When the phone rings

 

John, Mick, Nan (Dolly), Grandad (Joe),David, Dad (Peter) Brian

Not long before my sixteenth birthday in January I was sat at home in the flat I shared with my parents when the telephone rang.

I ambled along the hallway to where the phone sat on one of those proper telephone tables that were popular at the time. The table was at the end of a narrow hallway close to the front door. Looking back now it seems like a strange place to have the phone but hey that’s where it was.

I answered the telephone and a voice at the end said “that you Lee?” “Yeah” I replied “who’s that?”

“It’s uncle Brian, is your dad there”

“No they’re up the club” I said.

“Go and get him and tell him his mums dead”

“What? What did you just say” I asked struggling to quite grasp what was just said

“Tell him his mums dead he needs to get over here” Brian said, it was only at this point I could hear the breaking in his voice.

Within a matter of minutes I was dressed and out of the front door. We lived in a tower block right at the top twentieth floor. I didn’t wait for the lift I headed straight down the stairs jumping almost landing to landing.

My parents at the time worked in the Hackney Hospital in the social club that had been created above the kitchens for the employees. I had to get across Mabley Green and up Homerton high street to get to the hospital grounds. To walk this distance would take around 30 minutes I would guess, I ran the whole way and was at the stairs to the club in about ten minutes flat. I have no idea where I go the energy from?

As I walked into the club my heart started to sink, I could see my dad behind the bar in the distance. Up until this point it hadn’t quite hit me what had happened. I reached the private door to the bar and my mum came and opened it.

“You OK what you doing here?” she enquired

“Uncle Brian phoned” I stuttered out at this point sensing something wrong my dad appeared

“Nans dead!”

“What? What’s that Lee my mum?

This was the first time I had ever seen my dad cry, I will never forget the sound he made when asking that question. His voice was breaking and as it was sinking in you could almost feel the pain ripping through him.

Within a couple of minutes the bar shutters were down and we were out of the door and down into the car. There were no mobile phones in those days, Brian had given me very little information just that she had died. The only option was to make our way over to the house.

My Grandparents lived in Walthamstow which was probably about 30-40 minute drive away in those days. My dad kept asking me are you sure it’s my mum? My Granddad had for years suffered with breathing problems, he had asbestosis and so I think everyone expected him to be first to go. My Nan had done everything for him most of their married lives. She was a real Cockney mum figure a real head of the family type. She had had five boys with there being two sets of twins. They had never had much but all of them loved her and respected her, she was not one to be messed with.

Because my dad kept asking me if I was sure, all that did was put more and more doubt in my mind.

Did Brian say Nan? Did he actually say she was dead? Was it Joe (Granddad)? Was she going to be there when we got there had I made a huge mistake? I was actually shitting myself.

We arrived at the house and all of my uncles were there, but the inevitable was true. Dolly (as she was known) had passed away that morning. My Granddad was sat in his chair; he looked shell shocked and didn’t seem to know what to do.

It turned out she had woken up not feeling very well and ending up having a massive heart attack, because of being so frail Joe couldn’t help her and before an ambulance could get to her she had another heart attack and passed away.

I recall sitting on the stairs which were open plan overlooking the sitting room. Nobody knew what to say to each other there were tears obviously but my overriding memory was of shock Dolly was only in her early 60s which by today’s standards is young.

Because Joe had been so ill for so long it was clear that he was not going to be able to stay in the house and look after himself, and so it was decided that he would go home with Uncle Brian.

Brian only had one daughter my cousin Sharon; she is the oldest of all the grandchildren and was moving out that year to get married. Even though I was only sixteen, I was the next oldest. We only had a small flat in a tower block so there was no way he would be able to manage living with us. My other uncles all had young children so it made sense for Joe to go to Brian.

My dad really took losing my Nan badly, he had always suffered with his nerves to a certain extent but this really hit him for six.

My dad had to take time off of work running the club due to the stress. He sat in his arm chair in the lounge of the flat, next to him was a small coffee table and on this table was bottle after bottle of pills. At one point it got so bad the skin on the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet just peeled off in sheets. Literally sheet after sheet. His hands and feet were red raw. His feet were so bad he had to walk on his heels as it was so painful, he was even unable to wear shoes.

