Caroline reddened from ear to ear. Ha! Serve her right. ‘I actually thought they were my parents. No one told me any different.’
The man wagged his finger again, this time bringing it to rest on his lips. Shut up, that meant! That told her. Treacherous woman.
‘And where were you born?’ the man asked.
Ah, now – that was an easy one. ‘I was born,’ Mary said, with absolute certainty, ‘by the sea.’
Every day the wincing pain of sharp shells beneath her toes as she made her way to the water’s edge. Every day the knowledge that there was more to life than sweeping and scrubbing and counting pennies, more to the world than her father’s house and the little town with its twitching curtains and inflexible rules. On the beach was so much water, stretching against the line of the sky. The numb fury of it kept her alive.
‘The sea was delicious,’ she said. ‘Looking at the horizon made every day possible.’
‘Which part of the country?’
‘The wet and salty part.’ Again, the girl laughed and Mary smiled over at her. ‘I’ll take you one day if you like.’
She meant it too. They could go on the train, take a picnic, kick off their shoes, run to the water, get in a boat. They could light candles and float them on the waves like they did all those years ago after the tragedy with Pat.
The man behind the desk coughed and shuffled his papers about. ‘Do you know the date today, Mrs Todd?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Do you?’
He met her gaze, his eyes still twinkling. That was a very good sign. ‘Not without looking at my watch.’
‘Exactly! You young people and your gadgets!’
She was flattering him, she knew. She guessed his age at sixty. The lines on his brow suggested too much worry and the shadows under his eyes hinted at either a love of wine or a capacity to stay up late reading by bad light. A good-looking man though, still had plenty of hair …
‘What about your date of birth, Mrs Todd. Could you tell me what that is please?’
‘Which one?’
Confusion crossed his face.
‘I’ve had two,’ Mary said, hoping to clarify. ‘The first, there was a terrible storm above the house.’ Boom! She clapped her hands together to show how loud Pat made the thunder whenever she told the story of Mary’s birth. ‘The second, it was night – perfectly clear, no rain at all. Although, as soon as my father got back from the pub and discovered a baby in his house, the storm clouds gathered – I’ll tell you that for free!’
The man wrote that down on his sheet of paper.
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ she went on. ‘He had such high hopes for me, that was the trouble, and he didn’t know what to do. You can’t lock a mother and baby in the coal hole to punish them, can you? It’s not that sort of misdemeanour. So, after he finished calling me every name under the sun, he stopped talking to me at all. Not a single word. Not ever again. How’s that for stubborn? He had to leave me little notes to communicate.’ She turned to Caroline. ‘You remember those notes?’
Caroline shook her head. ‘I don’t think the doctor wants to hear about that. He just wants you to answer his questions.’
The man nodded briefly. ‘Right, I’m going to say three words to you now, Mrs Todd, and I would like you to say them back when I’ve finished. Ready? Here they are … apple, penny, table. Now repeat those words back to me.’
Ridiculous. ‘Apple, penny, table.’
‘Very good. Now, can you tell me what this is please?’ He held up the thing he’d been writing with.
‘It’s an instrument for writing.’
‘Do you know what it’s called?’
‘A writing instrument.’
‘How about this?’
Mary’s stomach churned with the tea and chocolate biscuits she’d been given earlier. How easily she’d been bribed. Damn that daughter of hers! Divert this man, that was the trick.
‘Tell me, young man,’ she said, leaning forward to get a closer look, ‘where did you get that lovely tie?’
* * *
It was so sad! But also ridiculous and humiliating. The doctor was treating Mary like a child, holding up pens and pencils and watching her squirm. She was pretty good at parrying, but it was totally obvious she was stressed.
The doctor held up more random objects and asked Mary what they were. She was very inventive – a stapler became a snatcher, a ruler was a sovereign (that one made Katie laugh again because it was just so clever), pens and pencils were described as implements for composing, scribbling, jotting. She wasn’t wrong about any of them, but you needed to look sideways at her answers to see the truth. Katie sighed louder than she meant to when the doctor asked Mary who the Prime Minister was. Such a cliché. Didn’t that only happen on TV?
