"Before They Call, I Will Answer, While They Are Still Speaking, I Will Hear." Part Three.

Years later, while Paul and I settled into life with Eric in our lives, for he’d now become a part of our lives now. It went from him going into his bedroom to get money for his food shopping, or paying his bills, or getting his take away, to me becoming his next of kin, and having full access to his building society book, to take money out. It was all set up officially.

One day, my little car, failed its MOT and it was going to cost too much to fix it. I was using my car almost 6 or 7 days a week for Eric. I told him, “My car has failed its MOT, and it will cost a lot to fix it.” Eric said, “I will buy you a car, how much do you need?” I was shocked, in my life, no one has ever said that to me. I knew how much money he had in his building society. Eric said, a very high number, that he would give me, I said, “No that it too much.” Then he said another high number I said, “No that is also too high.” “He said, “You tell me how much do you want, then?” I said, “Let me think about it.” I talked it over with Paul, and I then went to Eric and said, “Please can I have £5,000?” Eric said, “Yes of course!” I knew that would not hurt his bank account.

Paul then got on the case, and looked on line, he found the perfect car, it was in a small garage 30 miles away. He contacted the Manager, and they spoke on the phone. The car was £4,000 the Manager said, “This is a very good car, I went to Scotland to get it and drove it home.” The Manager called David said, “You pay me for the car through your bank, and the next day, I will drive it to your home.” A lot of people do this now, but back then, to my knowledge, no one had ever done that, bought a car, without a test drive or looking at it in person, it was a crazy risk. Four grand is a lot of money. In the back of my mind, I tried not to think that he was a con artist. He sounded honest on the phone, but 1% of me, didn’t trust him.

I got the money transferred from Eric’s bank into mine, and then I transferred it to David’s.

David just before he left, he rang me and said what time he would be at our home. Paul and I waited for him to arrive. Then he rang us, was this now the con artist playing out his trick to us gullible pair? David said, “I am running late, I will be, about 45 minutes later, than planned.” My heart missed a beat. We still had to trust him, I have seen on telly too many times, people who have been swindled out of thousands of pounds, for things that seemed just too good to be true! I thought, why couldn’t Paul have found a local car? Why choose one 30 miles away? It was a miserable wait, but I kept my fears to myself.

Just over 45 minutes, after the time originally planned David arrived in the car. It was very impressive. We all got in it, as I carefully drove around, my local area. Then back home, David said, “I will come back to yours and set it up online for the tax.” We came back to ours, and I as sat next to him on the sofa, he used my laptop, and went through the process of taxing it. It wasn’t until the very end, of the legal process did I believe the car was not stolen, nor a ringer, and that everything was kosher, until I saw submitted. David must have read my mind, and said to me, “You must feel better now to see that,” And I said with a relieved smile, “Yes.” Phew, he was a lovely man, genuine and honest. I then drove him to the train station so he could go back home, 30 miles away. It cost almost one thousand pounds to insure it. Most people thought this seven-seater car, that I had bought it, the people I work with and my brothers. None of them knew, that Eric bought it. I don’t have that kind of money, we were always in the red, throughout the month, as least once… or twice.

The one social worker was useless, then he was changed and then Eric had another one. He was shocked at the sight and state of the flat, he wanted Eric to move to a nicer flat. To me, it seemed too ambitious, as Eric don’t like change, he likes routine, routine, routine.

The social worker came to his flat and had a chat with Eric with me there and Paul, about the possibility of moving many miles away to a lovely flat, I was surprised when Eric agreed to the move!

Then another meeting was set up in the mental health hospital in a private room, with myself and our cousin Neve, Paul was not there, in this meeting, a doctor was there and a nurse, both knew Eric from many years ago, and other mental health doctor, who didn’t know Eric. They described him and his flat, for those there that didn’t know him. They would set it all up and start the ball rolling for Eric to move.

Years before this, for Eric’s birthday, I arranged for my cousins and brothers to come to his flat. None of them had been, some of them had heard me describe it. I have a lot of cousins, so it would be difficult for all of them to come. A beautiful take away was bought for him, and everyone brought their own food, and I had asked them, to, “Bring your own camp chair.” it wasn’t a party, just a small get together; to meet Eric, most had not seen him for decades! It was a perfect night of catch ups and laughter. I had bought a small cake and with a candle put in it, we all sang happy birthday to Eric. His memory was very good, and he was able to go back to when he was quite young and talk about his life and that of our other boy cousin Garry who is nearer his age. It was lovely. It was a simple gathering and effective, it was good for his wellbeing. I arranged it again two years later, for my brothers and cousins, to come to his flat for his birthday. There wasn’t as many like two years before, but it was still lovely. For then to take time out to, bring their own food, drinks and chairs, an hour was enough for Eric. After this, they would ask, “How is Eric?” He was back in their thoughts, for it is true, out of sight, out of mind.