I always thought my dad was a tough man, and he was. I had seen him fight on more than one occasion, and he would never back down from anyone. But this really got to him and to be fair it took him years to really fully recover.

Six months after my Nan had passed away my cousin Sharon was getting married, it was to be a big traditional white wedding in the church in Chingford where they lived. The reception was back at the house.



Cousin Chris and me at Sharons wedding



It was the normal family thing everything seemed OK Joe was there sat in his chair in the living room, it was sad as Dolly wasn’t there but in these situations you try and focus on the brides happy day.

The most eventful thing to happen was when a neighbour knocked to complain about the noise. She was rather irate even given the fact that this was a wedding. Everyone was trying to calm the situation even my poor dad. He got caught up in the middle of it, the neighbour decided to lash out and my dad Copt it. “Don’t hit me love, I’m not from Chingford I’m from Hackney I’ll slap you back” he declared to which she slapped him again. Shocked he went for it only to be restrained by his brother. That really pissed him off! More than being slapped itself.

The very next day Sharon jetted off on her two week honeymoon. Because my mum and dad had been working as publicans for many years, they had never been able to get away on a holiday. However because the last 6 months has been a really bad time my parents decided they had to have a short break and decided to go somewhere up north.

My parents had only been away for a matter of days when once again the telephone rang whilst I was at home. This time Uncle Brian delivered the news that Joe did not have long left and that my dad was to come as soon as he got back!

It was almost as if he had given up when Dolly died but held on to see Sharon get married.

So once again I was in the unenviable position of having to deliver more bad news.

As I said there were no mobile phones at that time (there was but normal people didn’t have them) so all I could do is wait and hope that they managed to get back in time. I was dreading it to be honest, the last six months my dad’s health had really suffered and here I was again going to have to break his heart.

On their arrival home I quietly approached my mum first to test the water, things had been good my dad had been relaxed and refreshed. My Dad was also aware that Joe was not good. He had not said anything to me but the brothers had been prepared by Brian at the wedding.

Having that horrible conversation this time, although difficult was not painful and shocking. Dad made the call to Brian and arrangements were made to go over the very next day.

When we arrived all five brothers and their wives were there. I was the only grandchild as the others were younger than me and poor Sharon was away on her honeymoon none the wiser. Joe was bed ridden and barely conscious. When I entered the room, I couldn’t believe this was the same man who had been at the wedding a week earlier. He seemed so frail; he couldn’t speak and did not seem to recognise any of us. My dad held his hand on one side and my uncle John held his hand on the other. I recall Brian was stood by Joe’s head and Mick and David were stood behind my dad. Nobody seemed to know what to say. We all stood in silence for what seemed like ages.

In the silence Joe’s breathing was all that could be heard. It sticks in my mind because it was a constant struggle for him. As kids we were never allowed to hug Joe as he said it made his breathing bad. It was more because he was an old fashioned man, “Boys don’t kiss and cuddle boys” type of guy. But as I stood there on that day his breathing problems was all I could focus on.

Then almost out of the blue, it stopped! The wheezing sound just stopped. We all looked at each other, as if to say “what now”. Brian looked down at Joe and could see he had passed away. “He’s gone” he said. Almost as Brian finished the sentence a loud wheezing and gurgling sound was let out. It wasn’t a false alarm though there was no mistake; this was just the last air in the lungs coming out. My heart had skipped a beat as this occurred. I’d never seen anyone die before; in fact I had never seen a dead body before.

John was hit the worst that day; he had lived with my grandparent’s right up until he was 40. In fact it was his house they lived in, so more a case of they lived with him really. John and I were left with Joe as the others went out to tell wives and make arrangements for the ambulance and so on. I was close to John, (if you’ve read my other blogs you may have seen a story specifically about him) and so I sat with him for support.

 It was a sad time but somehow peaceful. I felt a real connection and a certain sense of privilege to have been at Joe’s side with his sons at this time.  I guess that sounds strange? Or even morbid perhaps? But for me it was like a defining moment of growing up, being able to share these last moments of someone you love, with someone you love.