by Jane Holland
‘Go get who? Do you mean Logan?’ I reach for a tissue from the box on her nightstand and blow my nose. ‘You want me to fetch Logan?’
But her face is blank. ‘Who’s Logan?’
‘My… My friend.’
Has she forgotten him already? He only just left the room.
Mum seems as confused as I am. ‘I meant your father, darling. You’d better go and tell him what’s happened. Of course, he’ll be furious that I was so careless… You know what a temper he has, the big brute. But he’ll tell us what to do.’ Her smile is satisfied as she closes her eyes again. ‘Your father can cope with anything.’
I don’t know how to respond to that, but gulp and sit staring at her in horrified silence instead.
Dad is dead.
He’s been dead for five years.
Her dementia has been steadily worsening over time, it’s true. My name escapes her frequently these days. It’s rare that she can remember what date it is. But never before has she forgotten that her husband is dead.
I can only assume it’s the trauma of falling outside in the cold and damp, and being unable to get back inside without help. This incident may have exacerbated her memory problems and made everything worse. I ball the tissue up in my fist and dry my eyes with it. My legs feel so shaky, I don’t even dare stand up. My guilt is like an ocean inside me; I’m drowning in it, barely able to function. Though I must, for Mum’s sake.
Soon, I hear noises down the hall.
Logan comes back into the room shortly afterwards, a contrite-looking Ruby following closely on his heels.
‘Oh my God!’ Ruby stops dead on seeing my mother lying on top of the bedcovers with her arms by her sides, for all the world like a carved stone figure on a church tomb. Her eyes fly to mine in a wild enquiry. ‘Logan says your mum had a fall in the garden. Is that right?’
I nod silently.
‘I don’t understand.’ Ruby is incredulous. ‘Why was she outside at this time of day? How on earth did this happen?’
The note of accusation in her voice almost sets me off crying again. But I grit my teeth and stand up, trying to stay in control.
‘We don’t know,’ I say doggedly. ‘I’ve been trying to find out. She was already out there when I got up.’
‘The ambulance is on its way,’ Logan says to me, paying no attention to Ruby, who has bent over my mother now and is fussing with the tartan blanket. This time, my mother doesn’t resist, and is soon wrapped up more warmly, her eyes peacefully closed.
‘Thank you,’ I tell him huskily.
‘Perhaps we should go and make your mother a cup of hot, sweet tea,’ he suggests. ‘For the shock.’ He studies my face thoughtfully. Presumably, I must look ashen, because he adds in a softer voice, ‘We could all use a cup of tea while we wait for the ambulance, don’t you think?’
I suddenly realise he’s probably meant to be heading off to work and will be late because of this.
Leaving Ruby to sit with my mother, I follow him numbly to the kitchen. ‘Will you get into trouble?’ I ask him. ‘It’ll be past nine before you get to work.
‘Later, I imagine,’ he says carelessly, filling the kettle and then glancing about the kitchen for mugs. ‘I plan to go home first to shower and change.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Nonsense, this is more important.’ He holds up his mobile. ‘I’ll give the office a ring, let my boss know I’ll be in late. She’ll understand.’
I think about Mark and his utter lack of interest in my domestic issues. The contrast couldn’t be greater. ‘You’re lucky,’ I mutter, head bent. I’ll have to ring the office myself, let them know what’s happened.
‘No, they’re used to me coming in late.’ Logan frowns and takes my hand. ‘Hey, you okay? The ambulance is on its way, and for what it’s worth, I don’t think your mother can have hurt herself that badly. She seemed a little shaken, yes. But she was lucid and in control.’
I don’t bother telling him about Mum thinking he was my father. What would be the point?
‘I should go and wait outside,’ I tell him raggedly, trying not to dissolve into tears again; I need to stay strong for Mum’s sake. But his kindness will be my undoing. ‘Watch for the ambulance so they know where to come.’
He’s looking me up and down, clearly concerned. ‘Okay. But there’s a nasty chill in the air this morning. Maybe get dressed first? I can hold the fort while you’re gone.’
