Arrangements have to be made. Suitable establishments for looking after the elderly have to be inspected and full questions asked about them. Recommendations are sought from doctors, from friends, who have Aunt Adas of their own who had been ‘perfectly happy until she had died’ at ‘The Laurels, Bexhill’, or ‘Happy Meadows at Scarborough’.
The days are past when Aunt Elisabeth, Aunt Ada and the rest of them lived on happily in the homes where they had lived for many years previously, looked after by devoted if some-times somewhat tyrannical old servants. Both sides were thoroughly satisfied with the arrangement. Or there were the innumerable poor relations, indigent nieces, semi-idiotic spinster cousins, all yearning for a good home with three good meals a day and a nice bedroom. Supply and demand complemented each other and all was well. Nowadays, things are different.
For the Aunt Adas of today arrangements have to be made suitable, not merely to an elderly lady who, owing to arthritis or other rheumatic difficulties, is liable to fall downstairs if she is left alone in a house, or who suffers from chronic bronchitis, or who quarrels with her neighbours and insults the tradespeople.
Unfortunately, the Aunt Adas are far more trouble than the opposite end of the age scale. Children can be provided with foster homes, foisted offon relations, or sent to suitable schools where they stay for the holidays, or arrangements can be made for pony treks or canaps and on the whole very little objection is made by the children to the arrangements so made for them. of life. They liked themselves and liked each other and day succeeded day in a quiet but enjoyable fashion.
There were, of course, moments, everyone has moments. Mr Beresford opened a letter, glanced through it and laid it down, adding it to the small pile by his left hand. He picked up the next letter but forbore to open it. Instead he stayed with it in his hand. He was not looking at the letter, he was looking at the toast-rack. His wife observed him for a few moments before saying,
‘What’s the matter, Tommy?’
‘Matter?’ said Tommy vaguely. ‘Matter?’
‘That’s what I said,’ said Mrs Beresford.
‘Nothing is the matter,’ said Mr Beresford. ‘What should it be?’
‘You’ve thought of something,’ said Tuppence accusingly.
‘I don’t think I was thinking of anything at all.’ ‘Oh yes, you were. Has anyfixing happened?’
‘No, of course not. What should happen?’ He added, ‘I got the plumber’s bill.’
‘Oh,’ said Tuppence with the air of one enlightened. ‘More than you expected, I suppose.’
‘Naturally,’ said Tommy, ‘it always is.’
‘I can’t think why we didn’t train as plumbers,’ said Tuppence. ‘If you’d only trained as a plumber, I could have been a plumber’s mate and we’d be raking in money day by day.’
‘Very short-sighted of us not to see these opportunities.’ ‘Was that the plumber’s bill you were looking at just now?’ ‘Oh no, that was just an Appeal.’ ‘Delinquent boys – Racial integration?’
‘No. Just another Home they’re opening for old people.’
‘Well, that’s more sensible anyway,’ said Tuppence, ‘but I don’t see why you have to have that worried look about it.’ ‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of that.’ ‘Well, what were you thinking of?.’
‘I suppose it put it into my mind,’ said Mr Beresford.
‘What?’ said Tuppence. ‘You know you’ll tell me in the end.’ ‘It really wasn’t anything important. I just thought that perhaps – well, it was Aunt Ada.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Tuppence, with instant comprehension.
‘Yes,’ she added, softly, meditatively. ‘Aunt Ada.’
Their eyes met. It is regrettably true that in these days there is in nearly every family, the problem of what might be called an ‘Aunt Ada’. The names are different – Aunt Amelia, Aunt Susan, Aunt Cathy, Aunt Joan. They are varied by grandmoth-ers, aged cousins and even great-aunts. But they exist and present a problem in life which has to be dealt with.
Arrangements have to be made. Suitable establishments for looking after the elderly have to be inspected and full questions asked about them. Recommendations are sought from doctors, from friends, who have Aunt Adas of their own who had been ‘perfectly happy until she had died’ at ‘The Laurels, Bexhill’, or ‘Happy Meadows at Scarborough’.