Moving On (6 page)

Jenny returned home after seeing Karen, feeling tired and disillusioned. Awaiting her on the dining room table were the piles of overdue bills that had spurred her to visit Karen and make the suggestions she had.

Although it went against the grain she felt too tired to struggle any longer and resolved that on the following day she would do as Karen had suggested and visit an estate agent and seek advice.

The estate agent, Brian Hardy, was a thin man in his early forties, with a retreating hairline and a sympathetic manner, and seemed to be eager to help. He suggested putting Warren Point on the market to ‘test the waters’ as he put it. Once she knew how much her house would fetch then she would also know what sort of accommodation she could afford for herself.

In the meantime, he gave her sales literature to browse through which highlighted some retirement flats that were on the market. The price he proposed to advertise Warren Point at staggered her; it seemed much more than she had expected and she felt quite light-hearted. If it did reach that figure then her troubles were over. She would be able to pay off all her debts, give Karen her share and still have enough left over to buy herself a suitable apartment.

‘Very well, will you take it in hand, advertise it or send out details or whatever it is you have to do?’ Jenny told him.

‘Right, I’ll do that,’ he agreed. ‘You are happy for people to come and view? Do you want someone from here to accompany them or will you show them round yourself?’

Jenny hesitated. She hadn’t thought of that aspect. The idea of taking people round and perhaps hearing them make disparaging remarks about her beloved home sent shudders through her.

‘I would rather you sent someone with them,’ she stated.

‘Certainly, I can arrange to do that,’ Brian Hardy agreed. ‘Perhaps then you would like to leave a key with us,’ he suggested. ‘We will, of course, phone you in advance to make an appointment that suits you and our client but if you prefer not to be there then we can let ourselves into the house and handle everything on your behalf.’

When she returned home Jenny walked from room to room trying to see them through the eyes of a prospective buyer. She decided to make one or two changes in the way things were arranged in some of the rooms and also to put away some of her remaining precious ornaments just in case they were knocked over.

Leaving her home would break her heart but it seemed that it was the only solution, she thought, as she sat down and looked through the pamphlets about apartments that the estate agent had given her. There were none in Wallasey Village but there was a very attractive block of flats called Merseyside Mansions that had not long been built close to New Brighton. Her spirits lifted when she noticed that some of them had views and balconies overlooking the Mersey. As the building was only a mile or so further along the coast the view would not be so very different from where she was living now, she mused.

A week, ten days, two weeks passed without a single enquiry and Jenny began to panic. Then slowly a trickle of people came to view but no word came from the estate agent afterwards to say that any of them were interested in buying.

Jenny felt perplexed. How could people not want to live in such a lovely house, she wondered.

Karen sympathized but pointed out that the house required a great deal doing to it as the whole place needed decorating inside and out and it also needed the bathrooms updating as well as a completely new kitchen.

Slowly the offers came; and so did more bills. Jenny now felt desperate to sell and would have accepted the very first offer even though it was well below the asking price but the estate agent insisted she held out for more.

Two months later contracts were exchanged and Jenny suddenly realized that although she would now be able to settle all her bills she had nowhere to go.

‘You could rent some furnished rooms on a short term lease and put all your furniture in store until you have decided where you were going to live,’ Karen suggested.

‘No.’ Jenny shook her head emphatically. ‘Having to move is bad enough, I don’t want to prolong the agony. I’ll have one of those retirement flats at Merseyside Mansions as long as it’s one with a balcony and a view over the river.’

‘I’m afraid all the ones overlooking the Mersey have been taken,’ the estate agent told her.

‘Then in that case I’ll have to cancel the sale of my house,’ she told him.

‘You can’t do that,’ he exclaimed, ‘not at this stage. Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do.’

Three nail-biting days later Brian Hardy phoned to say that he had good news. He had managed to secure a flat in Merseyside Mansions. It was one situated on the second floor and had a balcony as she had requested. There was just one snag, he explained, there was only one bedroom and she had stipulated that she must have two bedrooms. He offered to take her along there so that she could view it for herself.

‘No, that is not necessary,’ she stated after a moment’s hesitation. ‘I’ll take it and leave all the details in your hands.’

‘Very well, in that case I’ll inform your solicitor and I’ll let you know when to call into our office to sign all the necessary documents and to collect the keys.’

