I wrote this as part of a new Sophie and Tom story.
It turned out to be a little story in itself.
Someone suggested that I publish it as a stand-alone -- so 'ere 'tis.
I still intend to use it in the Sophie and Tom story, which will appear sometime...
Diana had ovarian cancer. She had surgery, but it returned, and it reached a point where she didn't want to face more chemotherapy simply to prolong a life that had become so much of a painful struggle. She told me, and she told our children. We hated to think of life without her, but all of us accepted her right to choose.
Towards the end she was totally bedridden. I dealt with the consequences for as long as I could, but when she was unable to help turn herself it became a two-person job to keep her comfortable, and I sought professional help. Maybe we are fortunate in our part of the country, but the help I got was almost faultless.
We were in a very rural area, but close to a small town with a good selection of shops and services. One of our neighbours, Joan Coulsden, had been widowed a couple of years earlier, and she was happy to come and sit with Diana while I went into the town to shop or do other business. My need for this wasn't frequent as most of our needs were met by internet shopping.
In return I sometimes went to Joan's to do bits of gardening that she wasn't able to do. I never asked how old she was, but she was certainly a bit older than me. At five foot and not-very-much she was not well equipped for some aspects of care for a very mature garden, full of fine shrubs and small trees. She was grateful for my reasonably knowledgeable input. I usually went when there was a nurse or carer visiting Diana, and if they left before I came back Diana had a one-button call on her mobile, and I was just next door.
I'd been on one of these visits on a sunny June afternoon, and was on the point of departing when Joan found me and watched while I finished a bit of summer pruning.
"It's been really helpful what you have been able to do, and good that I can partly repay your time by sitting with Diana." Joan smiled as she spoke.
"Symbiosis," I said.
"Yes, that's a good way of describing it. There is one other thing I wanted to ask you, though."
"Go ahead," I said, "We've always had an easy relationship, haven't we?"
"That's exactly it. I'm a forthright person, as you know, so I won't beat about the bush: I wondered if you would consider being my 'bit of rough'? I don't want a complicated relationship, but the occasional fuck would be such a bonus to my life, particularly outdoors and in a gardener-and-lady relationship. I know that you are a talented actor, and I have a Lady Chatterley fantasy waiting to be fulfilled."
I was taken aback. Understatement. It wasn't that I found her unattractive -- on the contrary. It's just not quite the proposition anyone could expect! I played for time.
"This probably sounds weird but I want to talk to Diana first. At this time of her life I just couldn't bear to have secrets from her. But I'm flattered, and also quite excited at the prospect of having an aristocratic fuck-buddy. And seeing parts of you I never dreamt of seeing!"
She roared with laughter. "That's great, and the feelings are mutual. I quite understand about talking to Diana. She has the veto. I wouldn't have liked to keep a secret from her myself. If you become my fucking gardener Diana and I can exchange views about you behind your back. Ooh, it does sound thrilling that I might be getting a fuck-buddy!"
I went back and found that Diana was not in a fit state to discuss anything. She had been in a lot of pain, and I had left her with the nurse who was about to administer Oramorph, the effects of which were now obvious. The nurse left after giving me further instructions.
The next day was much better, and by mid-morning Diana seemed in as good a state as was likely for our discussion.
"How was your visit to Joan's?" Diana asked.
"Pretty good. She seems grateful, and it's good to have a means of repaying her for her help." I said.
"Does she want anything else doing?"
There was something about the way the question had been put that made me slightly wary.
"No, she seemed quite content." I was teasing.
"Not what she told me. She was talking about things that she had been missing since Geoff died, and what she could do about it. I made some suggestions."
