St Anthony of Padua by Lyn Funnell

Author:Lyn Funnell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: old people, respect, humour, twilight years, angry, upset, goldern years, Patron Saint of the Old
ISBN: 9781849893237
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2011
Published: 2011-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

***

Martha felt groggy and sick. She couldn’t face another day sitting in the heat of the lounge.

It had stopped raining at last. The weather was cold but sunny. She carried her coat and hat down the stairs, and hesitated when she saw Marlene in the hall staring at her.

‘Is it alright if I go outside?’ she asked.

‘Of course you can go out and explore our landscaped gardens’, Marlene smiled, ‘in fact some invigorating air will do you the world of good. Let me help you’. She took Martha’s coat and held it out for her. Martha flinched nervously and Marlene shook the coat encouragingly. ‘You may visit the tranquil surroundings outside any time you desire to, Martha. You’re not imprisoned here, you know. But do let one of the nurses know before you depart or we may unwittingly be searching the premises to discover your whereabouts. And we wouldn’t want that to happen, would we now, mmm? There’s a side door over there that you can use. It’s usually kept unlocked. Please notify a member of our staff on your return. Have fun’. Marlene patted Martha gently on the arm, then she turned and waddled away, humming to herself.

Outside, Martha breathed in the chilly air. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed it. She was at the side of the house. She walked over and sat on a bench, stretching her legs out and crossing her ankles in front of her.

Suddenly she became aware of a rustling behind a rhododendron bush. She walked around it and saw Ishmael on his knees, pulling up weeds. ‘Oh sorry’, she said, ‘I hope I didn’t make you jump’.

Ishmael glanced sideways at her, grunted and carried on with his work.

Martha hesitated. She seemed to be hesitating a lot lately. She spoke to Ishmael’s back. ‘Look, I promise I won’t intrude, but I used to love working in my garden. It became too much for me, and I’ve had to move here. But, well, the truth is, I miss it. And I’m so bored! I was always an active person. Please, Ishmael, there must be something I can do that would be a help to you. I don’t care what it is. I won’t get in your way. Only, if I don’t find something to occupy me, I think I’m going to go mad!’

He didn’t reply or look at her and Martha started to walk away, feeling very near to tears.

Then Ishmael grunted, ‘Weeds’.

‘Pardon?’

‘Weeds. Can’t keep up with ‘em’. He handed her a trowel and carried on with his work.

‘Oh, thank you so much!’ Martha held the trowel as though he’d given her a gift. ‘Am I alright over here?’

Ishmael just grunted.

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