Chapter 6

Things had improved, Simon explained. He accepted that he’d be here for ever now, and he had made some friends. An old woman walked past and then sat fiddling with the tv controller, flicking back and forth with the volume high. Simon wasn’t fazed at all. Yes, he agreed with his son, John, it took some getting used to. He smiled at Hilda and Lottie as they went over, gently took the controller and switched it to Celebrity Bake Off for Jean, who laughed loudly, she was happy now her favourite program was on. “That was a really bad film last night, how about Last Tango next week? Brook Shields deserved her Razzy, she can’t act at all.”

“Golden Raspberry I think it was.” replied Simon.

“These your sons? Nice to meet you.” they moved on

Albert looked at the two, were they having a joke? “Oh, no, we get DVDs, and watch them in my room once a week. I know about streaming, but we can’t quite cope with it you know. Angus Mulliner bought Blue Lagoon, said it was very sexy. Well ... have you seen it?” neither son admitted to it, both had watched it late at night when younger. Both were unsure whether they had seen Brook Shields naked or not, wasn’t she underage? Now their father was happily talking about watching this soft porn movie with other old people. Albert was confused. “Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, so I don’t think there is any need to manage my money any more. I’ll take back control, if that’s okay. You can always step in, again, when I am gaga.”

Albert looked at his father, and John looked at Albert. He was thinking why had he not been involved in helping to supervise his father’s expenditure; he was also thinking that if he had been in charge of their father’s money, he could have legitimately charged a small, a reasonable, an understandable management fee, applied costs to his work; which was precisely the reason he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the medium sized nest egg (now raised to a good medium, with the sale of the house) that his father and mother had prudently built up.

Albert had, by contrast, been very careful not to profit at all. He had also been careful to administer the fund such that it should pay all the care home fees until his father was at least ninety five – in the wee small hours, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that, he was hoping there would be some left when the inevitable happened, he was hoping to help his children pay off their university loans. All very commendable, but he felt guilty at that thought; like he was wishing the death of his father early. To his credit, he didn’t argue; he smiled and said “If that’s what you want, of course.” He already knew that he would be having an argument with his brother later.

Simon showed his two sons how good he was on the laptop. He had even persuaded the StalagLuft (he loved seeing the wince in his children as they heard him describe it as a prison – did them good to stay feeling a little guilty) to open up the wifi. A few of the others had grasped the principles of internet (actually several had been using it before they arrived, and had just assumed that they were stuck without it; Mrs Angevin had been blocked from all the major shopping channels, but she kept finding more). Again, he left his search history to flash up as he moved to look for a Google Earth picture of the campsite in Spain they had been to when much younger. If they were quick, they would have seen storiesonline.net and VictorianPorn.com in the list. He thought they should know that he still had blood in his veins.

He could tell by the slightly patronising tone that they weren’t as impressed as they should have been. That holiday had been the best, despite the explosion at the end. He had packed the car and the trailer twice and couldn’t get everything in; he had finally started to lose it and shout at people; at which point John – eleven and already showing signs of taking life less than seriously – had shouted back that he should “Piss off with Mum, go and get a coffee in the cafe. Al and I will repack! Go!” his voice, not yet broken, had been high and piping. It must have carried across the campsite. His wife had frozen, expecting a counter explosion, but it didn’t come. He took Mary’s arm and they walked off. In that moment, he had been furious at being talked to like that, and immensely proud of his son for standing up to him. Even now he felt prickles of tears in his eyes at the memory. Memories like that don’t come often, but they are worth the wait. When they came back an hour later the car was packed, the trailer was packed, the roof rack was packed. The two boys were sitting drinking Coke – a neighbouring camper had given them a couple of cans, those were the days when people would do that without social services being called. In the car, he had apologised for his temper, and the family had got on much better on the long journey home.

So, he had his money back. It would be untrue to say he had a fully thought out plan, but he was thinking ... First thing he did was give each grandchild thirty thousand. It was, he said, entirely up to them whether they did the sensible thing and paid off their student loans or put it towards a house deposit, or blew it on a round the world trip. He believed in individuals taking responsibility for themselves, he said, and wouldn’t even ask what they did with it. He was pretty sure that his nosy daughter in law wouldn’t be quite so sanguine.

Roy visited to thank him, they others wrote letters. He had always liked Roy, but he loved the others too. He didn’t really blame them for not wanting to visit an old man in a home which appeared to use a room freshener called ‘boiled cabbage’. Roy saw the search history and smiled, and said nothing.

Thing was, Roy came on the Verity day, so he was leaving when Verity walked in. Roy looked at his grandfather and then at the woman; Simon could see him adding two and two. Roy was smart, he wanted to think that was from his side of the family, but suspected it was his daughter in law again. He was convinced that he could have had an affair and Mary wouldn’t have noticed. Albert’s wife, on the other hand, noticed everything. If Roy didn’t know the detail, he could see there was an attraction; he wouldn’t say anything though. At least, Simon hoped not.

That was the first double orgasm for Verity. They had started with the smaller ‘machine’ and then opted to try the larger. The intention had still been to finish her with his tongue, she loved that. She loved the feeling of a wet, increasingly dextrous, organic, flexible muscle feeling inside her, invading her. But the vibrating nodules took her entirely by surprise and she erupted with an orgasm-by-surprise (as she called it). She had reached that state of no return before she knew it. Simon noticed that even her breasts went pinker than usual. It brought a blood supply to every part of her. It was that that actually enabled the second one. He had asked if he could still lap at the fountain of delights. She was turned on both by his language, and by the fact that he really wanted to lick the juices from between her thighs. What neither he nor she had expected was that the increased blood supply applied to her clitoris too. It always rose a little as she became excited, of course. It wasn’t like it was longer or larger than normal. But the increased blood pressure perhaps pushed the nerves to the surface, who could say? Perhaps it was all imagined, who cared? She was taken by surprise again. She had never had two orgasms, it was something she thought only happened to younger women in stories. For the first time, she held his head between her legs; and she moaned, loudly. She tried to hold her breath, but the moan of desperate release was too strong. Mr Harris actually might have heard that.

