âMaybe,â says Margaret, âwhen you see this place youâll understand. Itâs like Club Med! Thereâs a heated pool and a rec centre and a cocktail bar and everything. They have 24-hour room service!â
Andrew guffaws. âA cocktail bar? At a nursing home? Whatâs next? Happy Hour?â
"It's not a ânursing home,' Andrew, dear. It's a âRetirement Destination.'"
âA what?â
âItâs all about marketing, you see? Kids donât feel half as bad sending their decrepit parents off to a âholiday clubâ.â
âStill. A cocktail bar?â
âJudy, do you see now why I canât live with you two? Iâm 86 bloody years oldââ
âLanguage!â scolds Andrew.
"As I was saying, I'm 86 BLOODY years old, and if I want to spend the days swearing and drinking Pimm's and playing bloody strip poker, then I will do it WITHOUT the disapproving glare from the very boy whose bare bottom I used to smack for stealing my menthol cigarettes."
"That does sound quite lovely, Marge. If Andrew gets too strict with me, I shall come and spend a few days with you. We can drink cocktails together. Although Iâm not sure about the strip poker âŠâ
Margaret pats Judy on the shoulder. âWe all have our boundaries, dear.â
âSome fewer than others,â Andrew murmurs.