A Mind of her Own

by Rosie Harris

  Peter didn’t seem to notice. He seemed content to simply sit, drifting into a dream world, or half asleep.

  When he sometimes got up and walked up and down the path, Betty felt that there was no longer any need to worry about him pottering in the flower beds. She even started to leave him on his down there while she went up to the flat to make them a cup of tea and bring it back down to the garden.

  One very warm afternoon she was contentedly reading when she realized that Peter had been absent from the seat beside her for rather a long time. She looked round the garden but he was nowhere to be seen. Slightly worried, she laid down her magazine and walked round looking for him in case he had gone behind one of the many flowering bushes and was hidden from sight. Peter wasn’t in the garden.

  Slightly more concerned Betty went up to the flat. The door was locked. She put her hand in the pocket of her cardigan for her keys; they were not there and she realized that she must have left them on the table out in the garden.

  When she went back down they weren’t there either. Puzzled, she searched through her pockets, and looked under the table in case they had fallen out. Then she heard Peter calling her and looked up to see that he was out on their balcony and leaning so far over that she was afraid he would fall over head first.

  Not wanting to alarm him she called up quietly, ‘I’m coming up to make you a cup of tea.’

  He shook his head, but she wasn’t sure whether he meant he didn’t want a cup of tea or was trying to tell her that he was coming back down. She wanted a drink herself so she went up anyway.

  When she reached the door of the flat she found it was still locked. She called out asking Peter to open it but there was no response. As she stood there, wondering what to do, she realized that he must have taken her keys to get in. Why had he locked the door from inside? She recalled the way he had leaned over the balcony and she was worried in case he was having one of his ‘funny turns’, as she called them.

  She tried to think of a way to persuade him to open the door and let her in but she couldn’t, partly because she was so afraid that he might fall over the balcony that she could think of nothing else.

  She tried two or three times to persuade him to open the door, but all she got from him was a strange laugh. He sounded demented. He certainly had no intention of opening the door.

  The only other person she could think of who had a key was Tim, but how could she reach him. Her scooter was inside the flat and she didn’t even have a walking stick so she couldn’t possibly walk as far as the high street. She wondered if there were any neighbours at home. Most of them were still of working age and out all day and the nice receptionist lady was nowhere to be seen and probably on a break.

  She went out into the road to see if anyone was passing by so that she could ask them for help. The street was deserted. In the end she tried to flag a car down. They just stared at her waving her hands for them to stop and drove on. Eventually a delivery van stopped.

  ‘Could you make a phone call for me?’ she said to the driver. ‘My husband has locked himself inside our flat and refuses to open the door to me. He’s suffering from dementia,’ she explained, ‘and I’m afraid he is going to do himself some harm. He’s talking about jumping from the balcony!’

  The van driver stared at her for a moment, as if he was trying to work out whether she was telling him was truth or whether she was the one who was demented.

  He shook his head; she looked sane enough; she reminded him of his mother, and he recalled the trouble they’d had with his father some years before he died.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘What’s the number?’

  She told him Tim’s number and said, ‘He has the estate agents in the high street. The trouble is I can’t walk that far.’

  ‘Is he a tall guy with dark hair?’

  ‘That’s right. Do you know him?’ Betty asked eagerly.

  The driver nodded. ‘I know him, we bought our house through him,’ he commented.

  As he spoke, he was dialling the number. When the girl who answered said she would put him through to Mr Wilson he handed the mobile over to Betty, so that she could explain things to Tim herself.

  ‘Tim, can you come round. Peter has locked me out of the flat and … and … and he’s threatening to jump from the balcony.’

  ‘All right, all right don’t worry I’ll be straight round. Are you with a neighbour?’

  ‘No …’ She was so relieved that she was sobbing now and her voice was muffled.

  ‘Don’t upset yourself, Mother. Calm down, I can’t hear what you’re saying.’

