Silent Love

Working class must have meant something different then. The basic expectations were far different. Bob worked all his life, hard manual work that has left him arthritic and worn out and, by the standards of today, he has very little to show for it. He lives in a council house and although it has the basics it has precious little else. The carpet is worn and the suite is circa 1970, that shiny dark plastic with hectic floral cushions and little black legs ending in brass discs. The fireplace is the beige tile that came with the house and it is adorned with an alarm clock and a small framed picture of his wedding day. The picture shows a red faced young man, smiling shyly at his foursquare bride and looking as though his shirt collar is strangling him. She clasps what looks like half a garden in a bouquet and looks directly at the camera, a slight smile the only hint of a positive emotion on her broad face.
He doesn't talk about her. She has been dead seven years and he is not the sort of man to share his emotions. He sleeps in what was the "best" parlour now, the stairs lead to a no man's land, uninhabited except for a twice daily trip by his carers to empty his commode. He is pleasant to the staff, even makes the odd joke, but if they ask how he is the answer is always the same "I'm very well" He says this even when he can barely get his breath, coughing until it seems his lungs will burst and clasping his inhaler like a drowning man, which he is, he is drowning from the inside.
He is a creature of habit, cereal for breakfast, soup for lunch and orange squash from a huge economy bottle left on his scarred side table. It isn't comfortable preparing food in the little kitchen that is so clearly the domain of the wife long gone. Her pinny still hangs on the door and a mug hanging beneath the wall cupboard bears the legend "Mum" - we never use that one.
He must have had a heart attack. The carer found him when she went to make him his cocoa and help him to bed. He was lying on the rug, quite cold, he must have been gone for hours. She ran for his son who lives in the next street and they ran back together, hoping they weren't too late, knowing they were.
The carer was distressed but she said he looked peaceful, she thought he must have been doing some tidying up, his wedding picture was lying where it had fallen from his lifeless hand....