by Annie Lyons
2005
Sidney Avenue, South-East London
It was the fifth time her mother had called an ambulance that week. Eudora had recently received a letter from the London Ambulance Frequent Caller department telling her that they were aware of the situation and would review her mother in six months. Eudora didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because the letter didn’t make a jot of difference. Beatrice still called and the paramedics always came. Eudora would often beg them not to take her mother to A&E. They were very kind and understanding but had little choice because of Beatrice’s age and frailty. She would complain of a stomachache, usually caused by inactivity, or a headache because she refused to drink water, and they would “pop her in for a checkup.” She would be whisked away for eight or nine hours and then returned to Eudora confused and exhausted before the whole cycle began again the next day.
“Why do you do it, Mum? You’re like the little boy who calls wolf.”
Beatrice fixed her with rheumy, scared eyes. “I like the ambulances and I feel safe in a place with doctors.”
Eudora tried not to feel insulted that she didn’t feel safe at home with her. She also wondered at her mother’s desire to spend the best part of twenty-four hours in a place where you were likely to leave with more germs than when you arrived. So far this year her mother had suffered with hospital-contracted pneumonia, MRSA, and bedsores. Eudora was exhausted. She knew the bus timetables and visiting hours by heart and most of the nurses by name.
“Back again?” asked a particularly friendly nurse called Helen.
“It would seem that way,” said Eudora wearily.
“They should give you a loyalty card.”
Eudora gave a weak laugh.
Of course she was grateful to the NHS for all their efforts. The paramedics, doctors, and nurses were patient, good-humored, and always kind to her bewildered mother. It just didn’t seem like much of a life for either of them, traipsing back and forth from house to hospital in a bid to preserve the existence of a ninety-five-year-old woman. Eudora felt sure that Beatrice Honeysett was the most examined, tested, and treated woman ever. While she was pleased that they cared so much, she had to question the quality of life it delivered for them both.
Beatrice Honeysett had lost her husband and happiness in 1944. As a result, she had been unfortunate to live a long, unhappy life. Eudora had done her best to make her mother happy but now, as she started to embark on her own twilight years, she wondered what the point had been.
That’s not to say there hadn’t been joyful times. Eudora loved her mother. They had enjoyed holidays and outings together, but theirs had been a life held back by their shared history, by the war, by the loss of Albert, and the tragic death of Stella. The past had anchored Beatrice to an existence mired with regret and sadness. Despite her best efforts, Eudora had become entangled in its murky depths too. She often found herself wondering not when but if there would ever be an end to it.
The end came unexpectedly for Beatrice, as it happened. The fifth emergency call turned out to be well-founded: a heart attack followed by a prolonged period in the hospital. Dutifully, Eudora visited every day, still thinking her mother would last forever. The hospital staff seemed to think so too. There were teams of occupational therapists eager to get Beatrice shuffling up and down with a walker; a rehabilitation coordinator, who talked of a spell in a community hospital; and wearily smiling doctors, who made positive noises about Beatrice’s “markers.” Eudora wished she hadn’t listened to any of them. She could see what was happening before her eyes: that her mother wasn’t eating, could barely speak, slept almost all day. She didn’t want to “get going” or eat flabby fish pie and overcooked broccoli. She wanted to leave this world with a little dignity and respect, not with a breathing tube up her nose and a team of overworked nurses having to turn her onto her side every day because of bedsores.
Eudora wished she’d been stronger. She wished she’d taken her mother home and nursed her, dressed her in a clean nightie, tucked her up in a freshly made bed, brushed her hair, and told her that she loved her until she slipped away. But it didn’t happen like that.
Instead, she returned home exhausted after another day at her mother’s bedside, another day trying to get her to drink water through a straw like a child and accept a spoonful of mashed potato like a baby. She left feeling furiously angry but had no idea with whom. She hadn’t told her mother that she loved her or smoothed her hair before she left. She arrived home, too tired to eat, and had fallen into bed. She was woken six hours later by the phone ringing. The friendly nurse’s voice was quiet and laced with sorrow.
