as my mum, I’d still really like you to meet her, before . . . well, you know . . .’
I felt like I’d had the wind taken out of my sails as the magnitude of what he was saying sunk in. In the space of just a few minutes, I’d gone through a whole plethora of emotions from excitement to selfish disappointment, and concern to utter surprise. I had no idea which of those my mouth would choose to convey.
‘I . . . I . . . Well, of course, I’d love to,’ I faltered. ‘If you think it’ll be okay.’
His eyes seemed to light up as he nodded.
‘I wouldn’t want to cause her any more anxiety though.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ he said, through the tiniest of smiles. ‘You’ll brighten up her day.’
21
‘It’s best to keep conversation simple,’ Thomas said as we pulled up in the car park of the care home. ‘And it’s always wise to agree with her, no matter how absurd it sounds.’ He attempted to laugh but it didn’t sound real.
‘We’ll go through the normal routine. She won’t know who I am, I’ll remind her, she’ll acknowledge it and then immediately forget.’ He cleared his throat before continuing. ‘Though if last night is anything to go by, she may be even more confused than usual.’
He bowed his head and I put a hand over his. If I had the right words, I’d offer them, but I didn’t want him to think me patronizing.
‘Hello Elise,’ he said cheerily as we walked into the brightly lit reception. ‘You’re looking good.’
The girl, younger than me, giggled coquettishly and immediately touched her hair. I’d not yet seen him converse with another woman and his effect was obvious. She was yet to register my presence and I waited for him to introduce me.
‘Where is she today?’ he said instead.
‘She’s in the common room,’ Elise replied, her eyes still alight.
He led the way down the carpeted corridor, the smell reminding me of my grandparents’ house. Whatever that smell is, it’s not good or bad; just old, much the same as when you walk into an antiques shop or a second-hand book store.
I immediately regretted not bringing some flowers as we walked into a large room with windows for walls and individually coloured and styled upright armchairs. There were vases on the little tables between them, each holding a sorry-looking bunch of flowers, carelessly arranged. I hoped it wasn’t an indication of how the vulnerable residents were treated.
I followed him over to the corner, where a dot of a woman sat peering longingly out of the window at the gardens beyond. Just looking at her broke my heart and I selfishly hoped she wasn’t who we were here to see.
‘Mum?’ called Thomas, warily. She immediately looked up at him, her eyes searching for some kind of recognition. ‘It’s me.’
She smiled and nodded.
‘This is my friend, Beth.’
I stepped forward and offered my hand, but she wasn’t forthcoming. I looked at him, fearful that I’d done something wrong. He winked at me and shook his head.
‘Come and sit down,’ she said to me, patting the chair beside her. ‘You get a beautiful view of the garden from here – it’s my favourite place to sit.’
‘It’s gorgeous,’ I said.
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ she said, leaning in conspiratorially. ‘But I often come down here when everyone is still asleep, even the nurses. You see so many wonderful things at that time in the morning; the squirrels come out to find their nuts, the blackbirds have a squabble in a puddle. Sometimes I can even see a rhododendron as it opens up throughout the day. Slowly, slowly, its petals stretch out towards the sun . . .’
‘So, what have you been doing since I last saw you Mum?’
‘Well, Frank’s been in to see me,’ she said quietly. ‘That was nice.’
‘What, Dad?’ Thomas asked, shooting a glance at me and raising his eyebrows. ‘What did he have to say?’
‘Oh, you know. We were talking about the days when we went dancing. He’d take me to the Rivoli Ballroom and we’d be the first on the floor and the last off.’ She gave a little laugh, her eyes lighting up. ‘I said to him about the time that The Beatles were there, but he doesn’t remember it. I mean, how can you forget seeing The Beatles?’
She reached across to me, placing a hand on my lap. ‘You remember The Beatles, don’t you Sarah?’