“Pumpkin? Are you there?” he asked with panic.
“Yes, as I was saying I am planning on coming home for a couple of days tomorrow. Do you want me to stay with you guys, or is it not convenient?” she asked.
“No, it would be lovely to see you. Your mother could do with the company,” he said hopefully.
“Me, too! I have some time off work this month,” she said casually.
Walter was immediately concerned and wanted to find out more but suddenly realised that he had forgotten to look at the clock to mark the time he had put the pasta into the boiling water and now would have to guess when it was ready. His judgement in such matters was notoriously bad and all he ever did was get it spectacularly wrong.
“Good. I better go Pumpkin, I am in the middle of cooking,” he said, trying to sound calm and confident.
“Okay. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow. Give Mum a kiss from me,” Hanna said laughing.
“Will do. Bye Pumpkin.”
Walter fought the urge to tell his wife that their daughter was coming to visit them the following day. At this moment, she might not even remember that she had children, and it might only cause her unnecessary confusion. When one of them came to visit, Biddy would often not recognise them as such; however in a room full of friends and family she would seek her children out and choose to speak with them over anybody else. It was quite remarkable. The consistency in her instincts in that regard reassured Walter about her innate character traits and that the disease was still in its earlier stages.
Suddenly he realised that he had left the gas fire on under the soup and now some of it had burnt after all. That had not happened to him for ages but he wasn’t very angry at himself for letting the phone call distract him. He had only taken the call because Biddy wanted to answer it and because he did not want whoever it was to try and phone again later in the afternoon when it was time for her nap.
As it turned out, the soup did not taste too bad and there was only a minor hint of burning but he had messed up the pasta though and seriously over cooked it.
“I am sorry, sweetheart. The pasta is a bit mushy.” he apologised.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I don’t mind. That can happen to anyone,” she added graciously but didn’t eat much of it.
Very soon after lunch Biddy was getting sleepy and Walter put her on the sofa in the living room with a blanket, where she blissfully nodded off for a couple of hours, giving him some time to himself. He had dedicated the afternoon to working on his family chronicle but today, for some reason, he could not get into it. Dissatisfied with his lack of impetus he left his study, prepared the guest room for Hanna and waited for his wife to wake up. Maybe they could go for a walk before dinner. More exercise could only be beneficial; after all, apart from her scattered mind Biddy still had a clean bill of health. She did not even suffer from the same arthritic problems as Walter did. Fresh air had to be good for her brain too.
He was looking forward to Hanna’s visit tomorrow. She had inherited a zest for life from her mother, and had merciless bouts of energy, which was probably why she packed so much into every day. When the two women got together they usually bounced off each other, which was lovely to see.
Walter worried, however, that his daughter seemed to be searching for something in her life that was still missing. His otherwise so worldly daughter was easily taken in by spiritual gurus and esoteric habits in the search for meaning and she did not shy away from bombarding Biddy with all that ‘rubbish’, even though her mother could hardly tell what time of the day it was. Yet, for reasons beyond his comprehension, his wife loved those stories and whether or not she understood them she seemed to bathe and rejoice in the excitement they brought.
He heard Biddy stir on the sofa and his thoughts returned to the here and now. Biddy was all love and happiness when he went in to the living room to wake her with a cup of tea.
“Oh, you are so nice. Thank you, thank you so much. I love hot tea,” she said and she snuggled up to her husband. These moments of closeness had become rare between the couple and he cherished them. Sometimes he felt he had lost his wife for good with the disappearance of her memory, but then she was suddenly back for brief moments like this. They sat together on the sofa for a while without saying anything. Biddy took sips from her tea and Walter for a moment could live the dream that she was with him, as if she remembered exactly who he was and why he was here. Biddy leaned on him and he could choose to believe that it was a sign of their unbroken connection to each other. Dead brain cells, grey matter, synapses and shortage of chemicals – all the medical explanations did not matter. This moment did: him and his wife, Walter and Biddy Korhonen, and their unity on the sofa.
“You will make someone a good husband.” Biddy broke the silence all of a sudden, shattering the happy illusion, but she smiled at him with the utmost care and affection.
“Yes, I think one day I will!” he said smiling back, accepting that the brief, heavenly visit to the past was over and the new reality had returned.
“Now, let’s get you dressed and go outside for a walk. How about that my sweetheart?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “That would be lovely.”
Biddy had always been an outdoors person and she loved watching children in the playground. Walter had to be careful though not to let her come too close to them. Biddy’s unguarded behaviour and uninhibited friendliness could scare them, as well as their mothers.
Once his wife had taken a shine to a little girl, had taken the hand of the child and walked with her towards the exit. The mother of said child had gone hysterical when she saw this, accused Biddy of child abduction and threatened to get the police involved. Even when his wife’s confused state became apparent, the mother bombarded Walter with accusations and demands that he should keep her away from the playground. He was offended but he couldn’t blame the woman for wanting to protect her child.
