Strangeways to Oldham Read online

  ‘Don’t turn this into a personal crusade, Manda,’ Hugo implored her, knowing what she could be like.

  ‘It IS personal. Daddy and Reggie were partners, back when they were young. Reggie dissolved the partnership and moved away to do something else, but he obviously returned to the town of his birth, when he retired. I remember him from when I was a tot, and I’m not going to let a personable man like that get himself murdered, and no one be any the wiser.

  ‘Whoever shortened his life by even a day is going to pay for that theft of time, and do some time of his own. Hmph!’ she concluded, a determined expression on her face. ‘Let’s see, today’s Friday, so tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll go to the nursing home tomorrow, when they should be swamped with visitors who usually work during the week, so they’ll be busy, and not so “on their guard”.

  ‘But, now, to more practical matters. There is a very elderly lift in this building, which was put in for Grandmama, who needed to use a wheelchair. I’ll get Beauchamp to oil the thing up, and get it into working order. That way, you’ll be able to explore a bit more of the house, if you get bored.

  ‘I’ve also noticed that you have some trouble with your walker thingy, getting up and down the steps in the corridors, where the floor levels change. No, Hugo! Let me finish! We used to have dachshunds, and when there was a litter, the pups’ legs were so short that they couldn’t get round the place very easily, so we put ramps at all the steps.

  ‘BEAUCHAMP!’ Here, she broke off to give an ear-splitting yell, and Hugo winced at the assault upon his ears. ‘I’ll get Beauchamp to get them out of the attics and put them in place again. That will make life much easier for you, getting around.

  ‘And, by the way, you have an appointment with my GP tonight, at five-thirty, to see about those worn-out old pins of yours. I shall, of course, accompany you, and Beauchamp can take us there in the Rolls. Argh!’ she suddenly screamed, for Beauchamp had just appeared at her shoulder. She hadn’t even noticed him entering the room.

  ‘Dammit, Beauchamp, I’m sure you’re not human. There’s something of the supernatural about you that just can’t be explained.’

  ‘That’s Beecham, my lady,’ intoned Beauchamp, in a bored monotone.

  While Beauchamp went about his business as instructed by his employer, Lady Amanda escorted Hugo outside, to have his first lesson in riding a motorised tricycle. He was rather averse to the idea, himself, but she insisted, and even fetched his walking frame for him.

  ‘You just wait outside, and I’ll ride them both round to the front. Then I’ll show you how to control the motorised one – once I’ve worked it out for myself – and you can have a go, yourself’ she informed him.

  ‘I’d rather not, Manda. The whole idea terrifies me.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense! It’s no different to driving round in one of those motorised shopping thingies that so many old people seem to have. It’s just cheaper, that’s all – recycling, in its best form. Recycling! Haha! Good one, don’t you think? Maybe I should have said “re-tricycling”?’ She went off into peals of delighted laughter, at her own accidental joke.

  Recognising a lost cause when he saw one, Hugo gave in, with as good a grace as he could muster, considering how apprehensive he felt.

  Lady Amanda disappeared off to the stables and, in due course, appeared again, pedalling the black tricycle that she used almost on a daily basis. She then trotted off once more, there was a muted roar, as of a motor being over-revved, and, amid a cloud of black smoke, an apparition appeared, rounding the corner of the house, emitting loud hooting noises of despair, and Lady Amanda shot past him, managing to stop, just short of the moat.

  As the smoke began to clear, Hugo could make out her figure more clearly, pushing the ancient velocipede towards him, the engine not engaged. ‘Bit trickier than I thought,’ she puffed, as she drew up alongside him. ‘I’ll have to get Beauchamp to work out how best to handle it, and then we’ll try again. No point in going off at half cock, is there, Hugo, old bean?’

  ‘Absolutely none, Manda,’ agreed Hugo, with great relief. He would be spared the indignity of making a fool of himself, for today at least, and would do his best to discourage her from trying again in the near future.

  ‘Best go in and have a little lie-down, I think. Then we can think of afternoon tea, and getting ready to drag you off to the quack’s – get something positive done to make you a bit more mobile.

