If you were to be shown pictures of the apartments Sadie and I respectfully live in, you would never think they were in the same building. Sadies' is from a different era; walls papered in bold floral designs rather than the bland walls of the penthouse apartments. It's also not an open plan layout down here; the rooms are smaller and darker. I actually find it more homely and the flat is like every octogenarian's place I've ever been in; cluttered and fascinating. There are piles of random papers on every table, some are newspapers with crossword puzzles she's yet to finish, others are cuttings torn haphazardly out of magazines, and some I think may be the drafting of her will.
The marble mantelpiece is full of black and white photographs in mismatched frames of people from her past. Sometimes when I ask, Sadie tells me she can't remember who they are and I look for the presence of a spark in her eye as to whether she's telling the truth, or for that day not wanting to recall; but she always remembers I asked and when she's ready she'll come out with a fascinating fact about them - there's one thing I know, Sadie has lived life to the full. On the first day I met her she was having an argument with some guy in the lift, telling him if he had a chivalrous bone in his body, he would press the button for her floor first and then once she'd departed on her floor, he could then press the button for his floor. 16 floors later, taking her time to leave the lift, Sadie leaned over, and in a waft or Rive Gauche perfume, whispered there were no such chivalrous rules and she'd only told the man that to make some fun in her life. I'd loved her immediately.
Then there's what defines Sadie to me; her music. Not cd's but proper vinyl albums, their paper covers torn with the amount of handling they have had over the years. It's the old tunes she loves, any excuse for her to pull a record out, use the hem of her ever present cardigan to wipe any dust off it, and walk with her slow unsteady gait over to the archaic record player, where with the nostalgic scraping of the needle she puts some Vera Lynn on, comes back and sits on the couch, taking my hand in hers and rests her head back as silently she mouths the words; lost in memories of the past.
Today it's a photograph of a much younger Sade in her Wren uniform which catches my eye. She looks proud, happy, exactly the same as just now when she comes through from the kitchen, perilously balancing a tray on top of her zimmer and I hastily put the frame back on the mantelpiece and rushing over to her.
"Sadie." I say, grabbing the china laden tray and taking it over to the small occasional table where I place it on top of the aforementioned newspapers. "You are gonna' have a fall one day 'n' hurt yourself."
"Says the girl who has just scaled down a building. Give an old lady some fun in life." She abandons her walking aid a mile from the couch and starts to use the furniture to successfully make her way over to sit down, watching like a hawk that I put enough sugar into her china tea cup before she does the honour of pouring the dark amber liquid in.
"Where are you going today?" Sadie asks, sipping carefully before leaning over and taking another teaspoon full of sugar. I've given up lecturing her on the prospect of diabetes, all I'll get is a rundown on how a 20 year old girl air dropped behind enemy lines would have thought living long enough to die from too much sugar was a wonderful way to go.
"To see my family, not that my Dad will probably bother to turn up." I say a bit huffily. He maybe doesn't know that I scale down buildings to be able to get out and see them, but he does know that catching up isn't the easiest to organise. "Mum said she'd bring my little brother, I ain't even met him yet. How weird is that?"
"How old is he?"
Sadie offers the side plate of biscuits. I pause from answering whilst I pick out a digestive biscuit. "Three months."
Sadie shrugs like that's no time at all. Realising I'm not going to get any sympathy, I go onto the poor little bleeders name.
"He's called Martin. Always thought my name was old fashioned, hated it, but god he's gonna' hate his name when he's older. My Dad's choice of course. Why can't they have called him something nice like Noah or I dunno'-"
"Benedict."
"Yeah whatever." I do everything in my power not to show disgust on my face. Sadie is very old fashioned. Apparently one of her nephews is called Nathaniel and she's never spoken to his wife because she calls him Nate. I've also heard the story of how Nathaniel and his wife can't wait for her to 'pop her clogs' so they can get their hands on her fortune, therefore that may also be a reason why she doesn't talk to them. Sadie isn't the kind of person you would ever dare to feel sympathy for, but there's a loneliness in her that I have a lot of empathy for.
"Anyway, your name is nice." Sadie peers at me over her glasses.
"Thanks Sadie." I say with surprise at the unexpected comment.
"If that is your real name?"
"What do you not think I look like a Polly?" I want to trust her, everything in my gut tells me to trust her but I've been warned not to trust anyone.
"No. I don't, but it'll be close to Polly. That's what they do, they give you a name which is close to your own so you'll remember it when you're under questioning and automatically respond. I'd say you were maybe a Holly, definitely not a Dolly, though with your blonde hair it could be…." Sadie's head moves to the side, under her intense stare I feel prickles of discomfort - I don't think it's due to the constant home bleaching of my hair - and I try to keep my expression light and neutral during her scrutiny as if it's an innocent game we are playing. "... though no possibly not…. Molly….. yes I'd have you as a Molly."