‘That,’ Mary humphed, ‘is a moveable feast.’
‘I agree,’ the doctor said. ‘It’s got very confusing lately. Would you like to hazard a guess though?’
‘It depends when you mean.’
‘I mean now. Who’s the Prime Minister today.’
Bloody politics! Who cared? Half the kids in Katie’s school wouldn’t know the answer. More than half, in fact. Katie slid her feet off the chair and let them thud to the floor, pretended not to notice when Mum gave her a warning look. She stared down at her feet instead and tried not to feel guilty at the reddish mud that still caked the sides of her boots from when Mary knocked on that woman’s door and they’d walked the ‘long way back’ from town.
Katie had been so relieved to find Mary safe that she’d abdicated responsibility for what happened next. She’d rung Mum, told her they were on their way home, but instead, they’d gone for lattes in a rather nice café and then embarked on a ‘morning promenade’ at Mary’s instigation.
She’d been like a dog off a lead, following scents, having occasional convictions about directions and then being distracted by things – pigeons squabbling outside the bakery, cakes in the window (her love of sweet things was crazy), a kid’s scooter tied to a lamppost, hundreds of poppies spilling petals onto some bloke’s lawn. Katie took loads of photos. Everyday things seemed special viewed through Mary’s eyes and Katie didn’t want to forget it. It was such a relief not to think about exams or Esme or any of that stuff. They’d hung out by the river for ages (hence the mud), got a hot dog from a van, fed the ducks and ended up outside the primary school. That’s when it went wrong. It was as if spectres dragged Mary down, because she literally sank onto a bench and refused to move.
‘Totally irresponsible!’ Mum said when Katie finally dared to call her. ‘You said you were coming home. What on earth are you doing two miles from the flat?’
‘It’s such a lovely day,’ Katie told her. ‘Surely walking’s good for her?’ But Mum was only interested in being furious.
No studying had been done and Mary was over-tired and didn’t want lunch because she was full of hot dog. Didn’t Katie know that routine was what old people needed and that when she’d been sent to find Mary that morning, Mum had expected them to come straight back, not go gallivanting off on some madcap adventure?
It probably hadn’t been the best idea to mention the party at that point.
‘Absolutely no way,’ Mum said.
‘It’s after exams. Everyone’s going.’
‘At some boy’s house? Anything could happen!’
Some hope.
Over the rest of the week, Katie hadn’t gone anywhere or done anything much except study. Mary had seemed quieter, more tired, less up for adventure, and although she still wanted to walk each morning, Katie was under strict instructions not to let her further than the gate. Once, she’d disobeyed and taken Mary as far as the high street and let her have a ten-minute sit in the café again, but that was it. She wished now she’d been braver about it, fought for Mary’s rights somehow. She thought Mary might be getting worse and she wondered if they’d ever find out where it was she wanted to get to every day. Because soon she might forget she
even wanted to go.
The doctor was repeating the stupid word test. Mary had got it right the first time, but now got it dramatically wrong – snake, shilling, stable. But at least these were more interesting words than the original ones and had a satisfying alliteration. Katie must remember to point that out to Mum later – it’d be proof that Katie had actually done enough revision for English, despite turning down Mum’s nightly offers of help.
It’s hot and monotonous in this office (assonance). My grandmother is lost in the past (consonance). Do I miss Esme? Let me count the ways (caesura).
‘Last thing,’ the doctor said.
About time.
He produced a pen and paper and asked Mary to draw a clock face. But Mary was tired now, put the paper on her lap and sucked the end of the pen like a kid.
‘I’d quite like to go,’ she said.
In the chair next to her, Mum sighed. ‘She keeps saying that.’
The doctor nodded. ‘Almost done.’
‘She doesn’t mean home with me. In fact, she means anywhere but with me. This is one of the problems I’m having. She’s always running off.’
The doctor pursed his mouth. ‘Itchy feet, eh?’
