Letters To Alice

скачать книгу бесплатно


The farmer sniggered. ‘Take you out for a walk more loike it!’ he said. ‘Th’animal’s not used to walkin’ anywhere…Tessie’s job is to run around after the cows! Not like your townie dogs who prance along on th’end of a lead with their noses stuck up in th’air!’

Alice cut in quickly. ‘D’you have a dog at home, Evie?’ she said, and Eve shook her head.

‘No – ’fraid not. I would love one – but my parents are allergic to them, you see. And to cats,’ she added sadly. She glanced across at Mabel. ‘What about the other dogs…the Jack Russells?’ she said. ‘Would they come for a walk with me?’ Although the sheepdog was allowed to live in the kitchen, Tam and Tom were always outside in their shed, which was warm and dry and where their food and water was, or they’d be just wandering around sniffing at everything. But surely they’d like to go for a nice walk with someone for a change?

‘Probably not, dear,’ Mabel said kindly. ‘They’re a bit scatty, those too – well, they’re always on the hunt, see, for rats. They’re ratters. That’s what they’re ’ere for – and they do a good job of it, too. Always half a dozen bodies to clear up each mornin’,’ she added gratefully.

‘Rats!’ Eve said, clearly horrified. ‘Rats? I didn’t know there were any rats!’

But rats were not unfamiliar to Alice. When they’d lived in Hotwells, the animals were more common than the cats and dogs which roamed the streets. And Ada had told her once that her mother – the grandmother who Alice had never known – had actually killed one herself when she’d been trapped in a room with one, with no way out. Had crushed and crushed it against a door and the wall until it died. Which had sounded brutal to Alice when she’d been told about it, but Ada had explained that a cornered rat was a vicious creature and that self-preservation was the first instinct in that situation.

Walter Foulkes sniggered a second time. ‘Where there’s animals and their food about there’s always rats,’ he said, as if the fact pleased him. ‘You be careful one don’t run over yer foot and bite yer toe off!’

Alice decided that it was time someone changed the subject. She cleared her throat. ‘We were wondering if we could have the day off on Sunday, Mr. Foulkes,’ she said. ‘We’d like to go home and see our folks – and to bring back one or two things we could do with.’ Most evenings the girls liked to change out of their uniforms into their dresses, but they’d all agreed that they’d soon need some extra clothes – especially as the weather would be closing in soon.

Mabel didn’t bother for her husband to reply. ‘A’course you should have a day off,’ she said firmly. It hadn’t escaped their notice that the girls hadn’t mentioned the subject at all since they’d arrived. That they’d seemed to enjoy turning their hands to everything asked of them, never grumbling, not even when it was wet and mucky after it had rained. ‘It’s about time you did…you been workin’ very hard, all of you, haven’t they, Walter?’

‘Yeah, well, no complaints. So far,’ Walter said. ‘Though they still gotta learn how to milk they cows…you keep puttin’ off showin’ ’em, Mabel. ’ S’about time they did.’

‘Yes, well – I will show them…next week,’ Mabel said.

Alice returned to the subject of their day off. ‘We have walked to the village once or twice, on Saturday afternoons,’ she went on, ‘to post letters to our families…but it would be very nice to see them all again, and to catch up with their news.’ They’d also sussed out the one and only shop – outside which was the village’s solitary, ancient petrol pump – and as Mabel had said, the shop did seem to stock a huge variety of things. On the shelves there were cigarettes and tobacco, bacon and ham and eggs and other available tinned food stuffs, household goods, cleaning materials, brooms and dusters and a stack of plain white cups and saucers and plates. There were most of the bathroom essentials – even a small supply of rather dusty, nameless lipsticks (which Fay had picked up and discarded straightaway). And in the far corner of the shop there was a dark little booth which housed the post office – only open three days a week – where they’d bought stamps and writing paper and envelopes. And also, if anyone needed their shoes repaired, a little man arrived on Mondays to pick them up, returning them the following week.

‘The big problem is going to be transport,’ Fay said now. ‘Did you say the charabanc goes to Bristol on Sundays, Mrs. Foulkes?’

‘Yes, it goes at ten from the war memorial,’ Mabel said, ‘but I’m not sure what time it gets back.’ She turned to Roger. Could you find out, Rog?’

