The Art of Forgetting

by McLaren, Julie

  “She needs to get rid of all that gunk,” she says, pulling a face.

  Laura stays with her for the best part of an hour, but then the coughing reduces and she falls into a deeper sleep. Ruby takes Laura’s arm and leads her out. “Come on, you look done in,” she says. “Come and sit down and I’ll bring you a drink.”

  So that’s what she does. Emil and his mother are in the conservatory, sheltering from the chilly breeze that is keeping all but the hardiest residents inside today. He calls her over. She sits down gratefully and asks after his mother’s health, but it is not long before her own problems become the topic of conversation. And then it all comes spilling out; everything she wanted to talk about yesterday. Emil leans forward with a concerned expression on his face.

  “You do seem to be taking all the responsibility on your shoulders,” he says. “I don’t have any siblings – not in this country anyway – but I know you have a sister. Can’t she take on some of this?”

  Laura explains that she is the only member of the immediate family to be without a job. It wasn’t planned that way, but that’s the way it is and there would be no point in the rest of them taking days off so she can sit at home. She can hear the bitter edge to her voice but she can’t help it. If only she hadn’t lost her job they would have had to find other solutions, but she did and nothing can change that.

  “Well, you need to look after yourself or you will be no use to your mum or the rest of your family,” he says. “If you were my sister, I’d be making sure you had a bit of time to relax.”

  For some reason, Laura feels a pang of disappointment at this. It’s silly, but she doesn’t like the idea of Emil as a thoughtful older brother. It makes the way she feels when she looks at him quite inappropriate, as if it wasn’t that already. She tells him she’s fine and there is nothing wrong that a good night’s sleep won’t cure, but he persists.

  “Well, you say that, but I’m going to keep an eye on you, young lady,” he says and Laura’s heart skips several beats. She looks up, catches his eye and sees the glint there. Is she imagining it? What does it mean? She feels her face colouring so she picks up her coffee and holds it to her mouth with both hands. But the heat of the liquid would never be enough to account for the flush she is sure will be visible to anyone who cares to look.

  By the time Laura leaves, her mother is coughing again but there is not much she can do. There are enough trained nurses to provide all the care she needs, and she is hardly aware of who is in the room anyway, so Laura goes home. Her neglected domestic duties are calling and Ruby tells her not to worry.

  “She’s had four doses of the antibiotic now. I’m sure we’ll see a change soon.”

  But she does worry. She throws herself into the many tasks she has put off over the past few days, but once the children are eating she cannot put it off any longer and calls Cavendish House.

  “Sorry, but not much change,” she is told. “She’s asleep at the moment but she’s been quite restless. We’re keeping a close eye on her, though, so try not to worry.”

  Laura says thank you and hangs up, but now she feels worse if anything. Everyone keeps telling her not to worry. That’s all they seem to say, but it’s ridiculous. Of course she’s going to worry! And then it hits her. They will have to cancel the holiday. They are due to leave in a few days and she has done no packing, no preparation, but in any case she can’t leave Mum like this. How can she go and have fun in the French countryside, sunbathe by the pool and chat with the other parents whilst the children make friends? That was what they had visualised when they’d booked, months ago, but now it all seems like an impossible dream.

  She waits until the children are in bed. She makes sure there is plenty of dinner left for Patrick. She asks him about his day and even asks some follow-up questions, despite the fact that the answers are likely to mean little to her. Then she tells him about her mother and, heart thumping steadily in her chest, says she cannot leave her for two whole weeks. They will have to cancel the holiday.

  There is a brief silence, and then the explosion comes. Patrick rises from his chair so quickly that it is almost as if she has filmed him flopping down into it and then played it backwards. He seems to fly up in one single movement, spit spraying from his mouth and his face red.

  “How can you even think such a thing?” he shouts. “What about the children? What about me? Don’t I deserve a break, the year I’ve had? And what about all that money? We won’t get a penny back. Having an over-anxious wife isn’t on the holiday insurance. Has that even occurred to you?”

  Laura tries to remain calm but it is impossible. Patrick won’t listen and all her own worries and frustrations come hurtling to the surface. She raises her voice and that only makes him shout more.

  They only stop when Lily appears in the lounge doorway, rubbing her eyes.

  “You woke me up,” she says, and Laura is appalled. What have they done? She thinks of Gordon Carpenter’s son, who lost his daddy and then his mum, how his whole life was blighted. There is a physical pain in her stomach when she looks at her beautiful daughter standing there with an anxious little crease on her forehead.

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. Daddy and I were getting a bit cross with each other but it’s fine now. We’ve sorted it out and you don’t need to worry.”

  She takes Lily back to bed and returns to finish the conversation, but they don’t argue now. They will go on holiday as planned and Kelly will take over the reins for a couple of weeks. She knows it is right and that they can keep in touch every day. She knows it is only a day’s drive to the farmhouse with its complex of apartments and the pool. She knows everyone will have a great time. Everyone except her, of course, but that’s another matter.

  Chapter 12

  Of course they were always going to go, weren’t they? Laura doesn’t know why she bothered raising it in the first place and causing all that stress. Even if Patrick had responded differently, there would have been Kelly to deal with. She had been outraged when Laura mentioned what she’d been thinking.

