“You’re looking great, Angela,” Mary Ellen told her. “But you always do.” She had gone over to the oven. “There’s a nice dish of cod and parsley sauce there for you both, and some lovely floury mashed potatoes and vegetables.” She put her hat and coat on. “I’ll be in early in the morning to do the fires and the washing and all the usual things.” She paused. “Are you down in the shop tomorrow?”
“No,” Angela said. “Patrick’s sister-in-law is helping out, but I’ll probably drop down to see that everything is okay.”
“Well,” the housekeeper said, “if there is anything else, you can let me know.”
After Mary Ellen had left, they sat down immediately to eat.
“You do look well, Angela,” her mother said, “and that’s a lovely twinset you have on.”
“Thanks,” Angela said. She noticed her mother didn’t actually look at her as she was speaking, and her voice sounded a little strange, as though she had a slight slur in it. She lifted her glass of water and took a sip. “Are you still not up to going to the hairdresser’s, Mam?”
Nance shook her head. “No,” she said, “Just the thought of anyone touching my head...”
“What does the doctor say?”
“He just said shingles can take a long time to go.” She halted. “That reminds me, I need to take my tablets. I keep forgetting about them.” She put her hand in her dressing-gown pocket and felt around, and came out with three different pills. She put them in her mouth and swallowed them down.
Angela noticed her mother’s nails were bare of polish, and were almost grey-looking. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her with unkempt hair and without nail varnish.
The next morning Angela woke to sunshine and she was surprised when she looked at her watch to see it was half past nine. She heard a noise downstairs and listened, and realised it was Mrs Mooney rattling around at the range. Then she caught the smell of bacon frying and realised that the housekeeper was probably waiting for her to come down and eat with her.
When she came downstairs, the housekeeper was sitting drinking a cup of tea. She had another cup and saucer set on the table, and she immediately poured one out for Angela.
“I have some bacon and sausages in the oven for us,” she said, “and a bit of black and white pudding. It will be ready in another five minutes.”
“You’re very good,” Angela said. “That’s one of the things I look forward to when I come to Tullamore.” She lifted her cup and took a drink of the lovely hot tea. No one, she thought, made a cup of tea as well as Mary Ellen Mooney.
“Have you any notion of coming home to live in Tullamore again?”
Angela shook her head. Mrs Mooney had been asking her that same question for years. “No,” she said. “I’m too used to Dublin now.”
Mary Ellen nodded her head. “I suppose you are.”
Angela knew the housekeeper was fond of her, and always had been. There was no agenda behind her question, it was simply that she liked her and wanted to see her more often. For a moment, she thought she would tell her about the new job, but she stopped herself.
Mary Ellen leaned forward. “When you’ve finished your tea – would you mind going up and having a look at your mother. I was up earlier on and I’m not too happy with how she is.”
“What’s wrong?” Angela asked. She lifted her cup and took a few quick mouthfuls to finish it, then got to her feet. “I’ll go up right now.”
“I’m sorry now, making you go up the stairs again with your leg. But I don’t feel she’s just right. I’ll turn the oven down now, and I’ll come up with you.”
They went up the stairs, and down the corridor to her mother’s room. Angela tapped on the door but there was no sound.
“Just go in,” Mary Ellen said. “She was the very same earlier on. She takes a minute to come round.”
Angela opened the door and went across the room to the bed. Her mother was lying very still on her side, facing the wall. She touched her on the shoulder, and when she didn’t move, she then gave her a small shake. She had to do it three times before her mother responded with a small moan.
“Mam?” she said. “Are you all right?”
Eventually, Nance opened her eyes. They were dull and glazed. “What is it?” she said.
“I’m just checking you are all right. You don’t seem very well.”
“I think if we get her up and on her feet it might help,” the housekeeper said. “I’ve seen her a bit like this before – certainly not as bad as this – but maybe if we get her moving.”
Angela leaned forward and put her arms under her mother’s to prop her up. When she was in a sitting positon, she gently pulled her towards her. “Come on, Mam,” she said, “let’s get you up now. You could do with going to the bathroom. A little wash might help you to wake up.”
Between them, they got Nance sitting on the edge of the bed, then they went on either side of her and eased her into a standing positon. Then, she moved with them, one slow step at a time until they were out in the hallway.
Angela noticed that her mother had not really spoken, and still seemed half-asleep.
“Good girl, you’re doing fine,” Mary Ellen said, as though she were praising a child. They went towards the bathroom door. “Can you stand on your own now, Nance? Will we see if you can manage on your own?” The housekeeper looked at Angela now, and gestured with her eyes that they should let her go.
They stood back, and watched as Nance took a few steps, swaying as she went along. And then, as she reached the bathroom door, she seemed to go to one side and then suddenly her legs went from underneath her and she crumpled with a thud on the floor.
Angela and Mary Ellen had rushed forward to catch her, but she was already down before they could.
Angela knelt beside her, talking to her and trying to bring her round, while the housekeeper ran the cold tap on a face flannel which she then pressed to Nance’s forehead.
