by Moira Murphy
Each day, around eleven, after the doctor had finished his rounds, I went in to see my mother and to take clean stuff in and bring used stuff out. I also made sure she had supplies of the things she liked: 4711 cologne in a push-up ice stick for rubbing onto her temples to cool her when she was feeling hot which was like gold dust to come by, the little old fashioned chemist on Sycamore Street being the only place who seemed to stock it, Lavender Radox bath salts; Johnson’s baby talc; Oil of Olay face cream; bath sponges with exfoliating scrub on the back; lemon juice to dilute with hot water and coconut macaroons.
Then one afternoon as I was driving home from the hospital, past the library, I noticed a woman and a boy sitting on the seat just before the turning into our road. I got closer and saw it was Leo. I assumed the woman must be Mandy, his mother. She was wiping her eyes with a tissue and he had his arm around her. I drove past.
Two days later, the woman was on the seat again, but this time she was on her own. Her hands were folded in her lap and she looked a bit forlorn, as if she’d been stood up. I slowed down and pulled in. I decided to go back and introduce myself, after all I knew Leo and his dad, so we had something in common. I parked the car and got out and walked back to where she was sitting.
“Hi,” I said, cheerily, “I’m Jo Charlton, Leo’s friend’s mam. I saw you here with Leo the other day. I’m assuming you must be Mandy.”
She looked up, “That’s right,” she said.
I sat down, “Leo not with you today then?”
“No, he hasn’t come. I think he was a bit upset last time.”
“He really misses you.”
She became tearful.“And I really miss him. I want to come home, but they’d rather have that horrible dog than me. I asked Arnie to choose between me and the dog, and it took him at least five minutes to decide! Five minutes!”
“Well if it’s any consolation, Arnie said he only hesitated because he knew what not having the dog meant to Leo.”
“And what did he think not having me meant to Leo?”
She had a point.
“It’s a pity he can’t have both you and the dog.”
“But it stinks, that dog. You can smell it all over the house.”
“At least Tigger is calm. I was lumbered with a dog when my husband left– Millie, she’s not only smelly she’s also bonkers. Yet, somehow she seems to have slotted into the family. Perhaps I should have rephrased that.” I smiled.
But Mandy wasn’t amused.
I prattled on regardless, “Millie’s always around the kids in the thick of things and she manages to get on all the photos and she’s generally a damned nuisance but I suppose if it hadn’t been for walking their dogs on the green, Leo and Josh wouldn’t have become friends, so every cloud, eh?”
“Suppose,” she sniffed.
“Anyway,” I said, “I’d better be going. I might see you around. Bye then.”
“Bye,” she said, without looking up.
29
SETTLING IN
The doctor pulled the curtain round my mother’s bed. “I’m glad I’ve caught you here with your mother, Mrs Charlton. There’s nothing to worry about, your mother is doing fine. The thing is, Mrs Morrison, you have been really quite poorly and rather than send you home when you are discharged from here tomorrow, I think you would benefit greatly from a period of respite care. We have an excellent new facility attached to the hospital for patients such as yourself. Perhaps ten days would be sufficient to see you properly back on your feet. I’ll leave you to discuss it with your daughter and you can let the staff nurse know your decision.”
I really wanted my mother home, but I also wanted to make sure she was absolutely ready to come home. I told her I didn’t think another ten days or so would do any harm and if the extra care was available then she should take advantage of it. She agreed and so the decision was made, my mother was to spend some time in The Laurels, the new annex built especially for the convalescing elderly.
“But I don’t want a wheelchair, Joanne,” said my mother, lowering her voice, “It will make me look like an invalid.”
“But you are an invalid, Mam.”
We were waiting to be shown around. Apparently The Laurels had been opened by the wife of one of the Queen’s cousins two years ago. This had impressed my mother.
“But I can walk a bit now.”
“Yes, but not enough to be able to walk around this place, it’s huge. It’s going to take me all my time to manage it.”
