‘But the manager can run it for him, can’t he? He’s a good manager is David Pullman.’
Eileen shook her head. ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen, Marigold. But we don’t want Taran selling it. You never know who we’ll get living up there. Up until now we’ve been fortunate with Sir Owen allowing us to walk on his land. Can you imagine if we get an undesirable? It will be out of bounds. What a sadness that would be.’
Marigold frowned. She hoped he didn’t sell it to a developer. She knew how hard Sir Owen had fought off those avaricious people who had no appreciation of green fields for their beauty, only for how much money they could make building on them. ‘I’m sure he won’t turf his mother out of her home,’ said Marigold finally. That thought cheered her up a bit. There was no way, in her view, that a son could be so callous to his mother. Toronto might have been home to her when she was a young woman, but she had lived the greater part of her life in England.
‘Hmm,’ murmured Eileen, screwing up her nose. ‘I don’t think Taran is a very nice man.’
Tasha manned the shop while Marigold went to get something to eat. Nan was having her hair done in town. She had a wash and set once a week and nothing stood in the way of it – her hairstyle hadn’t changed since the 1950s. Marigold made a salad with cold ham and new potatoes in butter and went to ask Dennis if he wanted to share it with her. Dennis was delighted there was lunch on the table and eagerly followed her up the garden to the house. ‘You’re an angel, Goldie,’ he said.
Marigold was pleased to be appreciated. She laid his place and put the food on the table. Then she sat down. ‘Eileen says Taran wants to sell the farm.’
Dennis knitted his eyebrows. ‘I think that’s highly unlikely. He’s not going to tell his mother she can’t live there anymore. And Sir Owen would turn in his grave if he did.’
‘That’s what I think,’ said Marigold. ‘He left the farm to Taran, probably hoping that he’d rise to the challenge and make something of it.’
‘Sir Owen was a shrewd man, Goldie. If he left it to his son, then he did so knowing he would take care of his mother. Taran isn’t the sort of boy to treat his mother badly. He’s a good boy.’
‘Eileen would disagree with you.’
‘Eileen likes a bit of drama.’
Marigold laughed. ‘You’re right about that.’ Then she remembered Cedric’s invitation. She hadn’t even had to look in her book. ‘Cedric’s unveiling Daisy’s picture tomorrow. It’s drinks so it must be around six.’
Dennis chewed happily on his ham and nodded. ‘That’s nice.’
Marigold felt good inside. She had remembered Cedric’s invitation. Usually, she only remembered things when she looked in her book.
That afternoon the shop was surprisingly busy. People came in and out and everyone liked to have a chat. Tasha was very helpful, gently reminding Marigold of things she’d forgotten, and taking care of the post office, which Marigold found the most challenging part of her job.
At quarter past five the telephone went. Marigold picked it up.
‘Mum!’
She recognized the voice this time. It was Suze. ‘Oh, hello, dear.’
‘Mum, what are you doing in the shop?’
Marigold was confused. ‘I’m working,’ she replied after a pause.
‘You’re meant to be here!’
‘Where?’
‘Here, at my fitting!’
‘You have a dress fitting?’
‘Yes, and you’re meant to be here.’
‘Well, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I did. I called this morning. Have you gone mad?’ Suze’s voice quivered with fury. Marigold felt a stab of fear in her chest.
‘Did you?’
‘Yes, you know I did.’
‘But, I don’t remember—’
‘That’s because you don’t remember anything.’
Marigold was close to tears. ‘I’m so sorry, love.’
‘Well, there’s no point coming now. It’ll take you ages in the traffic and you’ll probably forget the way!’
‘I could get Tasha to drive me.’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s too late. It’s not going to be fun anymore. I’ll have the fitting on my own. But I want you to know you’ve ruined one of the most special days of my life.’ She hung up.
Marigold pressed the telephone to her ear. ‘Suze? Suze?’ The line was dead.
Tasha appeared. ‘Are you okay?’ she mouthed.
