Finishing Touches

by Patricia Scanlan

‘Well, what are we going to do?’ demanded Barbara whose nerves were beginning to give way under the strain.

  ‘I don’t know about you, Barbara, but I’m going to do whatever I have to do to deal with this situation and that means not letting Cassie carry all the burden!’ John declared.

  ‘That goes for me too,’ Barbara added hastily.

  In spite of herself Cassie smiled. Poor Barbara; life was rearing its ugly head and intruding on her airy-fairy, trivial attitudes. There were times she felt the teeniest bit sorry for her younger sister. Her life had no real substance, as far as Cassie could see. John’s words had lifted her spirits. He, at least, would always stand beside her. Whatever hard times were to come, she wouldn’t have to bear them alone.

  ‘Well all I know is I’m dying for a cup of tea. Come on, let’s go get one,’ Cassie suggested. In every crisis in her life she had turned to the teapot for comfort. There was no reason for it to be any different today.

  Barbara felt like bursting into tears. Nothing had gone right at all so far that day. Britt was like a little she-devil, although at least she had behaved when she took her in to Nora. Her mother’s eyes had lit up at the sight of the baby and Barbara had suffered a horrible twinge of guilt that she hadn’t brought her daughter to visit her grandmother more often. The nasty feeling would not go away and it was making her feel quite miserable. She did her best, God knows. She had a career, a husband to look after, an apartment to take care of and a baby. Once a month was all she could manage to visit.

  As she drove into the car-park of her luxury apartment block she saw Anthony Wilson and Pete Hammond sitting in an unmarked squad car. They must have been dropping Ian off.

  She switched off the ignition and reached into the back for the baby.

  ‘Barbara!’ Anthony had come up beside her, followed by Pete. They had a funny look on their faces.

  Barbara stared at the two detectives.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she said, shakily standing up. She knew by their faces that something was up. Something that she wasn’t going to like.

  ‘Ian’s had an accident, Barbara. He’s in hospital, the Mater. You’d better come with us!’

  Barbara heard his words from a distance. She felt as though she were in a horrible nightmare. First her mother, now this. She wanted to ask if it were serious. A brief image of herself in widow’s weeds flashed across her consciousness, and then she fainted.

  Thirty-Eight

  Barbara stared aghast at her husband. ‘Early retirement on medical grounds and a pension! But you’re only thirty five!’ These last two weeks had been an absolute horror. Not only was Nora still in hospital, having got a chest infection a day before she was due to be discharged, but her husband, Ian, was lying strapped in a plaster cast. His back had been broken when he was pushed over a balcony in a mêlée with some drug-pushers he and a colleague were trying to arrest. How was it troubles always came together? He had been told he would have to have several operations on his back and would never be fit to return to work in the police force.

  ‘Take it easy, Bar!’ her husband admonished. ‘It’s not as bad as you think. I’ll be getting a lump sum, a pension and I’ll be able to put in a claim for compensation. I’ll come out of this very well and we still have the income from the flats.’ Once he’d got over the trauma and discomfort of the accident, Ian was not at all distressed by the news that he would never have to go back to work. He was having a great time in hospital, fussed over by all the nurses, who were treating him as a bit of a hero. He was getting the best of grub and was able to watch sport all day on TV. If he had a few pints of Guinness he wouldn’t have asked for anything more.

  Barbara digested her husband’s news. Put like that, she supposed it didn’t sound too bad at all. Actually it might prove a blessing in disguise. She wouldn’t need any longer to have a woman in to look after Britt. That would save them a fortune, and she’d also be saved the worry of trying to get a babysitter at night when her and Ian’s schedules clashed.

  An even more welcome thought struck her, although for a moment she had the grace to feel ashamed . . . but only for a moment. If Ian were unable to work and were going to be having operations, there was no way that Barbara could be expected to look after Nora now or in the future. A disabled husband was enough to have on one’s plate.