So today he carefully directed Biddy towards an open field nearby where a group of youngsters were playing football. Even though she had never played herself, she was almost as passionate about the sport as Walter. With a huge smile on her face she cheered on the players of both teams and shouted “Bravo!” or “Watch out!” whenever she thought it was appropriate.
“Who is playing?” she asked Walter.
“I don’t know.”
“The white ones are fast. They should win.”
It was amazing to see how much pleasure she derived from watching the game and it seemed a shame that tomorrow she would not remember these moments. Were they of any use to her if she would forget them anyway? What in her life did matter, if she had forgotten so much already? Was there any point in trying to keep her entertained, if she could take nothing from one moment into the next? He could only hope that the chemical reaction in her body from the laughter would continue to make her happy, even if later she didn’t understand why.
His mood sank whenever he had thoughts like this. Did anything have meaning for her anymore, he wondered. Was her life anything more than just one big series of unrelated events that could not be brought forward to the present? Why bother? He so wished she could carry this moment of joy at least into the evening.
Then he was suddenly rescued by a cheerful thought. Tonight was the mid-week episode of a new talent show that Biddy loved very much. She would have a nice evening after all. Biddy had a beautiful voice and had previously spent a lot of her time singing with various choirs. She wasn’t usually keen on TV shows but when the people on that show sang she took great interest in their efforts and commented on the quality of it with great passion.
After dinner the couple settled in front of the television for the evening and watched the on-screen battle between a young girl band who were singing off key, and the rapping efforts of an untalented boy, both acts competing to stay on the show for another week. She liked the song the girls had chosen.
“The boy is not very good,” she said and slapped her le
g along to the beat of the boy’s track, as if to help him keep the rhythm.
“Do you want to vote for the girls to stay on the show?” Walter asked.
“I want them to sing nicely.”
In the break between the first part of the show and the announcement of the results half an hour later Biddy fell asleep and Walter had a hard time waking her up and ushering her upstairs to the bedroom.
He went back downstairs and opened his book on the American Civil War. He could have another few hours to himself before he would call it a night.
He enjoyed the peace and quiet that followed the hectic pace of his day. He had never been a fan of television but he felt that it had a positive effect on his wife, so he endured it. Tomorrow they would go through the same routines, the same problems and the same pain again. Hopefully there would also be the occasional close moment between the couple, and a fragment of recognition left.
Chapter 4: Hanna’s Arrival
As usual, Walter woke up several minutes before his alarm went off. All he could hear was the rhythmic breathing of his wife and some early bird singing outside in the trees. How peaceful these quiet moments could be but Hanna might well be on her way already and join them for breakfast. Just in case, he would have to speed things along so that his morning routine for Biddy would not be disrupted. Despite their many differences, he was looking forward to seeing his daughter.
The radio came on automatically with the 6am news and once again the presenters had nothing to report that Walter felt he needed to be told about. His excitement meant that everything was completed much more quickly than on other days, and he was soon ahead of schedule. He went downstairs to prepare breakfast, and as a sensible precaution set the table ceremoniously with three plates. Even the coffee maker seemed to work more efficiently today and he realised he would have to slow down or else he would run out of things to do - a stark contrast to his fear of not being ready in time just a short time ago.
He brought Biddy a cup of coffee and sat down next to her on his side of the bed. He switched the radio to classical music. Biddy was taking her time to come around but she was humming along to the music and tapped her toes along to the rhythm. Time was definitely passing more slowly this morning. He manoeuvred Biddy into the bathroom first so that she would be ready for breakfast, should Hanna come early. His wife was lethargic and continued in her familiar gentle pace of their morning activities. She took her time in the shower and mistook the new clothes he had put out for her with old ones. When he spotted her back in her pyjamas he hurriedly retrieved the clean clothes from the laundry basket and helped her change again. On their way downstairs to breakfast he heard a car pull up and then the familiar characteristic horn that Hanna had installed in all of her cars. It was more like a melody or a ring tone than a warning signal: Walter had pointed out to her many times that it was probably a safety hazard and illegal. How typically impulsive and inconsiderate of his daughter to use the horn so early in the morning! The neighbours would not be pleased to be woken up for no other reason than his daughter wanting to make a big entrance. He watched her from the kitchen window as she got out of her car, a silly looking vintage convertible – old banger more like, but he was not allowed to say that out loud.
Hanna had dyed her hair bleach blonde and had cut it shorter than he thought suited her. She looked, however, more elegant with her hair like that, not so much the hippy that she had been the last time he had seen her. She might have lost some weight, and she looked rather glamorous in tight jeans and a woollen white top. She spotted him in the window and waved, then marched energetically towards the front door. Unsure if she still had her keys he went to the door to let her in.
“Hey Dad!” she said and kissed him on the cheek.
“Good morning Pumpkin,” he said. “What time did you get up to be here at this hour?”
“Oh, I could not sleep for the excitement of seeing you, Dad. You look like you just got up. What happened? I hope you haven’t overslept?” she joked and stepped past him into the hall. “Where is that sunshine that I call my mother? Biddy, where are you?” she called out.