‘I don’t think it’s very wise to count on that old banger,’ Roger said at once. ‘The bally thing breaks down all the time.’ He leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes and giving the matter some serious thought. Then – ‘I could take the girls in the pick-up, couldn’t I…two could sit alongside me, and the other one would have to make do in the back…it’d be a bit uncomfortable, that’s the only thing. But at least they’d be sure of getting there. And back. We could sort out the time arrangements.’

The pick-up was the Morris van, usually with a long trailer behind, which had tarpaulin on two sides. The van was driven, most days, down the long drive to take all the produce from the farm – the milk churns, eggs, bedding straw, potatoes and other root vegetables. And sometimes the occasional pig or goat on its way to be slaughtered. Although Farmer Foulkes was a pretty good shot with his gun to kill off rabbits or rats, slaughtering his animals was something he never did, preferring to leave that to others. Everything, apart from the animals of course, was always left stacked carefully by the roadside, ready to be collected by the appropriate person, or persons, for onward transportation. It didn’t matter if the lorries were late arriving because the produce was always perfectly safe, nothing ever stolen. And the same principle applied everywhere, because no one bothered to lock up when they left their farms or houses. Theft of any kind was virtually non-existent. Roger was the only one who could drive, and he had to make the journey from the farm to the entrance many times each morning to take everything down the long lane.

Now, the farmer looked up sharply. ‘Wha’ you want to go into Bristol for?’ he demanded of Roger. He didn’t like the idea of the pick-up using some of their precious petrol for gadding about.

Roger folded his arms and looked straight at his father. ‘I told you before, Dad – I need a new part for the tractor – and I’ve got a mate in the town who I know will have one to sell me.’

‘Huh – on a Sunday?’ the farmer said. ‘Ain’t no shops open on a Sunday!’

Roger raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘Trust me, Dad – he’ll sell me one on a Sunday.’ He looked around at the three girls in turn. ‘So – we’ll be killing four birds with one stone, won’t we.’ He couldn’t help smiling at his own little joke, and was rewarded by Fay throwing her head back and laughing.

Eve spoke. ‘But I don’t live in Bristol, so will we be able to go to Bath as well, Roger?’ she said. ‘Will it be much out of your way?’ She hesitated. ‘We did seem to be driving for hundreds of miles when we were brought here. I didn’t know where I was.’

‘That was probably because there were so many drop-offs before us,’ Fay said. ‘But I don’t suppose it was hundreds of miles.’

‘Don’t you worry about that, Eve,’ Roger said, smiling across at the girl. ‘I know a good enough route that’ll take in Bath on the way to Bristol. And it shouldn’t be more than an hour, all told.’

Walter Foulkes shuffled in his chair, clearly not too happy at this proposed arrangement, but Mabel spoke up, as usual.

‘Well – good, then, that’s settled,’ she said, getting up to clear the pudding dishes. ‘And if I were you, I’d make an early start on Sunday – well, you’re used to early starts now, aren’t you, luvvers, say 9 o’clock? And then on the way back p’raps not too late ’ome, because Monday’s are always busy, aren’t they?’ She looked down at the girls. ‘It’ll be lovely for you to see your families, luvvers. They must be missin’ you,’ she added.

Alice was pleased that they were going home – it would be good to see Gloria, to tell her about the goings-on at the farm, and to hear her news. And it was only Tuesday, so if they posted their letters today they’d arrive tomorrow morning in time for the recipients to reply if the proposed visit wasn’t convenient. Despite the war, Royal Mail was always reliable, the post seldom failing to arrive. But anyway, these days no one moved very far from their homes, and it was unlikely there’d be no one about to greet them.

Roger stood up as well, passing some plates across the table. ‘Good thing you’re going this Sunday,’ he said, ‘because next Saturday night is the Welcome Home concert and that always ends very late…you wouldn’t be fit for a thing next morning.’

Mabel shook her head at him. ‘Honestly, Rog…stop yer teasin’.’ She looked down at the girls again. ‘See, we have a little do for any local lads who come ’ome on leave,’ she explained. ‘It always takes place in the village hall, and the local children put on a concert, doin’ their party pieces and recitations. It’s always very good – bless their hearts – an’ we ’ave quite a nice supper that everyone contributes to. And at the end of the evenin’ the boys are given a ten shillin’ note each, to spend on their leave.’ Mabel sighed happily. ‘Well, it’s a lovely chance for everyone in the village to ’ave a get-together, and to show our appreciation of our brave boys.’

