Forgive and Forget

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘If you don’t do it now, Judith, you’ll never do it,’ her friend Jillian warned, and she’d been right. Lily had become dependent on her, and she only had herself to blame.

  Judith sat on the bed holding her father’s photo and stared out the window, unseeing, tears streaming down her face. It had all come back so real, so vivid. It must have been seeing the clean, comfortable, airy ward Lily was in, in contrast to that awful place her father had died.

  Recently she’d heard a senior government minister saying dismissively that health problems were only ‘peripheral’. She’d been incandescent remembering the drunk shouting and puking next door to her dying father. She would have liked to bury the cheesy, grinning, made-up face of that smarmy so-called ‘man of the people’ in that drunk’s puke and say, ‘How peripheral is that, you bastard?’ She was damn sure he would never end his days on a hospital trolley, nor any of his relatives either. The bitterness she felt over her father’s place of death and the conditions he’d died under had never been assuaged. Many elderly people were more afraid of A&E than they were of dying, and rightly so, Judith thought bitterly. Only once had she heard a politician from the opposition say that drunks should be treated separately from the very sick and elderly, and she wholeheartedly agreed, after her experiences, but of course it never happened. If anything, the system had got decidedly worse under the government that was still in power since her father had died. Judith wiped her eyes and struggled for composure. If Lily saw her crying she’d start.

  She supposed that she should come back in to visit her mother tonight. It looked as though neither of her siblings were going to bother. She should call Annie, Lily’s sister, and let her know that Lily was in hospital, but she was going to make it abundantly clear that Annie would have to sort out her own lifts. She wasn’t going to spend her precious free time as a taxi service for the relations.

  She could come back and visit for an hour and then go home and wash and prime the kitchen walls for painting. Her mother was being operated on in the morning and would be sedated, so there would be no point in visiting until the evening. She’d have a full day to herself to do what she wanted in the house. A rare treat.

  ‘Hang these up for me please, Judith.’ Her mother padded out of the bathroom in her new slippers and handed Judith her clothes.

  ‘Are you going to sit in the chair?’ Judith asked as she hung the tweed skirt, blouse and cardigan in the wardrobe and folded her mother’s underclothes neatly and placed them in the drawer.

  ‘I think I’ll get into bed,’ Lily decided, and Judith could see that she was already in patient mode as she eased herself under the bedclothes and lay back against the pillows.

  ‘Let me pour you a glass of water,’ she offered, softening as she watched her mother rubbing the bad eye. ‘Look, here’s the menu for tomorrow; we’ll fill it out. You’ll probably be fasting in the morning, but I’m sure you’ll be able to eat lunch or tea; you don’t get a full anaesthetic, so you’ll recover much quicker.’ She read out the selections offered and placed a tick in the box when Lily decided what she’d like.

  ‘Are you having a rest for yourself?’ A dark-skinned nurse swished back the curtains and smiled at Lily. She was foreign. Lily gave a little tight smile. She hoped all these foreign nurses were well trained, she’d said to Judith as they’d waited to be admitted earlier. She was very worried in case any of the house doctors examining her might be foreign and she wouldn’t be able to understand what they were saying. She had so many worries it was no wonder she was in a tizzy, Judith thought glumly as she saw the concerned look on her mother’s face.

  ‘I want to take your medical history now, pet, and your TPR,’ the nurse said in perfectly understandable English.

  ‘I should go.’ Judith stepped aside to let the nurse move up beside her mother. She wouldn’t be needed to translate!

  Her mother flashed her a look of panic. ‘Will you come back later?’ she asked hesitantly.

  ‘Yes I will, don’t worry. Ma, if you think of anything you need, ring me on the mobile.’

  ‘I will. Make sure you come back now.’ Lily, pinched and apprehensive, was nearly as pale as her pristine white pillows.

  ‘Relax, Mother, I’ll be back,’ Judith assured her, feeling a smidgeon of sympathy for her. Sometimes Lily was like a child, a very dependent child.

  ‘Off you go so, I’ll be here with your mother for a while, she’ll be fine.’

