Welcome To Somerville Grange

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Welcome To Somerville Grange - book excerpt

If we are to believe the effusive claims in the expensively produced brochure, Somerville Grange, must surely be paradise on earth, an oasis of contentment, free from the stress and squalor of the outside world. A haven for the fortunate few who have struggled valiantly throughout their lives and, one way or another, find themselves with the wherewithal to meet the extortionate cost of passing their remaining days in such sublime circumstances.

Nor are the claims excessive. Somerville Grange is situated in a sheltered valley, surrounded by verdant hills folded round an old Georgian manor house. A modest Palladian pile, happily rescued from decay by an astute member of a family which once aspired to great things and who would surely be impressed by the entrepreneurial spirit shown by the present incumbent.

Having inherited not only the crumbling manor house, but also fifty acres of scenic grounds, the central feature being an ornamental lake, Simon Forsyth, the new lord of the manor as it were, risked ridicule from timid brethren and plunged immediately into his great project. Even as the original house was being restored, building work was underway to construct what would eventually become a mixed colony amid this idyllic setting, comprising no less than two hundred and thirty dwellings; bungalows, cottages and villas and attractive terraces of smaller but only marginally less expensive flats.

There was never any doubt in Simon Forsyth’s mind that Somerville Grange would be anything other than a retirement village, but crucially it would be the Rolls Royce of retirement communities. He was happy to make his own home in one of the impressive villas with unrestricted views across the lake, looking over the immaculate lawns beyond, fringed by tidy borders of spruce, birch and sturdy oak. This allowed the main building, the original Grange, to be developed into a community centre par excellence.

From the outset, Simon intended Somerville Grange to be more than just a retirement home; he wanted it to be a lively vibrant community. The ballroom of the old house, which had once aspired to splendour, was converted into a rather grand village hall. This has become the venue for communal activities of all kinds; resident association meetings, whist drives and sedate afternoon tea dances. It is used by the enthusiasts in the am-dram club to stage their idiosyncratic productions and has even hosted the odd wedding reception, when, somewhat late in the day, Cupid has come calling among the aged and aging residents.

In the thirty-odd years since the first affluent retirees moved in, Somerville Grange has achieved acclaim as the ultimate – or perhaps, strictly speaking, one should say the penultimate – heavenly destination for its fortunate residents.

Over the years,the Grange has been host to a variety of individuals, each for a fleeting moment making their mark in the enclosed community. In the early days, a robust ex-army type made the national press on account of his elaborate moustaches, a trivial nine-day wonder but a boon for Simon Forsyth’s marketing department.

More recently, Moira Muirfield, a spinster of inspirational get-up-and-go, achieved the status of living legend. The story goes that Moira, for many years the doyen of the Grange’s popular handicraft club, started knitting a Fair Isle jumper during Homes Under the Hammer and was casting off before they got to the Mystery House in Escape to the Country.“Formidable” is perhaps the adjective we’re looking for here.

Given that Somerville Grange is without a doubt the perfect place to pass one’s final years, even in this earthly paradise death will inevitably come calling at some point. But the Grangers are a stoic bunch, respectfully bidding farewell to old friends, while eagerly anticipating the exciting prospect of new arrivals to take their place.

Only rarely does the community dwell on any one passing, but Davy Park’s death proved to be the exception to that rule, the circumstances of his demise gleefully remembered even now, years after the event

Davy, a widower well into his eighties, had for over a decade passed his days in placid contentment. All went well until Sandra Parkinson arrived at the Grange. There were some, chiefly among the more prissy residents, who surmised Sandra had what they darkly referred to as a “back story”. Fact was, Sandra was a bit of a stunner.Even in her late sixties she had all the allure of a woman half her age. Heads turned when she passed, among them Davy Park’s.

It turned out to be a case of fatal attraction. Having wooed and won the fair maiden, or, in the opinion of some, been seduced by her sluttish charms, Davy then took her to bed. Sadly, the unaccustomed excitement proved too much for his octogenarian heart which gave out at the moment of climax. Ever since, Davy Park has been remembered as the man who came and went at the same time.

