George was looking forward to the weekend with his brother and excited at the prospect of meeting Calder again. He bought himself a new suitcase and some summer clothes. He was gradually shedding Albert’s old skin and he felt there was something symbolic in discarding some of Albert’s old clothes and dressing himself as George Waterson. He wasn’t really sure who this new man was, or even if he was a new man, but agreed the new clothes and suitcase felt good as he looked at himself in the mirror. He remembered the few times he had worn a suit and the feeling of walking taller and straighter in this formal dress and wondered if anyone else had noticed this change of posture, or was it just his imagination. The suitcase was packed; he had cancelled the morning delivery of milk and told the next-door neighbour he would be away for the weekend. “Was there anything else he needed to do?” he was wondering, when the phone rang and a woman announcing herself as A.J.’s secretary explained that A.J. had been called away on urgent business and unfortunately he would not be available at the weekend.
“Did he say when he was coming back?” George asked with obvious disappointment in his voice.
“No he didn’t,” was the reply. “He said he was very sorry for the short notice and he would be in touch when he returned.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” George said as he replaced the telephone receiver.
George suddenly felt very lonely. Albert Hughes had lived in this house and was comfortable with his own company. He would return from work, sit in his own lounge and never feel the need for other people. George now felt an overwhelming desire to be with someone, with the few people he really knew. He looked at himself again in the mirror, he saw Albert Hughes dressed as George Waterson, if he was really to become George he needed help, he needed his brother’s help and he had deserted him. He knew it was unreasonable to expect his brother to be always available; he had a life of his own, a successful businessman, the sort of person that would be called away on urgent business. “What would Albert Hughes do?” he thought to himself, “he would change into his old clothes, find a newspaper, sit and read, contented and at peace with himself. But you’re not Albert Hughes, you’re George Waterson,” he shouted at the mirror. Just because A.J. was not there he still knew someone who lived at Northwood Hall, it was his mother, he would visit his mother, George Waterson would visit his mother.
He rang Northwood Hall and when asked his name hesitated before replying Albert Hughes. He had used this name before for his previous visit and decided it was best to use the same name to avoid any confusion or embarrassing questions. The same question and issue had arisen when he booked a room at the Grenadier Hotel and again replied his name was Albert Hughes. George rang A.J.’s solicitor’s office and the secretary informed him that Calder was away for the weekend. They were unable, or unwilling to say where he was, but George felt sure he was with A.J. and when asked if he would like to leave a message, announced proudly to say that George Waterson had wrung. He now realized that this confusion of names would take time to unravel but he had made his decision and over time Albert Hughes would fade away to be replaced by George.
Mrs Stokes answered the door when George rang the bell at Northwood Hall. She said she was pleased to see him again and explained that A.J. was not home that weekend. George said he was aware that A.J. was away but as he was in the area had taken the opportunity to visit Mrs Waterson. He was desperate to say visit his mother but felt the explanation could wait for another time. The doors were unlocked and Mrs Stokes directed him into the sitting room. His mother was asleep and the entrance of the two of them had not disturbed her. Mrs Stokes was about to wake her when George gestured that she should be left alone and asked if it would be possible to arrange for a cup of tea as he had been travelling since early that morning. George noticed a vase of flowers, on the table in front of the window, but the blooms were faded and some petals lay on the table. Instead of the brightly coloured dress, his mother wore at his previous visit; she was now wearing her nightclothes covered in a woolen dressing gown. Her breathing was shallow but regular; her face a translucent grey, George knew she was ill. He knelt at her side and stroking the dry skin of her hand whispered in her ear, “Hello it’s George, your son George; I’ve come to see you.” She did not stir but George liked to think she had heard him.
On returning with the tea Mrs Stokes explained that Mrs Waterson had been taken ill a few days ago. There were some suggestions that she should be taken to hospital but A.J. felt it was better if she stayed at home as there was sufficient medical staff working at the Hall to provide all the care she needed.
