The Illuminations Read Free Page A

‘It’s all nice when you stop and frame it,’ Anne went on, ‘the people and the horizon and everything. If we wait long enough we’ll see the Waverley sailing past.’
NATURAL LIGHT
One day Anne asked for an outing and Maureen took it upon herself to see that the trip went well. It was a constant battle in Maureen’s head, the wonder of central heating versus the benefit of fresh air, but she was happy to do all the zipping and buttoning required for a walk into town. Ian dropped in on his way to work to change a light bulb in his mother’s airing cupboard. ‘What are you up to today?’ he asked. ‘Going down Shenanigans for a few pints with the biddies?’
‘That’ll be right,’ Maureen said. ‘It’s too cold to go out. Plus there’s nowhere to go.’
‘Really? You could go to the pictures. If I wasn’t working I’d go to the pictures every day.’
‘It’s too dear,’ she said. ‘Plus you have to go to Kilmarnock and all the films are about sex or blowing people up.’
‘Awesome,’ he said.
‘Plus, I am working. That living room won’t vacuum itself and the plants out there are begging for water. Somebody’s got to do it and it might as well be me.’
She needed him to think her enjoyments were few and farbetween. But after Ian left she went in to help Anne choose a dress and a coat and sensible shoes that would grip. Anne talked about the clothes that once belonged to her aunts who had lived in Glasgow: ‘Atholl Gardens. Number 73. I’m talking about a place with fourteen rooms,’ Anne said. ‘You don’t get houses like that nowadays.’
‘Was it nice?’ asked Maureen.
‘I’m talking rheumatism. Varicose veins. And chests of drawers full to overflowing with corsets and what have you.’
‘You should wear a cardigan under your coat.’
‘There were six floors. The moths had a great time and God knows how many coats they ate.’
‘Put your scarf on.’
‘A scarf’s like a friend, isn’t it?’
Maureen smoothed Anne’s hair. ‘I was always telling them to get rid of stuff,’ Anne added. ‘But they wouldn’t, Maureen. They couldn’t bear to get rid of so much as a pair of stockings.’
‘Is that right?’
‘My father was never out of the church. That was before Glasgow, mind you. In Canada. He was looking for God, up there in the church. My mother didn’t keep well. She had the disease that makes you shake. She stayed in her bed and I think she died in that bed.’
‘In Canada?’
‘That’s right. I was young then.’
The rabbit sat on the sofa with a tea towel tied around him and Anne stopped to look over.
‘I think we’ll leave him behind today,’ Maureen said. Anne offered no argument but said again that she had been a child in Canada, something about ice on the road to Dundas.
Anne sometimes looked at things and you felt she was developing a picture in her mind’s eye. ‘That was the old bathing pond,’ she said, measuring the light as they walked into town. ‘And I think rock ’n’ roll groups used to play there in their suits – the Marine Theatre.’
‘Groups? I don’t think so.’
‘All the girls would scream,’ Anne said. After a few more steps, they stopped. ‘Don’t let me miss the post again today.’
‘What?’
‘The post. I always send a cheque. Never miss it. They’ll be waiting for a cheque in Blackpool.’
This was a mystery to Maureen. She’d heard Anne speak before about people in Blackpool who were waiting for money. She mentioned it on the phone to Anne’s daughter, Alice, who just sighed and said she didn’t want anything to do with it. It was clearly a part of Anne’s life that was off-limits or stuck in the past, but the dementia was bringing it out and Maureen wanted to know more, in case she could help.
‘Who, Anne? Who’s waiting for a cheque?’
‘A nice man and his wife.’
‘And who are they?’
‘Never mind,’ Anne said. ‘I’ll do it myself.’ They walked on and Maureen told herself not to take it personally.