“Hello, I’m Nurse Ali,” said a pretty, smiling, middle-aged lady who came walking towards us from the main doors, “you must be Gwendoline and…?”
“Joanne,” I said, “this is my mother.”
She shook my mother’s hand and smiled. “Well, it’s my job to welcome you to The Laurels, Gwendoline, and to hope you have a very pleasant stay.”
Nurse Ali and I helped my mother climb, albeit reluctantly, into the wheelchair. I secured her straps, released the brake and after a bit of a stuttering stop and start we were off. We passed the reception desk and a shop.
“It’s a nice building,” said my mother as sunlight streamed through the windows lighting up the walkways and walls.
I’d like my house to look like this, I thought to myself, pondering the tasteful sage green walls on which were hung black and white abstract prints in silver frames.
The corridor was straight and long with a series of doors on each side.
“These doors we’re passing now are usually kept locked, medicinal supplies, linen, etc. We’ll soon be coming to the communal areas,” said Nurse Ali, as we turned left and onto a square bit of passageway.
“And here we are, Gwendoline, these are the communal areas. I’ll show you into these so you can become familiar with them before I take you to your room in the ladies quarters. The communal areas divide the living areas of the men and women, although try telling that to the patients. Some of them will just not abide by the rules and do their utmost to get some hanky-panky in before they leave to go home.” She smiled, shaking her head in a resigned, after all they might be getting on a bit but they’re only human, fashion.
Bloody hell! We had passed a couple of the patients on the way here. Enough said!
“This is the television room.” The expensive-looking carpet, the dark brown leather armchairs and sofas, the Indian wood magazine tables and tall plants gave the room an extravagant, modern look, something out of a ‘Homes’ magazine and definitely out of place in here, it seemed to me. I wanted this look in my house. I mean at the risk of sounded ageist, the folk in here were getting on a bit, surely they’d be more at home with chintz covers and china cabinets stuffed with souvenirs from Blackpool and a horse brass or two on the walls.
“It’s all very nice, Joanne, but I can’t help thinking it looks a bit too modern, bare somehow, as if there’s something missing,” whispered my mother. “It would look much cosier with some nice frilled cushions and a china cabinet or two displaying a pretty willow pattern tea set. That would set the room off a treat.”
“Just what I was thinking, Mam,” I whispered back.
Situated one at each end of the room, were two large, flat screen televisions. Two men in cardigans and slippers sitting side by side on one of the sofas were glued to ‘Springwatch’, neither looked up as we went in. But then an arm shot in the air from somewhere behind them and a man’s voice called out.
“Nurse, nurse.”
We waited while he padded a tartan slipper shuffle across the room.
“Yes, Albert. What is it?” Nurse Ali, sighed. “It’s not about the smoking ban again, surely? We’ve gone over that so many times.”
It was.
“It’s like being in bloody prison in here,” he said, “except when I was in bloody prison I could smoke to my heart’s content.”
“But as you well know, Albert, it’s now against the law to smoke in a public place. There’s a perfectly nice shelter outside on the patio which you can use.”
“Oh aye, and catch me bloody death in the process,” he grumbled, “there’s no bloody consideration given to auld folk these days, not like in my day.”
“If you don’t shut yer gob, I’ll come over there and shut it fo’ ya,” a voice threatened from deep down in one of chairs. It was a woman. She was minuscule and she was wearing brown so she wasn’t that easy to spot. “Yer nowt but a winging auld bugger and if it was that good in prison, get yersell back there why don’t ya, yer’ll be no miss here.”
“Aye, I might just do that,” said Albert, “and if I do it’ll be cos I’ve throttled you, yer miserable auld bag.”
Hmmm, hanky-panky? I think not.
“Now, now, you two, that’s enough of that,” said Nurse Ali, sounding more like me than me.
Next door to the television room was the library/reading/computer room. Perched on modern, veneered desks were four desk-top computers each with flat screen monitors and with the internet installed and running. There were bookshelves lined with books, but the room was empty of people.