After that, things settled down a little. Verity Lamb visited once a week, had some form of sex – to their mutual satisfaction – with Simon, talked to Celia about her forthcoming wedding, and had an enjoyable womanly chat with Lottie and Hilda over a coffee. In fact she would pop over to the Spar nearby and come back with three coffees from the Costa machine and sometimes a cake or two. Strictly speaking, all residents were on carefully watched diets, but when Marion Clandeboye had made a last-ditch effort to rein in the excesses (as she saw them), Lottie had replied that at her age she could decide whether losing five minutes of her life by eating a YumYum was worth it or not.

Marion was not a bad woman, just someone with fixed ideas of what was right or wrong. She could actually see that the atmosphere in the home was more cheerful, more lively. She just didn’t want to admit it was because of what was ‘going on’. Anyone willing to clean a strangers incontinent bottom on the salary care workers were paid couldn’t be called a bad person.

Angus and Angelique were now good friends. In one of those ironies of life, the enforced diet regime had not had much impact on Angus, and Angelique had been happy as a bubby, wobbly West Indian. Now they found that they would both like to lose a little, not for any directly erotic reasons, but simply because they both had someone they would like to look good for. Angus stopped smuggling in chocolate, and Angelique ate less fried food. They would never end up in bed together, but they would enjoy losing a stone or two and talking about the world of overly skinny people who didn’t appreciate a good size (it was true that Angus fantasised about getting Angelique’s copious bottom free of her tent sized underwear. He was less of a breast man; if he had been interested, she had a 48 inch, FF bust when they started losing weight. It reduced to EE by the end, still plenty large enough for most breast-men).

Two other men watched Simon will ill-disguised envy. Both had all their faculties, both could still walk themselves unaided to the dining room. Alan was one of the gang of five; they now found time to walk out to the Spar or even down to the petrol station occasionally. Once a month, the five booked a taxi. Clifford was still exceedingly doubtful about this and always made sure they had a mobile phone with large keys in case something happened. He was at the top of his particular tree in the care home company; he couldn’t transfer elsewhere, otherwise he would have been tempted. He liked working for them, and, truth to tell, he liked the freedom of action he had with them. As long as these oldies didn’t mess things up by embarrassingly dying in the shopping mall. He knew what the headlines would say, the media patronised old people more than care homes did. If you were in a care home then you were incapable of deciding which jumper to wear, let alone being allowed to wander round unsupervised.

The other man was Patrick Flynn. He and Simon had an interesting respect for each other. Both were convinced that the other had done more than they admitted to in Northern Ireland. Both saw that as history. Like old soldiers who met the German counterparts and compared notes. It was all in the past; occasionally they found they knew the same places – Imphal Barracks in Lisburn, Enniskillen and the lakes. Patrick had married Mairead when he was eighteen, they had stayed married for fifty years and she had given him seven children. Every one of the children had emigrated to USA, Canada or Australia. When their mother died, they had all come back for the funeral, but now he was alone. He missed his wife a lot, had done for several years. But he also missed sex. His children probably all assumed he was too old – nearly eighty. But even an old dog still dreams of chasing rabbits.

Alan was a different case; he had a series of medical issues – diabetes, and early stage Parkinson’s were the important ones. He had opted to get himself into a home; he had visited them, found one he liked. Mountain View would cope with him when he could no longer cope with Parkinson’s; he had been very clear that he did not want to be shifted from place to place as the condition worsened. It was in remission at the moment, and he saw his friend Simon getting a weekly visit from an attractive woman, and wished he could have the same. Would she? No, that would be rude to ask. She was doing a kindness to Simon, she wasn’t some professional hooker who would open her diary and fit him in between bondage session with the mayor and business orgy with the Masons in a hotel. It didn’t stop him wishing, though.

Simon lay beside a naked Verity Lamb and thanked all the gods that he had come to this home, and she had come to him. He slid his hand over her body and she shivered. “No, we don’t have time. Much as I’d like to.”

“You could take one of these home with you if you like? We don’t need them both here.”

“I wouldn’t dare. If my husband found it, he’d ask all sorts of questions. He’s really rather staid when it comes to sex. I do love him dearly, truly. I wish he was a little more adventurous. But I think using a vibrator on me, or seeing me use it, would be too much for him. He thinks sucking my nipples is very avant-garde. Do you think I’m disloyal, telling you?”

“No, we all need a friend to talk safely to. That’s what you told me on the first week. I’ve got a couple here. Men aren’t supposed to be open, but they’ve both said how they envy me. I wish I could help them. No, I’m not meaning you. I would never share you.”

“How very macho of you.”

“I know, that’s me. Macho Simon, seventy five.” His birthday had come and gone a few weeks ago, he had even been relaxed enough to smile when the cake was brought out for him. Before Verity, he would have stomped off, irritated at such stupid childishness. His children had come and visited and given him presents he didn’t need. One of the grandchildren had been sent to his room for his scarf so they could go outside, and had seen one of the vibrators. Karen was twenty and had one herself and her girlfriend; she assumed that he didn’t know what it was – she mentioned it to Royston, who smiled and said nothing. He was a good kid, was Roy. “Still, I would like to help; did I tell you? We’re going to the pub on Thursday. Clifford is concerned, especially about Alan; but he’ll be fine. We have worked out what he can have. Patrick’s coming too – there’s a folk night and the group are Irish.”