The Retiree

The Retiree

She had thoroughly enjoyed herself as an English teacher. Not only did she find the job satisfying, but she also seemed to have a host of acquaintances. She felt she had all she could want. A decent job, a good salary, many social opportunities, and an all-round appreciation of life. Just as she felt that life couldn’t improve, she was called into the Head’s Office and told she must retire. She knew she was of retirement age, but she thought she was indispensable, and they surely would never ask her to go. 

In the early days of retirement, she tried yoga, ten-pin bowling, and long walks. She also joined the many Clubs on offer, hung around with friends in coffee shops, and travelled extensively. Her whole personality was that of someone who appeared jolly and very easy-going. However, she would come home to an empty house, sit on her couch, and stare at a blank television, feeling the weight of silence. 

In the middle of her concerted effort to keep occupied, COVID-19 appeared. As the days went by, she gradually noticed that the streets had become quieter and quieter. The yoga classes were cancelled, the Bowling Alley closed, Shopping Malls were locked up, etc.; hairdressers, massage parlours, and manicurists had all closed. Her city had become a ghost town. 

She knew the trick to succeed in this strangely dystopian way of living was to keep positive. It had amazed her how quickly her community had slowly sunk into negativity, and there appeared to be many people suffering mental health issues associated with the pandemic. The government had brought strict rules about where and when people could buy alcohol. She was shocked at the long lines at the shops selling alcohol and many of the customers unable to control themselves from instantly opening their bottles and furiously guzzling the poison of choice. “How unfortunate,” she thought as various drunken fights broke out.

She began to understand the importance of re-inventing herself—but what as? When travelling, she would spend many hours writing long emails to friends and family, keeping them updated on her adventures. Her email recipients had all said how much they enjoyed her correspondence. But, as all travel was now severely restricted, the content of her emails was becoming increasingly limited. 

What about if she started writing fiction? A writer of short stories!  This would be a great way to keep occupied without going outside while the pandemic raged. She spent hours looking through the internet, trying to find a way to get into the writing market, but so far, she hadn’t yet seen the route she was looking for.  

The first story she tried to write was a short piece describing the main character trying to learn to write. The piece discussed who would read a story once it was written and how the character would know if it needed drastic editing. When she’d finished writing the story, it just sat on her laptop, with nowhere to send it and no one to read it—she felt strangely dissatisfied.

“Well, now what? I’ve written a story, but it needs someone to look at it and make some positive criticism.”

She shrugged her shoulders and pushed the laptop away from her. 

“I’ll need to do a lot more work if I am ever to enjoy writing”, she mused. Running her fingers through her hair and sighing loudly, she searched for the remote and turned to the TV to provide her with the companionship she longed for until, at last, bedtime arrived.

Supermarkets were among the few shops that had to remain open during the pandemic. While food shopping, she observed several large pinboards placed at the lobby entrance. These were new; there were no pinboards yesterday. She looked and saw that the individual notices contained ideas for keeping occupied. 

She stood scrutinising the notices, and as her eyes darted from one poster to another, she became increasingly interested. Her interest piqued, she began searching feverishly, and finally, near the bottom of one of the pinboards, she saw what she was looking for: 

“Writers and Editors - We’ll put writers and editors in touch with each other’.

This writing site offered suggestions to help jog brain cells into creativity. Best of all, submitted stories were assigned to other writers for review, who often provided editing suggestions. A small fee was required to become a member of the site. 

“Just what I was looking for,” she thought. She happily walked home, congratulating herself on the noticeboard's sudden appearance. 

Switching on her laptop, she spent most of the afternoon going through the network site. Following the prompt suggested for this particular week, she spent days writing the required story. 

She submitted it, and within a very short time, she received an email from Carole regarding her work. Carole suggested she use more description and work a little harder on ‘show, don’t tell’. 

“Wow,’ Julie thought. ‘That was helpful and much appreciated.”  

She dropped a thank you note to Carole and, surprisingly, received a request from her for her next submission. Carole looked at her next submission and gave more helpful comments. Before long, Carole and Julie began writing to each other every week. 

Julie mentioned to Carole how strange it was that Carole had decided to pick up the option of editing Julie’s work and even stranger that they had become friends. 

“I had sat with my head in my hands, trying to work out how to progress my writing, when you suddenly wrote to me. I desperately wanted someone to critique my work, and you appeared. What a wonderful coincidence”, said Julie.

Carole said that she had recently stopped writing due to circumstances, but as she seemed to have a lot of time, she was happy to edit. She encouraged Julie to submit a story to Carole each week. Over the months, they became staunch penpals despite never speaking or knowing what they looked like. With Carole’s assistance, Julie’s writing slowly improved, all thanks to Carole’s encouraging editing skills.  

