by Susan Lewis
She didn’t tell him she’d heard of just about every care home around since checking them all out on the Internet, she only said, ‘I think you should turn round.’
‘Absolutely not. I want you to see for yourself what dementia does to a person.’
‘David, you can’t treat people like that. They’re not animals in a zoo to be gawped at as though they don’t know any better.’
‘We won’t be gawping,’ he corrected, ‘we’ll be visiting, and my whole point is that most of them don’t know any better. They’re gone, Lisa. We don’t know where, no one can tell us that. All we know is that they’re no longer who they used to be …’
‘David, please turn round,’ she said, starting to get upset.
‘We can’t. I’ve already told them to expect us and I’m not going to let them down now.’
Realising she wasn’t going to win, she turned to gaze out at the passing fields, understanding why he wanted to do this, but still desperately wishing he wouldn’t. And as Burnham Down finally appeared on the horizon, she felt herself starting to put up barriers as though trying to keep out any sense of this becoming a future reality. ‘Do you remember the matron’s name?’ she asked, as they approached the gates.
He frowned. ‘No, but I’m sure it’ll be in my book.’
Reaching for it, she leafed through to that day’s notes and though she was faintly baffled by some of what was written there, the words Matron: Sally Gosling stood out clearly enough, so fortunately that answered that.
‘Does she know about you?’ she asked, putting the book back in his folio case.
‘Mm, I don’t think so.’
‘You mean you can’t remember whether or not you told her?’
‘I’m going to presume I didn’t, because we’re not telling anyone yet. Are we?’
Since it sounded like a genuine question she said, ‘No, not yet,’ but after speaking to Miles yesterday when he’d told her about the deal he’d struck with one of the tabloids to get her off the front page, she knew it was only a matter of time now before some clever hack managed to work it out for her or himself.
One day at a time, Lisa, she reminded herself as they pulled up outside the sprawling old stately home with its towering Gothic windows and glistening russet facade. The gardens were exquisitely kept, with lots of walkways and benches and some impressive examples of animal topiary. Was this where he wanted to come when she wasn’t able to manage any more?
‘Before we go in,’ he said, coming round to open her door, ‘you know the reason we’re doing this, don’t you? It’s because I want you to fully understand the journey we’re on and where it’s going to end.’
‘I already do,’ she told him, spotting a cheery old face watching them from a downstairs window, and giving her a smile. Touched by how excited the old lady seemed, she smiled again and gave her a wave.
Even before they could knock on the front door it was swinging open, and a slight, rosy-cheeked woman with a sprightly thatch of curls clamped to the top of her head and an infectious smile was emerging in a gust of hot air.
‘David, how lovely to see you,’ she cried. ‘Come in, come in. And you must be Lisa. I hope it’s OK to call you that? I’m Sally, one of the matrons here. Everyone’s looking forward to meeting you. This is quite an event you know, to have our MP dropping in for a visit with his new bride.’
There was so much friendliness oozing from Sally Gosling’s compact little person that Lisa couldn’t help liking her on sight. She was clearly someone who loved what she did, and that alone made her special, but so did the delightfully heart-shaped face and the kindly blue eyes that must surely be able to make even the most insecure of her charges feel valued and safe.
‘We’ve organised tea in the drawing room,’ she said, leading them through a brightly painted entrance hall where a rogues’ gallery of presumably past and current residents was keeping good company with the Queen and some of her family. ‘Terry will take your coats,’ Sally was telling them. ‘Where is she? Ah, there you are, dear. Our visitors have arrived so you can do the honours, but do make sure you put them under the stairs, won’t you? Remember, you took them outside the last time and I don’t know how long we spent trying to find them.’
Bent with arthritis, very wrinkled and probably the wrong side of ninety, Terry all but snatched their coats and bundled them up like old rags.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sally said in a whisper. ‘Believe it or not, she’d kick up a terrible fuss if I didn’t allow her to do it. She spent thirty odd years at the Savoy, taking care of people’s coats. That’s quite something, isn’t it?’
