At the Waterfall

Two elderly ladies meet every Saturday with a surprise picnic basket.

They say opposites attract. In the case of these two long-term friends, it certainly was the case. Eva, now seventy-three and gradually going deaf is a quiet, deep-thinking, sometimes rather serious little old lady. Behind her quiet exterior lies a heart of pure gold and a wickedly good dry sense of humour. A great reader, but her overriding passion is being in the great outdoors. So meeting landowner Viv, at a library fund-raiser was a godsend. That was forty years ago.

Viv is a little older. At seventy-five she is tireless. Her abundant energy parallels her love for life. Everyone in the village knows when Viv is in town - laughter echoes down the high street, or shrieks of happiness can be heard if she happens upon a friend she's not seen for more than a week.

In stark contrast to her dearest friend Eva, Viv is larger-than-life. Long locks of grey hair tied in what might be considered a bun, with wayward wisps of it floating around her vibrant face chaotically. Gumboots are her go-to footwear, the rest is whatever she grabbed out of the cupboard that morning. She lives alone on her small farm, situated on the fringes of the village in the heart of Shropshire. Fred, her devoted husband died two years ago. It goes without saying that Viv misses him terribly, but being a get-up-and-go character she presses on regardless and provides endless fresh fruit and vegetables to the surrounding village shops. And, the most decadent assortment of fudge, wrapped with love and laughter in colourful homemade paper. Her happy chickens provide the village with eggs: those dark orange yolk ones, that are free-range. Each one of her chickens knows their name and they come running when she calls. There are seventy of them.

At the bottom of the field in front of her cottage runs a stream. Most of the year it is a gentle stream of water about a metre wide where butterflies, bees and dragonflies frolic. It meanders through ten acres of indigenous forest that is Viv's haven. The stream then runs on through the village about a mile away and on to the sea.

In the heart of the forest, the stream drops away over a rocky crevice. It is here, at this little waterfall, that Eva and Viv have met for their weekly picnic for more years than they can remember. An idyllic, peaceful place. A place where they grew to know each other better than their sisters.

Many years ago, when Fred was still young and dapper, he felled some of the Beech trees that grew near the little waterfall. 'Let the sunshine in.' Was his motto, not only for around the waterfall, but for his life. And where the sun shone in through the opening grew luscious green grass that Viv still kept mowed.

On this particular Saturday, Eva had said what fun it would be to have a luncheon of silent communication. Her hearing was getting worse. 'Remember how we used to play charades,' was her message to Viv. 'Surprise picnic basket as usual.'

Viv had agreed. She was looking forward to testing herself. Could she actually keep her mouth shut for about an hour? She paused in thought while packing the picnic basket and could not remember a time in her life when she had been silent for more than ten minutes unless, of course, she was sleeping. Then she remembered how Eva had once teased her, saying she was sure Viv spoke in her sleep too! Fred assured her that, in all their married years, he'd only ever heard Viv grunt or laugh in her sleep.

Eva pulled into the gravelled parking area at Viv's country cottage and switched off the engine. Viv dashed out to greet her as she lifted her small picnic basket off the back seat of the car. It was a gloriously warm summer day. Weather to celebrate. They had both agreed to chat on the walk down to the waterfall though. It was impossible for Viv not to!

Laying out the picnic blanket they exchanged a note.

Eva's note read, 'You are my most treasured friend.' Viv wondered how she was going to convey that silently.

Viv's note read, 'I don't know how to shut up but I will try. You start, let's see where it takes us.'

She looked at Eva, suppressing laughter that was desperate to be loudly expressed. Azure eyes shone brightly, like the remaining water droplets in the grass that hadn't been burned off by the sun's rays. She wanted to say, 'This is like the Rotary fundraiser we did all those years ago.' Silence had been the theme of one of the acts, the only one Viv didn't appear in. Eva smiled as she remembered. She wondered if Viv was thinking about their fundraising acting days for Rotary. Probably not.

Eva opened the surprise picnic basket Viv had given her. She beamed and raised the bottle of pink Prosecco. The one she loved. Thumbs up. Eva began to peel away the silver wrapping covering the cork. With her thumb, the knuckle beginning to swell from the onset of arthritis, she slowly pries the cork off with her eyes half closed. Suddenly it flew into the leafy undergrowth and the birds took flight. Two empty glasses were waiting to be filled.

Eva was to open their private show. Not something she was going to find easy, being a bit self-conscious. Her best friend knew her better than she knew herself sometimes, but the silence was awkward, no matter what. She took a sip of the sweet bubbles to stifle a laugh, thinking about what stupid games they were playing. How she hoped there were no peeping toms in the forest. One never knew nowadays. As that thought fluttered through her mind, like the birds in the forest, she noticed Viv was also looking into the forest. Were they thinking the same thing?

Eva sat in silence for a few minutes, contemplating. Lost in her thoughts she studied the patterns woven into the blanket they were sitting on. 'As colourful as my dear friend. How am I going to tell her?'

