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  “Oh I see,” said Claude, “Sorry to interfere.”

  The caring relative replied, “It is quite alright.”

  He asked Claude if he himself was Ok, to which Claude replied in the affirmative and realised his good intentions had been a waste of time and he would bear it in mind for the future.

  Claude regained his composure as the hours passed by and the Anaesthesia wore off. Although his leg was a little uncomfortable it was bearable, though, from time to time he received medication and regular blood pressure checks. It was normally high when he was anywhere within reach of medics but looking at the monitor now, it seemed fairly normal he thought.

  As he lay there, he looked around at the other patients they were all aged and although there was a television that was switched on no sound emitted in order to keep the ward quiet. Acceptable he thought not everyone is interested in the box and if you were feeling ill such a noise would not be appreciated. He saw the regulation headphones were located on the headrest and in reach, unlike the water and drinking glass.

  Looking around at the faces, the open mouths accompanied by the snoring, he thought what a world I have entered, how vastly different from my walking and photography. Such is the price to pay for living so long, some may say too long. He didn’t realise it then but his fall, its complications and what he had experienced over the previous hours including the silent neighbours, snoring and open mouths were soon to become an every day reality for him.

  The weekend eventually passed, it was Monday. Hearing the increased activity and the noise of hustle and bustle he realised the hospital wheel of caring for the sick was now beginning to turn and by the ever-popular 9 am would be in full swing.

  At 8 am breakfast had been served, it was good food thought Claude, varied and well cooked and to be frank, better than he himself had been providing over many years. If prison food was just as good he realised the joke, that prisoners he had dealt with over the years were living in hotel conditions was probably a reality.

  There was the usual interruption, during any hospital meal time, no matter how the staff asked, someone invariably had an urgent need of a bed pan with its unpleasant consequences for the remaining diners part way through any meal. Oh, how he longed for his own room as he had experienced years ago when he had private medical Insurance. He was now too old; of course, they had refused to renew his policy some years ago.

  His thoughts were interrupted when a professional looking lady wearing thick dark rimmed spectacles arrived armed with a pen and note pad, as professional ladies wearing thick dark rimmed spectacle do.

  “Good morning, Claude I believe?” she said.

  Before he could answer, she continued with her prepared train of words. “I am Jane Bettersby the hospital Almoner I have come to take your details for our records and, in addition, to assess what the best way forward is likely to be for you.”

  He looked at her, mid forties wearing a dark suit, spectacles with the essential chain to ensure they didn’t fall to the ground. Just enough make up to look attractive but sufficient to retain the professional look.

  Claude was prepared to wager she was single, he was to never know for certain but she appeared like a “Miss” and wore no rings on either hand but sported a dark yellow metal watch, which appeared very much like old gold.

  He had never met a female Almoner before, he had idea of the work she did from contacts with “The mysterious and secretive Freemasons,” he had known those many years distant.

  They too had an Almoner but by definition was a man usually an accountant, who took his skills from his business into The Lodge.

  “I see,” said Claude anticipating some but not all of what he was about to be asked.

  A nurse arrived, adjusting his position so that now he was sitting up and was more comfortable, and finally, he could reach the jug of water and look out through the window at the distant outside world.

  “Right,” said Miss Bettersby after all Claude’s anticipation what she might ask, “Do you think you might be able to complete the form yourself?”

  “I don’t see why not?” said Claude but thinking, “why the charade of performing the duty herself.”

  “Well then,” she replied. “I will leave it with you and come back later when I can help you with anything you can’t complete and afterwards we will discuss your future.”

  This seemed reasonable to Claude and not a problem, he had spent a lifetime completing forms and answering questions though, on reflection he thought, he had asked more than he had answered.

  The range of questions was vast and as he glanced down the numerous pages the phrase, “They want to know the in` and outs` of Megs ass came to his mind,” gratefully he remained silent and it was just a thought.

  It was nearly an hour when Miss Professional returned and sat down at his bedside. Picking up the form, she systematically read its contents from beginning to end. When finished she looked up and said, “I think we have all the information we require, anything you wish to ask me?”

  Claude thought then told her he was worried that his house had been left insecure and she assured him she would contact social services. She rose from her seat, smiled, bid him good day and left.

  Claude noted although she had brought a chair from the side wall on arrival she had not returned it and just at the moment she had left a visiting ward assistant carrying some bed clothes walked into it causing her to lose balance, drop all her pay load and all but go head first over the chair.

  He stared at the scene and held his cool as the poor lady recovered herself and her payload and began to shout. She appeared to be of some Oriental origin, thus, what she said in her own tongue remained known only to her, but all in the room and adjacent corridor could imagine the gist of she blurted and, and she was angry.