“Where is A.J. now?” George asked somewhat annoyed that he had gone away when clearly his mother was unwell.
“He left late last night, you could see he was reluctant to go,” she added noticing that George seemed perturbed about his absence, “he was with Mr Calder, his solicitor, I’m sure it must have been very important.”
George nodded and asked, “Did he leave a number where he could be contacted, you know, in case of emergencies?”
“Yes he did but I’m not sure I’m allowed to give it to you.”
George wanted to insist and was on the point of telling her his real name and his relationship to A.J. and Mrs Waterson but resisted the temptation and did not press her for the number.
Mrs Waterson began to stir and smiled when she saw the people in the room. Asked if she would like some tea she answered no thank you as she had just had some. This was clearly not the case and Mrs Stokes whispered to George that she would ask her again in a few minutes sure the answer would be different.
George sat next to his mother and described his train journey that morning. The day had started cloudy but a stiff breeze cleared the skies to leave it bright blue and sufficient warmth to produce a heat haze, blurring the images of the fields of golden corn nearing harvest time. George wasn’t sure she really understood what he was saying but the sound of his voice seemed to relax her and, as if he were singing a lullaby, a few moments later sleep had returned.
Mrs Stokes invited George to her office and to reassure him further described the staff and the facilities they had at Northwood Hall.
“Mrs Waterson could not be in better hands if she was in a private hospital,” she explained still trying to reassure George that it was not necessary for her to go to hospital.
George asked some questions about A.J. hoping to get a better understanding of his brother and his business dealings, but Mrs Stokes was not one for gossip and her discreet answers gave nothing away about what she may, or may not, have heard about her employer. One of the other members of staff entered the office and asked if Mrs Stokes could help her for a few moments. Whilst she was out of the room, George noticed a phone number written on a piece of paper lying on the desk. It was a London phone number and the name Skyline Hotel. He wondered if this was A.J.’s contact number and quickly wrote it down in a small address book he carried in the inside pocket of his jacket. He had an uneasy feeling about his brother’s sudden departure, because not only they were due to meet that weekend, but also as his mother was ill, he wondered what had occurred for him to leave her at such a time.
At George’s request, Mrs Stokes arranged for a taxi to take him to the hotel. The young girl on the reception greeted him with the phrase, “Very nice to see you again Meester Hughes,” the sentiment seemed to be genuine and she added, “I have organised the same room as your last visit if that is to your liking.” George confirmed it was and asked if he would be able to make a telephone call from his room. “Of course,” she replied, just dial zero for an outside line.”
The number he called was the one he had copied to his address book. A refined female voice promptly answered the call announcing the Skyline hotel and enquiring if he wished to make a reservation. He answered no and asked if a Mr Waterson or Mr Calder were staying at the hotel. His call was transferred to another number in the hotel and after a few moments, a second female refined voice confirmed both these gentlemen were staying at the hotel and if he wished to speak them his call could be transferred to their conference room. George said that was not necessary and hung up.
It was late afternoon but the air was still warm and George asked for a drink, which he received in the garden at the rear of the hotel. The grass had recently been mown and he could not help be reminded, by the smell of the newly cut grass, of the hours he had spent tending to the lawns of Eastbridge gardens. Gardening was the only work he could recall. It seemed he had previously worked with his father in the family grocery business but he had no recollection of that time and found it hard to imagine any work other than the gardening tasks he had performed for the last thirty-five years. “Was it time for a change?” he thought to himself, “would he be capable of learning a new trade at his time of life?” He did not feel old, the events of the previous weeks had caused emotions and thoughts not thought possible. Was the realisation of a new name and a new identity the time to consider a different occupation, or would this be one-step too far?
His thoughts drifted from his own position to that of his aged and now frail mother to the whereabouts of his brother and Calder. “What were they doing in the conference room of a London hotel?” he wondered, “Who were they meeting?” He knew his brother had money problems and some could regard some of his past financial dealing as illegal, but Calder assured him that was all in the past. They were now working together. Surely Calder would keep him on the straight and narrow, or was Calder just as culpable? He remembered the scheme they had used to provide him with some money pretending it was an inheritance. Surely that had been illegal and Calder was involved.
