Feeding Strawberries to Pigs Page 7

  ‘Mary be careful of what you wish for…

  Now drink and be merry …

  Stop drinking and you will age… DRAMATICALLY!

  Now lie back and let Rupert do his magic’

  Mary was very puzzled she was actually being told to drink and who was Rupert?

  As she said the name Rupert out loud, her wardrobe door burst open and a tall, athletic, handsome blonde man stepped out carrying a bottle of Champagne and a dozen pink roses, he was naked and very pleased to see her!

  After making love Mary opened her wardrobe and without being asked Rupert climbed back inside. Mary went back to bed to recover then realised that she was running late for work. She phoned the office and tried to speak but found that she no longer sounded like the old Mary, she now had a silky honeyed voice that promised seduction and pleasure to all. Jane on the switchboard took the message and said,

  ‘I’ll pass the message on but I only wish I had the throat infection that you’ve got!’

  Mary realised that she hadn’t needed to speak to Rupert because their love making had been so instinctive. Rupert knew what turned her on and needed no instructions. Perhaps any conversation with a man who lived in her wardrobe would be a little pointless and probably very dull. She had not fully realised the perils of ‘not getting out enough’.

  She caught sight of herself in the mirror and was horrified to see fine lines beginning to creep across her face. She went downstairs to the kitchen which over night had warped into something from ‘Homes and Gardens.’ She was delighted to see that one entire wall was now devoted to a large wine fridge with glass doors; it was full of fine wines of excellent vintages. Someone knew her taste in wine very well, she opened a bottle of white Bordeaux and went in search of some Crème de Cassis. When she opened her kitchen cupboards she discovered that all of the boring boxes of cereal and pasta had been replaced with every possible type of mixer and an array of wine based spirits. She mixed herself a generous Kir and took a large swig in front of her hall mirror which had been transformed into a Rococo wonder.

  Then she realised that she no longer lived in a little semi detached estate house in Dublin 7 she looked out the window and realised that she was living in a castle in Killiney. She wondered how she would be able to pay the electricity bill as she counted the ornate chandeliers that hung from every ceiling. She raced around the castle switching them off. When she went to look for her wallet she found that her Dunnes store bag had been replaced by the latest Jimmy Choo and inside were a handful of letters and a Chloe wallet stuffed full of 100 euro notes. The letters were statements from her bank she almost fainted when she read the balance of her account, then she made a point of switching on every light and she turned the heating up to the maximum temperature too. She composed her resignation letter in triumph, but rushed to have another drink when she noticed that a crop of age spots had appeared on the back of her hands.

  A little worse for drink she climbed the stairs to her bedroom which had been transformed too, now she had a large dressing room which contained several walk in wardrobes. She wondered which one contained Rupert so she called his name and nothing happened; a little surprised she wondered what would happen if she called out another man’s name. She had always been rather attracted to a guy called Otis at the office. So she called out this name and one of the wardrobes slid open to reveal the exquisite young man, he held a plate of smoked salmon and caviar blinis in one hand and a bottle of Pink Champagne in the other. He smiled and blew her a kiss and just like Rupert he was naked and had everything in the right place and plenty of it too!

  Their love making was so vigorous that a rather lovely Vermeer that hung behind her beautiful Bateaux Lit bed fell off the wall somewhat concussing Otis.

  ‘What I need now is a handyman.’ and no sooner than the words had been uttered than another wardrobe slid open to reveal a rather muscle bound man wearing nothing but a tool belt. He made short work of replacing the hook to hold the painting and then noticing that Otis had recovered she allowed both men to satisfy her whilst she sipped some Champagne having noticed that her left breast was beginning to sag.

  Thirty minutes later she opened her wardrobe and both men dutifully climbed back in.

  Mary checked her new Cartier watch it was only 11 am but she was absolutely exhausted.

  ‘So’ pondered Mary, ‘I can have every kind of man I have ever wanted hovering in my wardrobe, I have enough wine to last a lifetime, I am beautiful, rich but actually I need to get out more. What is the point of being so rich and beautiful if just me and a handful of my fantasy men know about it?’

  The strange thing was that despite looking beautiful and having huge wardrobes Mary was still wearing the long white shapeless winceyette night dress. She decided it was time to hit town, so she called out,

  ‘Jeeves run my bath please’.

  Then on cue a man in full Butler attire emerged and did just that, before offering to pour her a large glass of chilled Chablis.

  In her marble claw foot bath Mary thought about what the evening ahead would hold, she hoped that a rather flash sports car must be garaged somewhere in her extensive grounds. She imagined herself driving to the city, it would be too cold to have the top down, but she would be wearing something fabulous. The dilemma she faced was, should she go alone or bring one of her fantasy men with her? She decided that there was no point going out to flaunt her new gorgeous body, fantastic car and obscene wealth if she could stay at home and make love to the same man.

  She called for a make-up artist and hair dresser. Two cute gay guys arrived with pink fluffy towels and did her hair and make-up.

