Putting right the past, p.1
Putting Right The Past, page 1
Putting Right
The Past
Ian Wilfred
In memory of my wonderful mum, Barbara
Contents
Cover
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A big thank you to my family and friends, Ron, Samantha, Billy, Maggie, Jules, Sharon, Kim, Amanda and all the team at Troubador Publishing.
CHAPTER ONE
Dear diary, oh how I’ve waited years to write that. Me, Carole Harding, writing a diary at the age of fifty, well, fifty and two days. By the way it’s Carole with an e, very important the e. When I say I have waited years to write a diary, that is not quite correct. I have started several times over the last ten years but I have never had anything to say, but now my life has changed so much I have tons to write about. The thing is, though, I have a problem calling you ‘diary’. I need to give you a name so that you become a friend, and I will find it a lot easier to confide in you. Now let’s think, Fred, Jim, Jack – no, I have known too many of them. G and T would be ideal but every time I write it I would want one, that’s no good. Something fab and glam, but not as glam as me. Colette sounds good; I knew a Colette once, very glam but short with bad skin. So Colette, I bet you can’t wait for me to get started, so much to tell after five years living here in Tenerife, so many neighbours to talk about. First of all you need to know about me: like I said, fifty and two days; what a fab birthday party the boys – that’s Peter and Paul – gave me, more about them later. How could two people go through so much moisturiser, I think they keep Boots in business. Perhaps it really does soak in as they do seem to get bigger by the day. Well, Colette, I’ve been here on the island of Tenerife for five years, I’m divorced, hubby Steven got caught with a prostitute, oh how people felt sorry for me. I was just relieved that slow boring part of my life was over. Twenty-two years of holidays in Scotland in a twelve-foot caravan in a field at the bottom of a hill near Oban, getting bitten alive by midges, a far cry from the Canaries. More about the life I had with Steven later. When the whole divorce thing was over, that’s when life for Carole started.
First, when the divorce came through, I moved in with Uncle Jim; he was my only living relative; likewise I was his. I had looked in on him twice a week for many years doing his shopping and cleaning for him, so once my house was sold it seemed the best thing to do. I knew I would inherit the house when Jim died and just thought I would continue working at the Co-op in Bedminster, Bristol. Little did I ever dream what actually would happen when dear old Jim did die eighteen months later. Jim died of a heart attack at the old folk’s club he went to several afternoons a week. It was a nice funeral: lots of his club chums were there; a nice service and cremation then back to Jim’s for ham sandwiches and Victoria sponge. Jim would have been so happy with it and deep down I believe he wanted to die, he had given up since his wife died six years before. He did not want to get to the stage where he had to have everything done for him. I really think there is something in us which makes us just switch off for good.
Three weeks later I had a meeting with Jim’s solicitors to sort out the will. I was aware the house was going to be mine as Jim had told me that for many years, so on a wet Wednesday afternoon off I went. Mr Burton, the solicitor, was a nice chap; his late father and Jim’s went to school together. I just thought it would be so straightforward; the house would be signed over to me and life would carry on; a holiday each year, not bloody Scotland in that caravan, perhaps abroad as I had never been out of the UK. Then there would be a new frock from Debenhams each Christmas for the staff party. Oh, Colette, I could write pages on Co-op staff parties, especially about 1978; Fran Tully and the canteen table, such a lucky girl. Back to Mr Burton who explained that the little terrace house and all the money in Jim’s bank accounts were to be mine. I was hoping there would be a few thousand so I could redecorate and perhaps have a new kitchen; four grand would do all the things I would want to do. Then Mr Burton’s tone seemed to change. I was a bit nervous. He asked me if I had any idea what Jim had in the bank. I said ‘Probably not a lot.’ Like me he worked for the Co-op as a butcher. Then I was certainly not ready for what he had to say next; he said, ‘Mrs Harding, Jim has left you just over two million pounds in his will.’
CHAPTER TWO
Three days had passed since I had been given the news about Jim’s will. I just couldn’t face going to work. I phoned and said I had a stomach upset. I just needed time for it to sink in; I knew my life would never be the same. How was I going to cope with all that money? I only needed four to five thousand, a new kitchen and a bit of decorating, it was only a two bedroom terrace house. My job was a job. I never wanted a career since my divorce; I was just happy to plod on and be able to please myself. These last few months had been great, no Steven and having to listen to all his opinions on how the country should be run and which way around Scotland we would be pulling that bloody caravan, all just to come back and tell people how many miles we had done. He never told people it rained every day. Oh, how I hated that caravan.