  ‘His name’s Dr Andrew: Campbell Andrew, and he’s a very helpful and obliging young chap, so listen to what he says, and no arguments. Agreed, Hugo?’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ replied Hugo a trifle testily. He knew perfectly well how to behave towards doctors: he’d seen enough of old Anstruther in the last couple of years to last him a lifetime, and he’d never uttered a discourteous word to the old man, no matter how cross or disappointed he was at his diagnoses.

  They were sitting in the surgery’s waiting room, keeping an eye on the red light above the door of the doctor’s consulting room. The receptionist had informed them that they were after the old lady with the shopping trolley, and she was in there at the moment. They would not see her leave, as a door from the consulting room let patients debouch into another corridor, but once the red light turned green, they could go in.

  With a buzz, the red light abruptly changed its colour, and they were off, Lady Amanda knocking on the door, Hugo following slowly behind with his walking frame. He had a feeling he would not have much contribution to make in the ensuing consultation, and he just wanted to get it over and done with.

  Dr Andrew turned out to be a man in his early forties, still with a full head of hair, and a kindly face, and after greeting them both, he bade them take a seat. Having waited for Hugo to get comfortable, Lady Amanda rather thoughtlessly, in Hugo’s opinion, opened the proceedings, and immediately ordered him to stand up and walk about, so that the doctor could see how bad his problem was.

  ‘Come along, Hugo! Right turn, and walk! Left turn, and walk! Sit! Rise! Atten-shun! Stand at ease!’ she barked, like an RSM.

  ‘I think that’s enough for now. He’s not on parade, or at Crufts,’ said Dr Andrew, and thoughtfully came round to the other side of the desk to feel over Hugo’s worn-out joints, not making him climb up on to the couch usually used for such examinations.

  ‘Had any X-rays done by your last GP?’ he asked, and was flabbergasted when Hugo replied in the negative.

  ‘Who was your last GP?’ he then asked.

  ‘Dr Anstruther,’ replied Hugo, feeling slightly flustered at what he felt was a defection.

  ‘Ah!’ Doctor Andrew needed to say no more, and Lady Amanda just snorted.

  ‘I’ll just ring the hospital now, and make you an appointment to see a specialist – get you in to see him as soon as possible. Can’t have you tottering around like that, if there’s something simple that will remedy it,’ Dr Andrew explained, as he waited for his call to be answered.

  ‘Ah, hello there. Dr Andrew from the

  Summerfield Road

  practice. Could I have a quick word with Dr Updyke, please? It is rather urgent.’ As he waited for his call to be put through, he smiled reassuringly across his desk. ‘Cedric and I go back a long way,’ he informed them – a clue that he might be able to massage the length of the queue to see this particular specialist, through a bit of ‘knowing the right person’. The call was obviously picked up at the other end, for he bent his attention to the receiver again, and began, ‘Hello, Cedric. Got a rather interesting case of advanced arthritis here – hips and knees. Not had any prior treatment at all, not even X-rayed as yet. Dr Anstruther. Nuff said. I wondered if you could fit him in at all, urgently.’ He paused, then continued, ‘A Mr Hugo Cholmondley-Crichton-Crump – an old friend of Lady Amanda Golightly,’ he added, for the sake of Lady Amanda’s pride.

  There was an irate squawking noise from the other end of the telephone, which took Dr Andrew a couple of minutes to quell. ‘How terribly unfortunate, b
ut I’d rather you didn’t let that colour your judgement, of course. This is really of the utmost urgency, in my opinion.’ He was silent for another minute and a half, then made his good-byes, and ended the call.

  ‘Monday at nine thirty a.m., Mr Cholmondley-Crichton-Crump. Dr Cedric Updyke, at the main hospital.’ He then turned his attention to Lady Amanda, and speared her with his eye. ‘Who’s been a naughty girl then?’ he asked, fighting a grin.

  ‘What have I done now?’ Lady Amanda asked in puzzlement, unable to understand why attention should suddenly have turned to her, when the phone call had been about Hugo.

  ‘I hear you’ve been riding that trike of yours at high speed, without due care and attention, and have been involved in a hit-and-run, the scene of which you left, without reporting the matter,’ he explained.