Jenny replaced the phone feeling as exhausted as if she had completed a five-mile walk or spent a whole day spring-cleaning. The deed was finally done. She had committed herself to a completely new kind of life.

She went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, trying to clear her mind of doubts and make plans for the tremendous upheaval that lay ahead of her.

She had agreed to include all the carpets, curtains and light fittings in the sale, so now she had only to wait for the final completion date so that she could contact a removal firm.

She walked round the big house and realized it would be impossible to fit everything into a one-bedroom flat, so she would need to sort out what to take and what to send to the saleroom.

She telephoned Karen to tell her what was happening and to ask her if she wanted any of the furniture.

‘No, Gran, nothing at all. I have no idea yet where I will be moving to or what size it will be until I know how much money you are giving me. Send whatever you don’t need to the saleroom,’ she advised.

‘You mean you don’t want anything at all?’ Jenny persisted. ‘I thought you would like some of the furniture or pictures or ornaments from your bedroom.’

‘No, Gran, I don’t want anything at all, and you will need to get rid of most of it. Remember there is only one living room and you’ll have to fit dining room furniture in there as well as lounge furniture. I am quite sure that the big sofa and armchairs you have now will be much too large and so will the dining room suite. Perhaps you should think about sending everything to the saleroom and buy something more suitable for your new home.’

‘That’s a very drastic step,’ Jenny protested.

‘We’re both setting out on a new life, so let’s start afresh. Sell the lot, Gran, and buy new; choose something more suitable for modern surroundings.’

Jenny felt despondent when she put the phone down. She prized her furniture almost as much as she loved the house. Many of the pieces dated back to the early days of her marriage; furniture that she and William had worked hard and saved up for months to pay for and had chosen together. Could she bear to get rid of absolutely everything and start all over again? Surely it must be possible to take some of her favourite items with her.

There was only one way to find out she reasoned and that was to visit the apartment she was planning to move into and see for herself what size the rooms were. When she phoned and asked Brian Hardy for the keys he offered to accompany her but she said she would rather go on her own.

Her first impression was how small and boxy the apartment felt after her own home. Karen had been right, she thought, with a feeling of dismay as she looked around. None of her existing furniture would fit into such small rooms.

Then common sense prevailed. A double bed was a double bed so of course she could bring that; but hers was King size she reminded herself and so it would be far too big. She had no choice, it would have to be replaced by something smaller. The same fate awaited the heavy mahogany wardrobe with its matching tallboy and the triple-mirror dressing table.

There was a built-in wardrobe in the bedroom but it wasn’t all that spacious. Unfortunately there wouldn’t be room for another wardrobe so, it would mean that a great many of her clothes would have to go to a charity shop because there most certainly wouldn’t be room for all of them when she moved.

Right, so that meant disposing of all her existing bedroom furniture, she decided. She still intended to have a double bed but she made a mental note to look for a divan that had storage drawers underneath it because that would be more practical. And instead of a dressing table she’d have a chest of drawers with a large mirror on the wall behind it.

Her existing lounge and dining room furniture would certainly take up far too much space in the living room. She needed more modern compact furniture and possibly a dining table that partially folded down when not in use.

The only things she could bring with her, she thought unhappily, would be her cooking utensils, china and glassware. Even some of those would have to go because there wouldn’t be enough storage room for them all in the compact little kitchen.

Karen was absolutely right, she reflected. None of her existing furniture was going to fit into the apartment so she really was going to have to make a clean sweep of everything. It really was going to be a completely new start.

Moving day came all too soon. Jenny had barely had time to contact the saleroom and agree which pieces they would take and then get in touch with a house-clearance firm to take the rest, as well as shop for all the new furniture she needed and arrange a date for them to be delivered to her new flat.

She had hoped that Karen would be on hand to help but she explained that she would be away on business for the next ten days. Tired and weary, Jenny wondered whether this was true or whether Karen simply didn’t want to get involved.

Brian Hardy was outstandingly helpful; in fact Jenny didn’t know how she would have coped without his helpful advice. He even came to the house on the day she was to move out to collect the keys so that she wouldn’t have to travel all the way into Liscard Village to hand them over to him.

Karen kept well away and didn’t even telephone to see if Jenny needed any assistance. She did, however, send a magnificent bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne to Merseyside Mansions as a welcome gift.