“You love animals, Julie. How about writing about a cat as the main character?” suggested Carole.

Julie wrote about a stray kitten living on the streets. The story dealt with the difficulties of one so young and weak trying to survive. Someone contacted a Cat Rescue organisation, and the kitten was taken to an Animal Shelter. In the story, the cat ends up having a wonderful life. Julie enjoyed writing the story, and Carole gave it a glowing review.

A few days later, muffled in her anti-Covid mask, Julie wandered past the Supermarket and found herself drawn to the notice pinboard. A new notice caught her eye.

“SUNNY DAYS CAT RESCUE SHELTER” requires volunteers at least one day a week.

“That’s weird,” Julie thought. “Ever since I wrote that last story about a cat, I’ve been thinking about finding a cat rescue shelter where I could volunteer. “

Julie caught a Grab Taxi and soon arrived at the Cat Rescue Shelter. She was introduced to the Manager, a charming woman called Sheila, who interviewed her. 

Julie became a volunteer at the Shelter. Her first assignment was a very sad, skinny, young kitten who needed 24-hour care to survive. She was taught how to bathe the poor little thing and remove the numerous ticks furiously sucking on the little one's blood. With love and care, the kitten soon greedily gained pounds and rubbed its fluffy little head against her hand instead of constantly hissing. 

Julie wrote to Carole and told her about the beautiful kitten she’s been put in charge of. Carole immediately wrote back and said:

“I don’t want to freak you out, but have you noticed something strange is happening with your writing?” 

Julie thought. “No. Is it my style of writing? Am I improving at all?”  

Carole laughed. “Your writing is improving. But haven’t you noticed that you wrote about wanting an editor, and I turned up? Then you wrote about a cat in a cat shelter, and you now volunteer at a cat rescue home.” 

The following email Julie wrote to her pen pal surprised even Carole.

“Carole, something strange has happened at the Cat Shelter. The Shelter has adopted the kitten, and the Manager says it will become the Cat Office Manager. That is exactly what happened to the main character in my cat story. Perhaps cats are regularly taken on as Office Managers in Rescue homes, but it seems weird.”

“Well, instead of trying to figure out if it’s weird or not, just be grateful that the cat has landed on its four furry feet,” Carole said.

Carole and Julie continued to write weekly emails and exchange more details about their private lives. Various minor coincidences seemed to appear in Julie’s day-to-day life—not huge coincidences, but coincidences. The coincidences were not as big as the notice board appearing, Carole turning up, or the Cat’s Home, but just a few little, almost inconsequential things. All Julie knew was that her writing had opened a whole new world for her.

One email from Carole told Julie about her boyfriend, whom she had met at an art gallery, and how comfortable their relationship was. Carole asked about Julie’s love life. Julie explained that she hadn't had a boyfriend since her divorce many years before. 

Carole suggested, “Well, romance seems like a good theme for your next story.” But Julie immediately said she wouldn’t be comfortable writing about a romance. She felt her story would lack authenticity as she didn’t easily attract men and wasn’t sure if she could write a main character who was considered attractive. 

“It’s just a story, Julie. It’s not as if you’ve never had a relationship. Have a go; write a cute story about finding the man of your dreams. If you can't imagine a setting, you can borrow some of my stories and perhaps arrange a meeting in an art gallery”.

With a few more emails back and forth, Julie finally rolled up her sleeves and began to write a romantic tale about going to a famous art gallery and finding the man of her dreams. Carole thought it was a good story but needed more emotional depth. Julie kept redrafting the story but honestly felt uncomfortable writing about romance as she was shy around men.

The next day, as she was about to enter the supermarket, she saw an employee pinning a notice on one of the pinboards. The “Wanted” sign requested a Pet Sitter to look after two cats while the owner was away for two weeks. The contact information was an email to IStewart@….. com.

“IStewart@”, she mused. “Irene, Isabelle?”

She went home, opened her trusty laptop, and began writing to “Isabelle”. 

“I love cats and would be happy to look after them. I live near the supermarket, and I guess that you do too. I hope you aren’t experiencing family problems during COVID-19, necessitating you to leave the cats.”

An email came back within an hour.

“No, there are no family problems. My job entails authenticating old paintings, and I can’t do this “online.” I have been permitted to travel and need to set off pretty quickly. Regards, IStewart”

The email attached one or two photos showing two sweet, cuddly cats. Isabelle also sent her address, just a short distance from the supermarket. 

“June Davies will be at the house to conduct a brief interview and introduce the cats. If the cats are happy, June will show you around the house and provide keys to the property.”

