38 - Of Change, Words and Low-Hanging Apples

It's been some time since I wrote my daily blog - 21 days, in fact! Hardly a daily blog, then!

Firstly, we were looking for a place to live and for a job to pay for the house to live in. We couldn't believe that one estate company could embody so much lying, inertia, incompetence and confusion. We tried to stay calm and God-like through the process but we still have a wee way to go in the Godliness stakes! Anyway, if you're looking to rent or buy a house in England, we can tell you which firm NOT to use!

So, we're now in our nice wee house and still trying to have a job/income happen - more promises and little action. There seems to be a love of telling you what they're going to do and of telling you what they've done … but no actual doing. Still trying to maintain that peaceful, Christ-like state … very trying!

Then, amid all the change process, I realised that I had several nearly-written books and so I decided to complete five of them and then get back to Arthur Bayly's story ... something about picking the low-hanging apples first. The five will be available on Amazon very soon, along with the other three already there.

So, that's my excuse for not writing any more of Arthur's story, which continues here from the previous blog on 7th September …

"Joan, JOAN!" said Arthur, unable to contain himself. "Just leave well alone and give Martin space to work himself out or whatever they say. He's a grown, intelligent man and I don't think he's about to sink into depression or alcoholism or anything ..."

"But," said Joan. "I just thought it would be so nice ..."
"It would be more nice if we stopped ordering others' lives around and let them be, Darling," said Arthur, patting her hand and smiling gently.

"Thanks Dad, thanks," said Martin, wiping tears from his cheek. Emily had not taken her hand from his knee and he looked at her, smiling softly.

"Oh, I suppose you're right, Arthur," said Joan sighing. "But you used to be such a dynamo, Martin, a bossy britches and now you've gone all gooey and soft. It's just not the Martin I know."

"Well, if it's goo he needs to be right now, then goo's fine," said Emily. "The goo will set in its own sweet time."

"Oh Emily," said Martin, his hand now on hers. "Thanks for that. I keep thinking I'm losing it. I really don't like myself at the moment but I can't seem to stop it. My mind just wanders off and doesn't come back and I'm so moody, up and down, roundabout. I'd hate to know what the kids think. He put his cup on the coffee table, sat back and sighed.

"What they think, Martin, is that you're there - with them, feeding them, putting them to bed, taking them to school," said Emily. "Yes, they may have a cranky father, at times, but at the moment you're there and they know that."

Martin collapsed back into the chair with both hands over his eyes, unable to stifle his sobbing.

"Oh Martin ..." said Joan, leaping up to comfort him.

"No Joan, let him cry," said Emily with quiet authority.

"But, my poor darling needs a hug," said Joan, standing there indecisively.

"No Joan, you need a hug as you feel uncomfortable," said Emily. "But your hug will stop his tears and he needs to let it all out. Wait till he stops."

"Oh, OK," said Joan sitting quietly, obviously caught between seeing her son's pain and thinking about this new idea of Emily's.

"Oh, Emily, you do understand!" said Martin. "I feel such a fool, such a failure, but I can't make it stop. But you say it will pass?"

"Yes Martin, it will if you don't try to stop all the sadness and anger and everything else bubbling up when they want to. It probably doesn't feel like it's getting better and then, one day, you'll realise that you've been quite coherent and normal for hours on end - maybe a whole day - and you start to feel like there's progress at last."

"Oh Martin," said Joan. "I know where you got your bossy britches from - me! Sorry to be so pushy but I just want to see you happy ..."

"Yes, I know, Mum," said Martin, wiping his eyes with a smile. "But if our resident psychologist here is right, you might have to see me not-happy off and on for a while yet. It's such a relief to know it's OK that I can be like this. Thank you Emily, thank you so much." His hands went to his face as another sob came up.

"Are you alright Mithter?" asked Chloe, standing beside him. Arthur had been unaware of her actually walking over there and wondered how she had just materialised beside his son.

"Yes thanks, young lass," said Martin, also surprised at her presence. "I'm going mad but your mummy said it's OK to do that." He chuckled and it infected the rest of the room. Everyone smiled with relief.

"Can I sit on your knee, Mister?" asked Chloe.

"What? With this blubbering old man?" said Martin, his humour returning. "Of course you can and before you get up can you get me one of those biscuits, please? This is all very draining."

Chloe fetched a biscuit and then snuggled up into Martin's solid frame and everyone settled back with a sigh.

"Well," said Arthur, after a minute of peaceful silence. "We were saying that the right thing or person always turns up when we ask for it. You remember saying that, Dear?"

"Oh yes I did," said Joan. "That feels like hours ago!"

"Well, we thought Martin was going to be the answer for Emily but it was the other way round, wasn't it!" said Arthur, smiling at his wisdom.

"You know what, Arthur? You're right!" said Joan. "We knew a solution was at hand but we were looking for the wrong one!"

"What's this all about questions and answers and solutions?" asked Martin, looking quite content, snuggled up with Chloe.

"Well, before you arrived ... actually the reason Emily is here, I think, is that her father has gone missing and no one knows where he is," said Arthur. "Not the police, not his work, not Emily. Quite a mystery."

"And I miss my grandad," said Chloe.

"Of course you do," said Martin, gently.

"So, we were trying to work out what to do next," said Joan. "We asked the universe for an answer and you turned up!"

"You asked the universe?" asked Martin.

"Don't worry about that," said Arthur, a little embarrassed. "Some silly new theory, I think. Anyway, Emily's father, Sam Lord, was just not at work last Thursday, didn't turn up and hasn't been seen since."

"Not the Sam Lord ... your boss?" asked Martin.

"Yes, my boss," said Martin.

"And the answer's not staring you in the face, Dad?" asked Martin, surprised.

"Well no, Martin, it isn't," said Arthur.

"Look Dad, what do you do when clients make a claim for missing property - cars, furniture or whatever ... even people?" asked Martin.