'Times, they are changing....'

Brenda was sixty-three years old, and did not like change. She had her routine, and preferred to stick to it. For instance, she always had a roast dinner on Sundays, and then on Mondays used the remains of the previous day’s lunch to make a salad. It was irrelevant to her how cold the weather was, Monday’s were salad days. She approached everything in the same way, household chores were performed in strict rotation, and telephone calls to her extended family were always made on Wednesday evenings. Even her conversations followed a set pattern: ask about the other person’s wellbeing, inform them how she was, tell them about her grandchildren, and then talk about television soap operas.

           Until three years ago, she had worked as a carer in a residential care home for older people. She had been employed there for sixteen years. Her resistance to change led to her resignation. Attitudes were altering, the residents were being given more say in the running of the home, and this did not fit with Brenda’s fixed ideas on how things should be done. For her, another ‘nail in the coffin’ of the job was that, her employers were changing from hand written record keeping to computerised files. Brenda was unable to countenance such a change, and so, following much deliberation, she handed her notice in. Now retired, she had an active life. She sang in the church choir on Sunday evenings, Monday evenings there was choir practice, Tuesday mornings she helped at the local Mother and Toddler group, Wednesdays she volunteered at the food bank, Thursday she saw her friend Esme, Friday’s her husband, Al, took her shopping, and on Saturday’s her daughter and grandchildren visited.

           Brenda had never learnt to drive, and was nervous about using public transport. In effect, unless Al took her out in his car, her travel was restricted to her home town. She refused to use a computer or a mobile ‘phone, and had a similar attitude to the self –service check outs in the supermarket. In short, she was a technophobe, but her rigid adherence to what she knew served a purpose. She was an extremely anxious person with little confidence. Sticking to what she was familiar with, gave her a feeling of security, and made her feel in control of her life.

She was a kindly soul, if a little prone to gossiping. Esme’s husband had been killed some ten years previously. At the time, Brenda had been a tower of strength to her. She had let her talk endlessly about her deceased spouse, and had asked the church’s congregation to pray for her bereaved friend. When Esme began to adjust to widowhood, she realised that, she had learnt a lot from her grieving process, and tried to warn her friend.

           ‘Don’t rely on Al so much. He may not be around forever.’

This was not empty doom mongering on Esme’s part. Al was two years older than Brenda; he was an overweight, inactive man, who had lost his father, and a paternal uncle through heart disease. Brenda did not take heed, life was scary enough, without considering the possibility of being alone.

 Time marched on, until mid- afternoon one Tuesday, Esme received the telephone call, which she had been subconsciously dreading for several years. She could scarcely make out her friend’s words, she was crying so much. She thought that she was saying.

‘Al’s gone.’

           ‘Hold on. I’ll be straight round.’ They only lived a few streets apart, and as Esme walked to her friend’s as fast as she could, her mind raced. She wondered if Al had been taken ill and died on his way to hospital, or, worse still was he lying dead upstairs in his bed?  She was almost relieved when she discovered the truth.

           As she approached, a still sobbing Brenda opened the door. She had never cared greatly about her appearance, but today she looked more dishevelled than normal. She wore baggy jeans, which sagged around her bottom, her bunions overhung her flat ballerina pumps, and a washed out tee shirt covered her poorly restrained, ample bosom. In her anguish, she had repeatedly raked her fingers through her short, grey, pixie style haircut, with the result that, it was currently standing on end. It looked more like a cockatoo’s crest than a pixie’s hairdo. Behind her glasses, her eyes were red rimmed and brimming with tears, and drops of snot were occasionally escaping from her nose.

