Mask
Martin looks at the clock on the wall. It’s 10.35, they’ll get here at 11, all be it probably a bit early because it’s Derek and Esther, so 20 minutes to be safe.
He puts his arms on the side of the highbacked chair and starts pulling himself forward. Good, I’m upright. He wiggles forward, and slowly pushes himself up. Come on legs, don’t let me down. His legs decide to work this time, and he is up.
He looks towards the kitchen in his terrace house. Now for phase two. He starts to make his way over to the nearest part of the kitchen counter. Slow but steady wins the race. His walking is more shuffling now, but Derek and Esther don’t need to know that. He gets to the worktop and steadies himself. He spent all day yesterday lining up everything ready to make a pot of tea, so he could have it ready for when they come. He flicks the kettle on.
While it’s bubbling in the background, he turns his attention to the sugar bowl and the milk jug. He picks up the milk jug first and slowly totters over to the table, holding onto each piece of the carefully placed furniture as his goes for stability. Clunk, and it's onto the table.
The kettle crescendos just as he gets back, and he cautiously pours the near boiling water into the teapot. He puts the teaspoons in his pocket, and carefully carries them and the antique sugar bowl to the table. He checks the time. 13 minutes to go.
He makes his way back to the kitchen and the dreaded teapot is waiting for him. He’s just thankful they don’t drink coffee, avoids the faff of trying to make individual drinks in mugs. The teapot makes its precarious precession to the table. His medical team would probably be happier is he used a trolley. Last steps, and the teapot is on the table. A few drips of tea tipped came out the spout with its thud as he puts it down. He takes a hankie out his pocket, wipes the spill, and puts it back. He looks again at the clock.
7 minutes to go.
His looks at the front door. Target acquired. He trepidatiously starts towards it, shuffle by shuffle, hand hold by hand hold, he gets there. He straightens up in relief, takes a deep breath and exhales. He reaches up, undoes the latch and flicks the lock up. No need to get up now when they arrive. He carefully turns, more a 23 point turn than a graceful one, but he does it. He makes his way back to the table, carefully reversing his previous journey, and gets to his favourite chair. He carefully turns again, and backs slowly back into the chair. He looks at the clock -10.57am, just in time.
The doorbell rings. “Come on in, it's open”.
And the next stage of today’s mission begins.