George returned home the following morning with a heavy heart. His attempts to communicate with his mother had been unsuccessful. He had grave misgivings about the business dealings of his brother. Why was A.J. so keen to speak to Neville? Was A.J. trying to lure him, an innocent, into something Neville later might regret?
“Did he say when he was coming back?” George asked with obvious disappointment in his voice.
“No he didn’t,” was the reply. “He said he was very sorry for the short notice and he would be in touch when he returned.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” George said as he replaced the telephone receiver.
George suddenly felt very lonely. Albert Hughes had lived in this house and was comfortable with his own company. He would return from work, sit in his own lounge and never feel the need for other people. George now felt an overwhelming desire to be with someone, with the few people he really knew. He looked at himself again in the mirror, he saw Albert Hughes dressed as George Waterson, if he was really to become George he needed help, he needed his brother’s help and he had deserted him. He knew it was unreasonable to expect his brother to be always available; he had a life of his own, a successful businessman, the sort of person that would be called away on urgent business. “What would Albert Hughes do?” he thought to himself, “he would change into his old clothes, find a newspaper, sit and read, contented and at peace with himself. But you’re not Albert Hughes, you’re George Waterson,” he shouted at the mirror. Just because A.J. was not there he still knew someone who lived at Northwood Hall, it was his mother, he would visit his mother, George Waterson would visit his mother.
He rang Northwood Hall and when asked his name hesitated before replying Albert Hughes. He had used this name before for his previous visit and decided it was best to use the same name to avoid any confusion or embarrassing questions. The same question and issue had arisen when he booked a room at the Grenadier Hotel and again replied his name was Albert Hughes. George rang A.J.’s solicitor’s office and the secretary informed him that Calder was away for the weekend. They were unable, or unwilling to say where he was, but George felt sure he was with A.J. and when asked if he would like to leave a message, announced proudly to say that George Waterson had wrung. He now realized that this confusion of names would take time to unravel but he had made his decision and over time Albert Hughes would fade away to be replaced by George.
Mrs Stokes answered the door when George rang the bell at Northwood Hall. She said she was pleased to see him again and explained that A.J. was not home that weekend. George said he was aware that A.J. was away but as he was in the area had taken the opportunity to visit Mrs Waterson. He was desperate to say visit his mother but felt the explanation could wait for another time. The doors were unlocked and Mrs Stokes directed him into the sitting room. His mother was asleep and the entrance of the two of them had not disturbed her. Mrs Stokes was about to wake her when George gestured that she should be left alone and asked if it would be possible to arrange for a cup of tea as he had been travelling since early that morning. George noticed a vase of flowers, on the table in front of the window, but the blooms were faded and some petals lay on the table. Instead of the brightly coloured dress, his mother wore at his previous visit; she was now wearing her nightclothes covered in a woolen dressing gown. Her breathing was shallow but regular; her face a translucent grey, George knew she was ill. He knelt at her side and stroking the dry skin of her hand whispered in her ear, “Hello it’s George, your son George; I’ve come to see you.” She did not stir but George liked to think she had heard him.
On returning with the tea Mrs Stokes explained that Mrs Waterson had been taken ill a few days ago. There were some suggestions that she should be taken to hospital but A.J. felt it was better if she stayed at home as there was sufficient medical staff working at the Hall to provide all the care she needed.
“Where is A.J. now?” George asked somewhat annoyed that he had gone away when clearly his mother was unwell.
“He left late last night, you could see he was reluctant to go,” she added noticing that George seemed perturbed about his absence, “he was with Mr Calder, his solicitor, I’m sure it must have been very important.”
George nodded and asked, “Did he leave a number where he could be contacted, you know, in case of emergencies?”
“Yes he did but I’m not sure I’m allowed to give it to you.”
