Chapter 24 Dangerously Healthy by Malcolm Birkenshaw

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Chapter 24.

County Hall must have said something because Ransley
disappeared off the scene, the new headmistress settling in nicely.
She attempted to rescue the oldest children, from the black hole of
ignorance he had created, by teaching a crash course in arithmetic
before they started at the comprehensive.

When he was headmaster arithmetic had been called mathematics
and consisted of dishing out “SUM” complete with the answers,
leaving his pupils to mark their own work - he never did check why
they always did so well. In fact it was not in his interests to find
out, not so long as their results filled his wall-to-wall graphs
with a floribunda of coloured flags to baffle the school governors,
plus charts and displays to impress County Hall and accelerate his
climb up the education ladder.

John also needed help with his reading. `Do I have to?' he
whinged, when I started to coach him.

`Yes, before you watch television,' I battled. More stress, on
top of having to abandon cricket yet again whilst Lena continued
going on courses, still sneaking away with that damned Ransley
despite whatever County Hall had said.

Those defiant lips protruded even further when half term
arrived. `It's Claire's turn to take a trip with the school,' she
pursed.

`With your school, with the juniors, for a week?... She's a
fourth former at the comprehensive taking `O' levels next year,' I
protested.

`So?'

`Il Duce,' I saluted in despair.

`You can look after John,' she folded her arms, completing the
image.

`You're doing this deliberately, just to sabotage my
exercises.'

`Rubbish.'

So far, so bad, I gave up the skirmish and stormed off along
our lane before her stress clouds deluged upon me to bring on an
exacerbation, the spate of my pace never easing until I was half
past the Brick Pond. The house needs painting, I thought, watching
its wildlife unperturbed by my worldly worries swimming on the
surface. It was after trying to make sense of the orderly confusion
of their wakes in the water which finally convinced me, `That's
right, I'll borrow a long ladder and do the whole house whilst
they're away,.... always providing John will play safely down at the
farm.'

`Ladder?... Tha wants scaffolding to do t'job right.'

`No, thanks, my neighbour's ladder will do nicely.'

`Waste o' paint, waste o' paint. Use scaffolding, do t'job
right, and it'll last a lifetime,' his white-overalled girth barring
my way to the counter.

`All right, then how much to borrow some for the week?' I tried
to walk round him.

`Oh, no, dangerous to do it yourself. Specialist's job,
specialist's job, but worth the extra bit that it costs.' he was
pitching his price to take account of how much or of how little my
accent could stretch to.

`I can't afford anything extra.'

He smiled, having heard that one before.

`I'm on a pension.'

`Pension,' he laughed, `At your age? It must be a right job.'

`A disability pension.'

He laughed even louder. `Who says it's a disability when you
come here on't bike?'

`A neurologist.'

`A new what?'

`Neurologist.'

`Told you, that's where you're going wrong, using anything new.
Stick to traditional methods, that's what I always say. Take for
instance scaffolding, you can't say them what's doing York Minster
is wrong.'

`A neurologist said it was to do with my nerves,' I opened both
eyes wide.

`Nerves, you said nerves?' he backed away a little.

`Yesss, Nervesss,' my eyes opened even wider.

`Ah, understand,' he picked up two drums of paint, with a ding
of the bell upon the trade counter. `Percy, customer for you,' he
called towards the warehouseman's closed door, then backed out
through the exit. `Just a customer myself, no offence meant.'

The Easter sun bit through a dank sky, making little difference
to my timorous activity, leaving me frozen at the top of Ken's
ladder. `What are you doing up there, Martin?' Roy asked.

`I've nearly finished,' I held on, not daring to look.

`It's not worth it,' he said. `That timber will still be there
after you're dead, even without paint.'

`Thanks very much, it's nice to know my life can be measured in
less than a few wooden growth rings,' my feet felt for the ground.
`I'm doing this to keep myself occupied whilst Lena's away. Besides,
this climbing is improving my legs.'

`Can't you go for a walk instead?'

I shook my head and pointed. `I do, every day, up and down this
lane waiting for John to come home. I don't know why Lena can't cope
with them together?'