  The nurse took charge and, with a sigh of relief, Judith closed the door behind her and walked down the hospital corridor with a sudden exhilarating sense of emancipation. For the next few days the responsibility was no longer hers, and she intended to enjoy this brief respite as much as she could.

  She heard the self-important footsteps striding down the corridor. A pause, the door handle turned and then Mr Burton was standing beside her bed, all red-faced and pompous as he pulled the curtain half closed.

  ‘A little touch agitated, I hear, Mrs Baxter. No need to be troubled at all, you know. I’ll get them to give you a little sedation, I think. There’s nothing to worry about – as I’ve explained before, it’s a very common procedure, so don’t concern yourself. I’ll see you in theatre at ten fifteen.’

  He gave her a small bow, nodded condescendingly in the direction of Mrs Meadows, the other patient, turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

  ‘Pompous little git, isn’t he?’ the other woman remarked matter-of-factly.

  Lily managed a smile. ‘I suppose he has a lot of responsibility.’

  ‘Responsibility my hat. Some of that lot take themselves way too seriously. My fella, now, Mr Heeney, comes in and sits on the side of the bed and has a good chat with you and he’s a right laugh. There’s no nonsense out of him. That Burton is a stuffed little shirt. But he’s good though. He’s done two friends of mine and they’re right as rain.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Lily said interestedly. Mrs Meadows was a fount of medical knowledge. She was in for a bladder repair but had had a hip and knee replaced and several other minor procedures. She’d introduced herself to Lily when she’d come back from her session with the physiotherapist and had sat in the chair beside Lily’s bed and chatted away.

  Not for them the immediate familiarity so widespread among a younger age group. They used each other’s titles, Mrs Meadows and Mrs Baxter with ease, but the bond of widowhood and shared generational experiences opened the doors to mutual confidences.

  Widowed like Lily, Kitty Meadows had two sons who were married. She lived alone, she informed Lily, and wouldn’t have it any other way. She wasn’t going to be a burden on any of them, good and all as they were to her and, if it got to the stage that she couldn’t look after herself any more, she was going to sell the house and go into a nursing home and she’d told them that too.

  ‘But you hear terrible things about those places,’ Lily exclaimed. The other woman, who was a year older than her, had great spirit compared to her, she thought, ashamed of her own timidity.

  ‘Not at all.’ Mrs Meadows dismissed the notion. ‘I’ve one or two friends living in them, and some of them are fine places and give great care. Some of them are a disgrace, I’ll grant you, but keep looking until you find one that suits you.’

  ‘And don’t you mind living on your own? Don’t you feel nervous?’ Lily was curious.

  ‘What’s the point in being nervous?’ the other woman scoffed. ‘You’d spend your life waiting for something to happen. I get into bed, I say my prayers and I sleep like a log. Life’s what you make it, Mrs Baxter. It’s up to you. That’s my motto,’ her companion declared robustly as the rattling of a trolley outside heralded the arrival of tea.

  Lily had just finished her tea when the door opened and her son marched in with a large box of chocolates and a bottle of Lucozade.

  ‘Hello Ma. Judith sent me a text to let me know you were here. How are you, all ready to go under the knife?’ he said jovially, plonking down on the chair beside the bed. ‘I
can only stay for ten minutes. We’re going to an open night for Jonathan in Walton College. It’s so important to pick the right school for them now. I know it’s fee-paying, but it will be worth it in later years when he’s going for one of the professions. Still, at least I made the effort to get in to see you, even if it is only for a few minutes,’ he said, plucking a couple of grapes off the bunch Judith had brought for Lily. He picked up the paper from the end of the bed.

  ‘Just want to check the ISEQ and see how my shares are doing. The bloody property market’s in trouble in Spain,’ he informed her as he flicked open to the business pages.

  Did I spawn that stuck-up snob? It’s far from stocks and shares and fee-paying colleges he was reared. There was nothing wrong with the secondary school that his father and I sent him to, Lily thought in disgust as her pinstripe-suited son sat stuffing his face with her grapes, his head buried in the paper.