Alice glanced at Roger. Perhaps he would like to have had the chance to go into one of the Services, she thought. But farming was a reserved occupation, and he couldn’t possibly be spared – Farmer Foulkes would certainly be in a pretty mess without him, because Roger, obviously younger and stronger, seemed to bear the heaviest burden, sometimes working sixteen-hour days. Once, he’d briefly mentioned that he’d enjoyed spending a year at an agricultural college, but the war had put a stop to that.

Everyone stood now, helping to clear the table, and Fay said –

‘Well – it’s really kind of you to offer to take us home on Sunday, Roger,’ she began, and he cut in, grinning down at her.

‘It’ll be my pleasure,’ he said, meaning it. It would be good to get away from the farm for a few hours, and have a couple of pints in town with his mate. Thank God beer wasn’t rationed ( it never was). And to have a couple of women sitting nice and close alongside him on the journey would be an added bonus.

‘And don’t worry – I don’t mind sitting in the back,’ Fay told him sweetly.

By now, Saturday evenings – after their meal – had been set aside for the girls’ weekly baths and hair washing. And it was amazing, Alice often thought, how quickly the three of them had become used to each other in a personal sense…sharing a bedroom and daily washing facilities had soon become normal, and after the first couple of hip bath experiences, that, too, had become commonplace. In fact they all looked forward to the one evening when they had the kitchen to themselves, when they could take as long as they liked over sprucing themselves up, with no interruptions. For one thing, Walter Foulkes only ever seemed to appear at meal times, and Saturday evenings were Roger’s one night off to meet his friends at the Wheatsheaf.

The kitchen – always heady with the lingering scent of baking bread – was where the ablutions took place. The huge room, dominated by the long refectory table down the centre, had a massive granite range to one side, on which a large black kettle was always gently steaming, ready for tea-making. Above the constantly lit log- and coal-fired range hung a long, wooden, three-tiered drying rack which could be raised and lowered as required. Mabel, of course, did all the washing for everyone, afterwards winding everything through the big mangle in the scullery, her capable hands and arms flexing and straining as she turned the handle to squeeze the water out. After which, everything was pegged outside on the line. Along with sheets and towels, this always included pairs of anonymous thick white hose and Mabel’s large vests and bloomers, and the farmer’s various items of underwear, all of which eventually found its way onto the airing rack above the range to finish off. Even though the consistently good weather had done a good enough job.

But the girls preferred to wash their smalls themselves upstairs in their room, hanging everything to dry on an ancient wooden clothes horse which Mabel had thoughtfully provided. Fay had been adamant about this at the beginning.

‘I do not want my pants and bras being washed next to Walter Foulkes’s long johns, thank you very much,’ she’d said to the others after Mabel had invited the girls to let her do their washing for them, ‘And I certainly wouldn’t want them exhibited on the rail for general observation either,’ she’d added vehemently. And Alice and Eve had been in total agreement about that.

So on Saturday evenings, two black cauldrons, monstrous things, were lugged in from the scullery by Roger, filled with water, and set to heat on the range. And with her usual foresight, Mabel always made sure the water was ready well before it was needed.

And after the first bathing session, the ritual became a straightforward and normal event. Fay and Eve had never sat in a hip bath before, but it was nothing new to Alice. It was the only amenity available when they’d lived in Hotwells all that time ago.

Of course, the girls could all have bathed separately, but it would have taken a very long time, and without even thinking about it they’d elected to make it yet another shared experience. They placed each bath next to each other, but back to back to allow a certain amount of privacy, then filled enamel jugs, provided for the purpose, with piping hot water from the cauldrons, carrying the jugs carefully over to start the filling process. It took about five or six minutes for the baths to reach a satisfactory level, after which, part-immersion took place.

‘Blimey,’ Fay had said on the first night, as she dropped her head onto her bent knees. ‘Here we are again – the three wise monkeys! What a bloody carry-on.’ But she wasn’t grumbling…especially as the Radox bath salts she’d bought at the shop – and was sharing with the others – made the water feel lovely. And as they’d idly swish their hands and feet gently around, the warm steam and softly perfumed bath salts always made them feel totally relaxed as they’d chat about the day.

