Cure Is Sometimes...

Joan Plant

Description

Aged 71 and in poor health, Mary is resigned to the fact that she has not long to live. She inherits an amulet, together with some money, a house, and a young lodger. She reads her grandfather's diary and learns that her life will be turned around completely. She now has sixty years instead of just six months. At midnight her body will lose 24 hours and any injuries she has sustained will never have happened. She will suffer all the pain and trauma, but only until the new day begins. She must keep her situation secret and will have to leave her friends and family after a few years. Gerald learns of the secret and helps her with her first disappearance', when she becomes Noelle. He also establishes the means by which she can keep track of her grand daughter, Kate, throughout the following years. She becomes, in turn, Nolly, Avril, Emma, Glenda, and Annette, falling in and out of love, suffering terrible injuries, experiencing great happiness and sadness, yet still retains her sense of humour and zest for life. Given a similar set of circumstances, how would you cope?

Sujets

• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 26 juin 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783331314
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
THE CURE IS SOMETIMES...

by
Joan Plant



Publisher Information
The Cure is Sometimes... Published in 2013
by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2013 Joan Plant
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The right of Joan Plant to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.



Quote
‘The remedy is worse than the disease’
Alexander Pope - Essays (1625)
‘Of Seditions and Troubles’



The Cure Is Sometimes...
Chapter 1
It was the first Wednesday in July when Mary became absolutely certain that she was being followed. Wherever she went the youth was there, on the edge of her vision.
The thought had first crossed her mind two weeks earlier, when she was watching her grand-daughter playing the weekly after-school game of rounders. He had been sitting on the bench under a tree beside the stretch of grass the girls used for a pitch, and as she walked past she thought his face - thin, finely-boned with the merest hint of a budding moustache - seemed familiar. She realised he had been there the week before, too.
The following day she had spotted him in the library. On Friday, she had picked Kate up from school to take her to dancing class, and thought she had seen the boy get on the bus, but she only caught a glimpse as he went up the stairs. She didn’t go out over the weekend, her asthma had been too bad, and she had developed a nasty cough. On Monday, when she went to collect her pension from the post office, she saw him looking in the window of the newsagent across the road.
Now here it was, Wednesday again, and she was positive. She had found a sunny bench to sit on to ease her arthritis, and he was sitting on the next bench but one, in the shade, watching the game. She was curious. Why was this schoolboy following her around? (And why wasn’t he at school?)
She lit a Woodbine, inhaled deeply and coughed while she watched her grand-daughter hit the ball and make a run. Kate was the centre of her life, and had been ever since her husband had been killed four years ago in an air raid. Kate’s mother had insisted that they share the air-raid-shelter during the night attacks. If only Harry hadn’t gone back home for his glasses they would still be together. How she missed him. He had been a good husband.
Alice and Michael, Kate‘s father, had invited Mary to move in with them after the bomb had destroyed her home. Of course, the front room was very full now, with her big brass bed and other bits of furniture. Alice was a good daughter but Mary had never felt so happy watching her grow up as she did now, seeing Kate blossom.
She knew the girl was by no means beautiful, but she was beginning to show the promise of the woman she would become, with a willowy gracefulness that made her look taller than she really was. She felt closer to her grand-daughter, with her sense of mischief and fun, her sympathetic nature. Alice had always been practical - like her dad - but Kate reminded Mary of herself when she was young.
She noticed that the boy was watching the girls. Perhaps he was attracted to Kate but the child was not yet fourteen and far too young to be bothered with boys.
Mary decided it was time to voice her concerns. She gathered together her handbag and Kate’s cardigan and walked over and sat on the end of the other bench.
She regarded the end of her cigarette and exhaled slowly, bringing on another coughing fit. When she had regained her breath she looked sideways at the boy. “You can stop hanging around after my grand-daughter. She isn’t interested in boys.”
The boy smiled.
“I’m not interested in your grand-daughter.”
“Oh no? Then why are you here?
He smiled again. “Can’t I enjoy a lovely summer’s afternoon in a public park?”
“I think you should stop following us around and find another interest.”
“But I’m not following your grand-daughter. It’s you who I’m interested in. Or should I say ‘in whom my interest lies‘?”