  The delivery driver took the mobile from her. ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘this is Bert Jackson. Your mother flagged me down and asked me to help her. I’ll stay with her until you get here.’

  Tim was there in a matter of minutes. He recognized Bert Jackson and thanked him for helping.

  ‘That’s all right,’ Bert told him, ‘but I can’t stay any longer. I’ve deliveries to get out before closing time.’

  When he had driven off, Tim tried to get a more lucid story from Betty.

  ‘Let’s go up and see if the door is still locked or whether he’ll let me in,’ Tim said.

  The door was still locked. Tim called out, ‘Peter, it’s Tim, can I come in?’

  There was a silence and then Peter said, ‘Is that woman with you?’

  ‘You mean my mother?’

  ‘That’s her. She’s not coming in here ever again,’ he said. ‘Understand?’

  ‘Yes, I hear what you are saying, but you can let me in,’ Tim said quietly.

  ‘No, I don’t trust you. You’ll bring her with you and I’m not having her in my flat ever again.’

  Tim placed a finger to his lips to warn Betty not to say anything, but it was no good. No matter what he said Peter would not open the door to him.

  Tim drew his mother away from the door and down the corridor. ‘Let’s go out into the garden and see if I can talk some sense into him from there.’

  Then they looked up and Peter was on the balcony.

  ‘You think I’m going to jump, don’t you?’ he shouted down to them. ‘You’d like me to do that; break every bone in my body but I’m not going to do it.’ Again, he gave the strange wild laugh that Betty had found so frightening.

  Tim didn’t bother arguing with him. He got out his mobile and phoned the police, explained the situation to them and asked them what he must do. They agreed to come round but told him that they would also be alerting the fire brigade to the situation.

  Within a very short while they were both there. The firemen had brought an extending ladder that they leaned against the balcony. Peter stood there watching them. When the ladder was in position he tried to push it away, but it was too heavy so that, with his limited strength, he was unable to move it.

  ‘I’ll go up and persuade him to come down with me,’ one of the firemen said quietly to Tim.

  As if alert to what was happening, Peter dashed back inside the room and they heard him lock the balcony doors.

  ‘Now he’s locked himself in completely,’ Tim said with a frown. ‘There’s no way now of getting him out.’

  ‘Have one more attempt at persuading him to open the main door,’ the fireman suggested, ‘and if that doesn’t work then we can break one of the panels of glass in the balcony doors and get in that way.’

  Peter was adamant that he wasn’t letting them inside so the fireman went ahead with breaking in. As soon as he was inside he unlocked the main door so that Tim and Betty could enter.

  By the time they did so, Peter was sitting down in his armchair, a rug over his knees already nodding off to sleep. He stared at them all in surprise.

  ‘This is like the dream I just had about firemen shouting to me from the ground. What’s going on? Is there a fire somewhere?’

  Thirty-Eight

  Tim stayed on after the police and firemen had left.

  Peter had settled down quietly in his armchair an
d appeared to be asleep, but Tim was taking no chances. He drew his mother out into the corridor and closed the door behind them, to make sure that Peter couldn’t overhear what he was saying.

  ‘Look, Mother,’ he said softly, ‘I don’t think that it is safe for you to stay here with Peter. He really does seem to be unwell and doesn’t know what he is doing. I think he needs hospitalization, you really aren’t safe to be alone with him.’

  ‘It’s just one of the spells he has from time to time, he’ll be all right now,’ Betty assured him. ‘You saw for yourself that he has settled down in his armchair and is asleep.’

  ‘Is he, or is he faking,’ Tim said in a worried voice. ‘I really don’t trust him, Mother. You don’t know what he will be up to next.’

  ‘He’ll be all right now, I’m quite sure of it,’ Betty said confidently. ‘He was upset about the police taking him in for questioning, he thought they were accusing him of a crime.’

  ‘Which proves that his reasoning has gone and he doesn’t know what is going on around him. I think he is living in a fantasy world,’ Tim told her. ‘I’m really concerned about your safety, Mother. Shall I ask a doctor to come round and assess him?’

