Mr Doubler Begins Again

‘I’m not talking about always popping into town. I’m talking about once or twice a week, say, getting out and about, having a conversation with somebody, anybody. You’re living as a recluse and that can’t be healthy.’

‘I’m OK,’ Doubler said quite firmly. ‘I don’t need anybody much. I mean, of course I relied very much on my lunchtime natter with your mum. That I miss dreadfully.’ His eyes filled up and Midge thought he might break down altogether, but he shook himself and drew himself up straight. ‘But I’m coping without those even. Conversation is overrated, you know.’

Midge shook her head sadly. ‘No, Doubler, it’s not. And if I wasn’t here trying to keep an eye on you in Mum’s absence, I hate to think what would happen to you. I’m going to dial the number for Grove Farm myself, but you’re going to do the talking – after all, you’re a bright, interesting individual and you are more than capable of engaging with these people. You’re going to volunteer immediately – and I mean immediately, tomorrow ideally. And just so you don’t get cold feet, I am going to drive you there myself the first time. I can imagine the shock to your system could be immense and I don’t want to feel responsible for you when your system goes into collapse because I’ve made you have a conversation with somebody other than my mother. Come on, I haven’t got all day.’

She led him to the telephone, looked up the number on her own phone, dialled it and handed Doubler the receiver with a look of impatience that Doubler feared much more than the sound of a stranger’s voice.

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