‘Oh stop it you two, it doesn’t really matter. You like it, you don’t. Let’s talk about something else now.’ Erin looked from one to the other and neither spoke. ‘Aren’t you going to get your feet wet? It’s gorgeous.’
‘Nope,’ Adam said, pointing down at his scuffed Doc Martens.
‘Greg?’ Erin said hopefully.
‘Go on then,’ he said, pulling off his pristine Reeboks and heading down to the water’s edge. But by the time he’d hitched up his jeans and turned round to see if she was following him, Erin and Adam were lying back on the grass, their faces pressed so close they were almost kissing. Greg thought he might scream. He turned away again and swallowed down a lump in his throat.
‘Sorry Greg, I think we’re going to go back to mine for a bit. Will you be all right on your own?’ Erin’s voice sailed through the air. He turned to see Adam sliding his hand up her thigh and Erin swatting it away, and he had to look away again.
‘Yeah, no worries. See you later.’
He watched the water lap against his feet, trying not to think about Erin and Adam together, trying not to think about anything. Out on the water there was a splash, trails of white flicking up as a couple had a water fight on a rowing boat. It had been such a lovely day, just him and Erin. But now the whole memory had been tainted, distorted by a feckless, selfish man who Erin was too blind to see was no good for her.
Well, it didn’t matter how long it took her. One day he would make her see that it was him she wanted. One day, she would look at Greg the way she looked at Adam.
One day.
10
NOW
Madonna: ‘Like a Prayer’
Gliding up the driveway in my beaten old Merc, the gravel crunching beneath the tyres, I felt the tension rising in my neck and shoulders, and my hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. I adored my mum, but seeing her was so hard when I had no idea each time I visited whether she would have any clue who I was.
I pulled up outside the care home, the grey stone building glowering menacingly at me beneath the dark clouds, and closed my eyes for a moment. I needed a second to prepare for my visits these days, to remind myself that this wasn’t who Mum was. She wasn’t this broken shell of a human who didn’t know where she was or what she was doing there. She was the vibrant, funny, loving mum who had always looked after me, laughed with me, hugged me when I needed her. That mum, the one who made me feel safe, protected, was still in there somewhere, hidden beneath the cruel cloak of dementia. And by God, I missed her.
As I climbed out of the car, an icy gust of wind sent my hair flying and made me stumble. It was so hot in the care home I usually left my coat in the car, but not today. I made my way to the steps, ran up them, eager to get out of the cold, and stepped through the door. As it closed behind me the atmosphere transformed; there was an air of calm in here quite unlike anywhere else I’d ever been.
‘Erin, hello,’ said a voice and I turned and smiled.
‘Suzy,’ I said warmly. We didn’t hug the way we used to – two years of living through a pandemic seemed to have put an end to niceties like that – but she did clutch my arm in greeting. I’d known Suzy for more than eight years, ever since Mum moved in, and she meant the world to me. Not only did she look after my mum, but she looked after me too. I honestly didn’t know how I’d make it through these visits without her.
‘How are you?’ she said now.
‘I’m good,’ I replied, the way I always did. There was something about Suzy that made you want to confide in her, to spill all your secrets, confident that she’d make you feel better. And right now, what with Adam, the memory loss, Greg’s gambling, it felt as though I needed someone to confide in. But I held back. ‘Work’s busy,’ I said instead. ‘How are things here?’
She nodded. ‘Really good. Your mum’s having a good day.’
I nodded and forced a smile. Suzy’s idea of a good day was not always the same as mine, and if I allowed myself to hope that Mum might just know who I was today, I’d almost certainly end up disappointed.
‘Come on, let’s take you to her. She’s in her room.’
Of course she was. She always was. She used to spend time in the common room, listening to music, watching TV or chatting to her fellow inmates – sorry, residents. But these days she hardly left her room because everything either confused or terrified her. My heart felt heavy in my chest as we trudged along the corridor.
‘Penny, Erin’s come to see you,’ Suzy said, as we reached Mum’s door, and she pushed it open softly and we stepped inside. The air in the room was still and dry as a desert, the modern radiator in the corner pumping out heat all day and all night. Mum’s three-quarter size bed was pushed up against the far wall by the large window that overlooked the garden – something Dad had insisted on when we moved Mum in here – and her bedspread was pulled neatly up and tucked under the pillow. This was the work of a nurse, I knew, because even before she was ill Mum was never this fastidious. She hated dirt and clutter, but she didn’t believe in spending too much time doing housework.No-one will ever remember you for having a tidy house,she always said. Not much about this room reflected Mum, even aside from the tidiness. Mum’s favourite photos were placed haphazardly in frames on top of a plain pine chest of drawers, some of her make-up scattered beside them, crumbs of broken face powder and smears of lipstick marking the surface. But the artwork, the décor – it was all drab, generic, institutional, with none of Mum’s flair and eye for colour. It felt as though the mum I’d always loved had been left at home with Dad, with just her body here for show.
Right now, Mum was sitting in one of the burgundy high-backed armchairs that had been turned to face the window, and I held my breath as I waited for her response to hearing my name. Slowly, she turned, her eyes taking their time to focus.
‘Hello,’ I said, taking care not to approach too quickly. I’d learned a few things over the last few years, including to move towards her slowly in case she got frightened, and not to call her Mum straight away in case she didn’t recognise me. That could make her really stressed.
‘Hello, who are you?’ she said with a blank smile.
‘I’m Erin,’ I said, making my way slowly to the seat across from her and lowering myself down gently.
‘That’s a lovely name. Have you come to give me more medicine?’
‘No Mu—’ I stopped. ‘No, I’ve just come to see you.’
