Free Riotous Retirement by Brian Robertson, Ron Smallwood Page A

saying is that you have phoned Maggie, she did not reply and you are worried about her. Is that it?”
    “Well of course that’s it young man. Isn’t that what I said when we started this conversation —have you not been listening?”
    At this point Terry’s instinct was to tell her that she was a stupid old woman but the first thing they had been told at the RPI course was never argue with the clients, just move on, always move on!
    “Yes, I have been listening but I didn’t catch your name,” Terry said.
    “Well I know that because I haven’t given it yet,” and Terry could hear a loud sigh. “I’m Mrs. Hay, Mrs. Audrey Hay and I live at number 4.”
    Terry was now fully informed and knew that all he had to do was check up on the lady at number 48 whose name he could find out from the records. He was anxious to get off the phone with Mrs. Hay!
    “I’ll try to ring her or go around to see her,” Terry explained. He expected that would satisfy the old biddy but he was very much mistaken. He almost fell off his chair when she yelled down the phone at him.
    “You will not do that young man. You will not ring her and you most certainly will not visit her. If you do, she will know that I have been talking to you about her. You will not do that do you hear me?” and suddenly the phone went dead in Terry’s ear.
    Okay then, what the hell am I supposed to do now? Terry thought. Well no, I can’t just do nothing, can I? He got out the map of the village and located villa 4, Mrs. Hay, and villa 48. He discovered it belonged to a Mrs. Brown who also lived on her own. But there were no large trees in the area of Villa 48 so what could possibly have gone wrong? She was probably just in the shower when Mrs. Hay had telephoned or had the television up too loud or not heard the phone for any number of reasons. He would leave it to the morning.
    As the evening wore on Terry could not shake the thought of Mrs. Maggie Brown from his mind. He pictured the poor woman sitting in the shower, shower still running and the lady totally unconscious or lying on the kitchen floor having pulled a heavy pan down on top of her or perhaps she’d had a heart attack—no, he had better phone her now. As his hand went to the phone he suddenly realised it was 10.30 pm and far too late to disturb the lady who, provided she was not on the bathroom floor, would by this time have very sensibly gone to bed—and that’s what he should do now.
    Young and confident he might have been for the past few days but now Terry was a nervous wreck—so much so that he could not sleep. He could not get this lady’s welfare out of his mind. Bugger it, he thought. He got up, got dressed, took his large umbrella and at approximately 1.30 am went out into the night to walk to villa 48.
    When he arrived there he was half expecting an ambulance with lights flashing, perhaps a police car in attendance, but no, it was not like that at all. The night was pitch dark, the wind had died down and all that could be heard was a gentle but steady rain. The house was in complete darkness and, oh God, how he wished and hoped that Mrs. Maggie Brown was in bed. But of course there was nothing he could do and he was no better off. He returned home and went back to bed.
    Terry slept fitfully until about 5.00 am by which time he could stay in bed no longer and, without thinking, he put his trousers on and went straight to the phone and rang Mrs. Brown’s number. He just had to know if she was all right. He had been a fool. He had thought about the problem all night and now knew that what he should have done immediately Mrs. Hay slammed the phone down was to go to villa 48 on the pretext that he had to check the water pressure or something and no one would have been any the wiser.
    The phone rang and rang and rang. He should hang up. No he shouldn’t, she would be coming to the phone now! Okay he will hang up now and just ring for an ambulance! But suddenly the phone was