Marigold slowly put the phone down. ‘Did Suze call me this morning?’ she asked in a trembling voice.
Tasha nodded. ‘Yes, I think she did. Just as Cedric came in.’
Marigold swallowed and put a hand on the counter to steady herself. ‘I need to sit down.’
‘It’s okay. Come, let’s get you into the kitchen.’
‘No, I’m going to go out,’ she said suddenly, changing her mind. She grabbed her coat from the hook behind the door. ‘I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I just need some air.’
Tasha watched her leave. She hadn’t ever seen Marigold this upset. She bit the skin around her thumbnail and wondered whether she should go and tell Dennis.
Chapter 15
Marigold could barely see for tears. They blurred her vision and streamed down her cheeks. She dropped her head and hoped she didn’t bump into anyone she knew. Then she set off up the hill, the same route she took every morning in an effort to help her memory. Well, a lot of good that had done!
The guilt she felt for missing Suze’s big moment was like a dagger in her heart, twisting and turning and causing her unbearable pain. She hated herself for failing Suze. She hated her memory for failing her. There was nothing wrong with her devotion; if anything, she had too much of it. But there was everything wrong with her brain. How could she explain that to Suze? Suze, who was now furious and hurt and let down.
She marched up the path and allowed her unhappiness to come out in loud, rasping sobs. The doctor might tell her there was nothing wrong; her friends might try to reassure her that she was simply getting older; Beryl might say it was happening to all of them, that they were all getting forgetful. The truth was there was something wrong, she wasn’t just getting older and it wasn’t happening to all of them. It was happening to her and her alone. And now she had let her daughter down on one of the most important days of her life. It should have been a special day for mother and daughter. A moment to treasure for ever. The first sight of her little girl all grown-up and in her wedding dress. The thought of having missed it made her cry all the more. How could she have forgotten? How could she? She had remembered Cedric’s party!
Marigold walked along the clifftop with her hands in her coat pockets and watched the gulls wheeling in the early evening sky. The sun was a ball of fire, sinking towards the sea, catching the tips of the waves and scattering them with sparks. Touching the tips of the gulls’ wings and turning them to gold. It was so beautiful that she put a hand to her chest, above the place where it hurt the most, and allowed the glory of nature to move her further. Oh God, what is happening to me? she asked. And the gulls cried mournfully for the answer that didn’t come.
The sea was a long way down. Marigold stood on the clifftop and watched it foam around the rocks, rising and falling, ebbing and flowing, just as it always did. The sight was mesmerizing. It reminded her of her childhood when she and her brother had stood together on these very cliffs and wondered what it would be like to jump. She had worried that her brother might actually try. He’d been like that, had Patrick; daring, mischievous and brave, and hungry for attention. Marigold had never considered jumping, but she wondered now what it would be like landing on those rocks. Whether it would hurt. Whether she’d die on impact, or whether she’d lie broken on the rocks for the waves to gradually take her. She knew she was being morbid and self-indulgent. After all, she hadn’t killed anyone, she’d just hurt one of the people she loved the most. That didn’t warrant throwing herself off the cliff. It wasn’t somet
hing one died for. But right now she did want to die. She continued to stare down at the foaming sea as a sense of helplessness descended upon her like a shroud, separating her from the light.
Suze returned home in a fury. She had spoken to Batty on the phone and he had dropped everything and fetched her from the dressmaker. She had considered breaking all the rules and showing the dress to him instead, just to punish her mother, but she’d seen sense at the last minute and met him at the door in her jeans and shirt. Batty had driven her home in his green van with Atticus Buckley Garden Design written on the side in purple writing, listening to her ranting all the way. ‘I hate my mother,’ she had grumbled. ‘How could she forget? Aren’t I important to her? Doesn’t she care? How can she put her shop above me? I suppose now Daisy’s home, Mum’s not interested in me anymore.’ Then she had cried hot tears and Batty had had to stop the van to comfort her.