Then they’d wash their hair while still in the bath, presently helping each other to rinse it off with fresh water carried over from the cauldron and part-cooled from the tap. And there were always plenty of good, comfortable towels to dry themselves with, and to rub briskly at their hair. That always took Eve the longest, with her thick and copious curls and sometimes the others would take their turn helping her, rubbing and brushing until it was done. Even the simple ritual of the collective hair-drying process became a pleasure…something unhurried and enjoyable, and Alice couldn’t help feeling grateful all over again at how her life was. How it had always been, as if someone, somewhere, was making sure she had everything she needed to make her happy.

The very next morning a letter addressed to Alice arrived in the post. Before she even opened it she recognized the writing. Helena!

My dear Alice.

I was so pleased to receive your letter and to know where you are living – and what you are doing. My dear girl…I feel so proud that you are doing your bit for the war effort…I sincerely wish that I, too, could be more use in that regard, but I have not been very well lately, and anyway what on earth would they find for me to do!

I know only too well that whatever task you are set it will be done with your usual quiet efficiency and good humour. But do be careful, my dear. And please do not wear anything red when you are near the bull!

All the children are safe and well at school, and the professor is, of course, still very busy at the Infirmary. He lives there almost permanently now, but does return to the Clifton house from time to time to keep an eye on things. He does come to visit us in Wales as often as he can, and I am always so pleased to see him. One of the hateful things about this wretched war is that so many are parted from their loved ones. But we shall all be back together again one day, I know it.

Sam is now training at yet another hospital in London. I am afraid we do not hear from him very often, but the poor darling is apparently always up to his eyes. He did ring me up – very briefly – but that was weeks ago! I pray for his safety every night. London is not the safest place to be.

Take good care of yourself, my dear girl. I am so proud of you – as Ada would be. One day we will surely all be able to return to our old way of life and some normality. What a lot we shall have to tell each other!

With my love to you – Helena.

PS

I have sent on your new address to Sam because I am sure he will be interested. Perhaps he will find time to write to you, even if he doesn’t to me! I know you used to exchange letters, and he was always very fond of you.

For several moments, Alice could hardly move from where she was standing. She was glad to be alone in their bedroom, the others having already been despatched to their various duties, because she wanted a few moments to drink in what Helena had written. She wanted a few moments to savour the words – words which included her name with Sam’s…as if the very act of joining them together in the same sentence somehow provided a precious link…

She read the letter again, more slowly, Helena’s lovely character shining through the page. How lucky, how immensely lucky, she, Alice, was to have been part of that family. How lucky that Ada had applied for the position of nanny to their children all those years ago.

Alice let her moistened eyes linger on the best bit of the letter. “He was always very fond of you.”

Then she put it back into the envelope carefully, and put it with the rest of the treasures in her suitcase.

Chapter Six (#ulink_82a22e71-09ff-5429-a952-fcac03a1a0d4)

Now that they knew they were going home, Sunday couldn’t come quickly enough for the girls. Not just for seeing people again, but to get away from the farm, and to inhabit a different world for the day.

On the evening before, as they were clearing up the kitchen after their bathing session, Fay said –

‘I don’t know what you think, Alice – but after I’ve spent a couple of hours at home with Gran…and I s’pose I’d better see my parents as well,’ she added, ‘I’m going into the Centre. See a bit of life. Might go to the Llandoger for a drink.’ Well, there were usually Service types at the pub who’d be good for a laugh. Fay wiped her hip bath around vigorously with a towel, which she folded neatly and left in an enamel bowl on the side as instructed by Mabel. The others did the same.

Alice wondered about going into town. ‘Well – it would depend on what Gloria wants to do,’ she said. ‘She may be cooking us a meal, or having friends in for us all to have a chat and to see what I’ve been up to.’ Alice was also doubtful about the pub suggestion. Although she and Gloria had enjoyed a drink together now and then, that wasn’t the same thing as mixing with drinkers in pubs…which would obviously be smoky and noisy, and where the devil’s medicine would be freely available.

Fay shrugged. ‘Well – it was just a thought. I am certainly going in for a bit of fun.’ She threw Alice a shrewd look. ‘If you don’t think much of the Llandoger we could always have a drink at the Royal Hotel on College Green.’ She paused. ‘I used to know one of the doormen who worked there, and if he’s still around he’d see we had a nice little corner in one of the lounges. And perhaps we could have something to eat there as well.’

