed for the transfer of the other members to another convent and cleared the way for the development of the land to proceed. Rod paused and appeared to be raiding his memory banks for further details.

It appears the Merivale board was quick off the mark. If all this only became possible towards the end of last year, the work has progressed at a remarkable rate to be taking in residents already, I suggested.

Perhaps they didn’t waste any time, but they did have a head start. Their approach was to replicate the existing complex, and add just a few new amenities. The original plans for this side of the Village still existed and were utilised again for the new work.

New residents are moving in already? Cilla asked. They’re not wasting any time before making the place pay for itself. Rod, have there been any defections yet?

Defections…? What do you mean?

Have any residents from this side of the complex absconded to the north side?

Oh, I see. No. I can’t say I know of any defections, but I have heard of some interest among our neighbours. By the way, why are we still here? I can’t see much sense in sitting here indulging in a history lesson when we could be having lunch. After being away for so long, Cilla, your larder probably isn’t in great shape. How about we all reconvene at my place for lunch? Cilla jumped at the invitation.

After a mental inventory of the contents of my fridge, I suggested what I might contribute to the meal. As the other two continued to Rod’s cottage, I loaded leftover chicken, cheese and pickles into a cooler bag before following them along the street. Everything went onto the centre of Rod’s dining room table, and each of us built our meal according to our individual tastebuds’ dictates.

I suspected Cilla’s intention over lunch was to pursue further details of the new work. Rod seemed to have other ideas. He hijacked the conversation and drove it down another track. Come on, Cilla. We’re dying to hear details of what you’ve been up to over the last few weeks. How many weeks were you away this time, and did you spend the whole time in Sydney?

Well, it feels as though I’ve been away for half a lifetime, but it was only six, no seven, weeks in total. Yeah, I spent all but one weekend in Sydney, but didn’t spend much time with my son while I was there.

If it wasn’t a holiday, I assume you were there for work. Your consultancy contract with the New South Wales Police Service is keeping you busy. But your work trips to Sydney aren’t usually so extended. What happened this time to keep you there so long? I asked without too much prior thought to the question.

You know the drill, Marion. As usual, it’s all hush-hush. Oh, all right, don’t look like that. All I can tell you is I’ve been busy, flat out, in fact. A major operation began before I went to Sydney but picked up pace soon after I arrived. It remains ongoing, but with the major offensive achieved, just mopping-up continues now. Depending on how that progresses, I might return to Sydney for a few days in a week or two.

By the sound of it, maybe you should spend whatever time you have here resting and relaxing to recharge your batteries before your next trip, Rod commented.

My batteries are fine, thanks, Rod. I found it exhilarating to be back in the thick of things. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t want to be doing it full-time again, but it was nice to have a brief dose of it spicing up my life for a while.

Life here in the Village now might be tame for you after your last few weeks, I mused.

No, I doubt it. Life is what you make it, and plenty is going on here to keep me interested. By the way, what’s going on with Bernard and his stolen slacks? Cilla seemed concerned as she asked the question. Should we be worried about the situation?

Bernard…? What do you mean? Today was the first I’ve heard of his missing slacks. I doubt they have been stolen. More like he has misplaced them, I should think. Rod replied.

Left them at Marjorie’s perhaps…, I suggested and received a reproachful look from Rod for my trouble.

Perhaps not…, Rod replied. He didn’t have a chance to expand further before Cilla cut in again.

Apart from his missing slacks, is there anything else going on with him? He is displaying strange behaviour; not at all like Bernard Stuart-Parnell. For a man who complains about being kept awake by the loud snoring of somebody anywhere in the Village, there wasn’t a murmur about my late arrival last night. Despite my best efforts, I don’t doubt he heard me drive in, but there was no comment at all. And, this morning, he seemed strangely subdued, almost withdrawn.

Well… Now you mention it; Bernard has been a bit quiet lately. A couple of things about the new library have gotten up his nose. But I wouldn’t have thought them significant enough to cause a personality change, even when combined with stolen trousers. It might be worth looking into, Rod said.