  ‘No, certainly not. He doesn’t need any more upsets at the moment,’ Betty retorted sharply. ‘Leave him alone, let him sleep and wake up when he’s good and ready, and I know that he will be quite normal again.’

  ‘Yes, but for how long and what will the crisis be next time,’ Tim said grimly.

  Betty patted his arm. ‘Don’t you worry, I know it will all be back to normal once he’s had a good sleep.’

  ‘Very well,’ Tim said as he planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Remember, though, you are to ring me the moment there is any upset or trouble. Promise?’

  ‘Yes, dear. I promise I will but believe me, Peter will be as right as rain when he wakes up.’

  Betty was quite right, Peter woke up after a couple of hours of sleep, refreshed and ready for a cup of tea.

  ‘Are we going for a walk when we’ve drunk this?’ he asked.

  ‘No, not today,’ Betty told him. ‘I feel rather tired so we’ll sit in the garden today and go for a good long walk tomorrow.’

  Peter accepted without any argument. After a few days their normal pattern of day-to-day living was restored. The only grumble Betty had was that Peter never seemed to want to go to bed at night, which meant that he was tired and wanted to sleep for most of the following day.

  Although in some ways this was very convenient for Betty because it left her free to do the chores without any interruption, and even to go across to the supermarket for milk and bread if they needed them, it also meant that she, too, was tired because she couldn’t settle to sleep at night until she knew that Peter was safely in bed.

  She had a fear of him falling, or, even worse, that he might decide to go out for a walk, especially when it was a bright moonlit night.

  Several times she thought about mentioning it to Tim but she knew that his answer would be to call the doctor. She did mention it to Sally.

  ‘It’s his body clock gone wrong,’ Sally said. ‘Not much you can do about that. It’s another of the problems of old age.’

  ‘Well, my body clock hasn’t changed,’ Betty replied, ‘and neither has yours.’

  ‘True,’ Sally agreed. ‘In your case it’s a pity it hasn’t because then Peter sleeping half the day wouldn’t worry you because you’d want to do the same.’

  ‘I often do, not because my body clock has changed but because I’m so tired; sometimes I stay awake until two or three in the morning waiting for him to go to bed.’

  ‘Well, don’t do that,’ Sally said. ‘Go to bed and go to sleep. Leave him to sleep when he’s good and ready. If he has a fall then that’s too bad. I don’t suppose he’ll hurt himself and he’ll probably stay where he is and go to sleep. He won’t catch a cold, not at this time of the year.’

  ‘What about if he decides to go out for a walk,’ Betty murmured.

  ‘Keep all the doors locked and put the safety chain on the door at night. He probably wouldn’t manage to get that undone, if he does you will probably hear him anyway.’

  Sally’s advice seemed to make sense but sometimes, when she followed it, Betty felt guilty about leaving Peter up but she was so tired herself that the moment her head touched the pillow she was asleep.

  Peter was always in bed when she woke in the morning. Sometimes he was fully dressed, even wearing his slippers as he had been the night beforehand when she’d left him still watching television.

  Sometimes in the morning she even found that the television was still on. When she mentioned to him that he ought to turn it off before he went to bed, he scowled at her. ‘You always go to bed and leave it on,’ he reminded her.

  Betty said nothing in response to this. She knew it was true, but if she started the argument that if he went to bed at the same time as her then she would turn it off it would go on for days.

  Betty was finding more and more that, although Peter’s memory was now extremely bad, if he launched on a subject then he would keep the same topic going for several days, worrying at it like a dog with a bone until she was almost at screaming pitch.

  Lately, she mused, his look as well as his character had changed so much that there were times when she no longer recognized the placid, sweet natured man, with lovely blue eyes that she had known for so many years. Now he was becoming more and more aggressive and ill-tempered; his skin was like crinkled-up tissue paper and his hair was thin and almost white.