‘Should we tip her when we leave?’ David asked, while Lisa wanted to laugh at the way Terry slung their coats at the bottom of the stairs and started back again.
‘Oh I’m sure fifty p would be very welcome,’ Sally replied, having a chuckle as she caught Lisa’s smile. ‘One of the staff will pick them up when she’s not looking. Now, here we all are,’ she said, turning to where the other residents and a few visitors were waiting to be introduced. ‘We’re mostly girls here. Twelve to be exact, with only three boys, but Harold’s not feeling too good today so he’s up in his room. Christopher and Bob have joined us though, as you can see – and going round the rest of the circle, we have Gracie with her daughter, Jacqueline; Anita, Norma, Sarah, Ivy and Beat. Oh, and we mustn’t forget Lizzie who’s brought little Oliver to meet his granddad Bobby, who’s one of our longest residents. Oliver is how old now, Lizzie? Six weeks?’
‘That’s right,’ Lizzie confirmed, blushing slightly as she smiled down at the bundle of her tiny sleeping son.
‘The other girls are either out with relatives, or at hospital appointments,’ Sally continued. ‘Oh, and as you can see we’re all wearing badges to help you with our names. This was Sarah’s idea.’
As Lisa looked at Sarah she felt her heart churn with pity. The way the old lady was sitting, slumped off to one side in her chair, her hands clenched almost like paws in front of her with her eyes moving vaguely from side to side, it was hard to credit her with managing a thought, much less an idea. Had she heard what Sally said? Was she able to appreciate being included?
Once the introductions were over and cake and tea had been brought in, Lisa and David separated to go and speak to each of their hosts in turn. Lisa started with Sarah, pulling up a chair next to her, and gently touching one of her hands as she said, ‘Hello, I’m Lisa. I’m very glad to meet you, Sarah.’
Sarah’s eyes slid to the bottom corners of their sockets. Had she forgotten how to direct them?
‘I can see you’re wearing a wedding ring,’ Lisa said, already struggling to keep her emotions at bay. ‘I got married quite recently. It was a lovely day. I expect yours was too, when you got married. Did you have any bridesmaids? I had one, my niece, Roxy, who’s recently started at Oxford. We’re very proud of her.’ She continued to gaze into the lonely pale blue eyes and had to fight an urge to hug her.
‘You’ll probably be surprised to hear,’ Sally said, coming up behind her, ‘that she’s only sixty-eight.’
Lisa could hardly have felt more shocked. She’d never have said so, in case Sarah could hear her, but she looked at least ninety.
‘That’s early onset for you,’ Sally murmured sadly. ‘If I showed you a picture of her ten, even five years ago you’d never know it was the same woman.’
Lisa was finding it hard to catch her breath. ‘Does she …’ She tried again. ‘Does she have any family?’
‘Oh yes. Her husband comes every Sunday to give her some tea, and her son drops in from time to time, when he’s in the area. They used to come more regularly, when she knew who they were … Maybe she still does, but she can’t communicate any more, and that’s very upsetting for her loved ones.’
Even so, Lisa was thinking, how could they just leave her here, all but abandoned as she waited to die?
‘Come and say hello to Beat,’ Sally said. ‘She’s very excited about mee
ting you.’
As she rose to her feet Lisa stooped to kiss Sarah gently on the cheek, then paused to watch David who appeared to be flirting with Norma and Ivy. It was very touching, she was thinking, to watch two such elderly ladies giggling and nudging each other with girlish delight.
‘My daughter never comes to see me,’ she heard someone wailing behind her.
Lisa turned round to see Anita sitting with a younger woman, who must have arrived while Lisa wasn’t looking.
‘Mum, I’m here,’ the younger woman said.
‘Where’s my daughter?’ Anita wept. ‘She said she’d come.’
‘Oh, Mum, you’re being difficult again. Why don’t we have a cup of tea and you can tell me what our MP was saying to you when I came in. Isn’t it lovely that he’s brought his new wife to see you?’
