THE WISDOM OF AGE

Very young and very old...

THE WISDOM OF AGE

Bryony Gibbons loved Joshua March despite the age difference, because she was seventeen and a bit, and he was almost ninety. And he loved her, of course, because didn’t everyone say that no creature as beautiful as she had graced this Earth before. And her hair, the way its long tresses shone under the sun...

There were problems, of course. To start with, she loved lounging on his huge double bed, but it was obviously in his bedroom and climbing the stairs up to it took just about every ounce of strength from him and he couldn't even speak until he’d slept the effort off. And that sometimes took the rest of the day. But there was always the sofa-bed in the front room if his age dictated it would be best.

What Bryony most liked were his stories about some of the things he’d seen and even some of the things he’d done, though he had precious little to say about that. And to everyone’s surprise who knew them, he loved her stories about some of the things she’d learned during her so-far brief journey into life.

They’d met when she was on work experience, trailing Nurse Appleby when she called on him to check him out after his last heart attack. Niurse Appleby was a busy women and left the bulk of her work to Bryony for fear of not having enough day left to finish her round. She complained, of course she did, but what could anyone do, with money being as tight as it was?

So Bryony had formed a relationship with Joshua March and for no reason other than her amazing looks, he developed a fondness for her. So she started calling on him when Nurse Appleby had finished her rounds for the day, and he took to looking forward to it, even sitting on his window seat looking out for her..

And going out together, he on his electric scooter and she on her lovely legs. Sometimes they’d ramble so far that more than once his battery had shown signs of running out altogether. And when they came to a curb or some other small obstacle she’d help him jolt it up and he’d laugh at their joint efforts.

It was one day when they returned after a walk that had changed from a walk in the sun to a walk in the rain that she found herself helping him off with his trousers because they were sodden with rain. There’d never been anything like even talking about the removal of garments of any sort let alone intimate ones, and there she was, helping him off with damp boxer shorts as well.

Nature is what it is and doesn’t go away because a man’s almost ninety and I do hope it’s not shocking for me to recount that a certain excitement became more than evident. After all, she had to help him because it was plain that it took a lot out of him if he had to do the whole job himself. Boxer shorts, especially damp ones can be awkward when the man wearing them has physical limitations as a consequence of age and he’s still sitting on his scooter.

At first she pretended not to notice and suggested that a nice cup of tea might help chase the chills of wet rain away, but he had a better idea.

“A wee dram might be better,” he suggested, “in that cabinet over there,” he pointed to a cabinet in the corner of the room where he could reach it easily if the need hit him and he was alone with his television set.

So she poured them both a wee dram of whisky, and the spirit threatened to burn her throat whilst it made him smile contentedly. He had, she thought, a pleasantly warm smile, and anyway, what did age matter if you were friends?.

“Come and sit beside me, lass,” he suggested as he almost fell onto the sofa himself.

She did, and his heart still pounded uncomfortably, especially when he felt the warmth of her young flesh against his ancient wrinkled thighs.

“I don’t know what Nurse Appleby would say,” he grunted, “if she could see us all cosy like this. And isn’t your frock a bit on the wet side, oughtn’t you take it off to prevent double pneumonia?”

“Maybe I should,” she smiled, knowing that she had the smallest underwear set under it and knowing it might excite him becaus weren ‘t men of all ages excited by cheeky tiny underwear on their ladies?

I won’t carry on detailing events of that afternoon except to explain that it was dark by the time she pulled her by then dry frock back on and actually kissed him goodnight before leaving. And on the way home her heart was singing whilst, back in his front room Joshua had the biggest grin on his face that he’d had in years, stretching tissues that were beginning to collapse into wrinkles before Bryony had come along.

Their relationship continued even, when occasionally when he felt strong enough to master the stairs, in the bedroom where he showed her a few clothes he had left from his younger years, and she told him one very important thing:

“You know Joshua, knowing you doesn’t half help me with college and my history course!”

“I wish I’d gone to college in my youth, doing a future course, then knowing you would help me with that!” he told her, wittily.

“Because you were alive during World War Two, and the things you tell me show me how different it must have been to be alive back then,” she told him seriously, “I mean, fancy things like clothes being rationed so that a woman couldn’t buy as many dresses as she wanted to? And food, too. I can’t get my head round that!”

And counter to that, “And you’ve given me some idea about that there world wide web,” he said, “and I’m going to get online. Next week they’re coming. I’ve sorted it.” Think of it: being in touch with distant relatives in Australia from my own front room!”

And then on another occasion she asked him if there really was such a thing as the Beatles, or were they just a cartoon group invented to entertain the kids, and he spent ages explaining all about hoards of screaming teenage girls, her age they were, or even younger, and the things they told news reporters about loving the four young men who did the singing. And then he tried to warble she loves you and actually made a fair stab at it.

But there was a serious and selfless side to him.

“The thing is,” he told her, “much as I love you I reckon you should find yourself a nice young man of your own age to have fun with. You do know I’m going to die soon, don’t you, even though you make me feel young as a whipper-snapper by just being here?”

“I want to be with you for ever,” she said to him, seriously, “young men don’t know anything about the blitz or air raids or skiffle groups!”

“But I’ll be gone soon,” he told her, “you know I will.”

“Soon is a relative term,” she replied, seriously, “and who knows, I might pass away first.”

“You’d better not do that or it would be the death of me,” he half joked.

“Let’s talk about something less horrible,” she begged him, “tell me about what you did for work? You’ve never mentioned that and I’ve been too polite to ask.”

“I don’t like to,” he muttered, “you might not like it…”

“That doesn’t matter,” she replied.

“Well,” sighed Joshua, “for most of my life I was in prison. I was accused of being a serial killer and they only let me out when the real serial killer was discovered and convicted. Then they let me out. But don’t let it trouble you, darling.”

“And you were locked away for years?” she asked, horrified.

“Too many” he agreed, “now tell me about what you did wrong to prefer me to kids of your own age.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she said after a moment’s thought, “only fallen madly in love with an old, old man who’ll never love me back… Fool, aren’t I?”

He shook his head. “I’ve had two heart attacks in the last couple of years,” he said, “and if anything bad happens to you I know with a strange certainty that I’ll have a third. You’re keeping me alive, darling, and I want to love you for ever.

And for ever was a brief moment in time because when she went back to her parents’ home later that day and he sat in his window seat to watch her go as usual, and saw as she turned to wave at him a car driven at a ridiculous speed hit her square on and snapped her life out in a fraction of a second.

He watched, horrified, and his old heart lurched.

© Peter Rogerson 16.09.23

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