‘The past is the past,’ Laurie says, deflecting the attention away from herself as she says, ‘I hope you can work things out with your family, Angus.’
He turns to her, one hand on the steering wheel. ‘Thanks, Laurie, so do I. How are you in the back?’ he calls out to me, glancing in his rear-view mirror. ‘You’ve been quiet.’
‘All good,’ I say, wondering if I’m a bad person for thinking that while I want Angus to be happy, and for Benjie to have his family back together, equally I love what the three of us have, and I don’t want anything to change.
‘Bridport straight on,’ Angus says, as we go straight over the roundabout. ‘We’re almost there, guys.’ Thankfully no one has to navigate since Angus knows West Bay well. He told us it’s a small fishing village with a harbour, on the Jurassic Coast, a coastline of beautiful golden cliffs that stretch for miles.
‘Laurie, do you want us to come in with you, at least to begin with?’ I ask.
She composes herself. ‘What if she doesn’t recognise me?’
‘She might not,’ Angus warns her. ‘If you’re in any doubt, we don’t have to go through with this. We can turn round and go home.’
‘We can’t do that!’ Laurie protests. ‘That would be stupid.’
‘Point is, this is your decision, Laurie,’ he says.
‘I’m seeing Pat, so let’s get on with it.’
Angus glances in the rear-view mirror and catches my eye again. As he parks in a large pay and display carpark by the beach, I can tell he’s thinking the same as me. That Laurie surprises him, that she’s stronger than we give her credit for. She knows her own mind, far better than we do.
We press a buzzer and a nurse greets us at the door, asking who we’re visiting and to sign our names in the visitors’ book placed on the desk in the hallway. ‘Could you show us the way to Pat’s room?’ Angus asks, explaining we haven’t visited before. The nursing home is busy, staff bustling around. I can hear a television playing in the lounge, and take a quick peep inside. Half a dozen elderly folk are sitting side by side, a few have nodded off in front of the screen.
The nurse points to a passage on the right, telling us she’s room number twenty-five. ‘She’s sitting up in her chair now, and I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you. She doesn’t get many visitors, only her daughter. Are you related?’
‘I’m an old friend,’ Laurie says, crunching her knuckles.
‘Oh, how lovely,’ she replies, before she’s needed somewhere else.
Laurie tells us she needs the toilet.
‘There’s a visitors’ toilet by the entrance,’ the nurse calls out, on her way upstairs.
Minutes later, Angus knocks on Pat’s door. I squeeze Laurie’s hand. She squeezes it back, before we go inside.
We find Pat sitting in a high-backed green armchair beside her bed, the television playing loudly in the background, though Pat seems completely disinterested in the cooking programme. On her bedside table is a book of wordsearch puzzles, a framed family photograph and a box of After Eight chocolates. Her room backs out on to a garden, with a view of the sea. Pat’s wearing a navy cardigan over a blouse, and despite it only being a mild day in mid-September, she has a thick crochet blanket across her lap. Pat sits motionless, no hint of recognition in her watery blue eyes when Laurie says hello. Her hair is fine and light brown, tinged with grey, brushed flat with two plain clips on one side. She smells of sleep, rose talcum powder and that old people smell which is indefinable, yet unmistakable. ‘Hello Pat, it’s me, Laurie.’
Pat looks confused. ‘Where’s Rochelle?’
‘It’s Laurie, do you remember me? You looked after me.’
No response.
Laurie glances at Angus and me helplessly. We urge her to keep going.
‘You took me in, Pat. When I was sleeping rough you brought me back to your place, do you remember?’
Pat shakes her head.
‘You gave me a cup of tea and a sausage roll,’ Laurie persists. ‘We used to play Scrabble and cook.’
Something in Pat’s eyes changes.
‘You taught me how to make chocolate sauce and roast a chicken. I was amazed all you had to do was bung a bird in the oven, d’you remember! And we made an After Eight cheesecake! Can see you still like them chocs.’
Pat looks at Laurie more inquisitively now.
‘It’s Laurie, Laurie Rose you used to call me, because you loved my middle name.’
