The letter in the Pale Blue Envelope

By Denise Cundy Borge

This book goes in many different directions and explores relationships within familes and also between friends.

The main character in the book is Charlotte Jameson and much of the story revolves around her. The relationship with her mother Molly went deep and when she was called upon to become her full-time Carer at the small cottage in the village of St. Gilda in Yorkshire, she never hesitated even for a moment even though it meant giving up her life in the city. She worked as a self employed translator so her work could continue.

When the letter in the pale blue envelope found its way into her hands she had no way of knowing what extraordinary events and emotions would be triggered by its contents which would set her on a path out of Yorkshire and into Southern Africa. She was faced with revelations which brought about great changes in her life.

Finding new worlds with their own culture, language and history in South Africa and Namibia broadened her horisons but she was ultimately drawn back to her roots in Yorkshire.

Ultimately she longed for the tranquility of the Yorkshire countryside and returned to St. Gilda only to be caught up in the trauma of the grandchildren of the Hauptmanns, a German family who lived near St. Gilda.

Joe, who became Charlotte's friend after a chance meeting, had left London to escape from a failed relationship. He found the tranquility of the Dales suited both himself and his companion of many years, his yellow labrador. Streak was his faithful friend who loved the freedom of rambling around the countryside. Charlotte joined them on many outings and the friendship deepened.

When she told him of her impending trip to South Africa, he was filled with misgivings, breathing a sigh of relief when she came home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denise Cundy Borge
• Release date: Dec 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005966584

Denise Cundy Borge

Denise Cundy Borge is a retired Secondary School teacher who grew up and was educated in South Africa. She also spent a number of years teaching in England where she met her husband. They have two daughters. A major part of her life was spent teaching music and she is also an artist. From her earliest years she wrote short stories and one of them grew into this narrative which is her first full length novel. The family has been resident in County Clare Ireland for many years.

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Author's Note

St. Gilda is a fictional village with a Yorkshire Dales backdrop which I hope reflects the way of life in many Yorkshire villages. The other places mentioned in the story do exist, but the characters playing their part are also entirely fictional. Likewise the plot is the product of my imagination and does not relate to any particular person.

I was born and grew up in South Africa, so places and events in that country which are featured in the book are based on my own experience. I also lived for many years in England and relate to both countries in equal measure.

Many thanks to our daughter Erica Borge Nicholas whose input into the book was really useful and thought provoking. My sincere thanks also go to Inge Bergmann for her thoroughness in proofreading and to my husband Jim for his patience and help with the technical side of things.

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Chapter 1

The darkness hung heavily on Charlie as the car made its way home. Shadowy silhouettes of trees threw out their arms in supplication, sharing in the fleeting warmth and brightness from her passing vehicle and then disappearing quickly back into the shadows. Even their company couldn’t dispel her sadness which enveloped her like a somber cloak. Adjusting to living every hour and every day in St. Gilda was still traumatic and she wasn’t sure she would ever get used to it. On this night, her usual cheerfulness had deserted her, but she supposed she was tired and hoped the morning would restore her to a more positive frame of mind.

At last a golden glow burst onto the countryside, the snow glistening in the light beaming from the two small stone buildings which loomed ahead. One of these had become Charlie's permanent home, a cottage she had known well over the years, but what a difference there was between visiting her mother for weekends and actually living there full time and having the responsibility of caring for her.

Once on the driveway she parked as near as she could to the cottage door. Grabbing her coat from the back seat she threw it hastily around her shoulders but even this was no match for the icy blast which cut through her and made her gasp involuntarily. The front door opened a crack and then an expanding yellow warmth came out to meet her as Nellie Harper hovered in the doorway with a beaming smile on her pleasant face.

'There you are Charlotte!' She said. 'I saw lights and guessed it must be you. Come in, come in. It will be freezing you are if you stay out there. We’ll have a cup of tea and something to eat'. This was Nellie’s usual recipe for combating the cold and it made Charlie smile fondly. She was not at all used to be called ‘Charlotte’. It was only her mother that was inclined to use her full name and Nellie had obviously taken her cue from Molly.