It was almost midnight by the time Jenny had finally arranged her new furniture, made up the bed and unpacked several large boxes of clothes and china and glasses. Exhausted, she took a shower and collapsed into bed.

She felt so disorientated in her new surroundings that she didn’t expect to sleep, but she was so tired that the moment her eyes closed she knew no more until morning.

When she woke she wondered for a moment where she was. Then, very slowly, as she recalled the long strenuous move she’d made the day before, it all came back.

Pulling on her dressing gown she padded through to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. As she waited for it to boil she moved into the living room, pulled back the curtain and, opening the French doors, stepped out on to the small balcony.

It wasn’t the view she was used to but if she strained her neck then to her left she could just see the misty blue outlines of the Welsh mountains. They seemed to be so far away that they almost disappeared into the distance and merged in with the skyline.

Immediately in front of her window was the promenade separating the block of flats from the shoreline. She could see New Brighton pier and wondered if she would hear the noise of the fairground in the nearby Tower grounds when it started operating later on in the day.

On the other side of the Mersey, slightly to her right, were the Liver buildings and the Liverpool waterfront where at that moment a huge liner was being pulled by tugs towards the Landing State at the dockside.

The whistling sound that indicated the kettle was boiling claimed her attention and she went back into the kitchen to make her tea. She carried a cup into the living room and stared round thinking how bare it looked, almost sterile; not a home at all.

The bedroom had the same feel; it lacked colour and atmosphere, those bits and pieces that transform a room and give it a personal touch.

As she went into the bathroom she was met by the overpowering smell of lilies. The welcoming bouquet that Karen had sent was still lying there in the washbasin. She had meant to arrange the flowers and take them into the living room after she’d had her shower the previous night but by then she’d felt so tired she’d simply left them where they were. She’d have to find a suitable vase and, although she’d unpacked her china, she wasn’t quite sure where she’d put the big glass jug that she needed to hold such a large bunch.

Equally important, she mused as she dressed, was to find out all the rules and regulations governing the place before she put her foot in it and disgraced herself by doing something wrong. She’d asked the concierge if she had a leaflet listing the basic rules but she had said she would tell her anything she needed to know once she was settled in.

The concierge had said, however, that they held a regular midweek coffee morning and suggested that if she attended this it would give her the opportunity to meet most of the other residents.

Once she was dressed Jenny decided to take a walk round the inside of the building to get her bearings. It was four storeys high so that meant there must be two more floors above hers.

The lift was only a short way down the passage but when she pressed the button to summon it and stepped into it there was already a woman in there. She greeted Jenny with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes and automatically assumed that Jenny was going down to the ground floor, the same as she was.

The woman was dressed in a dark brown skirt and a brown and white check jacket over a pale blue blouse. She had tightly curled dark grey hair, a sharp nose and high cheekbones, and looked so formidable that Jenny said nothing.

When they reached the ground floor the woman strode away, straight through the reception and out into the street.

Jenny looked anxiously at the reception desk hoping the concierge was there but the door into her office was closed. Indecisively, she turned and looked into the communal room. It was a very big room with a cream carpet and numerous brown and grey leather armchairs grouped round low tables. Bookcases lined one wall and people reading newspapers occupied several of the armchairs. There were wide windows at the far end and a double door leading out into a small landscaped garden.

Jenny was still hovering, wondering whether or not to pluck up the courage and push open the door and go into the room when a voice behind her boomed in her ear.

‘You the newcomer?’ a man’s voice demanded. ‘Heard you were moving in this weekend, what! Are you settled in or still unpacking confounded boxes?’

Jenny turned to find a tall, very upright man dressed in grey flannels, dark grey shirt and a green tweed sports jacket that had the elbows reinforced with leather holding out his hand in greeting. He was grey-haired with a ruddy complexion and sported a crisp grey moustache.

‘I’m Major John Mitchell by the way. Retired of course. Been living here for the last six months, so if there is anything you need to know, then I’m your man.’

‘Very pleased to meet you.’ Jenny held out her hand. ‘I’m Jenny Langton and yes I have only just moved in and I don’t feel at all settled, not yet.’

‘Quite, quite.’ He ran a hand over his moustache. ‘Make sure you come to coffee morning next Wednesday; meet all the troops at one go then, what!’

‘Yes, I’ll remember to do that,’ Jenny murmured as abruptly he gave her a salute and continued along the passageway.