  Arriving back in her office Miss Professional telephoned Social Services speaking with Pauline Campbell of the County Social Services Department and identifying herself as “Miss Jane Bettersby, Almoner at Newport General.”

  “There was a patient named Claude Friendly, he was likely to be in for four weeks. He lived alone, it seems, he has no next of kin or friends. He is worried his house is insecure could she help?”

  Miss Campbell commented “Oh him,” and said she had received a call some days ago from some postman who had found him injured and reported the same thing.

  Miss Bettersby asked if the matter had already been dealt with but was told no, not on the say so of some postman.

  Now an official call had been made she supposed she had better start a file as it seemed her department was likely to be involved in the future with this fellow.

  She would attempt to get someone to visit the house during the next week and also visit Mr Friendly in the hospital, there should be a better idea then what his future prospects are, the call ended.

  The next callers to Claude were Sister Hallam and a man blessed with bright ginger hair but balding, he appeared to be in his mid thirties wearing a monocle, unusual, thought Claude. He saw the man was displaying a badge, `Doctor Shannon Wilson.”

  “Good morning Claude,” said Sister Hallam “This is Doctor Shannon Wilson who carried out the operation on your leg.”

  Having read through Claude’s notes from the folder at the foot of the bed, the medic finally lifted his head and smiled but didn’t speak, hesitating for the newly arrived young nurse to fold back the bed clothes then stood back almost to attention.

  The doctor examined the said leg replaced the folder and finally spoke.

  “Good morning Mr Friendly, you are recovering well. The break was not serious, I mean there were no complications, in view of your age I suspect you will be here for about four weeks during which time we will monitor the old leg, arrange some further tests and some physiotherapy and get you up and walking.”

  He said nothing further turned and left.

  Sister Hallam did speak saying, “Anything you need Claude just press the bell.”

  He sm
iled and having recalled the cup of tea he never received, said nothing but never did ring the bell either. The young nurse replaced the bed covers and in moment Claude was once again alone.

  At the end of the week just after 2 pm Claude had no idea what day it was he looked up to find surprise visitors, Ned the postman accompanied by a lady. They said hello and asked how he was.

  Claude replied, “Very well,” and invited them to sit down which they did.

  Before anything further could be said they were interrupted by the appearance of a uniformed police officer and a lady in middle age armed with a brief case.

  They both said “hello” and introduced themselves, it was ladies first,

  “I am Miss Pauline Campbell a Social worker and this is Constable Ron Atherton of Copton Police Station.”

  Miss Campbell announced they were sorry but they were the bearers of bad news to which Claude replied

  “What could be worse than lying in a hospital bed?”

  There was hesitation then Miss Campbell said,

  “Your house had been burgled and all the contents have been stolen save for some small items, which had been burned by the offenders, the property is now an empty shell.”

  Mavis interrupted to say, it was a disgrace as they were all told the house was insecure days ago and seemingly done nothing about it. There was silence from both officials,

  Ned said, “My Dad was a Copper; I told the police lady on the phone he always quoted “The Constables Oath.”

  “A Constable is a citizen locally appointed but having authority under the Crown for the protection of life and property.”

  She said, “Things have changed since those days” and it seems they have.

  Constable Atherton then said “Excuse me Sir; this is none of your affair I must ask you to leave.”

  Miss Campbell explained they were under such pressures and she had come only for a copy of his hospital file to save her time taking the details from him, and so she would now toddle off but would come back the next day and get Claude’s future sorted.

  “I will just take some information for my crime report but you can also self help,” said Constable Atherton,

  “Right Sir,” he then said, “I will first of all leave you with this form to complete at your leisure exactly what items were in the house and value, details of our insurers.”

  Claude replied, “There aren’t any insurers.”

  “Oh I see,” said the officer, “Then, that is bad news. I will just take your full name and a list of items you had in the house together with value, just in case we arrest anyone.”

  “Claude Friendly,” replied Claude who having realised how serious things were was becoming emotional.

  He then said. “It seems to me, my insecure house was reported but nothing seems to have been done.”

  The officer was quick to respond, “Ah well you see it is force policy these days not to visit all incidents and there is little chance of a visit to secure a house.”

  Claude replied, “Surely someone could have arranged for it to be secured.”

  The officer replied, “You don’t understand how things work, it’s not a Police matter you see.”

  “Crime Prevention not a police matter?” said Claude “oh I see.”

  “I will leave you with the form,” said Ron.

  “Ok, I expect Ned and Mavis will help me fill in the form.” Replied Claude.

  “Ah yes, well when the form is done someone will collect it and give you a crime number,” replied the officer about to leave.

  “Very well,” replied Claude, no statement from me?”

  “Ah, well no Sir. We don’t really take them these days more pro formers we have, ever made a statement?” Said the Officer laughing,

  “No” said Claude “I never have, but I have taken a few hundred though.”