A lovely place was found for Eric’s new home, it was like a flat, within a care home, but it wasn’t a care home, but I didn’t realize that until after he had moved! More on that later.

So now, came the big task of packing and decluttering!!! On his beautiful large pine table, which I had not noticed before, was piles and piles of letters. All the letters were unopened hundreds of them. So, while Eric was there, I opened each one and Paul too and we showed them to Eric who decided if we kept them, or threw them away. Most were years out of date, and went in the large black bin liners in front of us. Eric soon fell asleep, and Paul and I was able to speed up the process and open his letters and throw them in the bin. They were bills and appointments and statements, and more, going back decades. Surely, he could have had an advocate person to support him and ask him at least once a month, “Have you got any post? Any bills to pay?”  Around this time, Eric had to go to hospital for his mental health. We had to carry on the decluttering as he had a moving date, for his new home, many miles away.

We had never been in his bedroom, the door was always open, but we had never been inside it. I had disposable gloves, two on each hand,and disposable aprons on, Paul is hard, he didn’t need gloves, we opened his very large and wide wardrobes there were two side by side along the wall. We could not believe our eyes. His clothes were beautifully folded up neat. We had three large black bin liners, one for rubbish, the other to take to his new flat, the third for the charity shop. I held the black bin liners while Paul carefully took out the first pair of jeans and opened it out to see that it was badly torn, at the crotch and the knees, it could not be saved it went in the rubbish bag, then he got another, that too was the same, that went in the bin, the third was the same but the zip was broken. In fact, every single one of his jeans was like that. He threw nothing away; every jeans he has ever owned he had kept. Every item of clothing, that was too small, torn, damaged he had kept.

The major thing that meant 98% of his clothes went in the bin was the mould from damp. His clothes were covered in mould, I should have covered my head and wore two masks, it was my worst nightmare. Paul was a diamond! And me too, for he couldn’t have done it on his own. It was weird, to see his life, not in pictures, but in clothes. Paul checked each pocket to make sure there was nothing in them. When we finished, there were EIGHTEEN bags, FULL all for the rubbish! Nothing for the charity shop. There was a beautiful sports bomber jacket, it looked like it was an original, it was far too small for Eric. It looked expensive and brand new. It wasn’t in the wardrobe but in another part of the bedroom.

In his broom cupboard were two suitcases, there was no key, so it had to be broken open. When we think things could not have been worse, it was. It looked like, many, many years ago, he had been on a holiday, it looked like it was a lot of fun, as the clothes were all stiff, smelly, and mouldy. So, he’d just returned for holiday and put his suitcase in the cupboard, maybe intending to unpack but never did. Then he had gone on holiday again and did the same thing. So, both suitcases their contents, went straight from the suitcase, to the bin! My seven-seater car came in very handy, as I took many trips to the tip, or also known as household, waste recycling centre. The massive tellies went to the tip, as did the awful smelly sunken in sofa. We didn’t take that, I had arranged for the scrap men to come and take it and the bed, along with the expensive chair that spooked him.

It was up to Paul and me to clear out his flat, so it would be clean and half tidy. The only part of the flat that was ‘OK’ was the kitchen, the pots and pans were in quite good condition, some of them, not all. Some we kept, and packed for Eric, the rest went in the bin. He had some pornographic magazines, in good condition. In respect to him, they too were kept. It was odd, it was like, he was dead, but he wasn’t. We also went and visited him, a few times, because he has no friends, he would have no visitors. We told my brothers and cousins and they went to visit him too. It was nice for them to visit him, so that the hospital staff could see that even though he looked how he did, everyone in his family had a good profession, and spoke with knowledge.

Once when I was at the hospital, with my cousin Andrew, he is a top mental health nurse, the doctor came up to us in a small private waiting room where they had asked us to wait, and said, “Who is his next of kin?” I said, “I am,” He said, “Do you want us to let him die, or do you want us to resuscitate?” I was SO frightened! I was speechless, thankfully Andrew, responded, confidently and said, “Always resuscitate.”