I know how sorry my friends felt for me after the prostitute saga, and they treated me as if I was a victim. Actually I felt the complete opposite, quite relieved, and that was long before I inherited the money and the house.
The one thing I was a hundred per cent certain about, was life was going to change forever. It’s me, me me, but where do I start? Friends know how I inherited the house, and like me I don’t think they would guess there was any money. Looking through all the paperwork in the house I found out the money was a lottery win back in the 1990s. It’s so sad Jim had all this money but never spent it. I owe it to Jim to spend it wisely, and I decided not to tell anyone until I was sure what I was going to do.
Well, Collette, from that moment on there is so much to tell you and I remember every detail, five years of life, love and the odd bit of lust. Don’t get too excited, not a lot of lust on my part, but the friends and people I’ve met, that’s a different story. But, Collette, I feel I should tell you more about my life up to the age of forty-five but it was so boring, my marriage, my time at the Co-op; not forgetting the two years when I left the Co-op and went to work in a hotel. Now that is a completely different life. Oh where can I start the past? My appearance for starters. Pre-Tenerife friends said I looked like Thora Hurd’s daughter in The Last of the Summer Wine; dear Glenda with hair up, tweed skirt below the knee, blouses up around my neck, sensible shoes and a nice beige raincoat, not a bit of colour in sight let alone any cleavage. How I changed that look. No more grey mousey hair but red, red, red. Yes, Collette, the day the hair changed was the most exciting thing I ever did in my life up to that point. There are things to fill you in with before I get to that point. Oh Carole, stop rushing on.
Back to first getting the money. To cut a long story short, June, my friend who worked in Barrett’s shoe shop and her sister April – incidentally there was another sister, and she was called May. I always wondered if that was the months they were conceived or born. The two of them were going on holiday to Tenerife and asked if I would like to go with them. They thought it would do me good, what with the divorce and Jim dying it would be just the job. I didn’t have to be asked twice. Los Cristianos here I come. How exciting to be going abroad on an aeroplane, anybody would think I was five years old not forty-five.
June had booked a two bedroom apartment, just up the hill from the town, with a pool, shared with eleven other apartments. Two whole weeks of sunshine was just what I needed. Little did I know how this holiday would change my life forever.
The flight was fab. I can’t believe I had gone all my forty-five years and never flown. We were sat waiting to get off the plane and something seemed to tell me life would never be the same, and when I stepped off the plane – the heat and the smell – I just felt so good. We arrived at the apartment about two a.m. so it was dark and not a lot to look at. We all grabbed a few hours’ sleep and later that morning we went out for breakfast, and to the local supermarket to do a big shop. People in the streets seemed happy and you did not feel intimidated. I thought to myself that if I dropped my purse someone would pick it up and give it back not run off with it. At that moment I said to myself that I want long hair. Yes, Carole, hair just like the person I always wanted to look like. I wanted the look of Rula Lenska from the moment I first saw her in Rock Follies back
Holiday over and back to the dear old Co-op, everyone was saying how well I looked and how different I seemed to be. But what I was so aware of was I still looked like Glenda. The Co-op era was coming to an end for me, not that I had told anybody and still no one knew about the money. That first week back seemed so confusing, what was I going to do with my life? Just colouring my hair would not change everything. There had to be bigger changes. Then I decided to ask if I could take some unpaid leave as I had to come to terms with the divorce and Jim’s death. My manager said I could have as long as I needed which made me feel bad as deep down I knew I was never going back, but the sixty million dollar question was what was I going to do with my life, and even more how was I going to do it?
The world was my oyster and I did not ever have to work again, so if that was the case I did not need to live in Bristol where my job was, but if I was not working what would I do with my life? I was not the type for sitting doing nothing. I needed to get away and have a holiday by myself so I could think and make plans. ‘Where could I go,’ I thought, and then I said there is only one place, ‘Tenerife’.
CHAPTER THREE
Well, Collette, I arrived back in Tenerife all by myself to do one week of thinking and sorting out what Carole Harding was going to do with the rest of her life. The one thing I was a hundred per cent sure of was that it was going to change big time. I stayed in the Flower May hotel which had two hundred rooms, a couple of pools and a plunge pool and sunbathing terrace on the roof twelve floors up with views right over Los Cristianos. The first day I had my breakfast and went onto the roof terrace with a book, a good Jackie Collins. It got to one thirty in the afternoon and it suddenly dawned on me I had not spoken to anyone since last night when I had dinner in the hotel restaurant. I felt so good.
