At Café Minerva A new start

Retirement was going to be a whole new adventure for Jenny

On the Wednesday of Jenny’s final week at the office, she and Moira had lunch together at Café Minerva. Moira watched, smiling, while Jenny unwrapped a mug bearing the legend Retired and loving it! and a pair of microwavable slippers.

“So,” she said, when they’d hugged, “how many years is it exactly?”

“Five as the current director’s PA,” said Jenny, “and at least twenty working for Alan Blenkinsop before that.”

She shook her head in amazement. A quarter of a century organising meetings and other people’s travel arrangements. Of anticipating problems, and ensuring everybody was in the right place at the right time with the right set of papers.

“Alan Blenkinsop,” murmured Moira. “He must be lonely since his wife died.”

The faraway look in her eyes reminded Jenny of the much younger Moira who had often popped into Mr Blenkinsop’s room for a chat while she was busy typing up his dictation.

“He’s treating me to lunch here tomorrow, as a matter of fact,” said Jenny, “to celebrate my retirement.”

The “R” word appeared to bring Moira back to the present.

“Don’t be a stranger, Jenny,” she said. “Come and see us – often. Bake us one of your cakes.”

“I should leave it a while. I don’t want to step on the new girl’s toes.”

“Caroline does seem nice,” agreed Moira. “So, what have you got planned now that you’re a free woman – or will it mainly be Grandma duties? You know what they say,” she went on, picking up a menu. “Soon you’ll be wondering how you ever found the time to work.”

They both laughed.

So how are the twins?” asked Alan Blenkinsop next day. He was a little fuller in the face than she remembered but otherwise as dapper as ever.

“Ruth and the family are fine,” said Jenny. “Sarah broke up with her longterm partner recently but she’s been throwing herself into her teaching job.”

“And what about their music? Do they still keep it up?”

“Ruth rarely plays nowadays, but Sarah performs regularly with a group of friends from uni.”

Alan laid his hand on hers. “They always were a credit to you.”

Jenny remembered how tetchy he used to get whenever she needed to leave early because one of them was appearing in a concert or taking an exam. On the other hand, her promotion out of the typing pool had helped pay for all those violin and piano lessons after the divorce.

“I was wondering,” he said. “Now you’ll have a bit more time on your hands, what do you say to turning this into a regular thing? Are you free next Thursday…? Jenny?”

“Sorry,” she said, bringing her gaze back from the window. “Thought I spotted someone from the office. I was having lunch with her yesterday, as a matter of fact – you remember Moira?”

“Moira’s still with the old firm, is she?” said Alan. “Um, how’s that rather charmless husband of hers?” “They divorced a while ago, actually.” “Ah.” He stirred his coffee thoughtfully. “It must be five years since I last caught up with Moira. Do you

think she’d mind if I call sometime?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t,” said Jenny, confident that this was true. There’d definitely been a certain je-ne-sais-quoi between Moira and Alan, whereas, no disrespect to her old boss, Jenny had never had even the tiniest frisson of forbidden passion in all the years she’d worked for him.

Meanwhile, she had other things on her mind. Her third rendezvous at Café Minerva was due to take place tomorrow, immediately following the official retirement buffet. This, she knew, might prove to be the tricky one.

Thanks for offering to pick me up,” Jenny kissed her daughter and deposited several carrier bags of farewell gifts on the table. “It all got a bit emotional back there and I couldn’t have faced waiting for a taxi.”

“I’ve ordered tea,” said Ruth. “The boys don’t need to be collected until five. Talking of which, Mum, I honestly didn’t want to have to ask you so soon but spring half-term starts on Monday and their other gran’s suddenly announced she’s off on a city-break…”

“Do you know what would be a really lovely idea?” said Jenny. “Invite Sarah to come and spend time with the boys.”

Ruth frowned. “Why on earth would Sarah want to be saddled with someone else’s kids on her week off?”

“Because your kids are an education professional’s dream,” said Jenny. “What could be nicer for Auntie Sarah than having two polite, well-behaved, interested nephews to entertain? That’s almost a holiday in itself.” “But…” “She’s a favourite with them.” “I suppose so, but…” “It would be far better for her morale than a week alone in that poky flat – and I’m sure she’d enjoy catching up with her sister and brother-in-law over a bottle of wine in the evenings.”

“OK,” said Ruth, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’ll phone her tonight. As long as you’re not ruling out ever having the boys during the holidays,” she added suspiciously. “Of course not. As long as you –” “Check with your diary first. There speaks the good secretary.”

“Former secretary,” said Jenny and poured them both another cup of tea.

Caroline! This is so kind of you,” said Jenny. It was the following Friday and she’d already ordered a pot of Café Minerva Earl Grey.

“I haven’t got long,” said Caroline, handing over the framed photograph of Jenny’s grandsons discovered in a desk drawer after her departure.

“At least let me buy you a coffee. You’ve done me a favour, agreeing to meet here. I wouldn’t want my former colleagues thinking I can’t stay away.”

“Of course not.” But the disclaimer came a little too quickly.

“OK, what’s Moira been saying?” asked Jenny when she’d ordered the coffee. “Be honest. Is she convinced I’ve made a terrible mistake?”

“She does think you’ll miss the stimulus.” Caroline gazed at her speculatively. “Although I must admit, I’d be surprised if you hadn’t made a few plans at least. Charity work?” she hazarded. “Learning a new language?”

“Not exactly,” said Jenny. “Has Moira ever mentioned I have a daughter who’s a violinist?”

“I don’t think so,” said Caroline, puzzled by the change of subject.

“The ensemble she belongs to has been invited to play in Vienna during the summer holidays and they were hoping to organise a short Austrian tour. Unfortunately, their fixer – the person making the arrangements – was also my daughter’s partner.” “Was her partner?” “They’ve split up,” said Jenny, “and it doesn’t leave the group much time to find someone else.”

She paused to sip her tea. Caroline’s eyes widened. “You’ve offered to step in?” Jenny nodded. “I’ve got a reasonable knowledge of how these things work from ferrying the girls to concerts and so on when they were young, and Sarah will be on hand if I need advice. But I wanted to spend this week going over the fine detail, making sure I knew exactly what I was letting myself in for before I said yes.”

It was definitely her kind of job. Thinking ahead, anticipating problems, ensuring everyone was in the right place at the right time with the right set of papers – or orchestra parts. The only difference was that, this time, she’d be going too. And, if it went well, accepting a modest percentage of the takings.

She smiled, recalling all those wellmeaning plans made by others for her retirement. At least one suggestion hadn’t been totally wide of the mark – a short refresher course in German might be a good idea…

“I’ll tell Moira she needn’t worry,” said Caroline, breaking into her thoughts. She hugged Jenny warmly. “Goodbye and good luck! I hope your tour’s a triumph.”

Left alone, Jenny took a last look round at Café Minerva, scene of so many pleasant lunch hours over the years. It had been fun but she was more than ready to begin her new life.

This evening, Sarah would be cooking a meal for Ruth and the family and Jenny was invited too. They’d break the news together. Tucking a five-pound note into the tips jar, she stepped out into the sunshine…

“I wouldn’t want my FORMER work colleagues to THINK I can’t stay AWAY”