  “Seriously? You actually thought of cancelling? I will be there every single day until she’s completely better, I promise, and I will text you as I leave. Actually, Laura, I’m a bit insulted. Do you think you’re the only one who matters? The only one who can do this?”

  So Laura had backtracked. She had reminded Kelly that she was a natural worrier and agreed she was being silly. She had even agreed to limit communication to a single text each day, with no extended and expensive conversations. But Kelly must have been shocked, as she told Robin and then he phoned up to give her a pep talk too. He will visit at least once every weekend and try to do an evening visit in between, work allowing. She must stop worrying and go and enjoy herself with her family. Everything will be fine.

  So Laura rushes around washing and packing, making lists and crossing things off then adding more things to the bottom. The children are at home now, so they need to be fed and entertained and the daily visits to Cavendish House have to stop. Just like that. She says a strange kind of goodbye to Emil, but she does not know if she imagines the wistful look in his eyes as he waves and hopes she’ll have a lovely holiday.

  “Try and forget all about this place,” he says, but actually she is not at all sure she wants to, even if she could.

  So the day of their departure comes and Laura works very hard to mirror everybody else’s good mood. The children are excited and Patrick is happy and smiling. He hums to himself as he crams the last few items into the car and shouts “Yes!” when the tailgate still manages to close. Laura tells herself that this is a chance she must not miss. They can rebuild their relationship during this holiday and, when they return, everything will be back to how it was. Then she will stop mooning over a man who is not remotely interested in anything other than chatting and is far too old for her anyway. That’s what she tells herself, but there is a feeling of loss and sadness in her heart as the journey progresses, and it is not just about lea
ving Mum behind.

  The first ten days of the holiday are a huge success, at least for Patrick and the children. The weather is great, the accommodation is exactly what it appeared to be on the website, and the other three families in the complex are nice enough. The children play for endless hours in the pool and the adults sit around watching them, reading or snoozing. Sometimes they drive to the coast for the day and there are also excursions to the town for shopping and browsing. Laura joins in with all this, and nobody would guess she is anything other than contented, but actually her days revolve around Kelly’s texts. Before they arrive, she checks her phone obsessively and then, once she has received the message, she dissects it. What does she mean by this? Is she hiding something? Why didn’t she mention that before?

  To begin with, the news is promising. Mum appears to be responding to the medication and her cough has almost gone. She is eating again, and although she seems to tire more easily than before, she is happy to wander around the garden and they have taken her out too. Laura begins to relax, but then the course of antibiotics is complete and a day or so later Laura’s heart beats harder at what she reads.

  Mum a bit down today. Very quiet and coughing again tho not like before. Fell asleep in garden in the middle of a conversation. Didn’t think I was that boring! Probably just a blip.

  Laura knows Kelly would not have composed a text like that if there were nothing to be concerned about. She would know that Laura would worry, and she guesses there has been a decline over the past day or so. She replies with a request for more details, but Kelly refuses.

  Look, don’t start panicking. I spoke to staff and they say all fine. She’s still eating. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.

  So Laura waits and tries to enjoy herself but it is impossible. She feels physically drawn towards Cavendish House, as if she is tied to a long cord that stretches right through the French countryside, across the channel and into Kent, and somebody is tugging on it. She is plagued by bright images of her mother in its grounds or in her room, every time she closes her eyes in feigned relaxation. However, she does not have to wait long for Kelly’s text the following day.

  Sorry, but Mum not good today. Doc already been and prescribed different antibiotics. Thinks it may be mild pneumonia but treatable here. Don’t worry she’s in good hands. Staff brilliant!

  She wants to go home. Oh, Laura wants to go home so badly, but she knows the children will be heartbroken, she knows all their travel arrangements will have to be changed and she knows it will make no difference to her mother. She is in a nursing home; it is full of nurses. They are obviously monitoring her closely and a few days will probably see another improvement. By the time they get back, the worst will be over, so she does not even suggest an early return. Instead, she works out exactly how many hours it will be until the ferry docks back in Dover and comforts herself by subtracting them from time to time.

  And so the number of hours reduces. Sometimes they pass quite quickly, such as when one of the children from another family cuts his hand and has to be taken to hospital. Then Laura is there with her first aid training and she is the first to volunteer to care for the boy’s sister whilst his parents deal with the crisis. It is good to be doing something useful. At other times the hours simply crawl by and she has to force herself to limit the number of times she looks at her watch. However, the final day arrives and she vows to try to enjoy at least some of it. They are to have a communal lunch with the other families and this will keep her mind off her mother, who is no worse but not really any better either.

  They are just about to sit down for lunch when she feels her phone vibrate in her shorts pocket. Kelly is a bit earlier than usual today, so her heart lurches.

  Doc has been again and a bit concerned so taken her into hosp probably just for 24 hours for chest x-ray and drug review. She’ll probably be out by the time you’re back. Precaution!

  There is no choice. She simply has to speak to Kelly and she doesn’t care what she has agreed. This is different. She makes her apologies and leaves the concerned looks of the other families behind her as she rushes to the top of the garden where the signal is strongest. Patrick follows her, but she tells him to go back.

