miracle waters

Mrs Wylde sipped at her lukewarm tea, half smiling, as she listened to her friend on the phone. The china cup rattled on the gold-rimmed and patterned saucer. She placed both on the upper carriage of the metal trolley on wheels, which sat snug beside her chair. A few unappetising ginger biscuits and custard creams were scattered on a plate under a paper doily, beside the milk and sugar jugs.

‘No, indeed, my dog is not a bitch,’ said Ina. ‘My dog is a respectable lady dog.’

She glared out the window as she leaned against the shiny armrest of the fake-leather couch.  The phone sat on a three-legged Formica table in a gap between window and thick curtains that caught the dust and venetian blinds, half closed, which filtered daylight and kept the fusty smell inside. Ina tended to shout because she was slightly deaf and unwilling to wear a hearing aid, but also to make herself understood.

 She expected courtesy and deference from public officials, even if the trains were no longer strictly under the auspices of British Rail.  The person on the under end of the line seemed to mumble and be unnaturally rude. And she couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman she was talking to. And he or she seemed to begin or end sentences with ‘right-oh’.  

‘No, I have no intention of paying for a return ticket for a seat for such a little dog. She’s hardly anything more than a ball of fluff and she’s very sick.’

‘Right-oh. Is your lady dog a guide dog, per-chance? Because that would change things a bit, you know.’

‘Yes, of course, it’s a guide dog. I couldn’t be without her.’

‘Right-oh. That means you’re eligible for a discount then.’

‘I should certainly hope so. I am an Old Age Pensioner.’  

She heard the clacking of a keyboard. ‘Right-oh, have you decided which route you want to take? And-eh- when you want to go and when you want to come back?’

‘Of course not. I’ve already told you I’m going to France. I’m going to Lourdes, in France. And I know you can travel there by train. I’d like to leave from Dalmuir Station, please and it is imperative I arrive at the earliest opportunity.’  

‘Right-oh.’

Ina was sure she detected laughter on the other end of the line. ‘I would like to speak to your supervisor, young lady or young man.’

‘Yeh, right-oh.  I’ll see what I can do. I need to put you on hold.’

‘Indeed, you will not.’

Mrs Wylde smiled pleasantly at her neighbour, who was holding the receiver to her ear as a tinny sound of music could be heard. ‘Time I was going. Thank you very much for such a refreshing cup of tea.’

Mrs Wylde brushed imaginary crumbs from her checked tweed skirt and adjusted her jacket and blouse, before using the end of the seat to stand. Her walking stick was propped against the trolley.

‘Oh, no Eleanor, please stay for another cup of tea. I’ll make a fresh pot. We really haven’t had a proper chance to chat. And you haven’t touched the custard creams – your favourites!’

Mrs Wylde searched for her hat, patting her grey hair to check if it was on her head. ‘Oh, no, really, it’s been so pleasant, but I’ve so much to do. How time flies.’ She eventually spotted her hat on the plump cushion of the couch and for a second had mistaken it for another pampered pooch sleeping beside the bitch, Lady, whose light snoring sound almost human. Lady’s small body did not disguise the way she reeked, as is she was rotting from the inside.

Mrs Wyle’s face crinkled into a tight little grin and she waved her hand.

‘Apologies, but honestly, I won’t be a minute.’ Ina held the receiver away from her ear and her other hand out flat fingers up in a stop sign.

‘No, really, I’ve caught you at a bad time. But I couldn’t over help hearing about your troubles and your planned trip to Lourdes. Nothing serious, I hope?’   

‘Yes, yes. Ina Dashwood here.’ She spoke into the receiver. ‘And you are, what was that, speak up - a customer relation’s supervisor?’   

Mrs Wylde brushed dog hair from her hat and tucked it on her head. The dog stirred and its beady eyes looked up at the guest crowding in on her territory and it growled.

Ina sat down on the couch, phone still in her hand. She stroked the fluffy dog’s side and grimaced at Mrs Wylde, intimating over the top of the receiver. ‘Lady’s just being friendly.’

The dog barked.  ‘That shows she really likes you,’ whispered Ina.

‘Why are you talking about payment when one hasn’t yet settled on the proper travel arrangements?  But, of course, I wouldn’t be paying by plastic. I have no idea what that is. I would be paying in the usual manner by banker’s draft or cheque.’  

Mrs Wylde cleared her throat. ‘I really must be going.’

‘She’s hung up on me. Would you believe it? Ina stood up and guided Mrs Wylde back to the chair she’d been sitting in, the dog at her feet, pitter-pattering behind her. ‘She’s hung up on me. She suggested I take my cheque book and I’m not sure if she said “shove it” or “show it” to the nearest possible station and then…I really should phone back to complain…but first things first, a fresh cup of tea.’

She pulled the trolley towards the living-room door, the dog behind her.  

Mrs Wylde studied the black-and-white photographs of the family and the framed coloured prints of the Royal Family on the mantelpiece and in beside the knickknacks in the cabinet as she waited. When she heard the rattle of the trolley she sat up in her chair a little straighter and smiled, broadly, when she saw Lady was not following behind her mistress.

‘Lady is away up to the bedroom to lie down,’ Ina explained. ‘She’s not getting any younger and she’s terribly tired.’

Mrs Wyle waited until Ina has poured the tea before stirring her tea and remarking,’ Yes, she does look terribly tired.’

Ina sat in her usual seat opposite across from the fake reddish lights of the electric fireplace. She sipped at her tea and sighed.

Mrs Whylie looked over the top of her glasses at her friend’s wan face. ‘You’re not looking your best either…And this business about a trip to Lourdes. That’s a bit of a shock. I didn’t think you’d a Catholic bone in your body.’

Ina frowned and held a finger up to show she was thinking. ‘Of course I’m not a Catholic. The very idea. God isn’t a Catholic either. But one thing you can’t deny is they’ve got such marvellous water. And ever since I was told about Lady’s illness I thought I’d plan a little trip for her. You never know she could be cured. Stranger things have happened. She’s practically telepathic and human. She told me she's looking forward to the trip.’