“I’m sorry to tell you that Beatrice passed away half an hour ago.”
Eudora thanked her for calling and replaced the phone in its cradle. Then she wrapped her arms around her body and sobbed.
Chapter 18
Eudora makes the call to the clinic the very next day. She doesn’t need to linger over this decision any longer. She is resolved. Eudora’s never been surer of anything. It’s time. She is relieved as Petra answers.
“I’d like to go ahead,” says Eudora without a hint of doubt.
Petra pauses before answering. “Can I ask what has changed, Eudora?”
Eudora isn’t sure how truthfully to answer this. Nothing has changed. That’s the point. Nothing ever changes. And now she wants to call an end to it all. She selects her words with care. “Nothing has changed. I have merely considered everything in full, and, given my medical conditions and inevitably deteriorating health, I know the time is right.”
“Have you discussed this with anyone?”
“There’s really no need. I’ve made up my mind.”
“What about Rose?”
Eudora flinches. “I hope you’re not suggesting that I talk to a ten-year-old about my impending death.”
“No, of course not, but I get the feeling that you have a strong relationship with her. How will she feel about this?”
Eudora sighs. “I don’t know. I will write her a letter to explain. She’s very bright. She’ll understand one day.”
“It is your choice, Eudora, and Doctor Liebermann is satisfied with what you have told us.”
“Precisely. My death. My choice.”
“Okay. Then let me give you the details of the documents we will require and the logistics of your journey. Will you be traveling alone?”
“Yes.”
“In which case, would you permit me to meet you at the airport and accompany you on your final journey?”
It’s as if she has reached out through the telephone and offered her hand. “Thank you, Petra. That would be very kind.”
They bury Montgomery underneath the apple tree because it was his favorite place to sit while contemplating the chattering blue tits above his head. Rose insists that they have a “proper funeral with singing and prayers and stuff.” Eudora decides to indulge her one last time, although she is starting to regret it now as the early October chill nips at her bones.
She stares into the faces of her fellow mourners. Rose has taken the funeral arrangements very seriously. She appointed Rob as chief and only pallbearer. He is now dutifully holding the old banana box containing Montgomery, which Rose decorated with “all the glitter I could find.” The effect is startlingly beautiful as the box seems almost alive with color, sparkling in the pale autumn sunshine.
Rose had instructed everyone that black clothing is not allowed, even though Montgomery had worn the color all his life. Instead, they must wear something that reminds them of him.
Maggie is wearing a scarf decorated with tiny smiling cats, which Daisy is currently trying to stuff into her mouth. Rose distributes cat-ear headbands to those who can be cajoled into wearing them. Eudora has chosen a brooch whose color reminds her of Montgomery’s steely yellow-green eyes and politely refuses Rose’s offer of a headband. Stanley has invited Sheila along to this strange ceremony. Eudora watches as she falls upon the headband and encourages
Stanley to wear one too. Rose laughs as they both plonk them on their heads. Eudora finds this ridiculous. She hasn’t spoken to Stanley since their disagreement in the café. Actually, disagreement is too strong a word. It was a silly misunderstanding. Eudora knows she behaved badly but doesn’t have the first idea what to do about it. Eighty-five is not the age at which to develop a demonstrative side to one’s personality, and yet she misses their evening chats. She misses the carefree silliness.
Rose’s outfit is predictably overstated in its cat theme. She wears a T-shirt emblazoned with a photograph of a tabby cat’s face and the word “Purrrrrfect!” and black leggings decorated with miniature gold cats. As self-appointed minister for the proceedings, Rose takes her place in front of the deep hole that Rob dug the day before.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of our good friend Montgomery.”
“Eee!” exclaims Daisy from the comfort of her mother’s arms.