On the way back to the sun lounger after having another plunge in the pool, I stood and looked over the town. I could see for miles and I found myself not looking towards the sea and the harbour but the apartments, all the little groups of them, some twenty or thirty, others just four or eight. I could see the little pools and the roof terraces. I could see me...yes, Collette, this was going to be Carole’s new life. But how do I get it? How do I start on this adventure? What do I do with the old life? Can I just walk away from it? There’s Uncle’s house; that’s the only real commitment I have, and I think the Co-op will still be there even if I’m not. Back to the sun lounger and dream. A good friend once said to me I live in Carole’s world, and I replied what’s wrong with Carole’s world? From where I am now, Carole’s world is looking fab, fab, fab.
After dinner in the hotel I went for a walk, and I wound my way down the hill looking through the gates of apartments and villas. When I got to the shops I decided to buy a notepad. As I was taking the pad off the shelf I put it back as it looked cheap. This was a new start and I wanted a good pad so I picked up a nice, shiny blue covered one, let’s start as I mean to carry on. As I was coming out the shop I walked past the hair dye. The time was still not right; the old life had to finish first, back to the hotel and the room for more dreams.
The next day over breakfast I wrote a list of things to get sorted. Top of the list was how much would an apartment cost, were there any English speaking estate agents, what type of property I wanted. This is where the dreaming starts. Two bedrooms and lots of outside space. It had to be a very modern home, not a Glenda house, but one suitable for a fiery red-haired rock folly who intended to live life to the max. Collette, hold on, you’re in for a fun read. I found a couple of estate agents but they were very pushy and I felt very intimidated, but the next one I went to was a nice English lady from Bradford who had lived on the island for ten years. The thing with Barbara was she listened to me as I told her what I was looking for and the life I wanted to live and how scared I was. She was great and suggested we look at apartments in gated complexes which sounded just great. We went and looked at about six complexes where some had more than the one apartment for sale. She did not talk me into any of them. If anything she talked me out of them, which was good. Barbara has become a good friend over the years and I now do the odd day a week for her in the office, which I really enjoy. More about her and our nights out later. I must remember to tell you the story of Gran Canaria; this is the story of the best day of my life, one which I think will never be repeated.
Late in the afternoon we went to see another apartment. It was in a block of sixteen, four stories high in a gated complex. The minute we drove in I knew it was for me. Barbara could tell by my face I was going to have it before I’d even seen the apartment inside; she’d only had to point out which one it was and her job was done. Barbara did not have a key as we were meeting someone who lived there and was looking after it for the seller. The person we met was Jeremy (more about him later). He gave me the creeps but did wait outside while I looked around. To say he waited outside was an understatement. Barbara had closed the door behind her as we went in. We both had a laugh about it and to tell the truth he has always been nervous of her ever since. The apartment was great: two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a big open-plan living, dining and kitchen, and best of all a nice big balcony. The apartment was the first one on the top floor – the penthouse! Number one. That said it all for me as I felt like it was time to treat myself as number one. The price was right and Barbara would get everything sorted with the owners and the solicitors. ‘You’ve done it,’ Barbara said, ‘No, we’ve done it,’ I said.
Back in England I had lots to do while the apartment was going through. I was on a real mission. I knew I would not be taking anything with me apart from a few sentimental things. It was a new life. I’d also bought all the furniture and white goods from the vendor. I was ruthless; ninety-nine per cent of my things went to the charity shop, including all the tweed skirts. My God where had this confidence come from? I had never bought a single piece of furniture in my life without getting stressed; now I was moving to another country and taking it all in my stride, things were moving at such a speed. I had to put Jim’s house on the market and tell my friend’s and workmates I was leaving. I had to create a story as there was no way I was going to tell anyone about the money.
The story I made up was that I had been offered a job in an English supermarket in Tenerife. The Tenerife bit was true and, well I would be shopping in the supermarket. I was going to rent a flat until the house was sold. Quite a few people thought I was mad, but strangely the few friends I had and workmates who were in unhappy marriages wished me so much luck. It made me feel so good and there was never any doubt I was doing the wrong thing. Also there was a young couple who were interested in buying the house. They seemed such a nice couple I let them have it a bit cheaper. I knew the house would become a home and be loved, and that made me so happy.