At the opposite side of the corridor was the theatre. It was in darkness so Nurse Ali switched on a light as we went in, it only being used when necessary. There was a piano against one wall opposite an elaborately curtained stage, something in the style of an old-time music hall, and to the side of the stage were tables holding lighting and sound equipment.
“If you play the piano, Gwendoline, you must feel free to come in here and play this one whenever you feel like it. One of our residents played all the time but that gentleman has left us so the piano is a bit neglected now I’m afraid.”
“I did play a little, but that was years ago so I won’t bother, but thank you for asking,” said my mother.
Further down the corridor was the dining room and next to that the kitchen. The round tables in the dining room were set for lunch, with four place settings to each table. Immaculate white cloths were set with brown place mats, red serviettes and a red ceramic posy bowl centre piece. The kitchen was well equipped, the stainless steel appliances spotless and gleaming.
The hairdressing salon was empty, the hairdresser being only available Monday and Wednesday mornings.
We looked into the various treatment rooms: aromatherapy, which smelled gorgeous and in which a lady was enjoying an Indian head massage; chiropody, which smelled of antiseptic and where a man was having his feet treated; and then to the physiotherapy room, which was empty. We were then introduced to Doctor Singh, who was very tiny, very beautiful and very friendly and who would be looking after my mother during her stay. She shook my mother’s hand and said she hoped she would enjoy her time there and that she would see her in a day or two after she’d had time to settle in.
We looked into the little chapel with its light wood fittings, its red carpet up the central aisle, its fresh flower displays on the altar and its one inhabitant bend in pray. From the chapel we bypassed the corridor which led to the men’s living quarters and walked further on and to the right where the female rooms were allocated. There were six rooms with four occupants to each room. We were introduced into five of them where we were either ignored, nodded to, stared at indifferently or eyed with varying degrees of suspicion or interest.
Nurse Ali suggested we might like to sit outside on the veranda for a while, in the sunshine, before going to the room which was to be my mother’s. The veranda was square and nicely paved with wooden bench seats and potted plants on three of its sides. The other side opened onto a built up pond in which swam Koi Carp and floated lily-pads. Trickling into the pond from a slight slope at the back and between rocks surrounded by Azaleas, Japanese Maples and Bamboo structures was a small waterfall.
Nurse Ali came back. “Well how do you like our Japanese garden, Gwendoline? It’s especially pretty at dusk when the solar lights glow.”
“I think it’s lovely. Water is so relaxing,” said my mother.
“Most of our residents seem to like it, but Mr Wainwright says expecting to like anything to do with the Japanese is an insult to the men who died building the bridge over the river Kwai. Some people still have bad memories. Still, you can’t please everyone. Would you like me to show you where to find the drinks vending machine, Joanne?”
I followed Nurse Ali to the machine, got two cups of drinking chocolate and went back to my mother. Nurse Ali left us to our drinks saying she’d be back shortly.
“Well if I don’t get better in here, Joanne, I don’t deserve to,” said my mother, somewhat overwhelmed by it all, “did she say the Queen opened it?”
“No, it was the wife of a relation of the Queen.”
“Oh,” my mother was disappointed, “I thought she said it was the Queen. I hope it wasn’t that Princess Michael, they say she’s a Nazi. Still, you can’t believe all you hear. Mrs Kruger who lives in Pine Street married a German. Herman the German we called him. He was a prisoner of war and she was a land girl and they worked on the same farm. He stayed on after the war and they got married. Poor soul was badly beaten up though, on account of his being a German. Nice looking lad he was.”
We sat for a while and finished our drinks, then, when Nurse Ali returned, we followed her to the room which was to be my mother’s and where we were introduced to Nell, Ruth and Bella who were to be her roommates. Then we were left to our own devices in order to get my mother settled in.