Starting to feel emotional again, Lisa followed Sally over to where Beat was sitting in an armchair, holding a cup of tea and smiling vacantly as Sally began chatting to her. ‘Hello, Beat,’ Lisa said. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’
‘Oh no, not at all,’ Beat assured her. ‘You’re very pretty. I used to be once, and I do my best to keep myself up together. A girl shouldn’t be seen without her make-up, is what I always say.’
Since her sunken mouth had been transformed into a startling ruby-red gash between her colourless cheeks, there was no mistaking her love of lipstick, or eyeshadow, given the electric-blue streaks on her papery lids.
‘Getting old’s not much fun,’ she told Lisa chattily, ‘but I’m very lucky. They take care of me ever so well here. Nothing’s too much trouble. She’s an angel, our Sally, aren’t you, dear?’
Sally grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t mind a pair of wings, that’s for sure,’ she retorted.
‘I’ve been here for nearly ten years now,’ Beat rattled on, ‘but I shall be leaving soon.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘My mother’s on her way to pick me up.’
Lisa’s expression showed no more than tenderness as the old lady glanced at her watch again. The chances of her mother still being alive had to be less than zero.
As Lisa made to get up, Beat suddenly gasped, ‘Oh my goodness, I’m feeling very unwell, Sally. I think it quite possible I’m going to die.’
‘Oh dear,’ Sally said, patting her hand. ‘That’s a pity, but would you mind waiting until we’ve finished our tea, dear?’
‘Oh no, no, not at all,’ Beat assured her.
Not sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry, Lisa said, ‘How about another piece of cake?’
‘Goodness, no, I have to think of my figure.’ Then with a mischievous twinkle, ‘Oh, go on then. ’Tis my birthday, after all.’
‘Really?’ Lisa said, suspecting it probably wasn’t. ‘Then I should wish you a happy birthday.’
Beat’s face lit up. ‘Lovely, lovely,’ she cooed. ‘My mother will be here to pick me up in a minute.’
After leaving Beat devouring a third piece of cake as she waited for her mother, Lisa went to stand beside David who was with Bob, trying to coax him to lift his head so he could see his new grandson.
‘Look Dad, it’s Oliver,’ Lizzie was saying. ‘He’s awake. Can you hear him snuffling? Dad?’
Bob’s head continued to loll forward, his chin almost resting on his chest.
‘Would you like some help, my friend?’ David offered, and taking Bob’s face gently between his hands he tilted it up so he could see the baby. Though Bob’s eyes were open, the lids were drooping and he appeared to be gazing off to one side.
Moving round to get in his eyeline, Lizzie said, ‘Here he is, Dad. Can you see him? He’s lovely, isn’t he? Daphne’s thrilled to bits about having a little brother. I told you, didn’t I, this one would be a boy? We’re christening him Oliver Robert, after you, only you’re Robert Oliver. Do you like that, Dad?’
Bob made no response at all, then a single tear rolled from the corner of his eye, and Lisa had to turn away to hide the tears that rushed to her own. What did he know? How much could he understand?
They stayed for over an hour, chatting with each of the residents, or simply sitting with those who were unable to respond, until several of them started to doze off, and after bidding a fond farewell to the others Lisa and David crept out quietly and got into the car.
For a while they simply sat staring at the gardens, too shaken up to say very much.
In the end it was David who broke the silence. ‘It affected me before when I came here,’ he said. ‘Today it was … Well, it was pretty sobering, to say the least.’
Lisa nodded. Her throat was still tight, and her heart so weighted with pity and dread it was hard to breathe. ‘Is this where you want to come? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?’
‘No,’ he replied. He pressed his fingers to his eyes to relieve some of the tension. ‘I want to spend whatever lucid time I have left doing everything I can to make a difference for the people in there, and others like them. If I can do that, then what’s happening to me … What’s happ— Won’t be for nothing.’ He turned to look at her. ‘Do you think … Can you …’ His eyes closed as he lost his words.