  Lady Amanda blushed, as she remembered the man who had had to dive for safety, as her trike had careered down the hospital drive. ‘I say, it wasn’t him, was it?’ she asked, now thoroughly embarrassed.

  ‘It was! And I understand that you’ve been fined for speeding,’ Dr Andrew added, no longer able to suppress his amusement.

  ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ she blustered. ‘He shouldn’t have got in my way.’

  ‘Well, you’re lucky, in a way, that he did. The thought of you taking another crack at him got him thoroughly rattled, and that’s why Mr Cholmondley-Crichton-Crump’s appointment is so soon. He assumes that you will arrive in a more orthodox vehicle, given your friend’s condition, and he said that if he could get it over with as soon as possible, it would save him getting paranoid every time he has to walk down or cross the entrance road.’

  ‘Oh, we will, we will,’ Lady Amanda assured him. ‘We’ll get Beauchamp to bring us in the Rolls,’ she said, with relief.

  ‘Good! And I’m sure we can improve the quality of your life, with all the modern techniques we have these days,’ he assured Hugo. ‘Soon have you up and about, and getting about, with a lot more ease. I can’t promise you that you’ll ever get back on a tennis court, for we can do nothing about reaction time, but I’m sure we can get you walking with minimum discomfort, and maybe indulging in a bit of dancing – just for exercise, and to strengthen the muscles,’ he reassured a rather alarmed Hugo. He’d never liked tennis, but wasn’t completely averse to a slow waltz or two.

  ‘Thank you very much indeed, Doctor. It’s very good of you to take the time like this,’ he spluttered, unable to believe that his pain and struggle for mobility might soon be things of the past.

  ‘No trouble, Mr – uh, may I call you Hugo? Just to save time, you understand. Your surnames are a bit of a mouthful, I’m afraid.’

  ‘No problem, Doctor. And thank you, once more, from the bottom of my heart.’

  ‘I think you ought to thank Lady Amanda as well. If she hadn’t nearly run over Dr Updyke, and frightened the life out of him, he’d never have agreed to see you so promptly.’

  ‘Marvellous!’ exclaimed Hugo, accepting the walking frame offered to him by Lady Amanda, and they exited the consulting room, well-satisfied with the visit.

  Back at The Towers once more, and seated in the drawing room, Lady Amanda hardly had time to consult her watch, before Beauchamp entered, silently as ever, bearing a silver salver which held two cocktail glasses, filled to the brim. ‘Your drinks, my lady,’ he intoned, and put them down on a small side table. ‘Strangeways to Oldham,’ he informed them, before slipping away as noiselessly as a cat.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, armed with the knowledge that Enid Tweedie would be discharged on Monday afternoon, Lady Amanda set out early – a passenger once more, in the Rolls – to visit the Birdlings Serenade prison camp, to make enquiries about that lady’s convalescence.

  Monday was scheduled to be a very busy day, what with Hugo’s visit to the orthopaedic consultant, and Enid needing to be transferred from hospital to care home, and then they had the funeral on Wednesday. Life suddenly seemed a lot busier than it used to, she was happy to note, for it was now much more interesting as well.

  On arrival at the home, the receptionist recognised her, this time without feeling the need to press the panic button. Lady Amanda’s civilised persona, on her last visit, to make enquiries about one of their late clients, had reassured her that she wasn’t an escaped lunatic, but a member of the aristocracy, and she greeted the stout figure with a smile.

  ‘Lady Amanda Golightly,’ Lady Amanda introduced herself, in case the woman’s memory wasn’t up to it. ‘I understand that you provide convalescent care, as well as full-time,’ she stated, hoping for confirmation that this service was still available.

  ‘Of course, your ladyship,’ replied the woman, with the slight bob of a curtsey, which she could do nothing to avoid. Her legs just responded to the title automatically. ‘We always keep a couple of rooms free for people who wish to convalesce with us, or for relatives of the sick and bed-ridden to take a break, by taking advantage of our respite care.’

  Lady Amanda nodded happily at being thus informed. ‘I have a friend, you see,’ she said, ‘who is being discharged from hospital on Monday, and I wondered if it was possible for her to spend a week here, to get her strength back up?’