She pulled her coat more closely around herself and scurried into the small entrance hall. She could see a fire blazing in the front room and immediately made towards it, stretching out her hands. How strange it felt not to have Molly Jameson right there talking to her and asking questions. She’d felt the gradual impact as her mother’s condition deteriorated. It took some time before she got used to the fact that Molly was no longer the same familiar person she had been when she first retired at age sixty. The changes had been gradual but had then begun to accelerate. Moving in to take care of Molly was a decision that one couldn’t take lightly, but one that she made willingly. She adored her mother who had been her lifelong friend and mentor.

Initially after much thought she had decided to let her apartment in York rather than sell it, as who knew what the future held and it was possible she would go back and live there some time. She found a reliable agent in York who came highly recommended by friends and asked him to find her a tenant to help cover the cost of the mortgage.

The couple who moved in was Polish. As tenants they had been the very best, caring for the apartment as if it were their own. Now that they would have a new arrival in their little family towards the end of the year they had been searching for a suitable home and had found just the place. Charlie weighed up this new situation carefully and came to the conclusion that the best plan of action was to sell rather than go through the hassle of finding new tenants since she didn't know what the future held. Hence her trip to York.

Nellie Harper, who had always been one of Molly’s dearest friends, had taken it upon herself to become Molly's Carer in the early stages of the onset of Alzheimers. With her tenants in place Charlie moved to St. Gilda to take up that role. It was hard work, and took its toll. Molly had already fallen a few times, but had been able to get up with Charlie's help. Charlie was never sure what the falls were due to, whether Molly tripped over her own feet or fell over something. She discussed the falls with Harriet Benson, the nurse who lived in the village, but because there did not appear to be any damage Mother and daughter followed their usual routine. Charlie did her best to deal with every situation and with Nellie's help the months passed with both Charlie and Nellie making sure that the quality of Molly's life continued to be good.

In her usual helpful fashion, Nellie had spent this important day in Charlie's life with Molly enabling the trip to York to take place.

‘Your Mum’s asleep already’ she said as she welcomed Charlie back. ‘I helped her to bed an hour or so ago and it didn’t take long for her to drop off. You and I will have a chance to have a chat and catch up. Actually the good news is that she’s been in fine form today’.

The subject of her mother always gave Charlie a heavy heart. Molly had been so alert and strong all her life and to see her gradually become more and more quiet, losing the ability to find her words and shape sentences was devastating. Her mobility had also deteriorated and because of her falls, Harriet had suggested that it would be better for Molly to use a walker as it would give her more stability. There were more changes which Charlie noticed with dread. Up until recent months her mother had still been able to dress herself, but now she was struggling with simple actions such as fastening buttons and putting on her shoes.

Charlie thought back to one of her visits about 3 years previously when she and Molly had been in the kitchen. Molly had taken a cup off the shelf in a cupboard and after moving it half way to the table, had put it back on the shelf. This she did several times. It was as though she didn’t know where the cup was meant to go. Charlie was perplexed and fretted about it when she returned to York even then not realizing what those actions signaled. It took a further month before Molly's problem became evident to her friends in the village. Molly became completely disoriented on a shopping trip and didn’t know where she was. Patricia Cartwright, one of her friends, happened to see her standing in the road and realized with a shock that Molly had no idea where she was. She took her to her own home, ringing Harriet who immediately came to help. The two of them took Molly back to the cottage with Harriet driving Molly’s car. That Molly could no longer look after herself had become evident. It was difficult to accept in someone that everyone still considered to be so young and full of life.

In the early days Nellie Harper was a daily visitor at the cottage to keep an eye on things. She also drove Molly into the village to see the bank manager and her solicitor, the latter living in the next village. Molly seemed to be fully aware she had to get all her affairs in order before she no longer had the ability. She had come to realize what was happening to her and she didn’t want to leave it too late.