  ‘While I’m at it, Mother, you’ve made a will, haven’t you? It’s always good to have your affairs up to date.’ He studied her over his bifocals, eyes narrowed.

  She looked at him sharply. ‘Of course I have. I don’t need you to be telling me about my affairs,’ she snapped.

  ‘Don’t be like that now. I’m your son – it’s my duty to look out for you,’ he blustered. His hair was beginning to recede, making his nose look beakier, and his blue eyes beadier and smaller. He was skinny, too, which didn’t help.

  ‘Judith looks after me very well,’ Lily said pointedly.

  ‘I know that, Mother. She’s very good at the day-to-day stuff—’

  ‘She’s very good at everything. She’s painting the kitchen tomorrow, I’ll have you know. Something you should be doing!’

  ‘Now, Ma, you know I’m up to my eyes. Why doesn’t she get someone in to do it?’ Tom exclaimed in exasperation. ‘She doesn’t have to act the martyr.’

  ‘These things cost money, Tom,’ Lily shot back acerbically.

  ‘She’s on a good salary, Mother, and you have a decent pension – you should spend a bit of money on yourselves,’ her son lectured, pointing a bony finger at her.

  ‘Only for her I’d be lost,’ Lily said tartly.

  ‘Sure, what other responsibilities has she?’ Tom derided. ‘If she had to put three kids through college and worry about expanding a business, she’d have plenty to worry about. It’s not easy out there now,’ he moaned. ‘Thank goodness Glenda has that part-time job in the boutique to pay for the holidays and her car.’

  Lily listened to him rabbiting on about his expenses and the cost of maintaining the apartment he had in Spain, which wasn’t just a frivolous holiday buy, he assured her, but a long-term investment so that he’d have money to give his children to put deposits on apartments when they were of an age. If the property market was crashing over there, he could be left with negative equity.

  Listen to him now, she thought crossly. The boasting he’d done about that place in Spain. Every Tom, Dick and Harry in the golf club had been invited over to visit but not his elderly mother. Good enough for him if it went sour.

  What did he want to know had she got her will made for? He’d never been so blunt about it before. Did he think she was going to die on the operating table? He needn’t think he was going to find out what was in it. That was none of his affair. Judith was getting the house. And if he didn’t like it he could go . . . he could go and live in Spain with his negative equity, she thought acidly, wishing he hadn’t come to visit her at all.

  Tom Baxter drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he negotiated his way on to the slip road for the M50. He could see the traffic crawling along on it and he groaned. Glenda would go through him for a short cut if he was late for Jonathan’s open night. He’d sent her a text saying he’d meet her there and it hadn’t been replied to. She was obviously in a snit already. She probably wanted to arrive in the BMW; it would make more of a statement than arriving in her Polo. That’s what she’d be thinking. He had to admit she was right. Image was everything these days.

  His mother had been in a very fractious mood. Not at all grateful that he had made the effort to come and see her. Lauding Judith to the skies. There was no need for his sister to paint the kitchen herself; that sort of nonsense annoyed him. Judith was always trying to make him feel bad because she was the one taking care of their mother. What was her problem? She had a nice cushy number. A good job, no mortgage, no children to worry about. And Lily was very healthy for her age and well able to cook and look after herself. His sister would get a right land when Lily was gone and the house was sold and the proceeds divided between the three of them. Then she’d get a taste of real life and she’d have to go and get herself a mortgage and live like the rest of them.

  Lily had jumped down his throat when he’d enquired about her will. He just wanted to suss out if she’d made one. Any operation carried a risk at that age. If the will wasn’t made, would Judith claim possession of the house? He needed to talk to his solicitor about it. That house would pull in 500,000 euros easily. Drumcondra was a little goldmine for property. It was close to the city centre and the airport. The proposed Luas line was going to add enormously to the price of property. Judith could go and take a hike if she thought it was all going to her. There was no mortgage on the house and he wanted his share. Hell, he was relying on his share to pay off that damn mortgage in Spain and free up his money to invest elsewhere. Maybe not in property – property markets were taking a hammering, as were stocks and shares. He’d go for blue-chip commodities perhaps.