I nod, and run upstairs to my bedroom, dragging off my dressing gown and throwing jeans and a jumper on without really caring.
When I come back down, Ruby is tiptoeing out of my mother’s room. Leaving the door ajar, she says in a whisper, ‘She’s resting. Poor thing, it sounds like she took a real tumble. How did she get out?’
I shrug helplessly. ‘I really don’t know.’
‘But you locked the front door before bed, I presume?’
‘Of course,’ I say automatically, and then hesitate. ‘At least, I think so.’
‘You think?’
‘I’m pretty sure I did. But…’
Glancing away from her troubled look, I hurry down the hall. The keys to the front door are still hanging up in their usual place. I touch them, struggling to remember what happened last night after we kissed…
But the misty wine haze keeps getting in the way.
I can’t actually recall for sure locking the front door before going up to bed with Logan. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t do it.
Is it possible I forgot? Yes, I have to concede that. But even so, what would have prompted Mum to go for a walk outside in her nightie and slippers so early in the morning? She’s never done that before.
‘So your date stayed the night, then?’ Ruby says in a confidential tone, looking over her shoulder towards the kitchen door. It’s partly closed, but we can both hear Logan whistling as he moves about, presumably still making the tea. ‘I expect that’s why you can’t remember locking the front door. I’d have been a bit distracted too.’
‘I wasn’t distracted. I did lock the door,’ I say, with more irritation than certainty. But it shuts her up.
I hear tyres on the gravelled drive and dart outside to find an ambulance backing slowly towards the front door. A paramedic jumps down with a pack slung over her shoulder and comes towards me, smiling. She’s in her thirties with short blonde hair and a capable air.
‘Good morning. I’m Sue. Where’s the patient?’
Briefly, I explain the situation and then show her into the house. A moment later, the driver joins us in Mum’s bedroom, cheerfully announcing her own name as Belinda.
Logan has just delivered a mug of tea, and Ruby has already manoeuvred my mother into a semi-sitting position against the pillows in order to drink it.
‘I don’t take sugar in my tea,’ Mum is explaining to Ruby impatiently. ‘Take it away. I won’t drink it.’
Ruby tries to coax her, holding the cup to her lips. ‘It’s good for you, Celeste. You’ve had a shock; you need the sugar.’
‘No, I don’t… And who’s this?’ Mum stares wide-eyed at the two women in their green uniforms, now standing about her bed. ‘Where did they come from?’
‘We’re paramedics. You had a fall, my love,’ Sue says bracingly, unzipping her pack. ‘Now, if I could just ask everyone to leave except for Celeste and her daughter?’
Logan pats my shoulder on his way out. ‘I can stay if you need me.’
‘No,’ I say, smiling. ‘But thank you. You should get to work.’
‘I’ll call you later.’
Ruby follows him out of the room and closes the door.
The two paramedics check my mother over, asking questions all the time and showing the most wonderful gentleness with her.
‘How did she fall?’ Belinda asks while Sue is examining my mother’s hip. The skin is bruised, and Mum shrinks away when it’s touched, her brows contracting in pain. ‘That doesn’t look good.’
‘I’m not sure.’<
br />
‘How’s that?’
Guiltily, I try to explain without mentioning Logan. ‘I came downstairs to find she’d somehow managed to unlock the front door, and when we – that is, when I went outside, I found her just lying there on the drive.’ My voice sounds high and breathless. The stress of it all, I suppose. ‘I can’t even tell you how long she’d been outside, I’m sorry.’
Belinda gives me an odd glance, but turns to my mother. ‘Why did you go outside this morning, Celeste? Trying to escape?’
I can’t believe she’s put it like that. ‘I’m not holding my mother prisoner, you know,’ I say, a little tartly. ‘She gets into mischief if she wanders off alone. As you can see. That’s why we keep the front door locked.’
‘Oh, don’t mind me, I was only joking,’ Belinda insists, but something tells me she wasn’t. ‘Come on, Celeste, let’s have it. Why do a runner?’
To my relief, my mother laughs. If she’d agreed that she was trying to ‘escape’, things could have become awkward.