Naturally, you’ll find no mention of death in the Somerville Grange brochure.As upbeat in its promises as in practice, the emphasis is on living the good life. We all know we can’t take it with us, so where better to cash in your chips than in such amenable surroundings with so many interesting neighbours?

It’s my intention to become a regular visitor to Somerville Grange and report on the many and varied activities of the indomitable resident characters.You are cordially invited to join me. I hope you will.

ALICE

After the death of her husband, Alice Nolan decided to make a new start. She’d been married to Jim for coming on fifty years, and though it seemed Jim had spent more time at the golf club, they’d lived in the same house in the same area for most of that time. The truly tragic aspect of her husband’s demise was that it had come soon after the death of her great confidante and life-long friend, Mary. Doubly bereft, and with her two girls happily living their own independent lives, Alice bravely came to the conclusion that it wasn’t too late to try something new.

So when Myra, Alice’s elder daughter, came across an advertisement extolling the virtues of the Somerville Grange Retirement Complex, and tentatively suggested her mother might investigate the possibilities, she was amazed and delighted by Alice’s positive reaction.

It took Alice only one visit to make up her mind. Enchanted by the peaceful setting in the softly wooded valley with the charming flats and chalets clustered round the placid lake, Alice knew, after years of teasing about her name, she had at long last found her wonderland.

Only two days after moving into her new home, Alice was even more certain she’d made the right move. She’d been warmly welcomed on her arrival by cheery representatives from various groups and organisations, eagerly informing her about the wide range of activities on offer at Somerville Grange.

Always eager for new blood, the Grangers, as they liked to think of themselves, had every reason to be pleased with the new arrival. Alice, although into her seventies, was petite and attractive, with a tidy cap of blonde hair. Although her figure had lost the voluptuous perfection of her younger days, in the opinion of at least one old fellow, she was still “well upholstered”. Not perhaps quite the words he used, but you get the idea.

Towards the end of the first week in her new home, in need of a few essential bits and bobs, Alice took advantage of the bus service which ran three days a week, to visit the local town. The bus left early in the morning and returned from the town at three in the afternoon.

By one o-clock, Alice had completed her shopping and, with a couple of hours to spare, decided to treat herself to a mid-day bite in the restaurant of a large department store. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one with that in mind. There must have been at least a dozen other shoppers with the same idea, all of them lined up at the entrance to the tearoom. However, even as Alice contemplated trying elsewhere, a chubby, humourless waitress, obviously charged with the task of keeping the queue moving, impatiently chivvied the folks at the front to recently vacated tables. Alice, who used to annoy her husband with her habit of labelling perfect strangers with nicknames, immediately christened this bossy individual “The Commandant”.

Bossy The Commandant may have been, but no one could have complained she wasn’t efficient and it wasn’t long before Alice found herself at the head of the queue.

‘Table for two,’ barked The Commandant, bearing down on Alice. Until then, Alice hadn’t been aware of the elderly gentleman behind her.Obviously the waitress had assumed they were together. ‘Table for two!’ she snapped, louder this time, in the fond belief she was addressing yet another pair of doolally oldies.

And that was the magic moment.With only the faintest shrug and the raising of one eyebrow, the old chap communicated volumes; acknowledging the farcical situation, implying ‘fine by me if you don’t mind’ and the imperative warning of ‘better not rub her the wrong way.’

‘Well, come on then!’ thundered The Commandant. ‘What are you waiting for?’

So a table for two it was. By the time their order was served, Alice and David – who had introduced himself as David Young but was usually referred to as young David – were chatting away as though they’d known one another all their lives. Only a few years older than Alice, David had a friendly, lived-in face.What hair he had remaining suggested he might once have been a redhead and, as Alice had instantly realised, he had a droll and impish sense of humour.

When eventually The Commandant brusquely tendered the bill, there were no arguments as to who might pay. Gallantly, David insisted and Alice gracefully agreed, but with the proviso that next time the treat would be on her.

