On the way back in the car I learned a little more of Christine's own life. One of 13 children she grew up in Leeds during the war at home and in an orphanage when her mother left home for a few years, not being able to cope. The orphanage sounded grim.
She left again at 18 married and had 2 kids, left that husband married again and had a boy, left him, and married David s father, left him and moved into this house 30 years ago. Since then she had a romance with her Lodger Sam for 10 years, I think he was the love of her life. she then re-met Bobby, her current unpaid carer, and they got married for a day. The marriage ended but they remained friends.
She had 4 children, but Paul suffered from a rare illness that resulted in his legs being amputated. He died a few years ago. The remaining three she is in touch with, David being the closest as he seems to visit her the most, Gary and Lorraine who suffers from agoraphobia and hardly ever leaves the house. As she told me her story, I felt it didn't seem a life full of much happiness or sense of satisfaction or achievement, she puts many bad things in her life down to the orphanage Her damaged feet (putting her in shoes too small) and bedwetting, which is now her greatest fear again. Christine never had a career, occasional working in a factory, tailoring shop and in a public house, and yet she is an intelligent, jolly, companionable woman, slightly controlled by her ailments, which are mentioned often as they define her current existence; and ruefully pragmatic about her life.
We returned home, made lunch and sat down to eat. I looked for ketchup and found some, after lathering it on my plate discovered it was 2 years out of date. As I tried to nonchalantly scrape it into the bin, Christine asked me what I thought of her pie. I found it pretty inedible, all smash and no fish, but didn't have the heart to tell her, I just said how filling it was and not very fishy. I felt this was an opportune moment to suggest we have a bit of a kitchen clear out.