Naturally Charlie wanted to relieve Nellie of her Caring role and so had made the move to St. Gilda. At that time she had made contact with both the Bank and the solicitor as she felt she had to understand the details of her mother’s financial affairs. Michael Morris, the bank manager was helpfulness itself and told her she was doing the right thing getting her finger on the pulse. What he told her next had remained a constant puzzle and she had no idea how it could be resolved. What he had said stuck in her mind and she remembered his words exactly …..

‘Now I’ve something to tell you which you will no doubt find very intriguing but I must say from the outset that it can’t be followed up by you or in fact by me. It will all sort itself out in time. There’s an account in your mother’s name which we now handle in our branch of the bank. She had it transferred from our York branch when she bought the cottage. A sum of money originating in South Africa has been paid into it for many years. It comes in every month as regularly as clockwork. Your mother never accesses it…no, that’s not strictly true. She used some of it to pay for your university education and also to pay for the cottage while waiting for the house in York to be sold. Once the money from the sale of the house came through, she returned that amount to the account. It’s very curious but she doesn’t want to talk about it so I’ve no idea what it’s about. It must be coming from a relation of your father’s though because his name is Noel Jameson. I was wondering whether you had any idea who he might be.’

Charlie pondered the question for a few minutes. Her mother had told her about the existence of her father’s brother, but she knew nothing about him.

‘It could be my uncle, my father’s brother’ she’d said. ‘I know there is a brother but I don’t actually know where he is. He could very well be in South Africa’.

The only plausible explanation that Charlie could come up with was that if Noel was her father’s brother he could have taken pity on them when her father died and had made sure that they would be financially secure. The account had been opened at that time. Her mother’s instruction to Michael Morris was that the account would become Charlie’s once Molly had passed on. Her mother had a good pension and financially she was quite well off so there was no need to use the money. It had remained in the bank in St. Gilda. Molly would never elaborate on the subject so Charlie had to curb her curiosity.

After Charlie’s father had passed away when she was the tender age of six, her mother, in spite of her grief, had stayed strong for her and had reared her in a warm and happy environment lavishing parental love on her to make up for the fact that Charlie’s father was no longer there. Now Charlie was driven by the strongest emotion to show her mother the same care as she had received. Nothing had ever been too much trouble for Molly. Charlie was her world.

When she retired from the bank at age sixty Molly had a good pension and mother and daughter had lacked nothing financially. Molly's dearest wish had always been to live out in the countryside and this she had mentioned several times. It was the idea of buying a small country cottage that most appealed to Molly. Charlie was self employed and worked from home as a translator using her own website to source clients. There was much discussion involved with regard to selling the house. Molly put it to Charlie that she could buy her own apartment and be more independent, but she did appreciate the fact that Charlie had grown up in the house and it would be difficult to leave. In the same breath Molly pointed out the difficulties involved in maintaining the big house and put forward a very good argument in favour of their both moving on and leaving someone else to look after that side of things. Charlie found herself to be convinced and actually looked forward to finding a place of her own. She had some money put by and her mother said she would help out with paying the deposit. Charlie accepted but said she would repay the full amount as soon as she could. With all her friends in York and also her boyfriend, the infamous Rusty, there was a big pull to remain there. That had changed when it became evident that, when her mother's health deteriorated, she would have to move to St. Gilda permanently.