The next day, Julie set off for the address she had been given and arrived promptly at 11.00. Mrs Davies, “Call me June,” smiled and invited her in. The house was delightful and extraordinarily well-decorated and designed. 

June brought the two affectionate fluffy cats downstairs. After a short while, it was clear that Julie and the cats got along well.

“How long will Isabelle be away? " Julie asked. June looked puzzled. “Sorry,” Julie said, laughing. “I’ve been trying to work out who IStewart is and guessed “Isabelle.”

June joined the laughter: “You’re way off. It’s Ian, the owner is a man.”

After the successful interview and exchanging all their details, Julie went home clutching the keys. Ian would fly out to London tomorrow and would return ten days later. It was agreed that Julie would send updates and photos of the cats during Ian’s absence. 

She wrote to Carole that evening:

“I’ve got a volunteer pet sitter job looking after two cats while the owner is away. Ian is an art authenticator, and he’s going to London to analyse two paintings. I’m looking after Daisy and Jethro during his absence. Don’t get excited about Ian. I am doubtful we will ever meet and know very little about him, except he is involved in artwork.”

On her last day of pet sitting, Julie had a coffee in the kitchen while waiting for June to arrive and return the keys. The door opened, and in walked a tall, pleasant-looking man. 

“You must be Julie,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand. “Thanks for all the emails and photos of Daisy and Jethro”.

June soon arrived, and more coffee was made. Ian, with encouragement, told Julie about his job and what he’d been doing in London.

“You lucky man. I love London, especially its art galleries. I love the Holbeins in the National Gallery,” Julie said, trying not to stare at this fascinating man.

“He loves that Gallery,” said June. “He’s always said that if he ever gets married, this is where he would hold his Wedding Reception.” A deep flush appeared on Ian’s handsome face.

“Ah, so not married!” thought the shy Julie.

She wrote to Carole about meeting with Ian and discussing the Holbein Gallery. Carole wrote back instantly.

“Julie, this is your love story. This is how you wrote your last story. He even wants the Reception in the Holbein Gallery.”

“OMG, you’re right.”

“I’ll have to start looking for one of those large floral hats that the female guests wore to the wedding you described in your story. I’m determined to come to the Reception!!”

Frankly, Julie was in love. The cats were terrific, the house was beautiful, and Ian was a dream come true. He hadn’t even asked her out yet, but how long could it take with so many lovely things happening?

She was terrified of writing her next story and knew she had to be careful—what if it came true? Julie decided to write a positive, upbeat story mainly about Carole.

She spent days on the story - a thank-you eulogy to a dear, kind friend who had offered editing skills and friendship when Julie needed them. She sent her completed story to Carole and waited anxiously for her comments.

Carole sent her a brief email saying she needed a walk to clear her head and would read the story when she returned.

Julie waited and waited and heard nothing. 

“Perhaps she didn’t like it,” lamented Julie. She felt hurt as she had worked so hard on that last story; it was strange that Carole suddenly disappeared.

“Everything OK, Carole?” she wrote. 

Nothing.

In the middle of the night, her phone lit up as a message arrived. Her hand shot out to click the message as she hoped it was from Carole.

The message read:

“This is Carole’s daughter. I’m not sure how long you have been writing to Mum, but her life support was turned off; I am now going through her emails. Have you known Mum for long? You seemed to have sent her stories and emails during the whole time she was unconscious in the ICU. 

A couple of months ago, Mum went for a walk, tripped, and hit her head on a large log. She lost consciousness and has been on life support ever since. On Thursday night, the decision to turn off the life support was taken, and we sadly said goodbye to a great mum.”

Julie was stunned. Her beloved pen pal had been on life support during their whole friendship. It seemed that the day her first story landed in Carole’s Inbox was the day Carole had gone for a walk in a local park. A jogger had found her inert body, and she had been rushed to hospital but had never recovered consciousness.

Julie finally met Ally, Carole’s daughter, at the wedding held in the National Gallery in London. After Ian returned from London, Julia and Ian developed a deep friendship that eventually matured into a loving romance, ending with a marriage proposal.

The reception was held in the National Gallery. As they stood below Henry VIII’s magnificent Holbein portrait, the female guests wore large, stunningly attractive floral wedding hats. Julie and Ian each delivered a speech noting the importance of Carole in their lives and the sadness that the three of them had never met.

Carole’s daughter took over as editor of Julie’s work and, like Carole, helped Julie improve her skills enormously.

“Many congratulations, Julie. Lovely wedding”, said Ally, kissing her on both cheeks. “What’s your next story? As your Editor, I need to say, be careful what you write about!”