‘I can’t remember. Not properly. It all happened so quickly.’ She frowns, seeming confused. ‘I heard a voice, I think. Calling me. Telling me to go outside.’
‘What?’ This admission astonishes me. ‘You didn’t say any of that before, Mum.’ I take her hand and rub it gently between my own; her skin still feels frighteningly chilled. ‘Whose voice was it? Did you see anyone? Were they outside in the garden too?’
‘I don’t know. I… I don’t feel well.’
Sue looks up, having finished her examination, and nods to her partner. ‘She needs to go into hospital,’ she says quietly, and then turns to me. ‘I can’t be sure this is just bruising. We need to check whether your mother’s broken anything. She’s still on the young side for a broken hip. But better safe than sorry.’
‘A broken hip? Oh God.’ I feel sick.
‘It’s just a precaution.’
Mum has cottoned on to what’s happening. ‘No, no. I don’t need to go to hospital,’ she says stoutly. ‘I’ll drink that tea now. That’ll do the trick.’
‘Sorry, Celeste, but we can’t leave you here. You need an X-ray, my love,’ Sue tells her, and asks Belinda to fetch a wheelchair. ‘Your daughter can follow us in her car, if that makes you feel better about it. How’s that? Kate can keep you company at the hospital while we transfer you to Accident and Emergency. It could be a long wait.’
I nod, and get out of their way while they work, preparing my mother to be conveyed out to the ambulance in a wheelchair.
The phone rings in the hall.
Snatching up the handset, I peer at myself in the hall mirror; to my horror, I look a mess. But I didn’t even get a chance to comb my hair this morning or put on so much as a lick of makeup.
‘Hello?’
The voice on the other end of the phone fills me with dread.
It’s Dr Forster.
‘Hello, Kate. I got your call, asking me to get in touch. Apparently, your mother’s had a fall. Is that right?’
‘What?’ I’m stunned. ‘I… I didn’t call you.’
‘Oh, my mistake.’ Dr Forster hesitates. ‘The message was quite muffled. And whoever it was didn’t leave a name. But it sounded urgent, so I thought I’d better ring. I take it your mother’s fine, then?’
‘Actually, no.’ I explain what’s happened, and she exclaims a few times during my account of Mum’s accident, sounding horrified. ‘It’s just a precaution, but they’re taking her to hospital.’
‘I see.’ The note of disapproval in the doctor’s voice is beginning to grate at my nerves. ‘Well, I was worried about her. It’s still my opinion that Celeste ought to be in a residential setting, given how seriously her condition has deteriorated over the past few months. Look, it’s no reflection on you, Kate.’ Her voice softens. ‘But maybe it’s time to hand her care over to the professionals. Will you consider it, at least?’
I close my eyes and hang up on the doctor without another word.
Behind me, I can hear the paramedics wheeling Mum carefully down the hall, with Ruby chatting freely to the two women about my mother’s habit of ‘escaping’ the house and how we were lucky to find her when we did.
It seems everyone is determined to grind my face in my failures. And why shouldn’t they? I’ve failed my mother, there’s no denying it. She’s my responsibility, nobody else’s. Yet instead of caring for her this morning, I slept late with my new boyfriend while Mum let herself out in her nightie, wandering about in the cold until she stumbled and fell…
‘Right,’ I say brightly, grabbing up my purse and car keys before turning to face them, ‘I’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital. You’re going to be fine, Mum. I promise.’
But my smile doesn’t fool anyone, and I know it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘Well,’ Mark says, breaking into my explanation of the past few days with an impatient gesture, ‘at least your mother hasn’t broken her hip. It sounds as though she’s going to be fine. So all’s well that ends well.’ He perches on the desk next to me, looking at me from under his brows in an expectant manner. ‘Let’s hear it, then. How is Calum’s book going?’
I cross my legs and fold my arms, still defensive about this difficult project he dumped in my lap.
‘Fine,’ I say, not entirely accurately but not really caring at this point. ‘We had lunch together. We talked about the manuscript. Calum was open to my suggestions. Now, I just have to finish going through the text and then email my notes to him.’
