The Absent Cat

The first time Theresa saw her new next-door neighbour ‘Clapping for Carers,’ she thought she was calling her pet cat.  The second time she saw her neighbour,  by co-incidence a week to the day, she was in her tiny bare back yard banging a small saucepan with what looked like a wooden spoon.  Theresa figured her neighbour had a deaf cat.

Theresa did not know about  ‘Clapping for Carers’ or Lockdown.  She had heard the term several times on her little radio just before the batteries died, and thinking it made a nice change from ‘Brexit’ had imagined it was a story about a riot in a prison somewhere.

In her two up and two down Victorian terrace next door, Gemma had never met her neighbour the whole five months she had lived in Sidney Street.  In fact, the only evidence someone resided beyond the snow-white net curtains in Number One was when a warm, pink glow could be seen from behind the closed curtains each evening around dusk.

Theresa knew she had new neighbours the week between last Christmas and New Year because she watched the old cast iron fireplace and several ceiling roses being taken away early one frosty morning.  Shame, she thought.  John Lewis delivered lots of big boxes later that same day.

The unusually warm Spring weather had encouraged Theresa into her postage-stamp-sized rear yard most early evenings recently – just for a little walk and half-hearted attempt at gardening in her new raised beds – something her knees were incredibly grateful for.  Secateurs in her right hand, bin bag in the other, she made for the wayward daffodils, all sprawled every which way again, an unfortunate consequence of the slightest breeze being magnified to howling gale proportions in the boxy enclosed space.  As she began to tackle their straggly yellowing lengthy stems, she overheard weeping. The moss-covered parting brick wall was six foot high at the house end, but graduated down towards the yard back door, where Theresa could lean over and look into her neighbours yard, where she saw someone sitting in an old fashioned style canvas deck chair beneath the timber sash window, nursing a tissue in one hand and mobile ‘phone in the other.  She  wore peach coloured shorts, a white strappy top and a blue bucket hat, and was clearly upset.

Gemma visibly jumped when Theresa asked, “Are you okay?”  Ask a stupid question, she thought. Climbing rather awkwardly out of her chair, Gemma tiptoed barefoot towards Theresa whilst sighing dramatically.  As she got to the connecting wall, Gemma stopped quite suddenly and taking a big step backwards wailed, “I’m sorry! I keep forgetting about the two metre rule.”

“The wha’ ?”

“The social distancing. Y’know?”

Theresa looked perplexed, and sensing her elderly neighbour was a tad confused,  Gemma spoke slowly and gently about the current global pandemic and the chaos it was causing.  “You remember now, don’t you?” she coaxed, “We must stay home to be safe?  And only go out for food or medicines, and self isolate if necessary, y’know.”

“I’ve been doing that for years!” chirped Theresa, “I don’t see a soul now my Edward has passed away, and Meals on Wheels bring my dinners.”

Gemma was unsure how to reply, but thought she should at least introduce herself and explain her tears, “Well, y’know,” she sniffed, “ I’m Gemma and….well, I thought I was doing okay  y’know?  But, I’m missing my partner-he’s stuck in Newcastle working- and I’ve had the crappest day and now I’ve just got an email telling me I’m being Furloughed from next week! Y’know, it really is too much!” Then, placing her hands over her face, Gemma  continued to talk into her palms as she added sheepishly, “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“You didn’t disturb me sweetie, I’m Theresa, I live here. Now listen to me, dry your eyes and bring a chair a little closer to the wall, wait a mo’ while I get my plastic stool and we can chat some more.”

Gemma came to the conclusion during her conversation with Theresa that she felt sorry for her, having learnt that Theresa lived alone and seemed rather unaware of what was happening around her.   It seemed likely that Theresa was not quite grasping the gravity of the pandemic crisis, so Gemma made a mental note to try and keep a watchful eye on her neighbour, especially over the next few weeks, it was the least she could do.  Theresa was obviously really lonely.

Theresa really enjoyed talking to Gemma – it felt like old times chatting over a wall again – she seemed a lovely, well-mannered young woman but was evidently sad and quite forlorn.  She was feeling abandoned, according to Theresa, who determined to make an effort to look out for her in future.  Yes indeed, Gemma was quite lonesome.

The glorious weather continued throughout April and into May, as Theresa and Gemma became better acquainted across the connecting wall.  Chatting daily – usually early evening after tea – Gemma realised that Theresa was not in the least bit confused, but in possession of a television set that no longer worked and a radio minus batteries, thus accounting for her lack of awareness and knowledge regarding Covid 19.  Following a couple of calls, Gemma managed to get the television repaired quite easily much to Theresa delight, as she could once again watch the evening news and tune into the daily briefings Gemma had told her about to keep abreast of what was happening locally and in the rest of the world.

Gemma was also learning.   Theresa had taught her all about growing plants and flowers in containers and her once empty back yard area was now looking quite pretty and colourful.  Her rampant Sweet Peas smelled divine, whilst the  Creeping Jenny was already cascading over the window box just as Theresa had said it would.  But her real joy was learning how to crochet – something she had always wanted to do – but never had the time.  Under Theresa’s patient and nurturing supervision, she had progressed from Granny Squares to tackling a curly-wurly ruffle scarf for Autumn.

In the news, Lockdown was beginning to ease and people were becoming familiar with words  like: ‘Bubbles’ and ‘Air Bridges.’   Tonight’s ‘Clap For Carers’ was to be the last.

Theresa knew all about it now, just as she knew why she would never meet her neighbour’s deaf cat.