It’s still not like Bernard. If something gets up his nose, we and the rest of the world hear about it. What’s this new library you mentioned, and what aspect of it has offended Bernard? I would have thought he and that Marjorie Bosworth woman would have been in their element organising a new library.

Until Cilla mentioned it, I hadn’t noticed Bernard had been quiet of late, but she was right. He was not himself. I couldn’t think of anything which might be the cause. Rod shed some light on the possible reason.

The extension to the recreation room will be a discrete library area. While it’s not huge, it is quite a good area and more than is required for the number of books we have at present. I don’t know about Marjorie’s thinking, but I know Bernard had some ideas about its set-up. From an outsider’s observation, I think Marjorie and Bernard might have had differing opinions on the subject. A degree of tension seems to have existed between the pair for a couple of weeks now. Deep in thought, Rod paused and scratched his chin for a moment before continuing. Of course… There was the other matter too. It appears he lost that battle, and his defeat is likely the cause of his current mood.

What other matter? Come on, Rod. Don’t leave me hanging in suspense like this. I can’t stand the thought of having missed witnessing Bernard’s not getting his own way. I’m surprised I didn’t hear his carry-on about it from as far away as Sydney, Cilla said.

Oh yes, I never knew what about, but I remember there was some kerfuffle between Bernard and the project manager, I commented.

Before responding, a thoughtful Rod tore a small handful of grapes from the large bunch in the fruit bowl in the middle of the table. I wasn’t a participant in this particular negotiation, but I understand there was a difference of opinion between what Bernard saw as appropriate use of the new library space and the project manager’s vision for it. While I can’t comment on where Marjorie stood on the matter, I think she remained more ambivalent than Bernard. Anyway, Bernard made his objections known and fought the good fight, so to speak, but the project manager has the final say on such matters, and Bernard lost the battle.

I do wish I was here to witness the tussle. What issue were they arguing about? Cilla seemed to be relishing her mental picture of Bernard being put in his place for once.

As I said, I don’t know all the details as I wasn’t directly involved. To the best of my knowledge, tables in the room had something to do with it. Apart from the normal use of tables in a library space, the vision was to have the chess club play in the quiet library environment, rather than in the Rec Room where other activities often occur at the same time.

…Makes sense, Cilla commented. So, where was the problem with such an arrangement?

Well, for a start, it wasn’t Bernard’s idea, and that would be enough to render it unacceptable. In addition, he did not consider playing chess a part of what libraries were all about. Although Marjorie hasn’t yet embraced today’s thinking that libraries are about community engagement, and not just about books, I don’t think she was in complete agreement with Bernard.

I’m still struggling to work it out, but the new bit tacked onto the end of the Rec Room looks as though, apart from the addition of a library space, it also might increase the size of the Rec Room. Am I right? Cilla asked.

Ye-e-s; while it won’t be much more, it will increase the available space in the Rec Room, Rod confirmed.

Cilla glanced at her watch before announcing, You were right about the state of my larder, Rod. There’s little more than fresh air and cornflakes in it at the moment. I need to go and tackle my least favourite job: grocery shopping. Thanks for lunch, but I’d better make a move, or the supermarket will be swarming with mothers and their kids they’ve just collected from school.

Yep, I need to make a move as well. I hope to grab a few minutes with our esteemed director this afternoon, Rod said.

Why on earth do you want to talk to Tanya Jellicoe? Cilla demanded. You know it is unlikely to be a pleasant experience.

She will be pleasant enough today, if she wants her comments to go in the newsletter.

Newsletter? What’s this all about? Cilla asked with more than a hint of shock in her voice.

The Community Representative Committee insisted they required a regular newsletter to keep all residents informed of what’s happening around the place. I have clear recall of NOT volunteering to produce it, but somehow, it became my job. An edition once a month wouldn’t be too bad, I thought. They believed once a week would be more appropriate. I managed to negotiate it down to once a fortnight, and the next one is due in a couple of days.

What’s involved in producing the newsletter? Cilla demanded. She appeared shocked by the whole concept of a regular newsletter.

