His Happy Valley

His Happy Valley

The face looking at him in the mirror was still handsome in a rugged
sort of way. The new blade in his razor was making short work of
yesterday's growth. If he could finish his morning shave without being
interrupted by the 'phone, he could get straight on to weeding the
front border. It had become rather untidy recently after all that rain
they had been having and he wanted to get it done while the winter
daylight allowed. Also he had a special job in the house which wanted
'doing'.

He looked out of the window at his garden, his pride and joy, to see
some drops of rain suddenly misting the glass. Oh, well, the weeding
could wait a bit longer. If the ground is damp, the weeds will pull out
better, he reminded himself as he went for his stepladder.

He hung the picture on the wall, with difficulty. The wire was strung
across the back of the frame a little too tightly. He couldn't get it
to catch on the picture hook waiting on the wall. He had to guess where
the wire went and allow some space for his fingers to guide it over the
hook. This in turn meant he had to stand on the step next to highest.
Dodgy!
His steps were the portable, folding kind, but you could lock the legs
together make them safe. Safety was more important than discomfort for
people his age, he thought, so he put up with having to twist his body
as he placed the picture wire on its hook.

Never mind, his painting was on the wall now and it looked as if the
rain had stopped. He could now go and have his morning shave.

When he was younger he did things much more speedily, he told his
reflection in the mirror. He and Maggie moved often during their
married life and house maintenance didn't take nearly so long before
they retired. Now he was facing a new life yet again, this time alone
in one room on the first floor of the rest home and it was important to
place his memories carefully. They were there to blot out this feeling
of being in prison......

He looked at the painting. Was it straight? Yes. The bed of the river
and the waterfall were in their right places and the footbridge over
them was level. And the shady pines with their distinctive, bracing
smell were standing up straight. How they had loved to walk on the
carpets of needles tossed down by the branches, getting deeper each
year.

Yes, the picture was doing what it always did. He was transported to
the place on that summer's day in the Scottish Highlands, when they
were young . It was a hot day, The scent of the pine was strong and all
you could hear were the rushing, gurgling water and the sighing gentle
breeze in the pinecones. They were far from the sound of the city and
it was their idyllic surroundings which had made him chose that moment
to propose.

She must have felt that moment was right as well. "Oh, yes" she
murmured in his ear and kissed him.

Now, he could still feel her breath on his cheek and her warm, soft
body wrapped in his arms as he examined his handiwork. He had painted
the picture during weekends over a whole month and had made it
extremely lifelike. His hand was steadier then, of course. It was too
shaky now, sadly.

That's how nearly eighty years of happy marriage started. Not many
couples get that long nowadays he thought, but he was lucky. It was
only a month ago he lost her to that horrible disease. Now he was
alone, having to make new friends and a new life without Maggie's
help.

Pull yourself together, you maudlin old fool, he said to his reflection
in the window - this will have to be your next project. What if I
planned things carefully, just like when I was younger. Would it be
possible to visit the real place, again? It must be possible this
summer All that was needed was help and a little money. He had his son
for the first and sufficient of the second. The little problem he had
with 'the girlfriend' could soon be sorted out if they got married, of
course. "I expect I will have to go with the times", he whispered to
himself.
"It is different nowadays", she always said, "it is not necessary to
get married". She always maintained this way she was better off. Pity
they didn't consider what was better for him and their two children. It
would be marvellous if their son and daughter could bring themselves to
call him 'Grandpa', rather than 'George'.

Now, what else?

Oh, his health and fitness, of course, they had to be built up. He had
become a bit flabby, doing all the household chores when Maggie was ill
in hospital. Now the lass from the council came round to do the work
and he had time to get fitter. Oh yes, time. He had plenty of
that........

The End 870 words