Healthy, shiny leafed plants stood out against the pale, sand coloured walls, giving the room a light, bright and airy feel. Each occupant has a well-equipped ensuite, a bed, a dressing table, a chest of drawers, a wall mounted TV, an easy chair, a dining chair and a small table. A folded bamboo screen pushed against the wall can be opened out and used for privacy and all of the furniture is light oak, modern and well made.
Bella is directly opposite my mother with Ruth to Bella’s right and to my mother’s left is Nell.
“Excuse me, miss,” called Bella, “don’t suppose you could pass me that glass, could you? Just it’s got me teeth in and I’ll be needing them shortly for when they bring the tea and biscuits round.”
I looked around. Did she mean me?
“Yes, it’s you I’m talking to,” she said.
I went over and handed her the glass.
“You couldn’t take them out for me, could you luv? And give them a bit of a wipe. There’s some tissues on the table over there. I have to keep taking them out see, cos they make more noise than I do if I try to say owt. Clattering about like they do. They used to be a decent fit once but now they’re neither fit nor nowt else. The doctor says it’s cos I’ve lost that much weight. Well anybody would lose weight if they’d had half their insides taken out. He says I should get some new teeth fitted. I might someday. Guess what weight I used to be, bet you can’t.”
I shrugged. “Twelve stone?” I said, distractedly, concentrating as I was on wiping her teeth without gagging and wondering how on earth nurses do this kind of stuff.
She opened her mouth and laughed like a drain, “More like sixteen. And now I’m six and a half stone and that’s wet through. I was always a big lass. Bonny mind. I had all the lads running after me, I did.”
“Aye, and now she has everybody else running after her!” laughed Ruth.
Bella beckoned to me to come closer, “I hope your mam has something to keep her mind occupied,” she said, “else a person could go stir crazy in here. Nell over there has her crochet, Ruth likes watching all the old films on daytime telly in the television room and I think up fictional book titles and authors. I’ve a list of them here.” She reached over and opened one of the drawers in her cabinet; “Cat Training by Claude Balls, Clinging On by Virginia Creeper, Showing Off by Ivor Biggin… you know the kind
of thing… Speaking Correctly by Ella Cution, Premature Ejaculation by I.M Cummin, it’s a bit naughty that last one, but I like to slip it in, if you see what I mean,” she said, winking mischievously while trying me out for size.
“Oh, put a sock in it, Bella, the poor lass’ll think she’s come to a loony bin,” said Ruth.
Bella laughed. “Mind you, loony bin isn’t far off the mark,” she said, “there are some in here as mad as ships cats. Wild Bill for instance, keeps a kids holster and gun under his pillow for pretend gun-fights and then there’s squawking Dan, the parrot man. You just couldn’t make it up!”
I looked over at Nell. She was smiling over her crochet, but not joining in. I went back to my mother. “Well, Mam,” I said quietly, “it certainly seems lively enough, don’t think you’ll be bored in here.”
“Lively! You ain’t seen nuthin yet, has she Ruth?” said Bella, proving that whatever else she was short of, it wasn’t hearing, “Just you wait till Mr Hedley-Smythe puts in an appearance. That always livens things up.”
“Yes, such is life in the big city,” said Ruth, for some reason I couldn’t fathom.
“Mr Hedley-Smythe? He must be a doctor with a name like that, don’t you think so, Joanne?” said my mother.
Hmmm. Something told me the jury was still out on that one… something about the way they were laughing.
30
NEANDERTHAL MAN
Arnie came to the door.
“Is Leo here, Jo, just I’ve had his tea ready for ages?”
“He’s upstairs with my two, I’ll give him a shout.”
“Before you do, Jo. A quick word. I think Mandy might be coming back. I haven’t said anything to Leo yet in case she changes her mind cos she’s one fickle dame, that one. She rang last night crying her eyes out, saying how much she misses us. I said, well just get ya backside back here, woman, and stop ya snivelling. I know she wants to come back, but she’s waiting for me to beg, but I don’t do begging. I’ll leave that to the dog.”