           It took Esme some time to establish what had happened. She perched on the edge of one of the leather armchairs in the shabby living room, leaning forwards and listening, whilst Brenda paced restlessly around the room. She was weeping, dabbing at her nose and eyes with a soggy tissue as she spoke: on Tuesdays, Al had a part time job at a local petrol station. As usual, at about six thirty, she had heard him get up and leave for work. A couple of hours later, she had also risen, then washed and dressed, ready for Mother and Toddler group. Everything thus far, had been how it was every Tuesday. However, when she returned home at lunchtime, expecting Al to already be there, waiting for his lunch, the house was empty. This was unusual, but not unheard of. Sometimes, if one of his colleagues called in sick, he would work some extra hours at the garage, or he would get chatting to someone, and forget the time. Today, it had been different, after a couple of hours he still had not returned home. Brenda became worried and rung his place of work. She was told that he had not worked there for several months. This completely threw her, she did not know what to think, or what to do. Whilst she was in this perplexed state, the post came bringing a letter for her. It was from a local firm of solicitors who were writing on Al’s instruction. They informed her that, he was seeking a legal separation, and ultimately would be divorcing her.

           Esme went through to the kitchen and made them both a cup of tea. She needed to think. When she came back, Brenda was sitting in an armchair. She was shredding the damp tissue, letting the dismembered pieces drop heedlessly onto the balding, living room carpet. Her sobs had subsided into the odd tear, and every so often her body would be racked by a deep shuddering breath. Esme handed her a mug of tea, and as she wrapped her hands, gratefully around it, asked.

           ‘What’s Al’s mobile number?’

           ‘I don’t know.’

‘But he does have a mobile ‘phone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have you got it written down somewhere?’

‘No, I’ve never needed to ring him.’ This was a shock to Esme, she had never heard of someone failing to have their significant other’s contact details.

‘I think perhaps we ought to ring Louise.’ Louise was Brenda’s daughter. She lived about fifteen miles away. Esme listened as her friend went out into the hallway to make the call. She was still upset, but far more coherent than when she first spoke to Esme. She could only hear one end of the conversation, but it was apparent that Louise was as surprised by the day’s events as Brenda had been. She re-entered the room, saying.

‘She’ll be over this evening, when Adam has got home from work, and the children are in bed.’ To Esme’s surprise, she then added.

‘What am I going to do about sleeping tonight?’ Esme misunderstood thinking that she meant that, she would miss her husband’s presence in bed.

‘I thought you had separate bedrooms.’

‘We do, but what if I hear a noise or something in the night, and get scared.’ Esme was astounded, it appeared that her friend had never been alone overnight.

‘Take the ‘phone up with you, and put it on your bedside table. That way, you can ring the police if you’re really worried’

Brenda next voiced concern regarding shopping. Again, there was confusion between the friends. Esme thought that Al had left Brenda without any money. This was not the case, Brenda told her that she had her pension, and a substantial sum of money, which her father had left her.

‘No, I mean carrying it home each week.’

‘This is going to sound harsh. You won’t have so much, because you’ll only be shopping for yourself. You can pick up bits as you need them, and on Thursdays, instead of having a cup of tea together, I’ll take you shopping to get any heavy things.’ This appeared to pacify Brenda, and Esme was reluctant to raise what she considered to be the next logical step with her. In her mind, she thought that she ought to see a solicitor. She decided that it was too soon to suggest this, and so instead said.

‘Sausage and mash on Tuesdays, isn’t it? Do you want me to peel the spuds, and get it on for you?’

‘No, thank you. Tipping Point is on in a few minutes. I’ll sit and watch that first.’

‘Right, I’ll head off then. Ring me if you need me.’ With that Esme left the house and headed home. She was puzzled, she knew that a husband dying was completely different from being left by a partner, but she thought that Brenda’s reactions were odd. She wondered if she was in shock, and would be more upset when reality hit her. It seemed strange that, Brenda’s main concerns were being alone in the house, and carrying her shopping. Apart from the separate sleeping arrangements, her friend had never given any indication that, there were problems within her marriage. Esme knew that her friend was an extremely loyal person, who never moaned about any member of her family, and speculated that it was due to this, rather than there being no difficulties.   

In the coming weeks, outwardly life appeared to continue much as it always had for Brenda. Apart from Fridays, and the slight change to Thursdays’ arrangements, she remained committed to her routine. When Esme broached the subject of seeking legal advice with her, she replied.

‘What for?’

‘Well, Al might want you to sell the house.’

‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’

In truth, she had heard nothing from her estranged husband, and did not appear to be missing him, or be even curious about his whereabouts.                

Eventually, practicalities did start to invade Brenda’s previously mundane life. One Thursday, she asked Esme if, after they had been shopping, she could take her to their medical practice. She explained that, previously, when she required repeat prescriptions, Al had emailed the surgery on her behalf. Esme suggested that if Brenda bought herself a smartphone, she could do this herself. No, she was adamant; she did not want a mobile ‘phone.

The next crisis came when Brenda’s landline telephone was suddenly cut off. She asked Esme to ring and report the fault. When she tried to do this, she was told that the ‘service had been discontinued due to non- payment of the account.’ On hearing about this latest development, Louise became more involved, and insisted that her mother have a mobile ‘phone, saying.

‘Mum, anything could happen, and I’d have no way of contacting you.’ Reluctantly Brenda agreed, and together they went into the town, and obtained a contract ‘phone for her use. It took the sales adviser and Louise several attempts to demonstrate how to receive and make a call. Once they were at home, Louise put her number into the contacts, and showed her mother how to access this. Even so, when she next saw Esme, she asked her to explain how the phone worked. It was a laborious process, and took all of Esme’s self- control not to lose patience. Once accustomed to using electronic devices, phrases such as ‘swipe up’ and ‘use the drop down’ are familiar territory, but to someone who is new to using technology, it is akin to learning a foreign language. They practiced ringing and answering each other’s mobile numbers. The next week, Brenda was perturbed because an unknown symbol had appeared on her ‘phone. When Esme checked, she saw that she had received a text message. She demonstrated how these messages could be accessed and read. This one was from Louise, asking.

‘Hi Mum, how are you getting on? Xxx.’ Esme explained how to send a reply. It required step by step directions, but eventually Brenda accomplished it. During the next week, Esme sent Brenda several texts and received replies. She was pleasantly surprised when one of the replies contained an emoji!            

Over the coming months, it emerged that, all the utilities bills were in Al’s name. He had paid everything from his personal bank account. The couple had never had a joint account, and Brenda did not know who their energy suppliers were, how much their bills would be, or at what interval payments were expected. She had her own building society account, and her husband had given her cash housekeeping money. The landline being cut off was a timely warning. Louise and her mother contacted all the companies, which they could think of, put everything in Brenda’s name, and arranged for payments to be made from her account. She had never paid a bill or set up a direct debit before, and was bothered about the seemingly, never ending list of outgoings.

‘I could set you up to do internet banking. You could do it from your ‘phone.’ suggested Louise. This was refused, but gradually Brenda did become more comfortable using her ‘phone. Her daughter would send amusing photos and videos of her children, and she learnt how to access these and save them. In time, she started to use the camera facility of the phone, and took her own pictures of the grandchildren. For the next couple of years, this was sufficient progress. She went into the building society if she wanted to know the state of her account, telephoned the doctor’s surgery, continued to go into the town for shopping, and had no interest in using internet search engines.

She adapted well to living alone. Due to Al’s physical limitations, she had been responsible for keeping the garden tidy for some years, and the couple had never been concerned with the décor of their home. She had always spent evenings sitting alone downstairs watching television, whilst Al retreated to his own room. Additionally, the couple had had no social life. Brenda had, and continued to have the church and associated activities as her outlet. The only times that Al had ventured out of the house was when he went to his part time job.

In 2020, the coronavirus pandemic struck, and life changed for everyone. The first lockdown meant that Brenda was completely alone. She was glad of her mobile phone for the contact which it provided. Friends from her voluntary groups and church kept in touch via text.   She learnt how to install an app, so that she could see as well as hear her grandchildren, and vice versa. Gradually, she grew in confidence, she began to use Google for information. Her final frontiers were internet shopping and banking. She needed the former to buy birthday presents for her family, and the latter to keep track of her internet spending. At one point, she was required to self- isolate, and so had to arrange an on-line grocery delivery. She was grateful that she had the means to do this, although secretly hankered for a good, old-fashioned wander around the supermarket.  

What happened to Al? Who cares! Lol. ;-).