Rusty had been her conquest or maybe she was his. It depended on which way you looked at it. Charlie had always been part of a group of friends who did everything together. Rusty was a friend of one of their group and had joined in several of their outings. All the girls hoped he would notice them as he was Captain of the local soccer team, and very good looking with rusty red hair which was quite distinctive, hence his nickname. Blessed with a wonderfully athletic physique and generally oozing charm, he had no trouble having a girl hanging off his arm at all times. Charlie instantly became wary of him and kept her distance. Rusty of course couldn’t stand any of the girls not swooning over him and seemed to take it upon himself to conquer her distrust. He made it his business to sit beside her wherever they went and if anything became a bit of a nuisance. He eventually won Charlie over even though she knew it was a gamble that he would stick with her and firmly decided that she would guard against any sort of serious relationship. Nevertheless she found herself agreeing to go out with him on a few occasions and after some months she realized he had monopolized her completely and that he felt it was his right to have her with him at every available opportunity. When she moved into her own apartment, he had volunteered to move in with her saying it was pointless paying his own rent when they were together anyway. Their relationship had never blossomed into anything but companionship with Charlie not allowing any further developments on that front. This continued until the subject of St. Gilda came up. That was when she had seen his true colours. He would not, could not accept that she would be moving to St. Gilda permanently and thought up many arguments against it, one of which was that Charlie should employ a full time Carer to look after her mother and stay in York. Even her previous weekends in York had irritated him beyond measure and he showed his disapproval by being particularly grumpy and short tempered. For being self-centred he took the first prize and his total lack of compassion and understanding of others came a very close second. She had explained to him about how her mother had always done her best for her in every possible way and now it was time to return all the love and care she had received. The way Rusty looked at her on hearing this made Charlie wonder how he viewed their own relationship and also how he had got on with his parents. With hard eyes and an irritable shrug he had left the apartment.

Charlie remembered sinking down onto a chair feeling as though the breath had been knocked out of her. Tears had welled up and she had wiped them away angrily. Suddenly it was rage she had felt. How could anyone be like that? Where she had felt a certain amount of pride that he had singled her out and an unwitting admiration of his good looks, she then felt only disgust. What a blessing his true nature had revealed itself before it was too late. She’d made a firm resolve to put the experience behind her as one of life’s lessons, albeit a tough one to accept. The next day he had turned up to collect his belongings, letting himself into the apartment using his key which he then threw onto the table. He never uttered a single word and slammed the door on his way out. She had never met him socially again.

Even with her move to St. Gilda she had never lost contact with her group of friends and emailed them regularly. They had followed her relationship with Rusty with interest and a great deal of skepticism. It was no surprise to them when it all turned sour. They were actually amazed that Charlie hadn’t seen through him earlier. Fiona her closest friend, had been the first to be informed about the break up and the pending move to St. Gilda. The two girls went back a long way as they had been at school and varsity together. The two families had always got on extremely well and Charlie and her mother had visited Fiona and her parents regularly for dinner or a chat. The Mastersons were the closest thing to an extended family that they had and both she and her mother valued their friendship above all else. The remainder of the group of friends was from university. They had met during their first year and had bonded closely. This was the reason that no matter where they all landed up, email came to their rescue and they were able to keep in touch regularly with all the news. Fiona had trained as a primary school teacher and taught in York for a few years before taking a sabbatical to do voluntary work overseas more specifically in Uganda in Africa. This trip caused great excitement and some envy among the friends. Fiona’s preparations for her trip had taken the whole of Charlie’s first year as a permanent resident in St. Gilda.

Fiona had been teaching in Africa for almost two years and now Charlie herself was facing change. The sale of her apartment was something she couldn’t have imagined when she bought it. With the return journey from York behind her she was quite happy to have Nellie take her arm and deposit her in one of the armchairs saying 'I’ll just bring in the tea. Did you have a dinner before you left York or should I fix you a ham salad or the like? I baked an apple pie in your honour. Of course your mother loves apple pies too so she can have some tomorrow'.

‘Apple pie’ thought Charlie. ‘She remembered her mother baking them as she was growing up and the fact that she had helped. However she hadn’t been near baking an apple pie since then. It was a lost art which she should revise. 'I would enjoy some pie’ said Charlie. ‘It’ll remind me of my mother and me together in the kitchen. Mum used to make wonderful treats which I loved. Probably the beginnings of a sweet tooth, but never mind that’.

The way she felt, she knew she wouldn’t be able to eat too much as her thoughts were lying so heavily inside her. It wasn’t every day that she sold an apartment and broke her ties with York to that extent and it was a wrench.