Jenny watched his retreating back for a couple of seconds and then with a tiny shrug made her way from the main reception area to the outside lobby where the postboxes were located to see if there were any letters waiting for her.

Two women were already there; both were grey-haired, one small and tubby and dressed in a green patterned blouse and plain green skirt, the other, tall and angular, was wearing a very smart mid-calf dark red dress.

The tubby woman was about to unlock her mailbox, the other one was taking the key out of hers and grumbling about the amount of junk mail she had found in it.

‘Well, I suppose it’s better than bills.’ The tubby woman laughed as she extracted a sheaf of leaflets and quickly scanned through them before screwing them up.

They both looked at Jenny enquiringly as if not too sure who she was or what she was doing there.

‘Hello, I’m Jenny Langton, I’ve just moved in,’ she said, smiling first at one and then at the other.

‘Second floor? I heard all the banging and noise and I knew the flat had been sold so I thought it must be someone moving in. My apartment is right under yours.’

‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry if the removal men disturbed you,’ Jenny said apologetically.

‘That’s all right; you can’t help making a bit of noise at first. I’m Beryl Willis and this is Sandra Roberts,’ she added, nodding in the other woman’s direction.

‘I live on the same floor as you,’ Sandra told her in a quiet voice.

Beryl looked at her watch. ‘If we are going to be over in Liverpool on time we’d better hurry,’ she stated.

With a quick ‘see you again sometime’ they both scuttled off, and once more Jenny found herself alone and wondering what to do.

She went back to her flat and looked around. It was tidy but felt strange, almost as if she didn’t really belong there. She looked out of the window at the neatly laid out communal garden and sighed. She was already missing her own garden and the pleasure of wandering out of the back door, strolling down the path, smelling the freshness of the soil as she pulled out the odd weed that had sprung up overnight and took note of what needed attention.

On impulse she reached for her outdoor coat, her hat and gloves and then picked up her keys. A brisk walk along the promenade was what she needed, she told herself.

It was no good moping or hankering for what had been. A good walk would blow away her feeling of depression. On the way back she would find out where the nearest shops were and buy some milk and bread and anything else that caught her fancy.

It would give her a chance to plan what she intended doing in future. She would have to find something to fill in her days. Perhaps she could help out at a charity shop, or even get a part time job, she told herself.

It was a bright day but the wind had a biting edge as it swept in off the Mersey. It was the sort of morning she loved; a morning to peg out the washing and watch it blowing as she rewarded herself with a cup of coffee.

Thinking of coffee reminded her about the coffee morning at Merseyside Mansions. Did she really want to go to it? Certainly it would be an opportunity to meet the other residents; but did she want to do that? Was it a good idea to make friends with the neighbours, or would it be better if she kept herself to herself, she wondered.

Up until now she had always led a very private life. After William died she had been too busy looking after Eddy and later on Karen to have much time for a life of her own. She had been perfectly happy with that arrangement and never craved outside interests.

Now, though, with both William and Eddy dead and Karen living independently, it was all so different, and there were times now when she had to admit that she felt lonely; very lonely.

The walk revived her spirits. Who could be downhearted on such a lovely morning she asked herself, as she watched boats plying up and down the Mersey, gulls swooping and screaming overhead and the first of the day-trippers already taking up their favourite spots on the beach.

As she left the promenade and made her way up Victoria Street she remembered her shopping needs. As she added bread, milk, meat from the butchers and some fresh vegetables from the greengrocers she found that her shopping bag was becoming rather heavy and it was quite a long walk back to Merseyside Mansions. She’d have to organize daily shopping trips or arrange for heavy items to be delivered, she decided.

Since she wasn’t living all that far from Wallasey Village she wondered if it would be worth asking her previous suppliers if they would still be willing to deliver.

That would mean waiting in for them to come, she reminded herself. When she’d been living in Warren Point the delivery men had known that they could always leave whatever they had brought just inside the porch and that it would be perfectly safe there. Could they leave deliveries in reception if she was out, she wondered. That was another thing she would have to find out.

She wished Karen had been there to help her settle in. She would have found out the answers to all these questions for her.

She decided to phone Karen as soon as she got home to see if she was back from her trip yet and invite her over. She must be curious to see what the flat was like and she was quite keen to show her around it even though that wouldn’t take very long.