Chapter 39

Ruth helped Robert on with his coat, woolen cap and mittens and gave him a kiss good-bye, "Have fun at the holiday party with James and your mum."

"I will Graunty. Thank you." He looked up at her and smiled, a smile that always broke her reserve, and she gave him another quick kiss.

Louisa took a final look at both the boys, confirming that each was bundled up against the cold and then turned to Martin, who was holding baby Joanie in the crook of his arm, as was his habit. Leaning down, Louisa nuzzled the baby's neck and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, cooing, "Now be a good girl for your Daddy and Great Aunt Ruth whilst we are gone."

She turned to Ruth and gave her a hug good bye, then reached up to give Martin a kiss, hugging him tightly, "I hate not being able to take her to the party. The villagers will be so disappointed. Everyone is expecting to see her. Are you two certain that you don't want to come?"

Martin cleared his throat, sending Ruth a quick look that told her they were lucky to have an excuse to demure before replying, "Noooo. Best not expose Joanie to all the pathogens that are likely to be swarming around the village holiday party." He reached over to ruffle the heads of his two sons and then added, "Make sure James and Robert wash their hands thoroughly several times. We don't want them bringing home a flu bug or something worse."

Looking down at her young sons, she nodded her head and assured Martin, "We will, won't we boys?"

"Yes, mummy. We know it's important to wash our hands." James replied, as Robert nodded his head and held out his hands.

Louisa hesitated as she reached for their contribution to the evening's pot-luck, a chicken casserole using one of Joan's recipes. "We will miss you, but I know you two will probably be happy to stay in and enjoy a quiet evening."

Ruth nodded, "I'm certain that Martin and I will have a very pleasant evening. I'm about to set up the chess board."

Martin nodded and grunted his agreement, and Ruth spread her arms. This good-bye was taking much too long. They were only headed to the village holiday party, not a voyage overseas. "Have a good time, and drive carefully." With that she shooed them out the door.

"We will and we won't be late." Louisa confirmed as she tripped out the door, both boys in tow.

Finally, Louisa and the boys were on their way and the house settled into a haven of tranquillity. Martin set up the baby rocker on the kitchen table, secured Joanie in the seat, and turned on the attached music player while Ruth pulled out the chess board and set it up.

"I thought we could have a simple omelette for supper," he said as he pulled the eggs from the cupboard and opened the refrigerator to get some leftover ham from the previous day's meal. He gathered a few vegetables, onions, peppers, and mushrooms, and began to chop them to include in the omelette. "Should I sauté some of the potatoes from yesterday as well?"

"Sounds quite the feast. Can I help?"

"Perhaps you could slice the potatoes and cook them up whilst I prepare the omelettes."

In less than a quarter hour, Martin had their meal on the table and they sat down to enjoy the repast in near silence, occasionally turning their attention to the baby and giving her chair the random bounce. Most of the tunes in the rocker's repertoire were simple variations on classical themes, and Martin drummed his fingers to the beat of Mozart or Beethoven as the familiar tunes played on.

Ruth put her fork down for a moment to comment, "I can't say I am impressed by the orchestration inherent to this rocker's playing mechanism, but I am impressed by the selections. They should encourage both her musical and vocal development, I should think."

"Yes, most of these tunes have a complex musical structure which some experts believe encourages spatial thinking. I doubt its effect on infants is substantial; however, the music is calming and that effect has been corroborated."

Ruth put her fork down and leaned back in her chair, dabbing her mouth with her serviette, "Yes, it is … calming, that is. I wonder if our listening to it will help us ramp up our chess skills."

"Hmmm …. That's a possibility" Martin rose and started to clear the dishes and do the washing up.

"Dinner was delicious Martin. You do have a way with a skillet." Ruth leaned over to coo at the baby and she noticed that familiar odour. "Why don't you let me do the rest of the washing up and you can clean up this baby." She walked over to the sink and tilted her head in Joanie's direction, twitching her nose.

"Right."

xxXxx

Martin returned to the kitchen with a fresh baby and put the kettle on, reaching into the dresser for two cups. "I assume you would enjoy a cup of tea?"

"Actually, Martin, I think I will have a glass of that whiskey Chris gave you for Christmas. Should be just the ticket to warm me up on this cold winter's night." Ruth was just finishing the washing up and she dried her hands before placing the teatowel on its hook at the end of the counter.

Martin shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head to the side, as he gently advised his aunt, "An extra pair of socks and a woollen cardigan might be more effective. Honestly, I don't know why Chris is always giving me whiskey. Alcohol can have a very deleterious effect on the liver. He should know that."

"I'm sure he does, and enjoys it anyway. Joan always kept a bottle handy and if it weren't for Chris, there might never be a drop to be found in this house again. Why don't I pour you a glass as well?" She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a glass

"Humph, don't be ridiculous. Unless you are developing dementia, of which I've seen no signs so far, I need to keep my wits about me if I want to win this match."

"Truer words were never spoken," Ruth replied with a lopsided grin.

