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The Lady in the Van meets The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry in this uplifting, funny and moving debut novel about a 79-year-old hoarder who is convinced the world is against her.
79-year-old Gloria Frensham is a hoarder. She lives amongst piles of magazines, squashed cardboard boxes, surplus carpet rolls, heaps of towels and knick-knacks littering the stairs. She hasn’t left her home for years, until a loud bang and a sudden smell of singeing sets in motion Gloria’s unwilling exodus from her home…
That day is the start of a journey that will never return Gloria back to her beloved, hoarded possessions, nor to her son’s house to live. For it is the start of her journey to discover life again – and she’s going to make some good friends and defiant decisions along the way, with just one very small suitcase in tow…
Heart-warming and poignant in equal measure, this is a story about the loneliness of life, the struggles of growing old, the power of kindness, and the bravery it takes to leave our comfort zones.
That day is the start of a journey that will never return Gloria back to her beloved, hoarded possessions, nor to her son’s house to live. For it is the start of her journey to discover life again – and she’s going to make some good friends and defiant decisions along the way, with just one very small suitcase in tow…
Heart-warming and poignant in equal measure, this is a story about the loneliness of life, the struggles of growing old, the power of kindness, and the bravery it takes to leave our comfort zones.
EXTRACT
Oh stuff this! Right, Mum. Bleeerr. God! What a stench! And what on earth is all that crap and rubbish doing over there by the kitchen sink? Wasn’t there last time I came. Good grief, there’s bits of food in it as well, Mother! What on earth’ve you been doing?’
‘I think some hooligans nicked me wheelie-bin, Cleggy. So I leave me household rubbish near the back door. Can’t put it outside. Foxes might get it!’
Clegg gagged and put his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.
‘Un-fucking-believable! Right, well, I got rid of that bloody scoundrel, Tilsbury. Seems to me he’s using your ruddy good nature to wheedle his way into favour, rent-free, and how’s that helpin’ matters? It ain’t, Mother. So you’re coming with me. And I don’t want any more ruddy arguments. Plus it’s not safe for you in here with all this crap everywhere and dodgy electrics.’
He turned his back on his mother and nodded to Diane.
‘Just get rid of the bloody LOT! Don’t care how you do it but just DO it. Give me any paperwork you find in drawers and the like but otherwise there’s nowt of any value. I’ll pay for what needs payin’ for but just get rid of it. And, er, thanks for getting her a place at Green’s Nursin’ Home for a couple of weeks. They’ll clean her up and sort her out a treat, I’m told,’ he said through clenched teeth.
‘They certainly will, Mr Frensham. They’re one of the best homes in the district. And you say you’re happy to take her afterwards? Is that for full-time care or will you need some additional help?’ mumbled Diane, behind her handkerchief.
Clegg shook his head vehemently. ‘No. We’ll be okay with that, thanks. My Val’s sorting all that side out. She’s a nurse as you know. We’ve got a small en suite extension for my mother. So we’ll all be fine at home together. God! That smell is unbearable! Dunno how she’s put up with it all these years. Nowt so queer as folk, as they say.’
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