Eventually, Nance’s eyes fluttered open again. She stared at Angela, and then she closed her eyes, and it dawned on Angela that she did not recognise her. The vague look in her eyes gave the impression that she did not recognise anything around her.
Somehow, between them, they got Nance up again and Mary Ellen suggested they get her sitting on the toilet.
“She’s not fit to know if she needs to go or not,” she said to Angela. “You go on, and I’ll wait with her. I’m used to it with all the children I’ve looked after.”
Afterwards, when they walked her back to the bedroom, she had difficulty putting one foot down.
“I think she twisted that foot when she went down,” Mary Ellen whispered. “That’s all she needs.”
They settled her back in bed, then Angela gestured to Mrs Mooney that they should leave the room. When they got outside she said, “I’m going to call the doctor. I know it’s a Saturday and you’re only supposed to ring in emergencies, but there’s something seriously wrong. I think how she is qualifies as an emergency.”
“I think you’re right. This is worse than anything I’ve seen.”
Angela rang and the doctor’s wife said he was out on a call, but she would tell him the minute he arrived back at the surgery. Mary Ellen put their breakfasts out while they were waiting for him to come, but they only picked at it, listening for any sounds upstairs. As they sat, Angela thought of all the breakfasts she had eaten with her father at this table, listening to his cheery banter. Those mornings, she thought, were her happiest memories of home. She would never have them again.
Everything happened quickly after that. After spending five minutes with her, the doctor sent for an ambulance.
“I’ve no idea what it is,” he said to Angela, “so I’m not going to take any chances. She needs to have some blood tests taken and some other tests done.” He shrugged. “It could be a number of things – possibly a small stroke – but only the hospital can establish that.”
The day went by, with Angela and Mary Ellen goi
ng back to the house at midday. At that point there were still no results on the tests.
“She’s in the best place,” Mary Ellen said.
Before the evening visiting in the hospital, Angela insisted that they both go for their evening meal to the restaurant in Hayes Hotel. “You’re not cooking for us tonight. You haven’t had a break all day.”
“Sure, what else would I be doing?”
She made a few noises of refusal, but Angela knew she was delighted to be taken out and treated. Their father had always taken Mrs Mooney and Patrick out for a meal with the family at Christmas, and Angela knew the housekeeper had always enjoyed it.
She ordered them both a sherry before the meal, and then Mrs Mooney had a glass of stout with her meal while Angela had a glass of white wine. As they ate their roast pork and stuffing, they both began to relax and chat.
“Thank God Fiona’s not here,” Angela said. “She’s had enough to deal with – too much. I’m glad I was here and not her. That I was able to spare her the worry of this at least.”
“She’s had a lot on her plate since your father died,” Mary Ellen said. “She’s too young to have all that on her shoulders. If things were right, your mother should have been up and about and back to running things at the shop and the house.” She shook her head. “She’s been like a different woman since she took that damned shingles. She was just getting back on her feet after your father died and then she went down like a deck of cards, and she’s never been right since.”
“She went down like a deck of cards this morning,” Angela said. “She really hurt her ankle.”
“That will heal – and the doctor said it isn’t broken so we can be thankful for that at least. It’s whatever is causing all the tiredness and the confusion is the big problem.”
Afterwards, Angela ordered a coffee for herself and an apple crumble and custard for Mary Ellen.
They began to talk about Fiona again.
“I hope she’s having a great time down in Connemara,” Angela said. “I believe it’s lovely down there.”
“Kind of wild,” Mary Ellen said. “Some English people we had for bed and breakfast once told me that it was like the highlands in Scotland. They would know, they were the kind that had travelled all over.” She thought for a few minutes. “He’s a lovely fella, the American...”
Angela’s head jerked up. She looked across the table. “You’ve met him?”
“I did, a few times over last weekend. He stayed around to see her every chance they got. And you don’t need to worry, she told me that you knew about her going to meet him.”
Angela smiled now. “Oh, thank God! I was afraid of putting my foot in it, because she said my mother doesn’t know.”
“Sure the vague way your mother was recently, God help her, she wouldn’t have known if it was Christmas Eve or rice pudding – no disrespect to her or anything. Fiona could have gone off with Bluebeard himself and she wouldn’t have known.”
Angela looked at her and tried not to laugh. She knew it was awful finding something funny in the midst of such a serious situation, but there were times when Mrs Mooney came out with the most outrageous things without realising. How such a saying could be anything but disrespectful she did not know.
When they went for the evening visit in the hospital, her mother was sleeping. Angela left Mary Ellen at her bedside and went down the ward to see if she could speak to one of the nurses.
A young, efficient sister checked a few details with her first, asking her who lived at home with their mother and who would be there when she went home.
Angela felt the nurse was watching her carefully and listening to everything she said, as though weighing her up. Eventually, she seemed satisfied, and she then brought Angela into the office.
“I don’t want anyone hearing us,” she said, closing the door behind them. “I just wanted a private word with you.”