He had embraced her, kissed her head and told her, wisely, to be patient. ‘Old people forget things all the time. It’s not her fault. Be kind. She’s not going to be around for ever.’
‘She’s not old enough for age to be an excuse.’
‘Then you can’t punish her because she forgot,’ he’d smiled, trying to ease her out of her tantrum. ‘It’s human to forget – and divine to forgive.’
‘It’s my wedding. I’m her first wedding. This year is about me!’
‘It is about you, sweetheart. All about you. I bet she feels terrible.’
‘She’d better. Trust me,’ she’d said, looking at him with a face as tight as a fist. ‘If she doesn’t, I’ll make her feel terrible!’
‘This isn’t like you, Suze, to be so hard-hearted. You’re overreacting and blowing it out of all proportion. Come on,’ he’d cajoled, serious now and disapproving. ‘Enough of this.’
‘I’m just hurt.’
‘Don’t be hurt, be forgiving.’ He’d smiled then, but Suze had simply folded her arms and stared out of the window, her jaw set in a determined scowl.
Batty dropped her off at her front door, but didn’t come in. He had no desire to witness an unpleasant scene. He knew what Suze was capable of, especially when she was hurt. They had split up once and she had thrown all his clothes out of the window into the street. He had since learned how to avoid such a scene.
Suze stomped into the kitchen to find Nan at the table. ‘Oh dear, has someone died?’ she asked, looking at her granddaughter over the rim of her spectacles.
‘I’m absolutely furious!’ Suze exclaimed.
‘With whom?’ asked Nan.
‘Mum.’
‘What’s she done?’
Suze’s face twisted into an ugly scowl as she began to cry again. ‘She forgot to come to my dress fitting. I was waiting there for half an hour and she didn’t come. She just left me. Then, when I called her, she couldn’t even remember that we’d arranged it. She couldn’t even remember me having called her. Can you believe it? I’m so cross, I could hit someone.’
‘Well, don’t hit me,’ said Nan. ‘You might send me to an early grave.’
Suze growled and went to boil the kettle. ‘If I go into the shop, I might destroy it,’ she said.
‘That would be unfortunate. Why don’t you just go and talk to her, without destroying anything? You’re not a child, you’re a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t destroy things when they’re angry. They talk things through in a sensible way. Once, when I was angry with your grandfather I—’
Suze couldn’t bear listening to a long-winded story about a fight her grandparents once had. ‘Okay, I’ll go and talk to her,’ she said, leaving her grandmother mid-sentence, which is exactly what Nan had hoped she’d do.
Suze crossed the courtyard at a march, jaw jutting with intention, face grey with rage. When she entered the shop, Tasha was behind the counter talking to Eileen. ‘Where’s Mum?’ she demanded, looking from one woman to the other with impatience.
‘She’s gone out,’ said Tasha.
Suze clicked her tongue and heaved a loud, irritable sigh. ‘Where?’
Tasha glanced at Eileen. Eileen said nothing. ‘She was very upset,’ Tasha told her. ‘She’s gone for a walk.’
‘She forgot my dress fitting,’ said Suze. ‘She’s ruined the most important day of my life!’
‘I think your wedding is going to be the most important day of your life,’ said Eileen.
‘Be patient, Suze. She’s really upset. I’ve never seen her so upset,’ said Tasha gently.
Eileen put a hand on Suze’s arm. ‘I think she’s unwell, dear. You must be kind.’
Suze frowned. ‘Unwell? With what?’
Eileen looked at Suze with compassion. ‘I think she might have dementia, dear,’ she said. ‘She’s not the first. I’ve got a friend who’s in a nursing home and she started just like Marigold. Forgetting things, feeling tired and unwell for no reason. Falling over. Not recognizing people. It’s a different sort of forgetting.’
Suze’s anger evaporated. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Do you really think she’s got dementia?’
‘I wasn’t going to say anything,’ said Eileen. ‘But I can’t stand by and let you get cross with her for something that really isn’t her fault.’
‘What should I do?’