George wanted to insist and was on the point of telling her his real name and his relationship to A.J. and Mrs Waterson but resisted the temptation and did not press her for the number.
Mrs Waterson began to stir and smiled when she saw the people in the room. Asked if she would like some tea she answered no thank you as she had just had some. This was clearly not the case and Mrs Stokes whispered to George that she would ask her again in a few minutes sure the answer would be different.
George sat next to his mother and described his train journey that morning. The day had started cloudy but a stiff breeze cleared the skies to leave it bright blue and sufficient warmth to produce a heat haze, blurring the images of the fields of golden corn nearing harvest time. George wasn’t sure she really understood what he was saying but the sound of his voice seemed to relax her and, as if he were singing a lullaby, a few moments later sleep had returned.
Mrs Stokes invited George to her office and to reassure him further described the staff and the facilities they had at Northwood Hall.
“Mrs Waterson could not be in better hands if she was in a private hospital,” she explained still trying to reassure George that it was not necessary for her to go to hospital.
George asked some questions about A.J. hoping to get a better understanding of his brother and his business dealings, but Mrs Stokes was not one for gossip and her discreet answers gave nothing away about what she may, or may not, have heard about her employer. One of the other members of staff entered the office and asked if Mrs Stokes could help her for a few moments. Whilst she was out of the room, George noticed a phone number written on a piece of paper lying on the desk. It was a London phone number and the name Skyline Hotel. He wondered if this was A.J.’s contact number and quickly wrote it down in a small address book he carried in the inside pocket of his jacket. He had an uneasy feeling about his brother’s sudden departure, because not only they were due to meet that weekend, but also as his mother was ill, he wondered what had occurred for him to leave her at such a time.
At George’s request, Mrs Stokes arranged for a taxi to take him to the hotel. The young girl on the reception greeted him with the phrase, “Very nice to see you again Meester Hughes,” the sentiment seemed to be genuine and she added, “I have organised the same room as your last visit if that is to your liking.” George confirmed it was and asked if he would be able to make a telephone call from his room. “Of course,” she replied, just dial zero for an outside line.”
The number he called was the one he had copied to his address book. A refined female voice promptly answered the call announcing the Skyline hotel and enquiring if he wished to make a reservation. He answered no and asked if a Mr Waterson or Mr Calder were staying at the hotel. His call was transferred to another number in the hotel and after a few moments, a second female refined voice confirmed both these gentlemen were staying at the hotel and if he wished to speak them his call could be transferred to their conference room. George said that was not necessary and hung up.
It was late afternoon but the air was still warm and George asked for a drink, which he received in the garden at the rear of the hotel. The grass had recently been mown and he could not help be reminded, by the smell of the newly cut grass, of the hours he had spent tending to the lawns of Eastbridge gardens. Gardening was the only work he could recall. It seemed he had previously worked with his father in the family grocery business but he had no recollection of that time and found it hard to imagine any work other than the gardening tasks he had performed for the last thirty-five years. “Was it time for a change?” he thought to himself, “would he be capable of learning a new trade at his time of life?” He did not feel old, the events of the previous weeks had caused emotions and thoughts not thought possible. Was the realisation of a new name and a new identity the time to consider a different occupation, or would this be one-step too far?
His thoughts drifted from his own position to that of his aged and now frail mother to the whereabouts of his brother and Calder. “What were they doing in the conference room of a London hotel?” he wondered, “Who were they meeting?” He knew his brother had money problems and some could regard some of his past financial dealing as illegal, but Calder assured him that was all in the past. They were now working together. Surely Calder would keep him on the straight and narrow, or was Calder just as culpable? He remembered the scheme they had used to provide him with some money pretending it was an inheritance. Surely that had been illegal and Calder was involved.
George returned home the following morning with a heavy heart. His attempts to communicate with his mother had been unsuccessful. He had grave misgivings about the business dealings of his brother. Why was A.J. so keen to speak to Neville? Was A.J. trying to lure him, an innocent, into something Neville later might regret?