Martin placed his tea on the table and went to lift Joanie out of her rocker. "When Chris and I were in med school, I always kept a few bottles of good single malt in my flat which he would enjoy from time to time. He still thinks of me as a whiskey drinker even though I rarely touch the stuff any more."

"Your loss my boy. I must thank him the next time I see him." Ruth added a few drops of water to her glass and raised it in a salute.

The two Ellingham's sat down to do battle, each with their beverage of choice. Ruth's Uncle Dick had bought the teak board and ivory chessmen in the Far East between the wars when he was a young Naval officer. It came with the house when he deeded the farm and its contents to Joan and Christopher all those years ago. It might be valuable or it might not; they had no idea, but it was a beautiful set and many in the family had honed their skills using it. Martin had learned whilst playing with Phil when he visited as a child, and it brought back many fond memories of those times. When he and Joan were cleaning out the storage room prior to the renovations, they had discovered it in the bowels of an ancient wardrobe, and now he and Ruth challenged each other whenever they were both at the farm.

A chess clock was buried in that ancient wardrobe along with the set, and Martin took it back to London with him to repair. It now kept perfect time, not that Martin and Ruth used it; they each preferred to contemplate every move without the added pressure of timed play. As it was, both were experienced players and were able to assess the course of the game within a reasonable time frame. Martin nodded to Ruth to make the first move, "Age before Beauty", he intoned.

"Just for that you deserve to take a trouncing." She made her first move.

Martin, still holding the baby, tickled her tummy and made his opening move as well. Ruth followed as did Martin. After the next move, Ruth observed, "Have you watched the baby? She seems to be very interested in our game. She looks at me when I make a move and then she looks up at you."

'No, I haven't. I doubt that the muscles in her neck are adequately developed to move her head back and forth." Martin wasn't going to be distracted.

'I didn't say she was moving her head, just that her eyes follow our moves."

"Hmmm …. Possibly."

"No possibly about it. I think she is just as curious, and as intelligent as your two boys. You'll see."

Martin made his next move and then looked down to observe his youngest. He pushed his chair back from the table and sat her on his knees holding her back and head so that she was facing him, "Is your Great Aunt Ruth correct? Are you interested in chess?"

She responded in typical baby fashion, waving her arms in the air and kicking her feet and moving her lips as if she were trying to respond. He smiled at her and gave her tummy a little rub. Ruth moved her hand over the board in anticipation of a move and Martin looked up. "Let's see what Graunty Ruth is up to."

"Graunty Ruth is thinking that you are spoiling my godchild. She should be back in her rocker or in her cot."

"Nonsense, she is too young to be spoilt, and the stimulation she receives from watching and listening to us encourages neural development. We treated James and Robert the same way, and I believe that neither of them is spoilt."

He gazed down lovelingly at his daughter, and then suddenly pulled his head up to look at Ruth, "They're not spoilt, are they?"

"No Martin, they are lovely children." She paused, and then added, 'Of course we both love them so we might be a bit biased."

"Mmm."

Ruth made her next move and continued the conversation, "Speaking of your children, I don't think I have ever thanked you for letting me be a part of your family."

Martin had been contemplating his next move, but snapped his head up at Ruth's statement. "But you are family. You are my Aunt. Why would we not consider you part of our family."

"That's not what I mean. What I am trying to say, and it is difficult to put into words without being overly sentimental, is that I don't ever feel like a guest in your home. I feel like I belong; and, dare I say it, it makes me happy."

Martin stared at her, eyes wide open, unsure how to respond. "Uh … yes … right … good." He shifted Joanie back into the crook of his left arm and returned his attention to the chess board, "I think your Great Aunt Ruth is trying to distract me."

Ruth kept silent until he made his next move. She had promised Louisa that she would talk to Martin about his parents, but he had seemed so content the first few days down on the farm before the Christmas festivities had commenced that she didn't want to spoil his holiday by bringing up such an unpleasant topic. She had decided to wait until after Joanie's Christening, but an appropriate occasion hadn't presented itself yesterday. Now seemed the most opportune time to broach the subject whilst the rest of the family was out of the house.

"Ooo … good move," she exclaimed as she watched him take out one of her men and open her to attack. "Speaking of family, how is your Dad doing these days?"

Martin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Do we have to talk about that now?"

"No, not if you don't want to. I was just wondering. He is my brother after all, much as I hate to admit it."

"Yes," he sighed again. "I spoke with Brendall, his consultant, this morning and from what he tells me, his condition continues to deteriorate. The procedure that he performed late last month was successful in removing several blockages, but his overall condition was poor to begin with and his cognitive ability is declining rapidly. His prognosis is poor."

"Oh dear." He might be a lying cheating bastard, a thug her sister once called him, but he was her brother and she was saddened that he should end his days in senility. "How is your mother taking it all?"

Martin stiffened, "Should we just close up the board and consider this game a draw?"