  “Mum’s in hospital. Tell the children it’s nothing to worry about or it’ll spoil their last day. I’ll tell you what Kelly says later.”

  It is awful coming back to the assembled group, finding her vacant chair and trying to act as if nothing is wrong. A couple of people ask, so she has to tell them about her mother, say that it’s just a precaution and she will be right as rain in no time. But that is not what she believes. Kelly may be good at making her texts upbeat, but there was no hiding the quiver in her voice as they spoke. Laura helps herself to cold meats and salad but this is an automatic action, and they are still on her plate by the time the table is cleared. And this was supposed to be the day she enjoyed.

  She almost cries with relief as Patrick unlocks the front door and they carry the sleeping children from the car straight up to bed. It is late, and they will unpack in the morning, but she knows that her first priority will be to go to Cavendish House. Patrick is tired and irritable after driving all the way so she excuses his unpleasant remark about not expecting any help anyway. She knows she was in no fit state to drive and she wishes she could put things to one side as he can, but she can’t.

  The next morning, she wakes early and gets up before anyone else has even stirred. She creeps backwards and forwards to the car, trying to stop her feet crunching on the gravel, and brings most of the bags into the hall. She leaves the beach stuff by the garage. There. Now Patrick won’t be able to complain that she hasn’t helped. She even takes one of the bags through to the kitchen and puts on a load of washing. It is still only eight-thirty, but she decides to leave anyway. Mum was discharged late yesterday with a new drug regime, and she cannot wait any longer to see her.

  She doesn’t even think about seeing Emil as she drives. She really doesn’t. She has thought of him from time to time in the intervening weeks, but it seems that absence has made the heart grow more sensible in her case. She has been able to see her behaviour for what it was: a silly infatuation provoked by a combination of her own fragility and his kindness. She was in a confused emotional state, especially with Patrick being so difficult, but all that has passed now. Thank goodness nothing ever happened! How messy it would be, having to unpick it all and still see him.

  She goes to the front door and is met by Georgina. Ruby is hovering around in the background and they all go into one of the relatives’ rooms. Laura feels a prickle of cold sweat wash over her. Is it bad news? What are they going to tell her?

  “We think she’s a little better this morning,” says Georgina, looking to Ruby for confirmation. Ruby nods, if almost imperceptibly. “However, you need to know that this has really not helped her confusion and I don’t want you to be shocked. As I expect your sister has told you, we are hoping that the mental deterioration will be temporary and she will return to something like her old self once she is completely better but … Well it’s just ... don’t be surprised if she doesn’t respond much.”

  She is only in the room for about half an hour. She can stand it no longer than that. Who is this skinny old woman in Mum’s bed? Her mother did not have those great cavities under her collar bones or that angular jaw. Her eyes were not sunken like that and she would never have let her hair get so lank. She is asleep for most of the time Laura is there, but even when she opens her eyes, there is not much behind them. No recognition. No delight at seeing her daughter after a two-week absence. Laura cannot remember what she has imagined about their reunion, it has all been swept away by the enormity of the reality, but she is completely unprepared for how deflated she feels.

  “I’m going into the garden for a breath of fresh air,” she tells the young auxiliary who has been popping in and out. Her voice is thick and she sees the sympathy in the girl’s expression as she hurries past her. She needs to be al
one.

  It is just typical that Emil is coming through the gate as she crosses the terrace. She hopes he will not see her. She does not want to have to put all this into words, in fact she does not want to talk at all. She has vowed she will not return to the adolescent state she was in before the holiday. She takes out her phone and pretends to be absorbed in it as she goes onto the lawn, but it is no good. He is there beside her.

  “Hello, stranger! Did you have a ... oh. Are you OK? Is your mother …?”

  Emil looks concerned. There are crinkly little worry lines between his eyebrows. There is a choice now for Laura, but she doesn’t seem to be able to make it. She could hold back the tears, explain she must make this call, say that perhaps she’ll see him later, but she doesn’t. Maybe it was never a choice at all. Instead, she more or less dissolves in front of him, tears streaming down her face. She allows him to lead her to a wooden bench and sit her down. She is abandoned in her grief. All those days of bottling it up, of putting on a brave face, of trying to be positive, have taken their toll and now it is all coming out in front of him. So much for good intentions.

  Afterwards, she feels hollow. She is embarrassed and apologises for being in such a state, but when she starts to rise, he stops her with a hand on her arm.

  “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but I think you need to get away from here for an hour or two. I don’t like the thought of you driving, though. Why don’t you let me take you for a coffee? There’s a nice little pub I know. Well actually it’s not that nice, but it’s quite close, it’s open all day – even on Sunday mornings – and it’ll still be quiet now. I’ve been where you are, Laura. Listen to one who knows.”

  So she agrees, eventually. He doesn’t listen to any of her protestations. How he should be thinking of his mother and not her. How she should be here in case Mum needs her. He insists, quietly but firmly, and she is in no condition to argue. They go to his car and she stands there like a child whilst he gets in and unlocks the door from the inside.