Very slowly she looked up at an expectant Viv who was waiting for Eva to stand up, act out her message, burst out laughing and blush furiously, instead a sad look appeared on Eva's face. Arms spread in a questioning gesture, Viv looked at her dearest friend and knew in an instant there was more to this than just the onset of failing hearing. Eva pushed her small frame into the upright position. Standing, she looked down at her friend and smiled warmly then she ran her fingers delicately over her cheeks, imitating tears rolling down. Then she pointed her index finger at Viv and shook her head, a stern look had now replaced the earlier sad one, indicating that she was not permitted to cry. She wanted to, she'd been close to tears every day for a week, but she shook her head, and tucked a cupped hand behind one ear, indicating she was listening to someone with unwelcome news. Then she gasped, looking wide-eyed at the mystery figure she was listening to. She stood beside Viv, who was still seated on the picnic blanket, holding her glass of pink Prosecco, spellbound by Eva who was now slowly nodding her head up and down, downturned lips and her head cocked to one side slightly, as one does when trying to digest difficult information. Suddenly she covered her mouth and her aged eyes began to water, not quite enough to spill over. Viv's eyes responded in sympathy, even though she had no idea what awful news was troubling Eva, her Oscar performance had shown she had very bad news to share.

'Had she lost someone close to her?' Viv wondered. She hadn't mentioned anything during the week.

Eva had also lost her husband. He had died in a tragic motor accident - a young teenage man under the influence of alcohol jumped a traffic light, killing him instantly. That was four years ago. Eva's sister, Julianna was very much alive and living in Scotland. She'd come to visit only two weeks prior and what fun the three of them had had together. Still looking at Eva with questioning eyes and hands opened, Viv waited. Eva crossed her arms in front of her, indicating she was hugging someone. Was she missing her sister? Had her sister given her bad news? Julianna was the younger sister and kept her age well. It certainly didn't appear that she had any health issues.

Eva bent down, picked up her glass, took a large swig of Prosecco and shrugged her shoulders. She said nothing but dug into the picnic basket. Viv always made up the most interesting treats for lunch. Wrapped in greaseproof paper was a slice of Eva's favourite homemade salmon tart. Pulling it out of the basket she grinned, then rubbed her tummy indicating she was hungry, it was lunchtime. Eva sat down, knowing that her acting skills had fallen short of the desired effect, she scribbled on the non-greased side of the greaseproof paper.

'I'm dying. Brain tumour. Estimated two months to live.'

Now it was Viv's turn to respond. There was no way to keep the shock reflecting on her face. It crumpled in the silence. All she wanted to do was talk. Say something comforting. Cry. Hug her dearest friend. Ask what she could do to help. Why couldn't they operate? But they'd made a pact. Silent charades at the picnic. They would talk when they had eaten.

Viv mouthed, 'When?' Eva shrugged. Viv was trying to be strong. News like this could not be received in silence, surely? Why had she agreed to do this?

Eva was still trying to process the news herself. She took a bite of the salmon tart and, chewing, she looked at Viv. The message in her eyes said, finish your lunch. The fingers of her right hand opened and closed in quick succession indicating that they would talk later. Silence was the best way to process bad news. She would tell Viv all about it after lunch. But Viv couldn't wait, she shook her head, reached into her bag and brought out a notepad and pen. Onto a piece of paper, she wrote, 'I love you, my friend. This is too big to remain silent and you know how difficult that is for me at the best of times.' Viv drew a little smiley face and handed it to Eva. Eva read. She smiled and tried not to laugh, instead, she nodded and put her index finger to her lips.

'Eat' She scribbled and handed it back.

'I can't, Eva. You are torturing me.'

Eva looked up and smiled. It had been torturing her too by not telling Viv of the diagnosis when she got it.

'Eat.' She mouthed and eventually, Viv opened her picnic basket. Inside the basket was an envelope. Her head snapped up and she looked across at Eva, and with theatrical arm gestures tried to convey that she needed to read what was inside the envelope. Now!

Eva shook her head and waved her index finger. 'Eat.' She mouthed again. This time Viv pulled out a slice of mushroom and bacon quiche, unwrapped it and took a bite. It tasted of nothing. Her taste buds weren't working. Normally she loved Eva's quiche, no matter the flavour. She finished it, numbed, scarcely knowing she had eaten. Then she lifted up the envelope, asking with her eyes whether she could open it.

Eva nodded.

Viv prized the blade of her knife into the side of the envelope and slit it open. Just the image on the card was enough to make Viv ball her eyes out, but she maintained her composure and opened the card.

'This is not goodbye, my friend. Even when I am gone, maybe in a week, maybe in a month, we will always be together. The tumour is too big to operate on and I am too old. Let us embrace the short time we have together on earth and do outrageous things until I can no longer hear, see think, talk or even care. That is why I wanted the silence today, because I know you and I will not stop talking until the angels take me upward. (I think I am going upward! If not I will drink pink Prosecco with that wicked soul downstairs.)'

Viv placed the closed card down on the picnic blanket and sobbed. They packed up and wandered back to the cottage. As they stepped into the cosy interior Viv realised she would not only be losing her best friend soon but had lost her tongue too. All she could do was hold her dearest, smallest friend in her arms and pray.