  It was very true that old saying that every cloud has a silver lining, Barbara reflected, as she drove to the hospital where Nora was. Cassie would be there so she could tell her of Ian’s fate. Driving into the hospital grounds, Barbara composed her expression into a suitable one for the distressed wife of a disabled husband. Mind, Cassie might give out about her for not giving the time to Nora that she should, but at least she wasn’t as callous as Irene. When Cassie told her the news, her younger sister informed them she wasn’t going to come home from the States to visit their mother. Even Barbara had been shocked by her younger sister’s unbelievable selfishness. Martin had promised he’d get home just as soon as he could get his exit visa. But Irene was staying put! Barbara felt quite saintly compared to Irene.

  Irene was terrified. From the moment she had got the horrifying call from Cassie telling her about Nora, she felt as though her world had collapsed around her ears. She had refused outright to go home. After what Cassie had told her, she couldn’t bear to see Nora, her strong, supportive, protective mother who had always been the pillar of her life, in the pitiful, frightening state that Cassie had described. It was a terrifying thought, one that made her heart beat so fast and her palms sweat, and butterflies as big as eagles flutter wildly in her stomach. She had been in such a state that Dorothy had insisted on calling the doctor, who had prescribed tranquillizers for her.

  Senator Madigan, who had called her several times after the party, had been very kind when he heard her tragic news. He brought flowers and chocolates to try and cheer her up and when he discovered her sitting out in Dorothy’s arbour crying her eyes out one day soon after she had heard the news, he had put his arm around her in the most comforting manner and told her that she was right not to go home until she was a bit stronger in herself and more able to handle the shock. She had nestled into his shoulder, feeling greatly comforted, almost like when she was a child and her father had soothed away her fears.

  Wasn’t it strange, Dean said, how much they had in common, each of them having a loved one mentally incapacitated in tragic circumstances? To cheer her up a little and take her mind off things he had suggested that she and Dorothy and Dorothy’s husband, Jim, join him for a few days’ cruising in the Caribbean.

  It had been a delightful experience, as long as she was able to push the thought of Nora’s illness to the deepest recesses of her mind. If she thought about it, the fear took over and she would start to cry.

  ‘One evening, about two weeks after she had heard the news about Nora, she was sitting on deck trying to count the stars – an impossible task, but something to do to try and stop her thinking about her mam – when Dean joined her. For a man in his early fifties he was exceptionally good-looking, tanned, craggy-faced. He hadn’t an ounce of superfluous flesh and his salt-and-pepper hair, cropped close to his head, was still springy and thick. Dorothy and Jim had retired to their cabin, so they were alone together.

  ‘Honey, can I get you a drink?’ Dean asked.

  Irene shook her head.

  ‘Are you thinking about your mom?’

  Irene nodded, a lump in her throat. Dean sat down beside her and put his arm around her.

  ‘I just feel so alone. Mam always took care of me. I can’t imagine her being . . . being the way she is.’

  Dean sighed. ‘I know, Irene, it’s a tough thing to deal with, but don’t feel alone. You’ve got Dorothy and Jim,’ he smiled down at her, ‘and you’ve got me.’ Bending his head he kissed her gently. Irene returned his kiss. She liked this strong, sympathetic man; he made her feel cherished and protected. All her life she had been searching for a man like him. What a pity he was married.
Mind, he might as well not be, with his wife lying in a coma and unlikely to recover. A lesser man might have divorced and left her, but Dean had told Irene that he would not desert his wife.

  ‘I’ve been so lonely,’ he whispered against her ear lobe. ‘And now you have come into my life and it seems like fate that we should be together to comfort each other in our hour of need.’

  He stood up and held out his hand to her and Irene knew he was going to lead her to his state-room.

  It was like what he said: ‘fate.’ The time had come for her to make a decision. She could chicken out as she usually did or she could grasp this chance with both hands. Maybe Dean was her future. His wife couldn’t survive in a coma for ever. Nora would be disgusted if she knew what Irene was thinking of doing, but Nora wasn’t there any more. By getting this awful illness, it was as if her mother had betrayed her. Irene had to look out for herself now, something she had never foreseen. Dean seemed to be willing to take on the role of protector. And, what was just as important right now, the thought of making love to him didn’t scare her as much as she had anticipated. Dean would be gentle with her. Irene just hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed when he found out that she was a virgin!