I suppose it was too much to ask for Mark to be interested in my personal life. But I’m grateful that he allowed me to shift my work days this week so I could be with Mum while she got over her little ‘escapade’ in the garden, as she insists on referring to her accident. I find such casual remarks about her bruised hip troubling. Mum treats the episode as unimportant, when in fact it’s highlighted how vulnerable she is at home and allowed Dr Forster to put additional pressure on me over a residential home placement.
I can’t put Mum in a home, though.
Besides, she would never consent to go, so it would be a pointless discussion.
‘Calum doesn’t like editorial suggestions,’ Mark says sharply. ‘What exactly did you tell him to do?’
I lay out for him more or less what I told Calum Morgan about the book, though slightly watered down and without too many details. I don’t want him to hound poor Cheryl, demanding to know why she didn’t deal with these problems before going on maternity leave.
‘Will this impact the publication date?’ he demands, interrupting me before I’ve even finished.
‘I doubt it.’
‘Good,’ he says crisply, ‘because the marketing budget is already allocated. We’ve had several bites from supermarkets, plus confirmed review space in magazines, and Harry is organising some high-profile signings for him. I wouldn’t want to jeopardise any of that over a few editorial notes.’
Listening to him, I realise I’ve seriously understated the sheer scale of the changes Calum’s book needs. But I don’t correct him, merely smile wanly. I’m not feeling strong enough to engage in battle over this.
‘Of course.’
To my relief, Mark accepts this with a grunt and a jerk of his head, and goes away to pester someone else instead.
I settle to work for an hour, dealing with minor queries for some other authors whose books I handle, and only look away from my computer when my phone pings.
It’s a text from Ruby.
Mr Adeyemi is here, talking to your mum. I told him she was resting after her accident, but he didn’t take any notice. What should I do?
I swear under my breath, and then text her back.
Find an excuse to stay in the room, or keep the door open so he’s not alone with her. I won’t be back until later, remember. Can you cope?
Twenty minutes go by while I attach some JPG cover images to an email, nervously awaiting her reply.
Finally, it arrives.
Big date with Logan tonight? Of course I can cope. You enjoy yourself. Adeyemi just left.
I’m so relieved, I send her a row of smiley face icons and a GIF of a dancing dog in a tutu.
What would I do without Ruby?
The afternoon gradually thickens into dusk, and then it’s dark outside, all the city lights across London twinkling in the wintry sky. I send my last email and check my phone again. No new messages, which can only be good at this time of day.
I’m just about to head home, pleased over a good day’s work and excited by the prospect of a dinner date with Logan, when I hear my name being called.
‘Kate? Can you step in here for a minute?’
It’s Mark, hovering in the doorway to his office. He’s unsmiling and his voice is sharp, almost accusatory. It seems something has upset my boss, and he’s clearly decided it’s my fault.
Oh God, what now?
I pin a fake smile to my face, drag on my coat to make my imminent departure look like a done deal, and head over there.
‘I was just on my way home, actually,’ I begin, glancing into his office, and then stop dead. Because he’s not alone.
Calum Morgan is sitting round the corner on the white leather sofa reserved for visiting bestselling authors, and he’s not looking happy. I hadn’t noticed him arrive in the office. But my attention has been on my computer screen most of the afternoon.
‘Hello, Calum. This is a pleasant surprise.’ My gaze shoots to Mark, standing with his arms folded and his lips tight. ‘Problem?’
‘I’d say so, yes. Come inside and shut the door. Calum tells me you’ve practically rewritten every word of his book.’
‘Sorry?’ I close the door behind me but stay where I am, clutching my shoulder bag and feeling cornered, like an animal in a trap. ‘That’s not true. I perhaps made a few suggestions… Calum, you know I’d never force you to make any changes you weren’t happy with, right?’
Calum’s smile is malicious. ‘Do I?’
‘I’m going to take over from you on this project,’ Mark says abruptly, and holds up a hand when I protest. ‘No, my mind’s made up. You’re too inexperienced to deal with an author of Calum’s stature. I thought you could handle it. But it’s clear I was wrong.’