This sounded a far better idea to Alice, and she smiled quickly. ‘Well…when we know what time Roger will be picking us up to bring us back here, we could maybe arrange to meet, say outside the Hippodrome, an hour or so earlier? How does that sound?’ To sit somewhere in the Royal – that auspicious hotel near the Cathedral – with a little plate of sandwiches and perhaps an elegant pot of coffee in front of them suddenly seemed very attractive. She knew that it had been the venue for many of the posh events that the Carmichaels had attended over the years, and she’d be able to imagine them…entering the foyer and entrance hall in their glamorous attire…the object of everyone’s admiration.

Now, they left the kitchen, and Eve said – ‘I wish we lived in Bristol. Bath can be so utterly boring at times. Nothing ever happens.’

And being with her parents for most of Sunday would be boring, too, she thought. They wouldn’t bother to have people in to see her, and hear what she’d been doing. Her parents never had people in.

‘Well, Evie – why don’t you get the bus in from Bath and meet us outside the Hippodrome later, like Alice suggested?’ Fay said. ‘I know there’s a limited service on Sundays but there’s bound to be one sometime during the afternoon. Your parents would surely understand that you’d like to do that?’

Eve thought about that for a moment. Then – ‘Well, what I could do is not say anything about enjoying myself, but that Roger had asked me to meet him in Bristol instead of picking me up in Bath on the way back…and earlier than originally planned.’ This devious plan made Eve feel slightly ashamed – she never told untruths, and certainly not to her parents, but suddenly she felt determined to have her own way. She hardly ever went into Bristol – certainly not since the war had started. It would be fun to just walk around with the others, get a sense of what was going on.

‘Smashing! So that’s all settled,’ Fay said happily. ‘So look out, Bristol! The three wise monkeys are coming to town!’

On Sunday morning they were up even earlier than usual to make sure they were ready in time. Roger had said he’d make the van ready and drive it up to the farmhouse at 8 o’clock, and that he’d worked out that the Bath/Bristol trip should only take about an hour, or an hour and a quarter at the most.

They were just finishing their breakfast when Mabel bustled in, carrying three cardboard boxes. ‘Now then luvvers,’ she said, ‘’Ere’s just a little somethin’ for you to take home to your folks.’

The “little something” in each box were two dozen newly laid eggs, a pound of bacon, a large, freshly baked loaf, some rosy apples, a swede and a cabbage, and a brown paper bag holding some field mushrooms.

As the girls examined the contents of the boxes, Alice cried out when she saw the mushrooms. ‘Oh – where did these come from, Mrs. Foulkes?’ She put her nose to the open bag. ‘They smell – and look wonderful! I adore mushrooms!’

Mabel smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘Well, it’s always just right for ’em this time of year when it’s usually warm and wettish. And there was more of ’em down in the field than I’ve ever seen before,’ she said. ‘I had trouble not walkin’ all over ’em when I was picking ’em earlier.’

Alice stared at Mabel as the woman spoke. As well as everything else, she’d been up early, picking mushrooms! Did Mrs. Foulkes ever rest, Alice wondered? She seemed tireless, unstoppable…washing, cleaning, cooking – for six of them now – not to mention the daily bread-baking, caring for the dogs and the smaller animals and the birds, and taking her turn at milking the cows.

‘Mrs. Foulkes,’ she said, ‘you are so kind and generous! My landlady will be absolutely thrilled with all this. Thank you so, so, much.’

Fay and Eve agreed wholeheartedly. ‘You are a treasure, Mrs. Foulkes,’ Fay said, and Eve said that what her box held would be enough to last her parents until the end of the war!

Mabel waved their comments aside. ‘Oh well, we got all we d’need, and more, but it’s not s’easy in the towns, is it.’ She looked at them each in turn as they stood up to leave. ‘Well, as usual, you do look nice in your frocks, I must say,’ she said, a little pang of envy running through her. It would have been lovely to have had a daughter to dress up. ‘An’ don’t forget your cardis, will you…it’s gettin’ colder in the evenin’s now,’ she added. ‘An’ p’raps bring some other warm things back with you.’

Roger was waiting for the girls outside. As they approached, he grinned and swept his arm towards the van in a theatrical gesture.