Her mother stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked searchingly and blankly at Hanna.
“Good morning.” Biddy said slowly, betraying her lack of recognition.
“Good morning Biddy,” her daughter said with an air of put on drama. “I guess you don’t recognise me but that’s alright. Disloyal family members who move away really should be shunned.”
Biddy chuckled at the theatrical gestures that accompanied Hanna’s speech.
“I don’t know you but I like you,” she said to her daughter. “You can stay. Come in and sit down.”
“Good. I am starving.” Hanna said in her dramatic manner. “Come dine with me, darling!”
“I like your hair.” Biddy complimented her daughter as they walked into the kitchen. Walter thought it was interesting that she should mention the hair since it was the most obvious change in Hanna’s appearance, yet the mother had not recognised her daughter. He pulled himself away from these useless analytical thoughts about his wife and joined the conversation.
“Yes,” he agreed with his wife. “I like it too. Who used to have hair like that? Someone famous, was it Elfie Brooks?”
“Oh Dad!” Hanna laughed. “There is no Elfie Brooks. Elkie Brooks with a ‘k’ was a singer with massive long black hair. Exactly the opposite. I hope you are not being sarcastic.”
“No no, I mean the actress from the silent movies.” Walter defended himself. He really had no idea who Elkie Brooks was or what she looked like. Was Hanna joking, or was she genuinely taken aback?
“Oh. I see. You mean Louise Brooks from Pandora’s Box,” Hanna said finally with exaggerated relief. “Now that is much more to my liking. Yes, she had hair like mine, mind you, hers was pitch black. Very twenties that look, right?”
“Now Pumpkin, do you want tea or coffee or what can we get you for your breakfast?”
“I have brought some herbal tea bags so just hot water for me please if you wouldn’t mind. I’ve also brought my own food, some yoghurt and muesli. I was unsure what you would have.”
“Are you on a diet my dear?” her mother asked.
“It is not so much a diet, more a cleansing,” Hanna explained. “My body needs a good clean but don’t worry, I am eating as much of the good stuff as I like, so it is hardly a diet.”
“You look like you have lost weight.” remarked Walter. “It suits you.”
“You look just like my sister,” Biddy said without ever turning her eyes away from her daughter.
“Yes, I have heard that before. It is a lovely compliment.”
“You know my sister?” Biddy said excitedly and moved closer to her daughter.
“Of course I know your sister; the infamous and gorgeous Rosie Hargreaves? Everyone knows her.”
Biddy’s face was beaming.
Walter was grateful that Hanna was talking about her aunt in present tense.
“Now Pumpkin, tell me, what is new with you?” Walter asked, desperate to find out if his daughter was here for a particular reason.
“Not much really. I am taking some annual leave at the moment to give myself a break from the hectic life of rushing around,” Hanna said evasively.
“I thought you loved the buzz from travelling? Are you not enjoying your job anymore?” Walter said confused.
“You must always do what makes you happy,” Biddy added surprisingly to the discussion.
“Thank you Biddy. That is so true.” Hanna said and looked with amazement at her mother. Then she turned back to her father. “Dad, I just need a little break. That’s all.”
“Oh dear!” Walter said with poorly hidden dismay.
Hanna let out a small sigh.
“Why don’t you pack your bicycle stuff and get going?” she suggested. “It is a glorious day and the sooner you get out there the longer you’ll have to yourself.”
“How long are yo
u going to be here? Do you need to be gone at a particular time?” Walter asked.
“No,” was her hesitant answer. “If it is okay with you and mother I would like to stay the night. You can cycle as long as you like then, I will be here.”
“Good. I have made up the guest room for you just in case. The sheets are clean but it is still a little dusty and, of course, I have not been shopping. Given your current food regime, I doubt we have much that would grab your fancy.”
“That’s no problem Dad. I will take mother shopping,” she said and put her scarf over her head.
“Well, in that case I am free to go,” Walter said curtly. “Just make sure your mother gets some rest this afternoon. She likes to nap after lunch and I think she really needs it,” he said, trying to appeal to the responsible side of his daughter.
“I promise,” Hanna assured him.
“Where is your mother?” asked Biddy suddenly.
“You must have misheard,” said Hanna quickly.
“No, you just spoke about your mother. I heard it!”
“Don’t worry about my mother,” Hanna said warmly.
“We don’t have enough space, you see,” said Biddy without taking notice of Hanna’s reply. “You are welcome to stay but we have no space for your mother.”
“Don’t worry,” Hanna assured her almost sad and disappointed sounding mother. “Nobody else needs a guest room here tonight. Only me.”
“Oh, I see,” said Biddy, visibly relieved. “We don’t have enough space. I love having visitors. I am sure your mother is a lovely woman.”
“Yes, she is,” laughed Hanna. “Now let’s get going with those dishes and get you dressed properly; I want to find you something a little bit more glamorous and stylish to wear.”
Biddy was amused and giggled while Hanna filled the sink with hot water and washing up liquid and made her way through all the dirty plates and cups.
Time to Let Go Page 4