  “You have?” replied Ron, “In what capacity?”

  “I was a copper for 30 years retired a Sergeant at Copton Police station,” said Claude.

  Ron’s face dropped, the smile disappeared, and he said nothing further but turned and left.

  Claude thought, “I will bet a pound he gets someone else to collect the form.”

  Miss Campbell didn’t appear the following day, as she had promised, no doubt the pressures of more important work.

  The days passed, and then one day he was awoken by the words,

  “Claude you have visitors.”

  He opened his eyes and saw Sister Hallam accompanied by Doctor Shannon Wilson and Miss Pauline Campbell.

  The doctor then related, his leg had set well and as he was managing to get about well.

  Considering he was in his mid seventies that, was as much as we could hope for.

  On the down side Claude was surprised to be told his bones had become brittle and he was now vulnerable to falling and if care was not taken he would be in hospital again or worse. In addition his heart had one or two problems.

  The doctor had formed the opinion Claude was no longer able to take care of himself and he would be best cared for in a residential home.

  Claude had said he never thought such a thing would happen to him, the doctor had momentarily remained silent as did the others, then announced he must get on with his rounds and left. A professional but not a carer thought Claude.

  Claude could see the sad look in the eyes of Sister Hallam and realising she could not contribute anything to the situation she also made her excuses of workload and left.

  Miss Campbell on the other hand was now centre stage, this situation was her daily bread and she knew exactly how to handle it. Pulling up a chair she produced the inevitable file of papers and a pen, the essential tools of any civil servant.

  “Now Claude,” she said “You have to realise your situation. You are 75 years of age, with a serious medical problem; your ability to live alone for your own safety has been seriously curtailed.”

  Claude thought, “Curtailed, now there is an official word.”

  “Your house is empty of contents,” she continued.

  She then informed him what hadn’t been stolen had been destroyed.

  He didn’t have Insurance so the restorative costs were likely to be very substantial.

  “Another official phrase” thought Claude. “My, these people do have all this spiel, off to a pattern or patter.”

  The house had some fire damage he heard her say as his mind drifted from her conversation to thinking of his position. She added she was advised this could not be repaired but it was a rebuild situation the additional advantage was, there was a very large garden and her planning officers had told here there is every possibility that planning permission would be granted for several properties.

  “That is strange,” said Claude “I applied several times so did local builders it was always refused.”

  She looked, smiled again but said nothing about that but finally concluded, telling him he had in substantial assets once realised.

  His state pension, his occupational pension several thousand pounds in savings and his house and grounds valued at about £300,000 pounds, that is, with the planning permission.”

  He told her she had worked fast.

  “Ah well Yes, well we do have to get a grip of the finances in the current financial climate,” was her reply.

  She then said “The cost of residential care varies but there is a very nice new care home here in Newport, costing in the region of £600 to £700 per week, with your assets you could afford their fees for around seven years.”

  “The council will pay all your accommodation and other bills after we have put a legal charge on your assets for us to administer them.”

  “You will close your accounts, the council will open a new account in your name which they will administer for you, making payments to the Care Home automatically and anything else you require.”

  She added. “The council will also work with the home, they in turn will open a slush fund and the council will put a small amount o
f money in that for your needs for clothing, toiletries and such.”

  Claude asked, “What if I want to buy things?”

  “Ah well,” she said.

  She then explained once he was in the home they would appoint what they called a dedicated care worker who would attend to all his needs and if he required anything that person would apply to the home for funds and buy it for him or if he was able to shop himself go with him to help him, all nice and tidy. The items he wanted would have to be reasonable nothing very expensive likely to diminish his funds to pay for his care, items such as a vehicle, a computer or gifts to anyone.

  “What you are telling me in a nutshell,” he said “I am more or less being forced into residential care because of my fall and the criminal act against me, although I have assets of many thousands of pounds I am being forced to go into your care and wont be permitted to spend anything.”

  She interrupted and told him he was not being forced to go into care but he had no home and no hope of return as he had nowhere to stay whilst repairs or a rebuild were done. Due to his age and medical condition now and those likely in the near future he would be unable to care for himself and they had a duty in law to care for him, residential care was the best and only way forward. The taxpayer had to be protected so as to ensure he paid as much as possible himself and thus reducing the cost to the authorities.

  Looking up she said, “That is all then,” she packed up her papers stood up and was about to leave.

  Claude called to her, “Oh I must say you are very efficient.”

  “Thank you,” she replied and smiled.

  “Pity,” said Claude “You weren’t as efficient when Ned the postman called to report my house had been left insecure all that time, this situation may never have arisen.”

  Her smile disappeared; she said nothing, turned and was gone.

  Chapter 3

  It was 10 am on a bleak February morning his thoughts were interrupted when a voice called,

  “Hello, Claude, come on lad let’s have you?”