Every day, Roy politely ordered a cappuccino. Because he was always alone, Ruth delivered it to his table overlooking the carpark, staying for a chat, if it wasn’t too busy.
Over time, she told him about her grandmother, Margaret, a centenarian with flamboyant style and shrewd eyes.
Her defiant tendency to lock the front door against her carers.
The stroke that had reduced her vocabulary to three words: okay, alright, beautiful.
Roy listened with milky eyes. ‘At the end,’ he said, ‘my mother only used three words, too.’
Ruth looked kindly interested enough for him to reveal, ‘not good enough.’
Over time, she told him about her grandmother, Margaret, a centenarian with flamboyant style and shrewd eyes.
Her defiant tendency to lock the front door against her carers.
The stroke that had reduced her vocabulary to three words: okay, alright, beautiful.
Roy listened with milky eyes. ‘At the end,’ he said, ‘my mother only used three words, too.’
Ruth looked kindly interested enough for him to reveal, ‘not good enough.’