‘It’s dangerous, isn’t it? Her wandering about.’
‘It’s not uncommon. Maybe get her a pendant with her name and address on it?’
Mum looked dismayed. ‘That’s it? That’s your advice?’
The doctor leaned back in his chair and studied Mum for a moment. Katie held her breath. ‘I’m afraid there’s not much else I can suggest. She’s possibly disoriented in a new environment, or she might be searching for something related to her past. Try distracting her, perhaps? Or get someone to go with her?’
‘My daughter fetches her. But she’s got studying to do. It’s terribly disruptive.’
He nodded, was clearly choosing his words carefully. ‘Generally speaking, people only become more agitated if you try and limit their freedom. My best advice is to ensure she’s safe and let her get on with it. Now, I’d like to send your mother for a CT scan, that should give us a bit more information.’ He turned to Mary. ‘How about you stay with your daughter for a few more days? Try not to give her too much trouble, eh?’
‘What might happen if she went back to her own place to live by herself?’ Mum said. ‘What’s the worst thing?’
The doctor blinked at Mum as if he couldn’t quite believe she’d asked. ‘It’s pretty clear that there’s some alteration in intellectual and emotional background.’ He glanced at Mary, as if checking just how offended she might be if she understood what he meant. Katie wanted to cover her ears and lead her away. ‘A CT in conjunction with these cognitive tests and recent medical history will provide a pretty accurate diagnosis. At that stage we can discuss prescribing an inhibitor, a drug that promotes communication between nerve cells. We may see some stabilizing of your mother’s condition at that point, but ultimately, this is a progressive condition, Mrs Baxter, and I really don’t think your mother will be living independently again.’
Katie stared at the doctor’s mouth, at the way it moved as he spoke, like some awful fortune teller who knew the end of every story. Mum would feel crap listening to this. It meant she had to keep being responsible.
‘Couldn’t we get some help for her in her own home?’ Mum asked. ‘Some people have live-in carers, don’t they?’
The doctor shook his head. ‘I’m really not the man to be asking. You need to sort this out through social services. Although I don’t think live-in care will be one of the options, not in the current financial climate, I’m afraid.’
Mum leaned forward, as if getting close to him meant Katie and Mary weren’t in the room and couldn’t hear. Katie watched with dismay. ‘This has all happened so suddenly,’ Mum said, her voice low and confidential, ‘and there’s absolutely no support in place. I know we were lucky to get this cancellation today, and I’m grateful, but it took me hours of negotiating. You wouldn’t believe the hoops I had to jump through.’
The doctor laughed softly through his nose. ‘I would, actually.’
This seemed to encourage Mum – she leaned nearer, spoke more rapidly, words falling out of her. On and on about how difficult it had been, how Mary might seem OK for a while, but it didn’t last, how she was definitely getting confused and tired earlier each day, how sometimes she got anxious and woke in the night, how she kept thinking Jack was alive, how Mum was a single parent with a full-time job and one of her kids had special needs and the other one (glancing at Katie briefly) had her English AS level tomorrow and university applications and personal statements to get on with after that. It was horrible, like Mum was chucking up on the man’s carpet. And all the while, Mary sat there listening.
‘I can’t get an appointment from the mental health team or the DWP for love nor money,’ Mum went on. ‘Social services are digging their heels in, telling me they can’t get involved until she’s been diagnosed. I’m pretty suspicious it suits everyone to let me get on with it. It takes a massive financial and logistical burden away from the state if I blunder on, doesn’t it? Everyone just passing the buck.’
Including us, thought Katie.
Beyond the window, past the hospital gates, cars were crawling by with their windows down. Drivers had their elbows out, and even from here Katie could hear the pulse of music from countless stereos. Over the road, nestled in the middle of some houses was a playground. A woman was pushing her kid on a swing. Outside the playground was an ice-cream van.
If Katie was brave, she’d take Mary’s hand and say, ‘Fancy getting out of here?’