“Thank you, Daisy,” says Rose. “That is my sister’s way of telling you that she is sad for the loss of Montgomery. I now invite you all to do the same and then we will sing a song and say a prayer before the . . . What’s it called, Mum?”
“The committal?”
“That’s it. The committal.”
Eudora sighs. She pulls her coat and scarf tighter around her shoulders. The cold is making her bones and soul ache today.
“Are you all right, Eudora?” whispers Stanley as Rose embarks on a lengthy eulogy to her friend.
“Fine, thank you,” says Eudora, keeping her eyes fixed forward.
“I could fetch you a chair, if you like,” offers Sheila.
“No. There’s really no need. I’m quite all right.” She notices Sheila shrink a little and regrets her tone. Stanley pats Sheila’s arm.
“Eudora, would you like to say a few words?” asks Rose.
Eudora really wouldn’t, but everyone is staring at her now. She sighs. “Thank you for being a constant companion. May you rest in peace.”
Rose stares at her. “Is that it?”
“It is.”
“Okay. Let’s sing our song then. I couldn’t find one about cats, so we’re going to sing ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ because Mummy says everyone knows that.”
The sound they produce is enough to bring all the cats of the neighborhood into the garden. Eudora winces as they try and fail to hit the high notes.
“That was lovely,” says Rose. Maggie catches Rob’s eye and giggles. “What? Mummy, don’t laugh. This is the serious bit.”
Eudora has had enough. She’s cold and miserable and in desperate need of a cup of tea. “Can we please just get on with it,” she says.
Rose looks crestfallen. “Sorry. I just wanted to make it special.”
“It is special, Rose,” says Maggie. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. Go on, do your next bit.”
Rose looks unsure but nods to her father, who carefully places the box in the hole. Rose picks up a trowel and scoops some earth out of a compost bag.
“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,” she says, flicking the soil on top of the box. “Dust to dusty. We know Major Tom is rusty.”
Rob starts to laugh and it’s not long before Maggie, Stanley, and Sheila join in.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” says Eudora, turning on her heel and retreating to the house. Once inside she switches on the kettle and tries to warm her shivering joints on the radiator. Her hands are shaking uncontrollably and she feels faint.
“Eudora. I’m sorry. We should have reigned Rose in,” says Maggie, appearing in the doorway.
“It’s all right,” says Eudora. “I’ll be fine once I’ve had a cup of tea.”
The tea helps a little. Eudora lets the chatter wash over her as Maggie and Rose hand out sandwiches and cakes. She doesn’t feel like participating today. She is so tired.
“Was it all right?” asks Rose, coming to sit by Eudora, worry creasing her face.
“It was lovely,” says Eudora. “You did Montgomery proud.”
“That’s good. I wanted it to be special. I’m sorry if I went a bit over the top. I do that sometimes.”
“Do you, Rose? I’d never noticed,” says Eudora. Rose laughs.
As the afternoon wears on and endless cups of tea are made and drunk, Eudora finds herself wishing that they’d all go home. She doesn’t want to be part of this anymore. She looks at Rose playing peek-a-boo with her sister and the way Rob and Maggie smile at each other. She sees Stanley sharing a joke with Sheila and knows he’ll be all right. It’s enough, she thinks. It’s time to go.
Eudora has already decided to tell them that she’s going on holiday. She will write letters before she leaves explaining the truth. She will leave them with the solicitor when she goes for her meeting tomorrow, instructing her to distribute them after she’s gone. It’s better that way. Eudora doesn’t want anyone to be an accessory or to try and talk her out of it. My death, my way is her mantra now.
“A holiday? I love holidays! Can we come?” asks Rose, clapping her hands together.
“Unfortunately not. It’s during term time.”
“Awwww.”
“I know.”
“Where are you going?” asks Stanley. It’s one of the few times he’s spoken to her today.
“Switzerland.”
“Switzerland?” he says in surprise.
