Three Things About Elsie(41)

‘You’ve got all weekend to fill that out,’ Gloria said. ‘Unless you’ve got other plans?’

Simon thought this was the worst thing about Fridays. People’s sudden interest in what you did with your free time. He knew what his plans were, because they were exactly the same plans he had every weekend. He would watch football on the television, and perhaps a film, if he could find one he hadn’t seen before. He would go to McDonald’s Drive-Thru on Sunday and eat his meal watching all the cars on the bypass through his windscreen, and he’d lick his fingers, and gather up the empty sachets of barbecue sauce and the salty cardboard, and push everything into the litter bin before it got on his upholstery. Then he might sit in the park for a bit. Think about getting a dog (although he knew he never would). Perhaps have a wander round Morrisons. Complain about the Christmas stuff being out so early, and then buy himself a box of mince pies.

‘Usual,’ he said. ‘Bit of sport; out for Sunday lunch. Go for a hike somewhere and see something of the countryside.’

Simon was quite shocked he’d managed to make himself sound slightly interesting, so he decided to ride the wave.

‘I was thinking of going to the pictures,’ he said. ‘If either of you are interested. As friends. People going to the pictures together. Work colleagues.’

Gloria shook her head. ‘I can’t, Simon. I’m on a yoga retreat, quietening my chakras.’

Simon looked at Cheryl. Cheryl said a very faint, ‘No, thanks,’ without even offering up any kind of excuse. She just carried on staring at her wrist.

Gloria threw her cigarette end towards the gravel and pulled down the window.

‘She’s still out there. I wonder if we should tell somebody.’

‘Leave her be,’ said Cheryl. ‘I like Florence.’

Simon and Gloria stared.

‘There’s a kindness about her,’ Cheryl said. ‘It pops out when she thinks no one’s looking.’

Simon looked back at the questions. The blank spaces hadn’t got any smaller.

‘Stop fretting over it.’ Gloria fished a lanyard from her cleavage. ‘It’s only a bloody form.’

He thought of saying something, but he chewed his words into a pen top instead. When they left, he turned back to the first page, but he found the questions hadn’t got any smaller either, and so he went over to the ledge where Gloria had sat, and he watched Florence instead. And all the time he did, the only thing he could hear was the ticking of a clock.





FLORENCE


I couldn’t decide which bench to sit on. The one on the far end was near the flat, but it was the furthest away from any of the main buildings, and the one near the day room had bird nonsense all over it. I changed my mind quite a few times. I saw Gloria staring at me from the staff-room window, but it’s a free country, and I could change my mind as many times as I wanted to.

I wish I’d never offered her a piece of cake. I was only being civil. It was the girl with pink hair. Green tabard. Tiny feet. Chews her fingernails right down to the skin. You look tired, I said to her. She was changing the bed-sheets. Spending far too long on the corners. Why don’t I make you a cup of tea? Take the edge off things.

‘We’re not allowed to, Miss Claybourne,’ she said. ‘Miss Bissell doesn’t let us take anything from the residents. Not even cups of tea.’

‘Well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,’ I said.

I put the kettle on and I decided she could have my best cup. The one with Princess Diana on it. I bought it after she died. To remember her by. I don’t even let Elsie have that cup, because she’s too clumsy.

‘I’ll put two sugars in,’ I shouted. ‘Give you a bit of a boost.’

I was stirring when she came in. Yawning. No effort to put her hand over her mouth. No one seems to bother these days.

‘Why don’t we have a bit of cake?’ I said. ‘Push the boat out?’

‘I couldn’t, Florence. Really.’

‘Oh go on, I’m not going to tell anyone. I’ve got a lovely Battenberg. Just in that cupboard above your head.’

She looked up and reached for the handle. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. I couldn’t work out what was going on at first, where it was all coming from. They fell all over the worktop and a few of them spilled on to the floor.

The girl stood in silence.

‘I didn’t buy all those,’ I said. ‘I only bought one. Who put all those in there? Was it you?’

She didn’t say anything. She just carried on staring.

There were twenty-three. She counted them. I wanted her to take them away, but she said she wasn’t allowed to, that she’d have to tell Miss Bissell and someone would come over.

No one did.

I waited.

In the end, I had to go outside, because I couldn’t stand it any longer. It was the smell. The marzipan. It’s funny, because I used to love the smell of marzipan. It reminded me of Christmas and mixing bowls, and my mother, dusted in flour and smiling. Now the smell filled the whole flat, and it made me feel sick. I even sat in the bathroom with the door shut to get away from it, but it crept in somehow. I could taste it. Jack had gone off with Chris somewhere and I couldn’t find Elsie, so I decided to sit on a bench until someone came to take them away.