‘Of course I’ll help you,’ she said, certain that was what he’d been about to ask. ‘I was thinking about it while we were in there, and I was wondering … Maybe we should start by trying to get young people more involved. We’re all going to be old one day, but no one ever wants to think about it. It’s as though the elderly and infirm have stopped mattering, or have become an embarrassment, when they’re so dear and sweet and in such need of being loved. If we could enlist the help of some young celebrities …’
‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘That’s what we should do. Try to bring the generations together.’
‘We’ll make a list of sporting heroes, soap stars, you name it, when we get home,’ she told him. ‘We’re going to make it trendy to help the aged, and raise more money than they’ll know what to do with.’
He smiled into her eyes, and reached for her hand. ‘It must have scared you to see what I’m going to become,’ he said softly.
Unable to deny it, she said, ‘Yes, but if you think it’s changed my mind about standing by you, you’re wrong.’
He continued to smile. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether it would, or not,’ he confessed, ‘but what I am hoping is that it’s given you some understanding of how important it is that we all have a choice. Without wishing any disrespect to … Mm, I don’t want to end up … Or have you and Rosalind …’
‘David, no,’ she said, taking her hand away. ‘I know what you’re going to say, and I can’t …’
‘Darling, please listen.’
Lisa sat staring at nothing, waiting for him to go on, but he didn’t, and when she turned to him she couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer, because his eyes were shining with tears. Whatever he’d been about to say had apparently vanished, leaving behind only the residue of urgency for it to be said, and the knowledge that he’d failed to make his point.
Chapter Twenty-One
DAVID WAS STANDING at the foot of Rosalind’s garden, his hair being tousled by the wind as he watched Lawrence throwing a ball for Lucy in the meadow below. Several weeks had passed since the day he’d had his worst fears confirmed, the day he’d felt as though a part of him had gone to wherever Catrina was now and hadn’t come back. The ache, the confusion, the rage, were only easily set aside during the hours he slept, or when he was waiting for Catrina to call, or walk in the door. To wait for Catrina was easier than to know she was never coming back.
Her funeral was an event he remembered only fitfully, as though it were a film with batches of dark frames passing through a projector. The coffin of a woman too young to lie in it; hands shaking and comforting; voices joined in song; curtains closing for a final time. He’d spoken, but how well, or what he’d said, he was unable to recall. He suspected he’d lost his words at times, but perhaps the other mourners would have put it down to the wrenching sadness he’d felt, and the overw
helming sense of loss.
He guessed they’d all know by now, if they watched the news or read the papers, that his other great loss was under way. After the announcement, delivered in a press release from his office, because when the time had come to face the cameras he’d lost his confidence, they’d been inundated with requests for interviews which he’d had to decline, and messages of sympathy and moral support. Cards, emails, letters and texts had come flooding in from around the world. He had little recollection of what they said, but he’d read most and helped Catrina reply to those that required it. Except it wasn’t Catrina, it was Lisa. His new wife Lisa, who was having to bear this burden after knowing him for not much more than a year. How much easier it would be if he were able to turn to Catrina, who’d been such a vital part of his life for so long.
He’d started to wonder lately if his perception of himself was different to the way others perceived him. Did they, like him, see a man whose body was in good health, and whose wits were slightly blunted from time to time, but were on the whole as sharp and as fast as ever? Or were they seeing a man whose shell was intact, but whose mind was disintegrating invisibly and whose actions were slow and erratic, annoying and disruptive? Was he both of those men? Were things happening to him during moments of emptiness or misunderstanding that he was later unable to recall? How would he know unless he asked? And then for how long would he remember?
He wasn’t yet losing a sense of who he was, or where he belonged, or of what was going on in his brain, that was probably still a long way off, but he did know that sometimes it was as though a tight lid was crushing down on his thoughts. He could almost feel them being trapped at their roots, having the air squeezed from between them so that they melded one into the other and became an alphabet soup of no thoughts at all. He didn’t speak then, it was best not to. At other times he was like a conductor who’d lost control of his orchestra; percussion and brass were suddenly colliding with woodwind and strings; pianos were sounding like drums and clarinets like violins. A grim, relentless symphony of tangled sounds and malfunctioning plaques. He could write that down, given time, but he’d never be able to say it.
