Tommy has been retired for twenty years. Used to be a plumber.
‘I couldn’t have carried on,’ he says. ‘Not with these legs.’
‘I have to put his socks on for him,’ says June.
Tommy smacks his bald head and leans forward. ‘He doesn’t want to hear that, June.’
I tell them it’s fine, I don’t mind. I’m here to get the whole story. How he manages, what he might need. How they’re both doing, come to that. No detail too small.
‘Well – truth is, I take my time,’ he says, leaning back in the recliner, his Tottenham football shirt riding up over his resonant belly. ‘There’s no rush, is there?’
‘I go with him into the shower… well, not actually IN the shower… I just stand guard in case he… you know.’
Tommy smacks his head again. ‘Not now, June. He doesn’t want to hear that.’

They’ve been married sixty-five years. I wonder how long he’s been smacking his head. They’re an odd couple, which may account for their longevity. Tommy pumped up, enthusiastic as a spacehopper with a walrus moustache; June in a pastel twin-set, neat and sweet as a tube of parma violets.

‘I couldn’t be a plumber,’ I say, filling the time whilst I get my kit ready. ‘I mean – apart from not knowing anything about plumbing. I just don’t like spiders.’
Tommy leans forwards again.
‘You get used to it,’ he says. ‘Mind you, having said that, Dave didn’t. Dave went to Australia to make his millions. Found out the place was crawling with them. And not just any old spiders. Big hairy items, hand sized things, with teeth. One nip from them and it was goodnight Vienna.’
‘Oh no! Don’t say that!’ says June, still maintaining her smile.
‘Yes. And snakes. Horrible, venomous things. If they catch you right you puff up like a big black beachball.’
‘Okay.’
‘Next thing anyone knows, Dave goes missing. Gone for months. And do you know what it was? Walkabout! He’d gone walkabout! Dave, the plumber. Who hates spiders.’
‘It’s snakes I don’t like,’ says June. ‘It’s a good thing we live where we live, I suppose.’
‘I’ve seen snakes here,’ says Tommy. ‘When I was a kid I used to go up the top end of the park. There was a secret place where all the blackberries grew. No one knew about it ‘cept me, so I had the pick of the place. Big, juicy blackberries. I sold them to a geezer down the market for a shilling. But you know what? Adders loved it up there. I don’t know why. They’d gather, probably from miles around, in that little blackberry clearing at the top of the hill.’
‘Oh no,’ says June
‘Yes!’ says Tommy. ‘But if you left them alone, they’d leave you alone. I was only interested in the blackberries, so we got along fine.’
‘You and your blackberry snakes,’ says June. ‘I’m sure this gentleman’s not interested in that sort of thing.’
‘I’ve never seen an adder!’ I say.
‘Well,’ says Tommy. ‘Maybe one day I’ll take you blackberrying.’
‘Blackberrying!’ says June. ‘You can hardly get out of the chair!’
‘He doesn’t want to hear that, June,’ says Tommy. And after smacking his bald head again, he settles back.