She’d have a go at Mum on the way out: You shouldn’t talk about people in front of them. You do it to Chris as well, and he hates it. Then she’d lead Mary out of the room and into the lift and over to the park and she’d buy her a 99 with a chocolate flake and sprinkles. They’d sit on a bench and watch the kid on the swing and the sun would shine down on them.
But that was what would happen in a perfect world. And this was clearly not one. And Katie wasn’t brave, as almost everyone knew. And anyway, it was too late because Mary was crying. She’d cried last night as well – Katie had heard her on the landing and gone out to lead her back to bed. She’d seemed in a daze.
‘Oh dear,’ Mum said now. ‘You’re getting upset.’
‘This isn’t where I’m meant to be,’ Mary whispered. ‘This isn’t what’s supposed to be happening at all.’
Mum hesitated for only a second. ‘What’s supposed to be happening is that you come home with me. The doctor thinks that’s best for the moment.’
‘But you don’t want me.’
‘Well, I don’t have a choice right now. I have to do what the doctor says.’
Mary wiped her tears away with her fingers. It was shocking – something intimate and private about it, like no one should be looking. The doctor shuffled his papers. Mum reached out a tentative hand to Mary’s arm. Katie sat on her chair, feeling utterly useless.
Twenty, thirty seconds went by before Mary stopped crying very suddenly, almost as if she’d forgotten why she was doing it, which maybe she had. She brushed Mum off and looked around the room – at the doctor and his desk, the chairs and carpet, at Katie by the window.
‘Well, this is nice,’ she said, ‘isn’t it? They’ve done it up nice.’
‘Very nice,’ Mum said. ‘Aren’t we lucky?’
Thirteen
Katie stood outside the bedroom door and leaned her ear against the cold wood. Inside the room, Mum was on the phone again.
‘I see that, yes,’ Katie heard her say, ‘but surely you can see my predicament? I was told one night by that social worker, one. It’s been well over two weeks now and no end in sight. She’s got an appointment for a CT scan in another fortnight. That’ll be over a month I’ve had her. A month! And goodness knows how long the results from the scan will take to appear. I’m having to arrange a funeral on top of everything else.’
There was silence then, or actually no – a tapping sound, a soft rhythmic thud. A pen against a knee? A finger on the table?
‘So what if I told you I could no longer manage?’ Mum said. ‘What would you do then?’ More tapping. A sound that expressed increasing stress. Katie had watched it building for days. ‘So the state is forced to step in and make emergency arrangements only if I threaten to dump her? No, I’m not having a go at you, I’m stating the facts. It becomes all about me and my failings, rather than what’s best for her, doesn’t it? I become the evil daughter who abandons her mother and you all get to tut at me. Oh, I don’t care if that’s not how you see it, it’s how it looks from here. Yes, I do have a pen. Right, well I appreciate that. Please go ahead.’ More silence now – she was clearly writing something down. ‘OK, so I ring this number and ask for Eileen Thomas. She’s the manager of the care home, is she?’
A sigh. A brusque thank you. The chair sliding back on the carpet.
‘What?’ Mum hissed and Katie knew this was aimed at her, although how her mother knew she was there was beyond her.
‘Didn’t want to disturb you,’ Katie said as she opened the door.
‘Then why were you eavesdropping?’
Katie felt herself blush. She wanted to say, This is my room too now, remember? I have a right to loiter! But then Mum would say she didn’t find it easy sharing either and weren’t they all making sacrifices and couldn’t she just have a moment’s peace?
‘I just thought I’d come and let you know how my last exam went.’
‘Oh, Katie, I’m sorry.’ Mum took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. ‘I hadn’t forgotten, really. I’ve been thinking about you all day.’ She put her glasses back on and smiled wearily. ‘So, tell me all about it, every detail please.’
Katie gave her what she wanted – told her the questions she’d chosen and why and how many pages she’d written and the fact she’d checked her work and finished in plenty of time (but not too soon because then Mum would think she could have written more) and yes, she felt confident and yes, very definitely relieved that exams were finally over.
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