‘She needs to see a doctor,’ said Tasha. ‘I spoke to your father about it, but I don’t think he wants to face it. You and Daisy need to take her in hand. If it is dementia there are lots of things you can do to help. At the very least it will make you more understanding and less quick to anger.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t be angry if she was unwell, would I?’ said Suze defensively, crossing her arms. ‘I need to speak to her.’
‘I think she’s gone for a walk along the clifftops,’ said Tasha. ‘That’s where she goes every morning. When she had that fall, it was there that Mary found her.’
‘Okay, I’ll try there,’ said Suze, making for the door.
‘She was very upset,’ said Tasha.
‘Very upset,’ Eileen agreed, not having seen her but wanting to add her bit to the drama.
Suze felt guilty. She knew she had said something mean; she always turned mean when she was angry. If only she could control it, but when the feeling came over her, she was unable to shrug it off. It just consumed her. She had said something horrid and now her mother was upset and feeling terrible for having let her down. It wasn’t really the most important day of her life; it was just a dress fitting. There would be others. She wished she hadn’t made such a drama out of it.
As she strode up the hill, she thought about what Eileen had said. Suze didn’t know much about dementia, except that those with the disease forgot things all the time. There had been a lot about it in the press, but as it hadn’t concerned her she had never read any of the articles. She’d also heard people discussing it on Radio 4, which Nan liked to listen to in the kitchen, but again, she had dismissed the subject as irrelevant and tuned out. Of course, Eileen could be wrong, she considered. Eileen loved a situation. It would be typical of her to think the worst and to spread her theory around the village. But her mother had become very forgetful recently, and what was it with all those Post-it Notes and lists on the fridge door? It was like she had to be reminded of the smallest things. Things most people remembered by default. She decided she would google dementia when she got home and find out more about it. Right now, she had to find her mother.
Suze hurried up the hill. The wind had picked up and was blowing inland off the ocean with a cold and bitter edge. The sun had gone behind a thick cloud, the sort of cloud that might bring a shower. It had an angry grey belly and was charging across the sky like a bull. She couldn’t bear for her mother to be upset, and worried that she might take another fall. Suze would never forgive herself if her mother got injured on account of her.
She almost ran along the path, eyes scanning the horizon for the diminutive figure of her mother. The bull in the sky now lingered overhead, snorting angrily. Drops of rain began to f
all from its grey underbelly. They were cold and sharp. Suze wished she had brought an umbrella, but it hadn’t looked like rain when she’d set off. This morning had been beautiful.
As she had expected, the rain began to fall fast and heavy.
Suze started to worry. She hoped her mother had brought a coat and hat. Perhaps she’d gone home by another route. She thought of her in the kitchen, making a cup of tea, and imagined herself returning all wet and her mother telling her to change out of her sodden clothes at once before she caught a chill. She visualized embracing her and saying sorry. Tears stung, making it hard to see through the rain.
At last she spotted her mother’s unmistakable figure standing on the edge of the cliff, staring down. She looked as if she was about to jump. Suze was gripped with panic. It clamped her heart like a vice. ‘Mum!’ she shouted.
Her mother looked round.
Marigold was not wearing a hat and her coat did not have a hood. Her hair was drenched and her face was white and pinched and strangely vacant.
‘Mum! Come away from the edge!’
Marigold was confused. She didn’t know why she was here. In fact, she didn’t know where she was. She knew she was staring into the sea and she remembered that she and her brother used to gaze into the sea like this when they were children and wonder what it would be like to jump. But she didn’t know how she had got here. When she realized that the woman shouting at her was her daughter, she was overcome with relief. Suze was like a lighthouse, shining her light from a familiar shore. Marigold took a step towards her, but her legs felt very heavy and she swayed. She swayed dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.
Suze reached her and grabbed her by the arm. ‘Mum, what are you doing?’ she shouted.
‘I don’t know, love,’ said Marigold in a voice that sounded strange to both of them.
Suze stared at her, horrified. ‘You don’t know?’
Here and Now Page 17