Well, it involves talking to representatives of the chess club, the conversation & crochet group, the painting group, and the bloke from the gym. Then there is Tanya Jellicoe’s little report, and trying to discover anything else that might be happening in the coming fortnight.

Sounds like more trouble than it’s worth, Cilla stated. ‘You must spend half your life chasing people for their comments to put in some poxy newsletter, which some of us won’t even bother to read."

"He would, if that were how it happened. Although I never aspired to become a journalist, and I am sure I never volunteered, I too now have a set round of interviews to conduct every fortnight," I explained.

I can understand why he would need an assistant, Cilla commented.

Talking of assistants…, Rod began, you could take on interviewing the project manager for his progress report every fortnight. Cilla’s eyes lit up, and an evil grin spread across her face. No… no, on second thoughts, maybe not, thanks.

Okay… but in that case, you’ve missed an opportunity. It probably wouldn’t take me more than a month to kill this need for a fortnightly newsletter.

Cilla, you are not telling me anything I don’t know, but no, thank you, Rod replied before dissolving into laughter.

The thought of the officious project manager being interviewed by Cilla had us all chuckling as we cleared away our lunchtime mess before going our separate ways to spend the rest of the day in pursuit of our own needs.

Chapter 2

My morning seemed in sync with the leaden clouds gathering overhead. Motivation was nowhere to be found as I sat dawdling over breakfast. I had sat parked at the breakfast bar for so long my remaining half cup of coffee was now stone cold. I will make a fresh cup … in a minute … if I find the energy.

What did I have to do today? Nothing… well, there was nothing urgent that needed attention. Of course, I could always spend the time doing housework. Throwing myself under a bus held more appeal. Friday morning… God, the days just seem to evaporate. One minute it’s Sunday night, and you’re looking forward to starting a new week. Then, the next minute, it’s Friday morning, and the week is over.

Should we blame the weather, the current level of inflation, or just old age? We are doomed to spend little time hanging around in the departure lounge waiting for God if life keeps slipping by at this rate. Perhaps that’s what retirement villages are: God’s departure lounges where residents fill in time until they’re called.

Christ Marion, get up off your arse and do something. If you sit here much longer thinking such thoughts, you’ll end up tumbling headfirst into the big black hole you’re creating for yourself.

My voice was so loud when I chastised myself, half the neighbourhood was now wondering who was offering me such strong advice this morning. At least the thought of all the raised eyebrows in the immediate vicinity gave me something to giggle about for a moment or two. But the problem of my boring life remained: what to do with myself today, and tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that? God, I need to get a life or at least find something to introduce into this one to liven it up.

An extended power walk this morning should give me plenty of time to analyse my life and develop some ideas on how to improve it. And, if it doesn’t manage to achieve that, it might help shift some of this excess weight which seems to have become so fond of me it is refusing to leave. As I laced on my trainers, a part of me wished those dark clouds might have progressed to the precipitation stage. It might be best not to go for a walk. I might be drenched if it rained. Not even a hint of rain greeted me as I stepped out of my front door.

An almost total lack of breeze meant not a leaf moved as I trudged by. The air was heavy with the promise of rain sometime soon, but it didn’t make for an unpleasant walk. On most of my recent walks, I encountered at least one or two others with whom to exchange a couple of sentences before moving on. This morning, the park adjacent to the Village was devoid of other walkers, or anything else for that matter. It appeared even the birdlife chose to desert the place today.

Nothing interrupted my morning stroll (no way it was a power walk) until I reached Rod’s place on my way home. He had just returned from a run out along the main road.

Coffee…? he asked as we met at his front gate. I’m a bit sweaty, but I should be tolerable to be around if we sit out on my back deck rather than indoors.

My preference at that moment was for a glass of water rather than a coffee, but the chance for intelligent conversation was too good to pass up. A drink of water with a coffee chaser sounds good.

We were halfway along the path to his front door when we heard a motorbike approaching. Sounds like Cilla also has been out taking in the early morning air, Rod commented as we watched the motorbike and its rider turn onto the street and come towards us. She made a U-turn and stopped at the edge of the footpath in front of Rod’s place. By the time she pulled up, Rod and I again were standing at his gate.