`I don't want to cause trouble, you understand, but I've heard
her.'

`Heard her what?'

`Taking them aside, one at a time, telling them what a naughty
daddy you are.'

`Pull the other one, Roy,' I laughed. He was obviously winding
me up, but upon the matter of safety I took his advice and never
reached the top of that long ladder again.

Following his caution could have made this week a repeat of
that time before I went into hospital, seven days when my health had
failed as a result of just looking after John whilst Lena was doing
whatever she was doing at the Saint Lucifer hotel in Scarborough.
Since then I had learned the lesson of avoiding inactivity and
decided to use a pair of steps in lieu of the long ladder.
`All right, so only the downstairs windows will get a second coat of
gloss,' I talked to the can and continued to nip up and down for the
sake of my legs and the windows, so successfully that the lot was
done long before half-term was over. Time to do something else, how
about repairing my car in time for summer? - Claire's French friend
will be staying with us again.

`Hum?' I mused, wondering whether the wings of my rooks would
overshadow the project for I had never stripped a Rolls engine
before.

But it was no longer an engine by the time Lena returned,
having been reduced to just bits which did not make sense. `Don't
worry. If you leave them exactly where they are they're in the
right order for reassembling.'

`Don't be so ridiculous.' She still thought it would be better
if I got a proper job instead of me messing around with a car which
I could not afford.

`That's why I'm doing it myself.'

`I don't see what difference that makes.'

`Well, you find me a job and I'll do that instead.'

`That's your task, finding yourself work, instead of turning
the new extension supposedly built for all of us all into your own
private scrap-yard,' she turned her head and withdrew to unpack,
averting her eyes from the parts I had scattered ignoring those
parts reassembled.

And yet within weeks the car was put together and running
again, purring impressively for the first time in years, well before
the French children arrived on this year's exchange..... And it had
not cost me a penny, so reluctantly she accepted that perhaps after
all it was only a part waste of time.

The swallows and house martins had returned even sooner so
everything was just like the old times, happy families and visitors
popping in and out before the French landed. Trouble was, these
family demands kept me so broke that the slightest additional
expense had to balance upon an escarpment of insurmountable
proportions thus, when a French kid embedded a dart in one of the
windows, I bellowed with an unforgivable loss of temper.

Clearly it had been an accident, due to youthful high spirits,
which would not cost much, but how much is not much when not much is
much more than a lot? Poor Claire, she had been trying so hard,
rushing around, wanting to make the evening a success when her Dad
had ruined it all by blowing his top.

Still, Lena was forced to admit that my car was coming in
handy, its seats being flesh deep in youngsters as I bussed them
from one party to another. And the weather, so sunny so hot, just
like in France, except for that overcast day at Knaresborough when
they were just messing about on the river. But then, on the other
hand, having fun messing about upon water must be international, no
matter what my school had taught me about the French ships at
Trafalgar.

`Right then, how about driving on to Whitby and the sea and its
alleys and streets and its kipper sheds and.....?' I suggested, next
morning, as I manoeuvred the car amongst the ewes and lambs which
were meandering heads down from one meal to another over the moors
of North Yorkshire, that desert-like moonscape of heather where
sheep follow their stomachs without heed for the traffic.

`Exactament. Exactament le meme,' seemed to mutter Claire's
French friend when we parked by the harbour.

Of course, I had forgotten, her grandparents lived in Brittany,
where, I guess, many of their fishing villages would look almost
like this. Still, she had never spent time feeding bread to the
sheep so we doubled back to the moors with loaves of wrapped bread,
plus a ball to chuck about where grassy fringes grew to the edge of
the peat.

But like a midsummer moon, motionless to the excited eye, the
fortnight passed and first light stole upon them with its tears and
embraces and au revoirs until, until, until their coach was gone and
the road was deserted and dead.

The following Saturday, despite the visitors having gone,
Claire and John still rose early. `That's unusual,' I mused,
particularly since Lena was also in the kitchen. Now, her being up
at that time during the holidays was even more peculiar. `But
perhaps they're going special shopping and don't wish to wake me,' I
turned over, thinking of what to do until they got back.