She stared at him for a long minute, "I assume that she is not coping … but no. I don't want to stop playing even though you may have me at a disadvantage for the moment. We can continue this conversation at a later time."

"I'd prefer that."

"Very well … but let me know if there is anything I can do to help. We are family after all and we are in this together."

She returned her focus to the game, dismayed that she wasn't able to draw him out. Perhaps that is why she found her king in check after the next four moves.

Game over, it was time to feed Joanie, change her and put her in her cot. Louisa was likely to be back within the hour and Ruth felt her opportunity slipping by. When Martin returned to the lounge to browse his BMJ, she broached the topic of his parents once more. "So … tell me how your mother is handling your father's illness. She always seemed so dependent on him."

Martin looked up at his Aunt, staring at her in dismay and put down his journal, huffing. "Very well. We can discuss this whole miserable situation if you insist. My mother is not handling it well."

"No, I suppose not."

"Perhaps I should rephrase that. You would not expect a wife to handle her husband's serious illness well. In my work, I have witnessed many wives in her situation who become distraught at the thought of losing their husband, but in her case, she doesn't exhibit any signs of sorrow or grief at his decline, none that I recognise at any rate."

"I'm not surprised."

"She plays the role of the devoted wife around the staff, but in private with me, she speaks of his illness as an inconvenience. It has disrupted her comfortable life and she acts resentful, especially now during the holidays when they should be back in Portugal hosting their usual holiday party."

"She has always been self-centered … both of them really. I know they are your parents, but you know as well as I that neither of them thinks of anyone other than himself."

"No." He looked down at his hands twisting in his lap. "You are right when you say she has always been dependent on Dad. He has managed all of their affairs, and now that he is unable to manage things, she expects me to do it. She refuses to accept that she must take responsibility for their affairs now, make decisions about his care, pay their bills, all that sort of thing."

Unable to hide the distress he was feeling, he continued, a scowl furrowing his brow, "Once he's gone, it will get worse. I've spoken to Dad's solicitor and his financial advisors. He has a substantial pension, but after his death, only a very small portion will continue to her. She will have very little income or capital available once he dies. She expects me to help her out financially."

Ruth sat up quickly and leaned in towards him, "No, no, no. You can't do that."

"I could possibly, but it would mean cutting back on our savings for the children's education and perhaps other things as well."

"No Martin. Absolutely not." Ruth was firm. "You have neither the time nor the financial resources to provide your mother with the lifestyle 'to which she has become accustomed' as they say. Let me think on it. I am sure I can help her sort it out."

Martin shook his head, "I have thought about it. Firstly, she will have to sell her villa and buy a small flat. I think with the proceeds from the villa plus the small annuity she will receive from dad's pension and what little remains of the capital he has invested, she could live a simple, but comfortable life."

After speaking with Louisa, Ruth had been formulating a strategy for approaching Margaret, a plan of attack as it were, but it was still gestating. The specifics hadn't yet fallen into place, but she planned to be direct, explain that Martin was much too busy to take care of her along with his hospital responsibilities and his family, and that certainly he had no extra funds to shore up her standard of living. She would offer to help Margaret sell her villa and find more affordable housing and set up a scheme to pay her bills if she really needed that kind of help. Ruth sincerely believed she didn't.

'Very well. Let me take care of it."

"I can't impose on you Ruth. It's asking too much."

"No, it isn't. Didn't I just say we are family? And family helps out one another in times of crises, and this is a time of crisis if ever I saw one."

Martin silently nodded his head and Ruth continued. "Take me to visit your dad when we return to London. We might see Margaret there and I can engage with her then. If not, it will give me an excuse to ask her to lunch where we can devise a plan to do just what you said, sell her villa, buy a small flat and set up a budget. It can be done, and she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She has never had to and she doesn't want to, but it's time for her to grow up. After all she's almost 80."

'Yes."

They both returned to their reading, but after a few minutes, Martin spoke up, "I didn't tell you, but my mother called me whilst we were at the Parsons' party on Boxing Day. Wanted me to return to London. Evidently Dad has been demanding that I come to see him to release him from the care home. She says she can't reason with him and she doesn't know what to do. I told her I'd have his consultant refer her to a social worker or therapist so she would have a professional to talk with and help her through this difficult time, but that I couldn't possibly leave Louisa alone with the three children."

"What did she say to that?"

"I don't know. I hung up on her and left a message for his consultant to do just that."

"Good for you." Ruth gave him a crooked smile, then got up and walked over to his chair, "Stand up."

"What for?"

"I want to give you a hug."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous. It took great courage for you to stand up to your mother. I'm proud of you and I want to give you a hug."

Martin continued to sit there giving her a sceptical look.

"Stand up!" Her tone had become much more demanding.

Reluctantly he stood and she reached around him and gave him a hug. He returned the hug, patting her gently on the back. 'You're very emotional this evening."

"Cut an old woman some slack Martin. I'm entitled to be emotional at Christmas." She released him and wiped a tear from her eye, "Find me a tissue, will you."