“Oh, it’s lovely there,” says Sheila. “Vic and I went on a few walking holidays around the mountains. Where are you going?”
“Basel,” says Eudora. “I thought it would be good for my health.” Oh, the irony.
“Well. There’s a thing,” says Stanley. “Funny, you’ve never mentioned it before.”
Eudora can see a cloud of suspicion in his expression and knows she must nip it in the bud. “It was an impulse decision. I saw an advertisement in the newspaper and thought, why not?”
Stanley fixes his eyes on her as if trying to glean the truth. She holds his gaze. “I should come with you. I could do with a holiday.”
“You should!” cries Sheila. “It’s a wonderful place.”
“That would be most agreeable,” says Eudora. “But unfortunately, it’s all booked and I’m going next week.”
“Next week?” says Stanley.
“That’s right. Maybe next time,” she says, turning away.
“I’ll see you before you go, won’t I?” asks Rose.
Eudora hasn’t considered this. The thought sends shivers through her body. “I’m only going for a short while. There’s no need for tearful goodbyes.”
“Okay. Might you be able to get me one of those massive Toblerones, please? Dad brought me one back when he went on a business trip there. They’re mega.”
“I’ll try,” says Eudora, longing for the conversation to end and for the assembled company to leave.
As she is finally ushering everyone to the door, Stanley turns to her. “Tell you what, I’ll take you to the airport. Where are you flying from?”
“Gatwick, but there’s really no need.”
“I insist,” says Stanley, his face grave with intent.
“You have to let him. He won’t take no for an answer,” says Sheila. She leans in and kisses Eudora on the cheek. “Have a great trip. We’ll miss you.”
Eudora is momentarily glad that she’s leaving Stanley with this generous-hearted woman. “Thank you. And thank you, Stanley. It’s a very kind offer.” Stanley nods before following everyone else out the door.
Eudora doesn’t wave them goodbye, not today. She closes the door with relief. The silence of the house draws her in. Soon there will be nothing but silence. A shiver of panic quickens her heart. She catches sight of her father’s photograph gazing out at her with smiling kindness. She places a hand over her heart and then touches the picture.
“All shall be well,” she says. “Won’t it, Dad?”
Chapter 19
Eudora considers lying to Stanley about when she is leaving for
Switzerland. It would be easy enough to slip away like a fugitive one day. Less emotionally charged somehow. She has decided to keep her emotions in check from this moment on. What’s required now is practical focus.
Petra has been particularly helpful. Once she understood that Eudora’s decision was final, she made the flight and accommodation arrangements on her behalf and will be there to meet her at the airport. Eudora takes comfort in this. Even though they’ve never met, she senses that she can rely on Petra.
Eudora is satisfied that the loose threads of her life have been put in order. Last week she visited her solicitor. It was a cursory hour-long exchange with a woman Eudora had never met, who looked young enough to be her great-granddaughter. For once, Eudora was grateful for the casual indifference of the world. The woman was courteous enough but kept glancing at her phone, whose green light flashed constantly like a pulse.
This was another trait of the modern world that Eudora detested. No one ever gave you their full attention. There was always an urgent news flash about a royal princess buying shoes or a constant spewing of the same story about Trump or Putin or that infernal Brexit nonsense, the same story told with the words regurgitated into a slightly different order. Eudora had even caught Radio 4 in the act recently. It made her want to pack her bags and leave immediately.
On this occasion, however, the solicitor’s disinterest suited Eudora well. She wanted to ensure that the letters to be opened once she died were filed along with her will and that this woman gave her the final documentation she required for her trip without question. The woman performed both tasks without comment. Eudora left the offices after the meeting confident that she was making the right decision.
On the day before Eudora is due to leave, she wakes early. A dazzling streak of sunlight is forcing its way through the curtains. She is about to struggle out of bed to feed Montgomery when she remembers. He’s gone and soon she will be too.
“No time to waste,” she tells the empty house. “We must keep moving.”