  ‘Lord, Barbara, I’m really sorry to hear that!’ Cassie said in concern, as her sister gave her the latest news on her husband. ‘God, what’s happening to the family at all?’ As if things weren’t bad enough, now Barbara had to cope with this. Nora’s chest infection had been an unforeseen setback and she was still convinced that the nurses were trying to poison her. She would eat her food only if Cassie served it.

  Cassie had spoken to Doctor Tyne, Nora’s GP, shortly after their conversation with the consultant and he had been extremely helpful. He had agreed with the consultant’s advice that Cassie should not make any big change for the moment. He too felt that Nora would be able to come home for the time being if she had some good home-help. He assured Cassie he would keep a very watchful eye on her. He also recommended a woman who was a retired nurse and interested in part-time work. Cassie and John met this Mrs Bishop, who seemed very nice and ideal for the job. She agreed to come to Nora for a few hours every day except Sundays. John and Karen said they would look after Nora for that day.

  Both Martin and Irene had been told the news and Martin, though shocked, had promised to get home as soon as he could. Irene had gone to pieces, as Cassie knew she would. In fact, she had been a touch hysterical and when Cassie suggested she fly home to visit Nora she had refused outright. Cassie had not been as upset by Irene’s behaviour as the others were. Knowing her sister, she understood her fears. It was Nora’s cosseting of Irene that had made her the way she was. All the same it just wasn’t good enough. There were times when you had to put your own fears and worries behind you and think of other people. Irene had never been able to do that. Her concerns were always for herself, and Nora was a lot to blame for her attitude. Irene had never grown up enough to stand on her own two feet; she was always going to have to depend on someone, always going to duck her responsibilities. No wonder she was terrified to come home to see Nora in the condition she was in. Irene wouldn’t be able to cope at all, and though her sister had always taken the easy way out, Cassie thought there was something pathetic about the younger girl’s behaviour. There was no point in having her coming home if she were going to have hysterics; they had enough to deal with. Nevertheless, Irene’s behaviour was self-centred in the extreme and Cassie was sorely tempted to get on the phone and give her sister a good talking-to. John persuaded her not to do it for the time being.

  Cassie had felt some relief that decisions had been made and acted upon but she was too much of a realist not to know that Mrs Bishop was only a short-term solution. The consultant and Doctor Tyne had both been quite frank with them: as time went on the situation would become harder. Residential care was a solution both men had advised but residential care was extremely expensive and Cassie could not forget how Nora had pleaded with her never to put her in a home. Cassie had made a promise to her mother. Keeping it was going to be one of the most difficult challenges of her life.

  Just how difficult, Cassie could not have imagined. She realized this ruefully ten months later as she began to think about making arrangements to put her house in the hands of an estate agent and say goodbye to her friends in Liverpool, for how long she did not know.

  Mrs Bishop had taken very good care of her mother from the time of her discharge from hospital and Nora had been glad to get home. She had shown a marked improvement once she got into her own familiar surroundings and a much-relieved Cassie had gone back to work in Liverpool.

  Then Nora’s condition had begun to deteriorate. When Cassie came home for Christmas, she could see that her memory was slipping. Her mother’s short-term memory was hopeless. She could not remember things she had done an hour beforehand, or the day before. But she still had good recall of far-distant events in her life.

  By Easter, Cassie knew the time was approaching when she would have to decide to come home. Mrs Bishop told her that her mother was getting very distracted as regards time and place. She was beginning to wander and was confusing day and night. There had been several incidents when she had been found walking along the streets of Port Mahon in the early hours of the morning, ‘on her way to Mass.’ She needed much more care than Mrs Bishop could give and Cassie reluctantly began to consider taking leave from work to go home to Port Mahon.