  ‘Absolutely no problem, your ladyship,’ the woman informed her, and did another little bob, feeling surprised at herself, for reacting thus. ‘I can get someone to show you the rooms we use, so that you can choose which one your friend might prefer, and then, if you could return here, we can sort out the paperwork.’

  ‘Splendid!’ declared Lady Amanda, her face breaking out into a beaming smile. Everything was going like clockwork, so far.

  A nursing auxiliary was summoned, and led her off down the corridor, opposite to the one where Hugo’s and Reggie’s room had been situated. At the end of it were two rooms, both with views of the grounds, and in reasonably cheery decorative order.

  ‘I’ll just leave you alone here for a while, so that you can make up your mind,’ chirped the auxiliary. ‘Can you find your own way back to reception?’

  ‘Of course I can, my dear,’ cooed Lady Amanda, then muttered, ‘Do you think I’m in my dotage yet?’ under her breath, as the girl left the room.

  It didn’t really matter to her, which of the rooms was allotted to Enid, but she supposed the one second from the end would put her slightly nearer any action, and Enid wouldn’t mind the faint tang of urine. She looked after her ancient mother who lived with her, and Enid’s home always had just a slight whiff of pee. Thus engaged in thought, she heard footsteps coming slowly down the corridor, then another set, moving considerably faster, and a call of, ‘Nurse! Nurse Plunkett! Stop this instant!’

  The action was about to take place, whatever it was, right outside the room in which she was standing, so Lady Amanda made herself as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe, in case the two women outside became aware of her presence, and moved their ‘business’ elsewhere.

  ‘I’ve just had a complaint from Mr Perkins on Poppy Wing, that, not only did his false teeth taste of soap when you returned them to him, but that they weren’t even his own teeth. You’d given him back the wrong set.’

  ‘I can’t see how that happened,’ replied the meek voice of someone trying to stand their own ground.

  ‘What have you got in that bucket, Nurse Plunkett?’ asked the first voice, mean, grating, and easily identifiable as Matron’s.

  ‘False teeth,’ replied the meek voice, even quieter, knowing that the battle was lost, and Matron was about to scrag her, metaphorically speaking.

  ‘How many times have I told you that you can’t just lump all the teeth together in a bucket of soapy water, then run them over with a scrubbing brush?’

  ‘Sorry, Matron. I forgot!’

  ‘Forgot? Stuff and nonsense,’ Matron admonished her. ‘I know you’re only an agency nurse here, but we do have standards and procedures, and they do not include cleaning the patients’ false teeth in the manual equivalent of a dish
washer.’

  ‘No, Matron! It won’t happen again, Matron.’

  ‘You can bet your shirt on that, Nurse Plunkett, for if I catch you doing this again, I shall send you back to Edwards’s Nursing Services with a flea in your ear and a reference that will ring in your mind for ever. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, Matron!’

  ‘Then get off to the sluice room, and clean those teeth properly, and get them back to the right patients, if it takes you all day to do it. And start with Mr Perkins. He’s got a bag of toffees that he needs them for, although I don’t know why; they always gum him up, then he has to ask for help, to get the bottom set unstuck from the top.’

  ‘Yes, Matron!’

  Two sets of footsteps disappeared down the corridor in the direction of reception, and Lady Amanda was left alone with her thoughts, again. ‘Must remember to tell Enid to clean her own teeth, when she’s here. Disgusting! Absolutely disgusting!’

  She dawdled back to the reception desk, having noted the number of the room, and proceeded to deal with the form-filling that was necessary to admit Enid Tweedie for a week, then left, to return to Belchester Towers, with a rather amusing tale to relate to Hugo. She must remember to ask him if he had ever had his teeth taken away to be cleaned, while he was staying there.

  That evening, at six o’clock sharp, cocktails were served once more, and Hugo decided that this was a part of Manda’s life that he could easily get used to. It was not only very civilised, but helped to relax his muscles, where they had been tensed against the pain in his legs. That she had kept up such a daily habit while living on her own amazed him, but he was glad of it.

  Sunday was spent teaching Hugo the mysteries of operating the elderly lift that Beauchamp had got back into working order, and although it groaned and creaked alarmingly in its ascents and descents, he had assured them that it was perfectly sound, and safe to use.