Angela felt a pang of alarm. “Is it something serious?” she asked. “Has she had a stroke or a heart attack?”
“No, no – nothing like that,” the nurse said. “But it is serious enough in a different way.” She went over to the desk and lifted some notes on a clipboard. “I was just looking at her file earlier.” She looked up at Angela. “I’m afraid we had to pump your mother’s stomach out this afternoon.”
“Why?” Angela said. She had never heard of this happening, and had no idea why it would be done.
“Because she had taken an overdose of her medication.”
Angela’s hands flew to cover her mouth. “Oh, my God!”
“The doctor said if she had taken just a small amount more it could have been very serious. She might not be here with us tonight.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“We’re still waiting on tests coming back from the lab, but it looks like she had been taking sleeping tablets, Valium and Codeine, and a mixture of other painkillers. When she came in earlier today it was obvious that she had been taking a much higher dose than she should have been of everything.”
“Oh, my God,” Angela said again. “I know she got mixed up now and again, and was forgetting to take them but...”
“Well, it looks like this morning she took them all at once,” the ward sister said. “Do you mind me asking, had nobody at home noticed a change in her moods or behaviour?”
Angela’s mind was turning over, trying to remember all the things that Fiona had been telling her over the past months. “Yes, we had,” she said. “Especially my sister who lives with her. She said my mother was very tired all the time – extremely tired. But she had a bad case of shingles which started back around February, and she never really recovered from it. She was in bed for weeks with the painful rash, and she never came back to herself. In fact, she was getting worse.”
“That is a terrible thing,” the nurse agreed. “I had an uncle who had it on his face, and he ended up losing the sight in his eye.”
“Thankfully, it wasn’t on her face, it was around her back.” Angela sighed. “The other thing is that my father died just after Christmas – not even six months ago. She was very low after that, and then she took the shingles.”
The nurse nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.” She paused. “Your mother has obviously been going through a very difficult period both physically and with depression, and it looks as though she has become dependent on some of the medication.” She looked down at her notes. “According to her GP, she has been on Valium and sleeping tablets for the last year.”
Angela’s eyebrows shot up. “A year?” she said. “But that was before Daddy died. That was when everything was okay.”
“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, dear,” the nurse said, “but your mother was obviously not well even before that. She was having trouble sleeping and suffering from anxiety.”
“We had no idea,” Angela said. “We all thought it was the shingles – all the tiredness and everything.”
The nurse went back to the notes. “She was also very confused, and it may well be she was also suffering side-effects from the medication.” She looked up and shook her head. “Some of the side-effects are worse than the initial illness. The sleeping tablets can change people’s personalities, make them argumentative – even violent.”
“She’s not been as bad as that,” Angela said. “My sister would have told us – it was mainly the tiredness. And I suppose looking back, she was very depressed.” She thought back to the way Mam had been with them during the funeral, the rows about Aunt Catherine. The edgy, awkward way she had been for a long time.
“Well, that’s maybe the thing we need to get to the bottom of,” said the nurse. “Sometimes people repress things, keep them in for years and then it suddenly comes back and overwhelms them.”
Angela nodded, trying to digest it all. “How long will she be in hospital?”
“Certainly over the weekend, possibly longer. The doctor will see her again in the morning, and we’ll see how she is
then. Hopefully, the worst of the medication will be out of her system and you might see a difference in her. She’s off everything at the moment, so we’ll see how she goes.”
Angela looked at the ward sister now and nodded her head. “Thank you,” she said, quietly. “I appreciate you taking the trouble to explain all this to me – because we would never have known. It helps us to understand what has happened to my mother, to help her – and I’ll make sure to explain it to my sisters and aunt.”
“It’s not that unusual, you know,” the nurse said. “And believe it or not, with Valium, in a lot of the cases it’s women your mother’s age.”
As she walked along the corridor back to the room, Angela suddenly had a feeling of deflation. As if all the energy was draining out of her. She had only spent one day back at home and all this had happened.
But then she thought of Fiona, the day in Bewley’s when she broke down and cried, feeling the strain of looking after her mother. No wonder she had cried. Angela didn’t know how she had managed all these months on her own, with Mam like a complete stranger, and never knowing what kind of mood she was going to be in. She realised now that Fiona had probably only told her half of what had gone on.
Weighing it all up – even the way things were between her and her mother – Angela was still glad she had been there when this happened, instead of her sister. She realised now that had it gone on for much longer, as the nurse had said, something much more serious could have happened to her mother. And that, after all that Fiona had done for her mother, it was the last thing she needed.
Chapter 34
On Monday morning Patrick drove Angela to the hospital to collect her mother.
Before she went to the ward with the bag containing her mother’s clothes, she spoke to the ward sister again, who told her that they were delighted with the improvement in Mrs Tracey.
“We have a very good doctor who has spoken to her several times over the weekend and she now understands what has happened to her. To be honest,” the nurse said, “it has given her a real fright. When the worst of the last medication had worn off, and she’d had a good sleep, the doctor sat with her for nearly an hour, and explained what had happened to her.”
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