  Investing was such a risky business, and it was nice to know he had a safety net under him. Or so he’d thought. He bit his nails as the car sat idling in a mile-long tailback. He’d always assumed that the house would be left to the three of them to sell and divide up the spoils, but making assumptions could be a disaster. Better to know the full story. He might just take a meander over to the house tomorrow on the pretext of helping with the painting and see if he could have a little snoop in his mother’s room to see if he could find the damn will. Forewarned was forearmed.

  ‘Your brother wanted to know had I made my will, Judith. What do you make of that?’ Lily plucked agitatedly at the blanket. ‘He must think I’m going to kick the bucket. Hundreds of people have this operation at my age, don’t they? My nurse’ – Judith was amused at the possessive noun – ‘tells me it’s extremely common, and so did Mr Burton.’

  ‘Of course you’re not going to kick the bucket, Ma. What nonsense.’ She held on to her temper with difficulty. If she could get her hands on Tom she’d let him have it. It had been at least six weeks since he’d seen them. He hadn’t even called over at Easter, and now he was at Lily’s bedside wondering if she had her will made. What a crass bastard. ‘What else did he have to say for himself?’ she queried, wishing her mother would stop fidgeting.

  ‘Ach, do you know where he was off to? Going to an open night in some posh fee-paying college. Wouldn’t they give you a pain? That Glenda one always had notions. Then he was going on about his property in Spain, a place you or I will never be getting an invitation to. I told him you were at home painting the kitchen and told him he should be doing it. He scarpered pretty fast after that.’ Lily sniffed.

  ‘I suppose you were lucky to get a visit. Any word from Cecily?’

  ‘I got a phone call to say Daisy has the chickenpox and she won’t be visiting. Convenient, if you ask me. I thought she had that a few weeks ago.’ Lily lay back against her pillow. She looked tired. ‘Feck the pair of them anyway,’ she said. ‘My memory is long.’ She reached out her thin, birdlike hand and caught Judith’s in a surprisingly strong grip. ‘Never you fear, Judith. I’ve told you you’re getting the house, and he can mind his own business about my will. You’ve stuck by me and I know it wasn’t easy for you. Now I’ll stick by you.’ Lily had two pink spots on her cheeks, and her eyes were momentarily bright with determination, despite the sedative she’d been given.

  Judith felt strangely moved at
her mother’s little speech. It wasn’t easy for Lily to say those words. But it was reassuring to hear her mother confirm their agreement. A tendril of unease wound its way around her gut. Tom was a very determined character, and Judith had never actually seen her mother’s will. She couldn’t very well ask her where it was right now. That would be as insensitive as Tom had been, but it was something she needed to make sure was definitely in order or else she could have a very nasty battle on her hands to keep the home she’d lived in all her life.

  Judith sighed deeply. Why was there no respite? Why was everything an uphill struggle in her life? ‘That’s good to know, Ma,’ she said and was rewarded with another tight grasp. She hesitated. Did her mother expect a response? This was uncharted waters for them. Judith couldn’t remember the last time there had been physical contact between them. She gave a little squeeze back in return. Lily’s eyes met hers in unspoken agreement. Tom could do his worst; in this instance Lily and Judith were as one.

  ‘I’ll have the green gnocchetti piemontese style and the swordfish scallop, please,’ Aimee ordered, handing back the menu to the rather dishy waiter, who gave her a white-toothed smile that reminded her of a young Antonio Banderas.

  ‘A good choice, señora,’ he approved. ‘And to drink?’

  ‘I think the Arnesi?’ She glanced over at her dining companion, Roberto Calvari, a rep with one of her main suppliers.

  ‘Perfetto.’

  They were at the window table in the small room in Il Coriandolo, one of her favourite restaurants, in the heart of Milan and just a stroll from her hotel. Aimee wriggled her toes under the table. Today had gone very well and she was pleased with her selections of crystal, cutlery, china and napery. A day’s work well done, she decided as she sipped her perfectly mixed G&T with pleasure.

  At least she didn’t have too early a start in the morning. Her flight was at 11.35 and arriving at 13.10, so she’d miss the Friday rush hour.