“Don’t try to be clever with me. I used to be a teacher.”
“I know of that.”
He did? For a few moments she studied him carefully. “Do I know you, young man?”
“Not exactly, but you have seen me around.”
“Indeed. I seem to see you wherever I go. The library, the post office. It was you on the bus the other day, wasn’t it?” She wondered what his response would be. It certainly was not what she expected.
“Yes it was me, and yes, I have been following you, or I’ve managed to be in the places where I thought you might be. I’ve wanted to speak to you.” The pause was significant. “You are Mrs. Mary Sanderson, aren‘t you? - Miss Mary Margaret Anne Brooks before marriage?”
She was astonished. Nobody had mentioned her maiden name for over half a century. She’d almost forgotten it herself.
“Why do you want to know?”
“You love your grand-daughter, don’t you?”
She became wary. Was Kate about to be kidnapped?“I’m not a rich person, young man.” There was no use him following that line of thought.
She was racked by a fit of coughing. The boy moved towards her but stopped as she pushed him away. He waited until she was breathing normally again.
“I know you’re not rich,” (How did he know?) “But you do love her.”
“I would have thought that was obvious.”
“And you’ve not been in the best of health these last few weeks.”
“What else have you noticed?”
Again, he answered her question with another of his own. “How much longer do you think you have to enjoy her company?”
“You are impertinent! You need someone to teach you some manners.” She stood, about to move away, but he touched her arm.
“Please, I’m not being impertinent. I really want to know. What does your doctor tell you?”
“Doctors! What do they know?” She recalled her last visit to the surgery. Six months to a year, if she cut down on the cigarettes and watched herself. And the cough - it had got much worse over the last few weeks - but the cigarettes helped. Sometimes her chest felt so tight she couldn’t breathe, but a smoke helped to loosen all the phlegm.
The boy was still looking at her, but she ignored his question.
“I’m going to live a long time yet. I’m going to watch Kate grow up, and I’m going to dance at her wedding. Just you see.” Her frail body was seized by another fit of coughing.
The boy spoke slowly and deliberately.
“Wouldn’t it be lovely if you didn’t have that cough? Wouldn’t it be lovely if you could watch Kate grow up? Wouldn’t it be lovely if you really could dance at her wedding?”
She dropped the cigarette stub and trod it into the path.
“You and I both know that is not likely to happen, don’t we?”
The boy smiled again. “Please take this home and read it when you are on your own.” He thrust an envelope into her hand and strode towards the exit.
Mary stared after him with her mouth open. How did he know so much about her? And why had he been following her? She was intrigued. She felt apprehensive, but in no way threatened. After all, he was just a boy, but it was all rather odd.
The game finished and Kate came running up, dragging her satchel. Mary stood and tucked the envelope into her handbag. She would deal with it when they got home.
They left the park and walked towards the High Street. Kate looked wistfully at the sweet shop. “Do you think I could have some sweets Nanna?”
“If you like.” She smiled as Kate paused and scuffed her foot on the pavement. “But you’ve got no coupons, have you?”
Kate shook her head.
“Never mind, I still have some left.” They entered the shop. Mary couldn’t help thinking how it had looked before the war. Shelves loaded with row upon row of jars filled with an array of gaily coloured sweets of every shape and size. Now there were just half -a-dozen jars, including one of bright yellow powder.
“Can I have some Ling Foo Fizz as well?”
“Instead of, but not as well.” Kate pouted.
“Okay Nanna, I’ll just have the Fizz.” She looked at her finger, which was still yellow from the last lot. The unrationed powder was supposed to make a slightly fizzy lemon drink, but the children preferred to lick their fingers and dip them into the bag to suck the sweet-sour powder. There had been quite a rash of yellow tongues and fingers round the school lately.
Mary bought another pack of Woodbines and they made their way home. They stopped by the Gaumont for a few minutes, ostensibly to see what was on next week, but really so that she could get her breath back. It really was getting worse. She’d have another smoke and a good cough when she got home and that would soon put her right.
She must expect some little aches and pains; after all, she had passed the allotted three-score-years and ten.
She put her arm round Kate’s shoulder - the girl was almost as tall as her grandmother now.
“Come along Katykay. Let’s put the kettle on. Your mum will be home from work soon and she’ll appreciate a nice cup of tea.”As they passed the top of Dampiet Road Mary ruefully regarded the building work going on. All the rubble had been cleared from the bomb-sites and they had begun knocking down the three remaining houses in the terrace. A notice stated that a block of six modern flats would be erected. She was thankful that Alice and