Five, four, three, two, one, exactly on time the telephone rang. I picked it up.
“Hello, Elaine” a bright and chirpy voice sung.
“Hello Karen.” I replied “How was your day today.”
I listened as Karen told me of the meetings and activities she had dealt with that day. As her monologue wound to an end I knew the invariable question would be asked.
Karen was my Caring Caller, a service set up by St John to ensure those elderly people such as myself who lived alone and had no family had contact every day with someone of a like nature. This call ensured my wellbeing that I didn’t drop dead and no-one would know for weeks on end until by chance someone would turn up to find my decaying corpse on the floor.
Karen was very sweet and very punctual at 5.33pm she would ring every day and if she was going to be away she would let me know that she was passing the call to my secondary caller Malike.
I could rely on Karen, right down to the next question. “Will you continue your story for me Elaine” she asked.
I smiled; it was nice that she wanted to hear my life story.
“It was 1949, and I was and I was nine years old when we immigrated to New Zealand. I didn’t have my own passport; I came into New Zealand on my mother’s passport. We travelled to New Zealand by ship and it took six weeks. I was the only one in my family who didn’t get seasick. So I spent the first two weeks of the voyage running free. I would get up and go to the dining room and get tea for Mum and Dad and some soft oats for the four of them. Sometimes they managed to keep some food down but often it ended up in the bucket.
Once I had done that I would go back to the dining room and get some breakfast for myself. Then I would head off. Sometimes I went to the library and chose a book to read, other times I would wander through all the narrow corridors of the ship. I got to see the engine room and the laundry and even saw the captain on the bridge. I was the poor little girl whose family was sick. So they let me do so many things and go into places I wouldn’t normally have been allowed to go into.
After a week or so my parents and sister, Susan got better. Unfortunately my baby brother Neil was sick the whole voyage and bad early start seemed to carry over for the rest of his life. He was always a sickly child who grew up into a sickly, hypochondriac adult. Once my parents were better the journey wasn’t as much fun as mum made us do school work each day as she didn’t want us to be behind when we joined school in New Zealand.
It was a sunny Thursday at the beginning of November when the ship came into port in Wellington. After living in London, the city looked very small and spread out over the hills. I was so excited this was the beginning of my new life away from the bombed out grey of London.”
Well Karen it is time for me to get my dinner and for you to get Mark’s dinner on the table and he will be home any time now.” I said. “Talk to you tomorrow night.”
“Bye Elaine, I look forward to hearing of your life in Wellington tomorrow night” she replied.
I gently laid the receiver on the phone. Pushed myself out of my chair and went to get my single serve of dinner.