Nellie bustled off to the kitchen with the instructions 'Now you just sit quiet. I’m sure you want to rest after your trip’.

Charlie looked around the small front room and saw all her mother’s favourite books on the bookcase, her ornaments dating from her first years of marriage, paintings that she had treasured because she and her husband Jack had chosen them together. These had very much been part of Charlie’s life when she was growing up. Suddenly she felt the presence of her parents around her and it somewhat eased the troubled feeling she had.

The tea tray arrived and Charlie jumped up to make room on the small coffee table which was in the centre of the room. During tea Charlie learnt that Nellie’s sister had fallen ill and could no longer look after herself at home. She needed full time nursing and the burden of caring for her now rested on Nellie’s shoulders. As Nellie’s children had all spread their wings and her husband had passed away, there was nothing that required her presence permanently in St. Gilda. Her sister was now her priority. The move she had to make to her sister’s home would be a tremendous upheaval for her as she had to relocate to Skipton which was a lengthy bus journey away. It began to dawn on Charlie just how much of an impact Nellie's moving away would have on her life. It was a huge blow! Somehow she had thought Nellie would always be there to help and guide her. She had been like a mother to Charlie, who would miss her terribly.

In spite of this unsettling news, the glowing embers from the fire began to lull Charlie’s senses and eventually she realised she could hardly keep her eyes open. All the organizing she'd had to do before she left York had taken its toll on her store of energy. Nellie’s voice seemed to come and go and finally she had to admit defeat. Nellie noticed her discomfort and bundled her off to bed. She said she had decided to stay over seeing it was late and would leave early next morning. In her mind Charlie felt that it would be impossible to sleep. There was so much to think about particularly with Nellie’s imminent departure but no sooner had her head hit the pillow, she drifted off exhausted by the journey and stress of the past few days. Next morning her daily routine would begin again and Charlie realised more fully just how different her life had been over the last couple of years. Having been back in York brought it all home to her.

On this trip, which probably hadn't been her last, she had packed as many of her belongings as she could fit into the car to bring back. She had offered her Polish tenants the option of buying the furniture.

They were delighted with the idea because they had become attached to it. It was part of their first home in the UK. It would be great to have whatever Charlie didn’t want if the price was right. Since she had moved to St. Gilda she had continued with her translations. Her mortgage had been covered by the tenants’ monthly payments but she realized she needed a regular income. There would of course be the proceeds from the sale of the apartment, so financially she should be fine. To continue with her translations was of paramount importance in her life as she got on so well with many of her clients that they were like friends and played a big part in her life albeit she had never met them face to face.

One of the French companies had been trying to persuade her to go to France to work for them full-time but she had no desire to do that. There was no shortage of customers who made contact with her through her website some of them being regular clients with whom she had a very good relationship. She thrived on translating and loved exploring other languages. The fact that she could earn a living doing that was a bonus. It was usually evenings she worked after seeing her mother to bed. At first she’d thought that the quietness would unnerve her but she found she could concentrate even better than in York where there were always noises from the residents in the other apartments. There were two thoughts in her head that night before sleep claimed her. One was that it would be a relief not to be responsible for the mortgage and maintenance of the apartment which carried a certain amount of stress and the other was a feeling of overwhelming loss that she would be on her own to care for her mother which she considered a tremendous responsibility. Patricia, Molly's other close friend, could be called upon, but she had commitments to her own family and would not be able to spend as much time with Charlie as Nellie had.

Chapter 2

Through the window in his kitchen Joe Fletcher saw the lights of a car on the drive next door. ‘Hope it’s not the doctor’ he thought.

The sight of Nellie Harper and Charlie Jameson coming and going had become familiar to him since he had moved into the cottage a year ago. He had moved to the village to escape. The life he had left behind had not endeared itself to him. Never one to take to people too easily, he had thought he had found his life-long companion, but she turned out to have a completely different idea of what life had to offer. She had quite easily been swayed by the attraction of a large house and social gatherings among the elite. In other words with everything he hadn’t been able to give her. He was a carpenter and wood turner and although comfortably off, would probably never be in the league she seemed to prize so highly. He often consoled himself with the thought that he had probably had a lucky escape, but it had been tough.