`Dad,' Claire eased open the door, and gave me a kiss. `You'll
be all right on your own, until next Saturday, won't you?'

On my own? What was she talking about? Yet she was clearly
embarrassed. `Of course I'll be all right,' I smiled to put her at
ease, my brain running a hard disc to compute an interpretation from
what facts were to hand.

Then an engine started, opening a new file. It sounded like
Lena's Morris Minor. `Bye,' John shouted.

I cocked my head, straining for additional clues to feed into
the database.... `Hell, they're setting off somewhere,' I jumped
from the bed, suspecting that Lena had involved them in some kind of
subterfuge, my trousers hauled thigh height as I bounded bare footed
into the kitchen, it sounding as though her car had stopped in the
lane.

Just then, whilst wrenching my zip up at crippling quick speed,
I paused, watching the door opening quietly, it was Lena creeping
back in, looking for something. `Oh, it's you...,' she paled,
startled. `Er,... I didn't want to disturb you,...but, er, Freda
phoned, last night, inviting us to Blackpool.... You were at the
pub,... and there's only room for two in their house, ...now that
their children are growing up.'

Circumnavigated, yet not by the zip, I was in a quandary of
what could I do without ruining the children's holiday? "Nothing",
rattled into my mind, but that was no reason why she should get away
with it so easy. `Two children, plus you, makes three. At least it
was when I went to school, unless Ransley's Alice Through The
Looking Glass mathematics is correct after all.'

`Two children, is what I meant to say,' she retaliated rather
than squirm. `Someone will have to share beds with Freda,'
nevertheless she had turned even paler.

Lying toad, my eyes replied. But best not to argue, not with
Claire and John waiting in the car with its engine still ticking
over, doubtless puzzled by a deception they did not understand.

The lane emptied as the “put-put” of Lena's Morris Minor faded
into the distance, a distance I had not gone outside to farewell.
Oh, well, might as well cycle up to Tom and Ola's, there's no way in
which I'm going to let this situation she's created get my health
down.

On Tuesday, after tea, the telephone rang. `Hello, can I speak
to Lena, please?' It was her friend, Alison.

`I'm sorry, she's taken the children on holiday,' I sounded
casual.

`Ah, yes, I should have realised, but forgot. I met Mary last
week, she was going as well, wasn't she?'

`Yes, yes,' my hard disc raced up to full speed. Mary, Lena's
mother?.. `Yes, I think it's Blackpool they've gone to,' I trawled,
wanting Alison to keep talking since she might innocently be privy
to much more than I knew.

`That's right. I think they're staying at the North Palace
hotel,' she remembered, whilst doubling checking with her diary, I
could hear pages being turned.

`Perhaps we'll be seeing you next weekend, then, after they get
back?' I floated an invitation as though all was well at our house,
continuing to chat until the time came to say, `Cheerio.' I lightly
replaced the receiver and set about giving the cupboard doors a
bloody good slamming, stopping just in time with their hinges
intact.

I bet bloody Ransley's near Blackpool this week. Probably on a
course in the Lakes, somewhere near enough for her to pop up and see
him. Well, if she's got enough money to chase after Rasputin then
I'll use part of my pension on petrol to take Father out for a
drive.

`He's somewhere at the end of the ward,' a nurse in stiff white
uniform greeted me, looking up from her paperwork, lamp on even
during daylight, leaving me to wander in and find him myself.

`Thanks,' I raised my hand in acknowledgement. Some itinerants
were shuffling about in blue tartan slippers, in amongst others who
remained staring into the middle distance, immobile, unmoved by the
coloured pictures upon television, whilst the rest slouched at skew
angles in high-backed chairs, as though filling in time waiting for
death, often sleeping, ......

Oh, there he is, gazing at what I could never know in a world
where only his mind held court. His face melted into a smile when
his eyes saw me.

`Would you like to go out for a while?' I rested my palm on his
hand.

`Out?'