She's right.
"I think I'll stick with Polly if you don't mind."
Sadie clicks her tongue. "Oh dear I've upset you, I didn't mean to upset you. I should learn to keep my nose to myself. What you young things get up to these days has nothing to do with me."
There's no answer I can give her, so for the next few minutes we sip our tea in silence, only the tick tock from the carriage clock somewhere in the room making a noise. In my mind I'm trying desperately to think of some safe conversation. Sadie beats me too it;
"Still on for scrabble on Thursday night?"
"Yes." I grin, placing my cup down onto the saucer with such force tea sloshes over the top. The old lady sitting opposite me is my only glimmer of sanity, and I can't risk pissing her off with my carefully constructed web of lies. It's with genuine relief I sigh as I say "Can't wait."
"I could even invite your handsome neighbour."
"If you invite him, I'll be busy." I say with determined force.
Sadie winks, and whispers. "Anyway I wouldn't really want to invite him. He'd probably win."
"Oi, I sometimes win." I exclaim, and I do, it's not a lie. My main problem is that Sadie plays in German and though I trust her 100% there seems to be far more high scoring words in German.
Placing her tea cup down Sadie looks like she's trying to hide a smirk. I'm telling you she might be heading towards the end of her 80th year but there's no flies on her.
"What you tryin' to say you let me win?" I bite my lip and try not to giggle.
"That's the trick. Now you wont know when you win, whether it's because I let you." Sadie clasps her hands in her lap and gives a big grin. "Always be unexpected Polly. I learned that with the Germans."
"Bet that weren't all you learnt from the Germans." I snigger and then regret it, holding my hand up to stop any unwanted stories. "Please no sex stories."
"Do I look like the kind of lady who kisses and tells?"
"You bleedin' do." I laugh. "You're worse than my Nan."
"I think I'd like to meet your Nan." Sadie exhales, taking a sip of her tea.
"I'd love you to meet my Nan too." I reply wistfully.
Sadie leans over and pats my knee. "Give her a hug from me."
I swear she can read me like a book, 'cause that's exactly what I was thinking of, the big squidgy hug my Nan will give. "I will."
"What about a chocolate biscuit before you go?"
She's stalling my departure, but I don't care and nod my agreement, I wait until Sadie has made her way through to the kitchen, and then get my notebook out from my bag. The blue A5 journal is my current 'bible'. About one week into my enforced solitary life, I decided I was going to use this time to improve myself. As I flick through the already filled pages to get a blank page, there are already lots completed like :
Read more - and not just Take a Break! A few classics, maybe even a Jane Austen -
Update - completed 26th May.
(I read three chapters of pride and prejudice and then watched the film.)
Become 'Accomplished' - by being proficient in :
Singing
Signed up to Singstar.
Karaoke for one completed on 28th May.
Update 29th June - Must be improving as Twatty neighbour impressed with my rendition of All By Myself, I could tell by the way he hammered on my door.
Playing the Piano -
On hold until I can get a piano.
Needlework
Update - 27th May - Ordered a cross stitch kit.
28th May - Cross stitch kit arrived.
4th June - unpacked cross stitch kit.
Play Cards
Update - Solitaire game improving.
Learn to Bake
Update - Made brownies 15th June and didn't need to bin them.
1st July - all batches of brownies turning out successfully - have mastered this - call me Mary Berry!
Become fluent in Pashto
Update - Completed - dagha khaghly be da har sa lagakht wakri - Translation - The gentleman will pay for everything. I think this will be very useful and don't think there's much more to learn.
Find a way to impress Dad
Become an alcoholic ? Become a successful benefit cheat? Needs more thought..
Google more to improve my knowledge
Names of all the planets - and not just uranus!
Political Systems
Can you actually cheat when playing solitaire? (after all you would only be cheating yourself 'n' you can't really do that.)
How to get more qualifications than an Officer in the British Army?
How to get any qualifications in fact?
What does 'accomplished' actually mean?
How to be a contestant on The Great British Bake Off?
Learn all the Celebrity Big Brother contestants and the order they were eliminated in case I ever get invited to a Pub Quiz.
Okay, I have to admit, I occasionally think I have great ideas when I'm drunk but considering initially I'd only wanted to read more I think I'm doing pretty alright.
Today I write in : Buy a thesaurus for future games of scrabble in case Sadie DOES ever invite neighbour!
"What are you writing?"
"Oh this?" I say innocently, trying to angle the book so Sadie can't read it over my shoulder. "Just a little book with things I want to do to improve myself. You know, things I need to learn."
"What for your neighbour?"
I smile sweetly at Sadie before writing one last thing in my book.
I am NOT doing any of the above to impress my wanky neighbour!