Martin from the village who was his helper in his woodworking business had told him all about Mrs. Jameson next door and had explained about her situation. He called it a form of Alzheimers which was probably more like senile dementia of which Joe knew very little.

‘Mrs. Harper’, Martin explained ‘is helping Charlie care for her mother’.

On some occasions when Joe had glimpsed Charlie he had taken note of her long blonde hair. Mostly he had seen her wearing a warm hat with her hair tumbling down her back over her coat collar. She’d usually been on her way out somewhere and he had no idea what she actually looked like. They had never met face to face even though they lived next door to each other. He sometimes felt guilty that he had never gone over to introduce himself but as his experience with females wasn’t what you’d call a good one he kept his distance. He spent most of his time in his workshop which was set back behind his house.

Looking out of the window as he worked gave him a tremendous feeling of satisfaction as there were fields as far as the eye could see. On a good day the light came pouring in through the window casting a glow throughout the room. This compensated in some way for the noise emitted by his machines. Past experiences were forgotten and he became totally absorbed in what he was creating. Winter had set in fast this year and January was biting. Joe made sure he lit the stove every night to keep the chill out. ‘Streak’ his yellow Labrador who was his faithful companion loved to watch Joe while he worked and didn’t seem at all phased out by the noises which issued forth. He had a bed near the fire and lay there quite happily. However, when the workshop door was opened for any reason he reckoned it was time to go out and join in the action. Up he shot with an excited yap, tail wagging furiously. Most times when Joe was working away from home, Streak went along with himself and Martin sitting between the two men on the front seat of the van. It depended on the nature of the job. The village was not in walking distance, but fortunately when snow fell, there was a good service for keeping the roads clear. The cottages had not been built with garages to give the cars protection from the elements, so all vehicles lived outside and often had to be dug out before a journey could be undertaken. This was always an inconvenience because one never knew whether the engine was going to oblige by starting up. Joe parked his van around the back of the cottage in front of his workshop. It was easier to load up when deliveries had to be made. Martin, who was also his driver, was well used to the weather conditions in that part of the country having grown up there. They would have a big order for delivery at the house of a German couple called the Hauptmanns when Joe had finished carving and polishing all the wood. The old house which the Hauptmanns had bought was being renovated and they wanted it done in a particular traditional style. Joe had spent hours researching the woodwork from that period and he found it totally fascinating.

The previous weekend had provided him with a welcome break from his endeavours as one of his past clients had invited him to dinner. It was for pure pleasure as the job had long since been completed. This particular client had a great love of cooking and he and Joe had shared food together on numerous occasions. He always wondered what Peter would have on offer. Generally he used Joe as a guinea pig and tried out recipes on him. He had a wonderful collection of French recipe books, but Joe had been trying to persuade him that to use cream in all the recipes probably was not a good idea. Peter was becoming far too portly in his eyes. A past time which was a favourite of Joe’s own was going for a walk with Streak and he thought, with a bit of friendly persuasion, Peter could be cajoled into joining him in order to knock off some of the extra pounds. Conversation was never in short supply when they were together. Peter hadn’t married and always maintained that his work was his wife and that was enough. With a busy solicitor's Practice in the next village he filled his hours quite successfully. Joe and Peter had met when Peter the chef and lover of French cuisine had decided that he needed a new kitchen. There was not nearly enough space for him to store his ingredients. Also the arrangement of cupboards at that time was not to his satisfaction. Naturally he wanted the best man for the job and that was Joe Fletcher. After many cups of excellent coffee and from small beginnings, a friendship had struck up which was mutually beneficial. They seemed to have got into a sort of routine for Saturday evenings and enjoyed sharing a meal together at Peter’s home.