  He hated Sally coming round. ‘What do you want that woman in here for, chattering away like a bloody monkey. Whole load of nonsense she talks, tell her to push off. If you don’t tell her then I will.’

  Betty warned Sally of his funny moods and described them but Sally only laughed.

  ‘Don’t let it worry you, I can take whatever he has to say. Poor fellow, he’s going out of his mind. Some of them talk like that. They don’t like anybody, not even themselves. It’s you I’m concerned about, Betty. You are beginning to look cowed. Are you afraid of him?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. I’m tired Sally, that’s my trouble.’

  ‘Then why don’t you put him in respite for a couple of weeks and have a holiday? I’ll come with you. We’ll go wherever you like, do whatever you like. What about a short cruise or a couple of weeks in Bournemouth or somewhere like that? You choose, I’m game.’

  The more Betty thought about Sally’s suggestion the more attractive it became. It would be heaven to get away, somewhere peaceful, no worries about Peter and his odd behaviour. No shopping or cooking and regular hours.

  When she mentioned it to Tim he was very enthusiastic, ‘Good old Sally, it is exactly what you need. I’ll have a word with her and fix things, and I’ll make arrangements for Peter to go into respite for a couple of weeks. Fabulous idea.’

  Peter didn’t like the idea but Tim told him he had no choice. At first Peter thought that Betty was going with him but when he found out that she wasn’t he became very angry.

  ‘Trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?’ he accused, his brows drawn together in an angry scowl. ‘Bundle me into one of those places and then forget me. I’ve seen it happen countless times. Take all my money and go wild spending it while I’m shut-up in prison.’

  ‘No, Peter, it’s not like that at all. You will probably enjoy the break just as much as I will. It must be a strain for you living with someone when you’ve been a bachelor for most of your life.’

  Several times, because he was so upset, Betty tried to pull out of the arrangement or postpone it for a later date when Peter was stronger.

  ‘He’s not going to get any stronger or better and you know it,’ Tim said sharply. ‘You need a break, Mother. Go ahead with the arrangements that Sally has made; it will do you the world of good. Stop thinking of all the drawbacks and concentrate on packing. It’s less than a week away. Do you want to go and see the nursing home where Peter will
be going?’

  Betty hesitated. She didn’t want to offend Tim by saying she needed to see that it was all right, because she knew Tim would have been very careful to choose the most appropriate one. Tim had made a booking that meant Peter left home three days before she was due to travel. This gave her time to leave the house in order and do her packing.

  She had already put some clothes into a case but, now that she was on her own and could think about what she was doing without interruption, she decided they were all wrong and started all over again. She so enjoyed the peace and quiet of the flat that she would have been quite content to stay there and not do anything else for the time that Peter would be away.

  Once she and Sally set out, though, she felt excited at the thought of two weeks somewhere she hadn’t been before.

  The hotel Tim had chosen was a perfect escape. It was very comfortable, they were both thrilled with the choice. He’d booked them adjacent rooms, and Betty found that this was a perfect arrangement. It gave her an opportunity to be on her own whenever she felt like it.

  She had Sally’s company at mealtimes, for taking strolls along the promenade, or going further afield on arranged trips and for visits to the smart shops. She was even tempted to buy a new dress and some tops, and persuaded Sally into buying a new dress as well.

  ‘I don’t really need it,’ Betty admitted, ‘but I simply couldn’t resist it.’

  ‘You do need it,’ Sally told her, ‘every time you are feeling stressed put it on and it will bring back memories of this lovely holiday.’

  From time to time she worried about Peter and whether or not he was settled at the nursing home. Tim phoned a couple of times to reassure her that everything was fine and to ask if she was enjoying he holiday.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she told him. ‘Both of us are enjoying every minute and the weather has been wonderful.’

  She really was sorry when it came to an end, yet at the same time anxious. As they travelled home she wondered what she was going to find at the other end. Was Peter frustrated at being put in a nursing home; had his moods improved; would he be pleased to see her?