After that, the magical day got even better. When Alice regretfully announced she had to catch the bus back to Somerville Grange at three-o-clock, the seemingly unflappable David was, for a moment, lost for words. At various points during their cosy confab in the restaurant they’d found so much in common that the expression “it’s a small world” had cropped up more than once, but now they realised just how small the world really was.

There was no need for Alice to rush off for the bus, David assured her, for the simple reason that he was also a resident at Somerville Grange, and they could travel back together in his car. Alice was speechless. Until then, Alice had thought of her move to Somerville Grange as being some sort of epilogue, but suddenly it had turned out to be the beginning of a brand-new chapter.

Not long after that, the happy couple were dining together once more, this time in the more intimate setting of Alice’s cosy new home. When inevitably the moment came to consummate their friendship, Alice stood playfully at the open bedroom door. ‘Come on then!’ she commanded. ‘What are you waiting for?’

THE SOMERVILLE PLAYERS

‘… and that was his downfall!’ The words were declaimed by a be-whiskered gentleman, wearing a deer-stalker hat and holding in his hand an enormous magnifying glass. Almost immediately the curtain fell.Unfortunately, it would have been better if the curtain had simply closed, as it should have done. Luckily, this was only a rehearsal for Gavin Madison’s latest extravaganza, to be performed by the am-dram enthusiasts, a motley mix known collectively as the Somerville Players, in the luxurious retirement complex. Accidents like this were pretty much par for the course in any theatrical enterprise overseen by the thespian guru of Somerville Grange. Looking on the bright side, it wasn’t all bad news, at least no one was injured… this time.

Twice a year, the Players entertained their fellow Grangers with productions masterminded by Gavin Madison; that is to say, produced, directed and, ever since the acrimonious dispute with the Performing Rights Society, even written by the great man himself. Gavin would be the first to admit he was one of the old-school types; kitchen sink dramas and angry young men might have appealed to some, but Gavin remained faithful to the cosy domestic comedies he’d first come across as a member of the local Village Dramatic Society. The man was a walking anachronism; his wardrobe looked as if it had been bought by his mother sometime in the Fifties and never since updated. There was, though, the off-chance that the heavy horn-rimmed glasses he favoured might one day come back into fashion.

The plots of Gavin’s alleged comedies hinged on barely credible misunderstandings, featuring domineering matriarchs, posh twits and silly-ass vicars with unreliable braces. A dismally outdated format, but surprisingly popular with the Grangers.

Sadly, it wasn’t Gavin’s not so witty one-liners or the woefully unfunny plots which were the source of their mirth; there was much more entertainment to be had from the ridiculous spectacle of juvenile leads being played by an arthritic septuagenarians, the wobbly scenery, missed cues and wayward props, and, topping it all, the unintentional hilarity of the occasional musical accompaniment provided by Elsie Blair, who had obviously been given piano lessons by the late Les Dawson.

On the other hand, The Somerville Players were blessed with the presence of a glamorous leading lady, Gloria Goodwood, a blonde bombshell, languid and curvaceous, her sex appeal undiminished by advancing years. Gloria, whose real name, Martha Carson, no one ever mentioned, never missed a chance to let you know she’d featured in early episodes of The Bill and Casualty, artfully omitting the fact that they were non-speaking roles.

There was of course a downside to having such an experienced actress in the cast, which was that her excellence, in relative terms, only highlighted the abysmal standard of the others. Not that Gloria allowed their inadequacies to affect the quality of her leading roles; let the others stumble and mumble, she had her reputation to consider! Like a beacon in the darkness, performance after performance Gloria Goodwood rose to the challenge, her acting, in her opinion at least, deserving the awards regularly given to less worthy, but better-known, stars.

The Grangers loved her and one performance in particular will never be forgotten, Gloria was starring in the titular role of Gavin Madison’s epic historical romance, His First Love, aperiod drama in which the dashing Lord Featherstone, a serial seducer of beautiful women, on a weekend visit to Baron Buckland’s opulent country house, comes across the long-lost love of his life, Clarissa Wodehouse.