  When she was looking fabulous, she opened her wardrobes to see what gorgeous outfits awaited her. To her amazement there were no clothes but lined up appearing to sleep standing up like horses, were men of every kind imaginable. There were naked plumbers, electricians, gardeners and even one man wearing a lanyard around his neck that stated he was a Vice Consul! However not one single outfit was in her wardrobes she questioned the gay guys but they just shrugged and climbed in next to the Consul guy!

  ‘Vice is nice’ they whispered to the frightened looking man.

  And ‘Be careful what you wish for Mary…’

  Undeterred Mary finished her Chablis and marched out of the castle and it didn’t take her long before she found the stables that luckily for her did not contain horses but instead had 5 sports cars lined up and all with their keys in the ignition.

  She chose a pink Ferrari obviously a special edition model made just for her.

  She climbed in and set off.

  Mick and Seamus sat in their Police car on the outskirts of Dublin waiting for the usual Saturday night to kick off. It was early and they had just bought two coffees and were enjoying a bit of banter as a pink Ferrari shot past them breaking the speed limit by at least 20k.

  Mary sat in the Garda station in her white nightdress; she had failed the breathalyser test. As if the situation could not get any worse, she was suddenly aware that her hands resembled those of a woman of ninety. Her sleek black hair was now as white as snow.

  When the officer returned with a glass of wine for the poor old lady who told him her sorry tale, all he could see was a winceyette nightdress lying in the corner of the room. There were a few white parched bones protruding from the sleeves. One of the sleeves had a rather nice Cartier watch hanging from it.

  When Mick and Seamus searched Mary’s handbag they were amazed to find a copy of Mary’s Will the whole of her fortune had been left to a place called ‘The Black Cat’s Rest Home.’ Later that night they were called to investigate a fire at a mansion in Blackrock. It turned out to be a very unusual case as it appeared that whilst enjoying a Brandy the couple who lived there Niall and Eilish O’Brian, had spontaneously combusted.

  Later over a glass of Guinness at Corrigan’s bar the men bemoaned the perils of alcohol.

  WAITING FOR ALBERT?

  Doctor Sara Collins looked at
her watch if she was lucky she could be home and in bed within the hour. It was one of the few advantages of living in staff accommodation. She sipped her black coffee, yawned and longed for her single bed. She needed to catch up on her sleep if she was going to enjoy her time with John this weekend; they had important things to discuss. Her bleep went, ‘Oh damn, here goes my chance to leave on time.’ She went to the ‘phone and dialled the extension, she knew it was Miller, a care of the elderly ward that wanted her.

  ‘Doctor Collins here, you bleeped me.’

  Sister Kate O’Farrell answered, her calm tones confirmed that she was wanted, a lady had developed breathing difficulties and her family who were at her bedside were very concerned. Reading between the lines, Sara could tell that Sister O’Farrell was responding to the family’s panicked pleas for a doctor and that Sister would have done everything possible to alleviate the woman’s difficulties.

  When she arrived on Miller Ward Sister O’Farrell was waiting anxiously and suggested they talk in confidence in her office.

  ‘This is a strange one Sara, no mistake.’

  Sara yawned and felt in no mood for anything strange.

  ‘What’s the problem Kate, can I see the notes?’

  ‘Sit down first Sara, you don’t look too good yourself! I’m going to tell you exactly what they told me.’

  ‘But the patient shouldn’t I?’

  ‘I think you really need to hear this first. The lady is called Miss Peters, Alice Peters, she’s 105, and the oldest patient we have ever had on this ward. Her relatives are adamant that she must not die tonight, because if she does, she will never be reunited with Albert.’

  ‘I take it that Albert is dead? Is this some sort of rendezvous in the afterlife?’

  ‘Yes I know it sounds crazy, but they are adamant.’

  ‘How do they know all this?’

  ‘They won’t tell me, but they sound so convincing.’

  ‘Ok I’ll go and speak to them what are their names? And how is the patient?’

  ‘I only know them as Alfred and Ethel, her breathing is laboured but she is as stable as anyone of 105 could be.’

  Doctor Collins knocked on Miss Peters’ door a frail voice called ‘come in’

  Miss Peters lay on the bed she was alone and looked as frail as her voice. Sara noticed that her upper chest was moving rapidly; as far as she was concerned it looked like the old lady’s body was finally giving out on her. As she approached the bed Miss Peters was able to focus on her face and she gave Sara a most beautiful smile.

  ‘Hello Doctor have you come to pronounce me dead?’

  ‘Not yet Miss Peters, how do you feel?’

  ‘Like I must be dying this time, I’ve had so many false alarms.’

  ‘Your family are concerned, where are your relatives?’

  Not a soul in the world my dear, I managed to outlive them all.’

  Sara wrote ‘confused’ in the lady’s notes.

  ‘I am going to listen to your chest now Miss Peters.’

  ‘Do you have children Doctor?’

  ‘No, I am not married.’

  ‘That doesn’t concern people these days.’

  ‘I don’t get much time for romance, now a nice deep breath for me.’

  Sara thought about John, lately he had been busier than her. He had even cancelled his visit last weekend it seemed lately than when she was not working she spent her time waiting for John to call. She had some important news for him that could not wait too long.