If you’re interested, we are just about to have a coffee. Come and join us, Rod called out.

As soon as I take Black Bess home, I’ll be over.

Cilla executed another U-turn before roaring up the driveway and into the garage of the cottage across the road on her Triumph Tiger motorbike. Moments later, minus her headgear but with her hair still plastered to her head, Cilla strode across the street to join us.

Ooh, it was so good to be able to go for a ride this morning… and it was a lot less sweaty than your morning’s outings. Is there anything exciting happening around the Village today? We shook our heads in unison in response.

Where did your ride take you this morning? I asked.

Only as far as the main road before I came back to check out the new work on the north side of the complex. It looks a bit different over there from when I left here several weeks ago. I noticed a few cars parked about the place. They looked like private vehicles. Is it possible new residents have moved in already?

Yep, the list of applicants was growing by the day. The board of directors could see dollars flying out the window to other retirement places if they didn’t start taking in new residents. With everything in this southern section occupied, they made a major effort to have at least some of the new accommodation on the north side ready for newcomers, Rod explained.

But, it is evident construction work remains ongoing on the site. How can new residents be moving in already?

From the last I heard, the first two floors of the apartment block are complete and ready for occupation, apart from a couple of units on the first floor. All the ground floor units are finished. Most of the units on the second floor require interior finishing-off before they become available.

What about those new cottages similar to ours? At least a couple of those appear occupied already.

Yeah, I believe the first few – very few – were available, and two have been taken up in the last week or so.

While I was sure Cilla appreciated being brought up to date with progress on the new section of Merivale Village, Rod appeared to be relishing his possession of superior knowledge of the project. Take care, my friend. Your pride might expand just enough to be heading for a fall. As most of the information Rod was sharing with Cilla also was news to me, I remained silent throughout the question-and-answer session, but I did have a question to ask. At the first available moment, I jumped in.

Do we know how many new residents there are so far, or anything about them? You seem well informed, Rod. Have you met any of them?

No, not so far. I’ve been a bit busy with other things over the last couple of weeks, like meetings and the blasted newsletter, and haven’t had a chance to visit the other side.

Ah well, I’m one up on you then, Cilla gloated. I met a bloke when I was riding around on the north side this morning. A funny little chap; a bit Mediterranean looking.

…Wearing a battered old felt hat? Rod asked.

Yeah, decked out in an old felt hat and work clothes. Nice enough to talk to though, Cilla added.

Luigi… That’s who it’ll be. From the little I know of him, he seems a decent sort of bloke.

He was planting some shrubs when I interrupted his gardening for a chat. It seems he lost his Connie a bit over a year ago. It’s taken him this long to convince the children he doesn’t want to live with any of them, wants his independence, and doesn’t think he could stand having grandchildren around all the time. He admits his family is still not happy about him moving to live here, but he thinks he’s just about old enough by now to make his own decisions.

Yep, that sounds like Luigi. I suspect, once you get to know him well, you’ll find he’s got a dark sense of humour. He might liven things up around here, at least on the north side anyway, Rod suggested.

Rod, I thought you said construction got off to a flying start by using the existing plans for the south side, but the new apartment block looks a little different somehow.

Feeling more than a bit left out of the conversation, I made a mental note to take myself on a tour of inspection of the new area – and soon. For some reason, I had confined my twice-daily walks to the park adjacent to the Village and the area south of the admin building. It probably had something to do with the notion that people wandering around on construction sites was frowned upon. Nevertheless, I felt it was time I again injected myself into the conversation.

If you don’t know anything about the new residents, Rod, how do you know Luigi’s name? My question sounded way more bitchy and accusatory than intended but probably was a fair indicator of my mood.

"On the last leg of my run one day on the weekend, I came across him sitting under that arbour just off to one side of the Village’s main ring road. He was just sitting soaking up the morning sunshine. While he looked at home there, I had never seen him around the place before. So, I stopped for a brief chat. Unlike Cilla, I