Chapter 3

Each morning when she awoke in her small bedroom, Charlie’s eyes fell on familiar objects but it still seemed impossible that the curtains with the butterfly pattern, the chest of drawers, the blue and pink rug on the floor, the bookcase in which she had placed some of her belongings the previous night, now no longer reflected only her growing up years, but had become a permanent part of her adult world. Her daily routine too had become quite familiar to her. She would miss Nellie’s input and if she was truthful with herself, she had come to rely on Nellie’s good common sense approach to every situation. That was now going to come to an end with Nellie’s departure.

The sound of a door closing the following morning made her realise that Nellie was already about and that she had better get moving. Fortunately a pale shaft of sunlight through the bedroom window announced that the day promised to be fine. She hurriedly dressed in her woolen navy trousers, white tee shirt, turquoise jumper, thick woolly socks and boots. Her long straight blonde hair just needed a quick brush and she felt somewhat ready to face the day. Nellie was pleased to see Charlie was up and after giving her a great big hug she left for home but not without promising to see her again as it would be at least another couple of weeks before she actually left St Gilda.

A person as well organised and practical as Nellie Harper, was very hard to come by and she had trained Charlie into a good weekly routine right from the start. Keeping copies of all the shopping lists she made was of the utmost importance as Charlie could refer to them for various menus for her mother. It was important to give her a variety of foods, not elaborate meals, but ones which were nourishing and light, especially geared to someone who was not physically active. 9a.m. was the agreed time to look in on her mother to see if she was awake and ready to get up. After helping her mother to dress Charlie guided her to the kitchen where the smell of toast and coffee was very inviting. After a lightly poached egg, some toast with marmalade and a cup of tea, Molly Jameson made a beeline for the living room where Charlie had already lit the fire. Against one wall there was a television and a bookcase which boasted plenty of favourite volumes. Near enough to the television and fire there were two easy chairs from which one could access the small coffee table. Molly seated herself in one of the chairs and that was the morning taken care of except for a cup of tea for elevenses.

As Charlie bustled about the kitchen, she mused about her life. She had always been fairly organized getting her translations out on time and arriving at appointments on schedule. The life with her mother was the epitome of being organized. Each day had a pattern: for mealtimes, for TV and for sleep. Shopping was on the same day every week. Nellie had had an arrangement with Patricia Cartwright, her neighbour in the village when she herself was Molly's Carer. Trisha, as she insisted on being called, had come in to sit with Molly during the weekly excursions. Since Charlie had moved in Nellie had come over on Thursdays to stay with her mother. There was always some shopping or other business to tend to and it was useful to be able to go to the village with peace of mind. Nellie, thinking ahead, had already asked Trisha if she could come to Charlie’s aid once she herself had left for Skipton. Trisha readily agreed and couldn’t foresee any problems. Naturally Charlie had already met Trisha and the two of them had hit it off immediately.

Someone else who was a wonderful support and had become a good friend was Harriet Benson, the nurse in the village. Charlie thought back to the first day that she had met Harriet. Nellie had organized for Charlie to meet both the nurse and Doctor Stephen Fielding shortly after she arrived in St. Gilda. Finding the cottage in the village with the red gate and red door had been easy after a left turn at the Horse and Saddle. They had arranged to meet at Harriet’s home as the doctor had a call to make in St. Gilda and it suited him to meet the two of them before his appointment. Nellie had also told Charlie a bit about the nurse who had no hesitation about running a clinic at her cottage for the villagers and anyone else who happened to need advice on medical matters. She also acted as the local mid wife, a skill which had been part of her training. She was extremely practical and good in emergencies and the doctor who had his practice and lived in the next village relied heavily on her. Charlie had the feeling she herself was going to come to rely on Harriet. As she had passed through the gates Charlie decided that she would do a reverse park so the she was facing out for an easy exit. The front door which was the same welcoming red as the gate had a bell and an intercom system beside it. ‘What a good idea’ Charlie thought as she pushed the button and announced herself. Nurse Benson would be aware that her next patient had arrived and it was also a safety precaution. The door opened and the two women eyed each other realising simultaneously that they were completely opposite in appearance. A pair of sparkling blue eyes in a lively face with a warm and generous smile eyed Charlie who noticed how tall Harriet was with a mop of untamed red hair. A ridiculous thought entered her head ‘So much about the woman in front of her was red, her gate, her door, her hair.’ Charlie chuckled.