`Yes, for a run in my car or whatever you want.'

`Ooh, I would,' he gripped the chair arms as though to spring
up, but rose nowhere at all.

`It's all right, Ted, your son's not in a rush,' a nurse
smiled, looking over his shoulder, making sure he could see her face
as she spoke, soon being joined by another who helped to start get
him ready.

A third nurse also wheelchaired him as far as the car and
angled him onto the passenger seat, tucking him well in before
slamming the door shut. `Enjoy yourself, Ted,' they waved, and his
eyes smiled back.

`Where shall we go?' I asked.

In silence his pleasure sequinned a puzzled reply.

`Newmillerdam, then, how about that?'

`Where is that?' his face withdrew back into his world.

`Newmillerdam. It's near here, you'll have passed it many a
time when driving your men to Sheffield.'

`Oh, I know Sheffield,' his face became animated.

`Well, this is even nearer.'

`Don't like Sheffield. It's all steelworks.'

`Not now, it isn't - not since the Thatcher experiment. Anyway,
you'll see, where we're going to is like a lake in the country.'
That put him at ease and we continued in the direction of
Newmillerdam.

Ducks. Why do people always take old folk to see ducks? He did
not seem to mind, in fact contentment settled him into his seat.
Perhaps he was being reminded of those walks he had taken until
recently around Roundhay Park's lakes and Valley Gardens.

`Here's some bread,' I helped him open his window and throw out
a crumpled bit. `I'll be back in a moment.'

He could only mumble thanks with his gums for the ice cream
that I bought. `They're nice,' he watched their tails waddle free
of the water as ice cream ran down his fingers.

`Here, spread this handkerchief on your trousers,' I wiped away
drips, the nurses having dressed him up specially for his outing.

`I think we better be getting back home. I don't want to keep
them waiting,' his house and the staff and the hospital having
merged all into one in his mind.

On the way to Adderton, after returning Dad to his ward, I
called in to see mother. She was busy, having left Otterlake Hall
and moved to her new house in the next village. `Funny you should
call. I've just been thinking about your father. I wanted to visit
him this week, but there's only two buses a day, and they pass
through mining areas,' she said, laying on her Arundel Castle
accent.

`Shall I tell you about Father? Are you interested?'

`Oh, yes,' she poured from the kettle to tea pot and tea pot to
cup.

I stirred a spoonful of honey into my tea. `The social services
have their own coach. Yesterday they took every patient in the ward
to Bridlington.'

`Did they?' I watched her reaction.

`Yes, and the nurses even had Father paddling in the sea,
enjoying himself.'

`Your father?' she exclaimed.

`Yes,' I preened.

`I just couldn't cope,' she searched for a handkerchief and
found her tin opener. `He's as strong as an ox,' she wiped away a
dewless tear with her wrist. `What will happen to him when I'm
gone?'

When you've gone! I thought. Before you've gone they'll have
buried the lot of us, as I suddenly realised she had no intention of
having him home. `How about me giving you a lift, next week, then
you won't have to bother with those miners' buses?' I said, seeking
to embarrass her.

`A lift? Perhaps I could manage that, if I go before I have any
carpets fitted,' she wilted.

I remained unmoved, not intending to fall for that tactic a
second time. Not this time, not with poor Father locked away, his
money under house arrest being used to pay for yet another set of
carpets without him knowing.

But before then Saturday was here, the Morris Minor returning
from Blackpool. `Hi, Dad.'

`Hi.'

`Did you enjoy yourselves?' I smiled, delighted they were back.

`YES, terrific.'

`It was great.'

`Did Mary enjoy herself?' I enthused whilst Lena was outside,
emptying the car.

`Yes,' they chorused.

`She looked after us whilst Mum took the week's holiday with
Alison,' Claire bounced onto the settee next to me.

`In the Lake District,' John bounced onto the other side.

I gave them a hug, saying nothing, for this was the same Alison
who had telephoned to speak to Lena whilst they all were away!

Read the following chapters that tell of how Martin "cured" his M.S. and climbed mountains by the following year.

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