  There was no other option as far as she could see. She spent nights tossing and turning trying to come up with a solution that would suit everyone, a solution that would mean she could retain some control over her life. The truth was that Cassie did not want to leave Liverpool. She didn’t want to leave work, where she relished her new role as assistant manager, making decisions and following them through. It was hard work and entailed a lot of responsibility but it was well within her capabilities. It was what she had trained and studied for, and when she was working she was able to concentrate on her job and put all her other problems to the back of her mind.

  More than anything, she did not want to leave her house. She had spent so much time scouring the antique and bric-à-brac shops, to get just the right piece for each room. She had rag-rolled, and marbled and sponged and stencilled to get the desired effect on her walls, and had turned her house into a light, airy, welcoming abode that had earned much praise from those who had seen it. As a result, she always had a decorating project on the go. Her last scheme had been to redesign and decorate the foyer and reception area of a local law firm. She had been thrilled with that, even though it took up all her evenings and weekends for several months. It was a nice change to move out of the domestic market. The carpenter, electrician and painter whose services she used for her various projects had been as pleased as punch; it was a big job. It had turned out very well indeed and consequently she had been approached by a Birkenhead businessman to do a similar job with his offices.

  Reluctantly, Cassie turned him down, and it had really been a big disappointment to her because it would have been great experience and an important addition to her already crammed portfolio. She guessed she would be going home and, as it was a big job, she felt it unlikely that she would have completed it before she left for Port Mahon. In spite of herself she felt angry and resentful at what she was giving up.

  Nor did she want to leave her friends and excellent social life. When she wasn’t doing her interior design work, Cassie spent her spare time at the social club. She windsurfed, she swam and she still played basketball occasionally. Her life was very full and active and her heart sank at the thought of going home to Port Mahon. She knew nobody there now; all her schoolfriends had moved away or married and she had long since lost touch with them.

  ‘Tell Irene to get her ass home from America!’ Aileen said grimly one evening as they strolled down around the Marine Lake, enjoying the breeze blowing in off the sea. She had come to spend a weekend with Cassie, having just flown in from the South of Franc
e, where she had been on location. Tanned and glowing, loving her job and her life of exotic travel, Aileen knew she would never be able to make the sacrifice Cassie was considering. She felt desperately sorry for her friend but also a bit angry. In Aileen’s opinion, Cassie always had to cope for the rest of her family; they expected far too much of her. She should put her foot down.

  Cassie sighed. ‘Aileen, there’d be no point in Irene coming home. She’d go to pieces. She’s afraid of her life to come home even for a visit.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s very convenient – if I may say so!’ Aileen snorted. ‘Imagine if you decided you couldn’t cope and were going to fall to pieces. Then what would happen?’

  ‘I suppose John and Karen would have to do something about it.’

  ‘Well, let them get on with it. They live there, they wouldn’t have to uproot themselves like you do.’

  ‘They would do it, I know that. It’s just they’ve a new baby to look after and John’s doing his best to get the business going. It’s practically a twenty-four-hour job and I don’t think it would be very fair,’ Cassie argued.

  ‘Well, I don’t think it’s very fair that you have to give up career, house, friends, just so as the rest of them won’t be discommoded,’ Aileen retorted, tossing her auburn hair out of her eyes and scowling ferociously. ‘What about Martin and Jean? Couldn’t they move into your Mam’s house when they get married and keep Mrs Bishop on during the day? I presume Barbara isn’t going to make any offers.’

  Cassie looked at her friend and laughed drily. ‘You presume right. Now that she’s got an “invalid” for a husband, in her eyes that lets her off the hook entirely. But I never thought of Martin and Jean coming to live in the house. That’s an idea. I wonder would they be willing.’ She felt a flutter of hope. Maybe, just maybe, that might be the solution to all their problems. Martin and Jean would have somewhere to live. They could keep Mrs Bishop on and they’d have to take care of Nora only at night. Trust Aileen to come up with a brainwave.