  ‘Then you must make time. I’ve had all the time in the world and had nothing worth doing with it, time has let me down. Waiting all these years for Albert and he never came.’

  Sara looked at the old lady as she checked her pulse. A pair of youthful eyes stared back; it was just possible if she concentrated on the eyes to forget this was a lady of 105.

  ‘Could you pass me the photograph dear.’

  Sara passed her the rather tarnished silver frame, which contained a very old photograph. Miss Peters smiled, ‘that’s me sitting there, I was 19, and I am waiting for someone who never turned up.’

  ‘Was it someone important to you?’

  ‘I thought so at the time, he said he would marry me.’

  ‘Did you ever see him again?’

  ‘No, he joined up and was killed on the first day of the battle of the Somme.’

  Sara looked at the photograph it showed a girl in a long dress wearing at hat sitting on a bench outside St Olaf’s church.

  ‘Why didn’t he want to meet up with a lovely girl like you?’

  ‘He was ambitious and he didn’t want to be burdened with a girl like me, I had no prospects I was just a milliner’s assistant. He was very good-looking; he had his eye on the boss’s daughter. She had her eye on him.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘She took the photograph of me and then gave me his note.’

  ‘I didn’t think many people had cameras then.’

  ‘You do if your father is a photographer. Her father had 6 shops; he specialised in society portraits. The next time I saw her she gave me this photograph and told me that Albert had proposed to her. She did not live long herself, died of influenza just after the war. Sometimes, I think they gave me their extra years as penance for their guilt.’

  ‘It sounds like a sad time in your life Miss Peters, I would have destroyed it.’

  ‘No it’s all I have left to remind me that I was young and foolish once. I like to look at the photograph and imagine what might have happened if he had turned up. I have had a lot of time to live that life, even if it is only in my imagination.’

  Sara left Miss Peters but her words haunted her ‘time has let me down’ ‘He was ambitious’ ‘you must make time’. Sister O’Farrell was waiting for her at the nursing station.

  ‘Well what do you think Doctor will she meet Albert or miss him by a day?’

  ‘I don’t think she wants to meet Albert. Albert let her down. She could go at any time.’

  ‘Were the relatives difficult?’

  ‘They weren’t even there; tell them there is no medical intervention required she is as comfortable as she is going to be. I’ll look in on her tomorrow afternoon.’

  Sara called John when she got off duty.

  ‘I need to know John is there someone else?’

  ‘No not someone, something.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s your ambition Sara, you have no time for me and all that you used to say you wanted, a home and a family.’

  Sara laughed.

  ‘John, we have to speak, will you meet me tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘Why what’s happened, you didn’t fail some exams did you?’

  ‘No this is more important than exams.’

  ‘Ok I can be there around 4.15.’

  ‘Listen I know this sounds silly, but can we meet somewhere different?’

  ‘Sara are you alright? Yes ok where?’

  ‘Outside St Olaf’s Church.’

  The next afternoon Sara went to check on Miss Peters finding no one at the nursing station she went straight to Miss Peters’ room. It was empty; a middle-aged woman was removing things from the bedside locker.

  ‘Are you a relative of Miss Peters?’

  The woman looked at Sara and replied.

  ‘No I am Madge from the nursing home; I am just removing Miss Peters’ things although I don’t know what we will do with them.’

  ‘What time did she die?’

  ‘This morning at 11.30 am on the dot, it was like she had an appointment.’

  ‘Were her relatives with her?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The lady and gentlemen who were here yesterday?’

  ‘No but an elderly gentleman did visit her, according to Sister he was American and said he was a relative. Funny cos she had no family or friends that we knew about, although she did get a letter, here it is, it came from America, I was going to read it to her. Not that
she would understand it.’

  ‘But why ever not? She was perfectly able; I had a wonderful conversation with her yesterday. She was telling me about the photograph the one outside the Church.’

  ‘I think you must have had a long day yesterday Doctor, Miss Peters had a stroke five years ago and has not spoken or understood much since.’

  Sara shivered and looked around the room the photograph had been put away, but she knew she had not imagined her conversation.

  ‘Can I open the letter? We may need to inform the sender of her death.’

  Sara quickly skim read the letter. The contents added to her feeling that something bizarre had happened.

  She read the letter to herself again.

  ‘Dear Miss Peters

  I hope this letter does not come as too much of a shock to you. I am Nancy Shapiro the grand daughter of Albert Shapiro. I know you are very elderly, but my father said I should write to you. My father said his father often spoke of being adopted and wished he had known why and who his mother was. Recently my grandfather has been ill and I asked my father if I could check via the Internet for information regarding the adoption. Your name showed up and I understand that you never married and have lived in the same town all your life. At first when I saw your age I thought I was too late, but when I checked I found out you are still alive. An agency has helped me do the rest.

  I would be most grateful if you or a carer could call me collect on..”

  Sara felt herself blush and hastily explained to Madge that she needed to check on something.

  She sat at the nursing station and thought of the significance of all she had discovered. Sister O’Farrell appeared.