‘Your carriage awaits, my ladies,’ he said, feeling quite pleased with himself. Well, he’d done the best he could in the circumstances. Now without its trailer, he had cleaned the van, inside and out, and had put a small, low chair in the corner at the back, covering it with a rug and adding a cushion to make it as comfy as possible for whoever was going to sit on it.

He put the three boxes of food into the van, then helped Alice and Eve in next to the driver’s seat. Then he walked with Fay around to the back of the vehicle. He looked at her as she climbed in.

‘Sorry I can’t offer you anything more comfortable, or more plush, Fay,’ he said, ‘and I’ll try to avoid any bumps in the road so as not to throw you around too much.’

‘Don’t you worry about me, Roger,’ Fay reassured him as she lowered herself carefully into the chair. ‘We’re just very grateful that you’re taking us.’

And bless him, he had really swept and cleaned the back of the van up…but Fay wished he’d used something different. She was going to be a walking advertisement for Dettol when she got out. Which, after all, was not known for its seductive qualities. Still. There was a war on. Everyone had to make sacrifices.

With Mabel waving them off at the door, the little cavalcade made its way down the long lane to the farm entrance, and then started the journey, first to drop off Eve at Bath, and then the others in Bristol. And despite the fact that they were all merely going home, rather than to somewhere more exciting, the girls couldn’t help feeling a sense of anticipation. The tiny, open window between the driver and the back of the van allowed Fay to occasionally get up from her chair and lean in to join the conversation going on in the front, and soon the usual chattering and repartee went on between the four travellers.

And although Roger would only have the girls to himself for an hour at each end of the day, he, too, felt a sense of elation. This was something different all right! Gorgeous Eve was sitting very close to him – there wasn’t meant to be three in the front, after all – her long, slim legs partly exposed for his delight, her tumbling, shining curls touching his shoulder and neck from time to time, the sweet smell of her teasing his nostrils. And every now and then as they turned a sharp corner, he felt her thigh touch his for a second. Not only that, the girls had already decided that they were going to take it in turns to move around during the journey, so Alice would be sitting next to him soon enough…beautiful, enigmatic Alice, who often seemed to be far away in another world when she thought no one was looking…her gorgeous eyes sad and dreamy, enlivening all Roger’s protective instincts.

And then eventually Fay would take her place in the front. Fay was a right one, Fay was. Well, this might not be three in a bed, but three in a van, with just him, would do Roger for now!

Fay passed a tube of sweets through the small window to the others, and Roger said as he took one –

‘So – what are you three going to be up to today…apart from seeing your families?’ he asked. ‘I suppose there are three lucky blokes waiting to take you in their arms? Have any of them popped the question yet?’ He’d been wondering about this ever since the girls had arrived on the farm.

‘Not to me, anyway, ‘ Fay said promptly. ‘I can assure you that it’s not going to happen because I do not intend to tie my life to the whims of a selfish, domineering man…ever. No disrespect to you, of course, Roger,’ she added. ‘But I prefer a free and easy fun life, thank you very much all the same.’

Roger half-smiled at the very decisive answer to his question. ‘What about you, Eve?’ he said, turning his head briefly to glance at her. ‘I bet you’ve got some dandy fellow waiting for you.’

‘No, I haven’t,’ Eve said innocently. Well, what chance did she ever have to find boyfriends when she lived at home? And anyway, the only man who had made her feel funny inside when he looked at her, and had made her feel she was someone special, had been married. Whenever he’d been anywhere close to her, her blood would rush through her veins at such a pace that it made her head ache. And once, he’d come up behind her as she’d been sitting at her desk checking the stock ledger and had parted her hair and blown a soft breath of air down her neck…making her nearly faint. If she hadn’t been sitting down she would have collapsed at his feet. No other man had ever had that effect on her, and anyway she’d long ago convinced herself that her position in life was to care for her parents. You couldn’t do everything. You had to make choices.

‘Well, come on, then, Alice,’ Roger said, keeping his eyes on the road. ‘I just know there’s a lucky chap waiting for you…don’t tell me you share Fay’s opinion about men!’

Alice didn’t answer for a second, then – ‘No, I don’t, Roger,’ she said truthfully. ‘But, like the others, there’s no one special in my life. At the moment.’