Harriet was not in uniform and wore a simple blouse and skirt with good stout shoes.

Without any formality she said, ‘I’m Harriet Benson. Do come in. It’s perishing out there. Come and warm yourself’. She led the way in to where a man, presumably the doctor, was seated. She waved Charlie over to a chair in the small room which obviously served as a place where patients were interviewed and anyone else who cared to call. A small table served as a desk which had some folders on it. Harriet took up a position in front of the fire. Before Charlie could sit down the doctor stood up and went over to Charlie holding out his hand.

‘Stephen Fielding. We get to meet at last Charlie. Your mother told me a lot about you when she was still able to communicate so I don't feel as though we’re strangers. I've known your mother since she retired here and I’ve found it extremely difficult to watch what's happening to her. When Alzheimers takes hold, there's nothing that can be done about it and I’ve had an awful feeling of helpless frustration that I couldn’t do more.’

‘Yes’, said Harriet looking at him sympathetically ‘I’ve seen it over and over ….the person suffering from it doesn’t know how to deal with it either and could get equally frustrated as they are aware of what they used to be and can't get to grips with what is happening to them. Our only course of action is to try and have a normal conversation even if there’s no real comprehension there. The most difficult part of it all is not knowing how the person is going to react’.

The doctor nodded in agreement and continued. ‘It will be quite an adjustment for you but it’s great that you’ve come to take care of your mother. Nellie Harper has always been such a good friend to her and the two of them get on like a house on fire. You’ll need to allow yourself time to find your feet as I'm sure you've realised already, but it will come right once you get into a routine. I'm not too far away and Harriet’s just down the road and don't be afraid to ask us for help if you ever need it’.

He asked whether Charlie had met Joe Fletcher adding that Joe was Charlie’s nearest neighbour and a really likeable sort whom he was sure would be willing to assist in an emergency.

He then said he had to call on a patient and that he would see himself out, but that if Charlie needed anything even if it was only someone to talk to, not to hesitate to phone him at any time.

After that it had been a learning process. Nellie and Harriet had instructed her in how to deal with many situations which could arise at the cottage and she was eternally grateful that she had such mentors close at hand. She hadn’t seen any more of the doctor but at least she knew she could call on him if necessary. When Harriet had been imparting knowledge to her about how to deal with Alzheimers, Charlie had set up a folder on her computer with all her information. It was something she had added to from the internet whenever she found something which she thought might be useful. Every now and then she refreshed her memory by reading through it. So far she had been fine, but it was quite frightening what could occur and she wanted to be prepared.

Chapter 4

Her musings came to an end when dinner was ready and the next thing her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway. Fortunately she had got used to getting around the cottage with her walker and Charlie guessed that the smell of roast beef had aroused her taste buds. Mrs. Jameson still enjoyed her food even though she never actually voiced her approval. She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and watched as Charlie dished up. It was as though her mother was presiding over the table and Charlie felt a lump in her throat as she thought of all the times they had spent together chatting. Those days were gone, and only the memories of both herself and her mother remained.

As a young married couple Jack and Molly Jameson had cycled along many country lanes among the villages of the Dales and never tired of enjoying the friendship and welcome of the people who lived there. It was when she retired from her job at the bank in York that Molly got the feeling that both she and Charlie should start a new phase in their lives, Molly had looked to see whether she could find a cottage that had come up for sale in any of the villages. There were a few cottages on the market that were of interest to her, but most were in need of repair and she was beginning to despair until the day an Estate Agent