‘We really shouldn’t get involved,’ Carrie said.
‘No, we shouldn’t,’ Jules agreed before marching down the ward towards the end bed.
By the time they got there Rita was making a start on ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ and Alastair was raking his hands through his hair. The doctor who stood hesitantly by the window was looking extremely stressed, but Jules suspected that was probably his default expression and not necessarily a reflection on Rita.
‘Mum, will you please stop singing?’ Alastair said in a raised voice. ‘You’ll end up being sectioned, not just sent into respite care.’
But Rita ignored him. She was sitting in the chair next to the bed, her leg propped up and her eyes cast down, the lids slightly red and puffy. On her lap lay an open prayer book. Jules wasn’t sure if she was clasping it for comfort or was ready to throw it at someone if they got too close.
‘Each little flower that opens
Each little bird that sings.’
Jules bent over and touched Rita’s shoulder. She looked up.
‘Oh, Jules. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? And Carrie, too. What a treat.’
Rita gave them both a wobbly smile.
‘We just came to see how you are,’ Jules said, perching on the side of the bed, briefly including the doctor and Alastair in her gaze.
‘Iwasall right,’ Rita said. ‘Looking forward to going home. The doctors and nurses say I’m doing well.’
‘Are you Rita’s daughter-in-law?’ the doctor asked Jules.
She opened her mouth to answer, but Rita got there first.
‘No, more’s the pity. I expect it’s because ofherthat you’re both plotting to put me into this home.’
‘We’re not plotting and it’s not a home, Mum,’ Alastair said, wearily. ‘It’s respite care. Just for a couple of weeks until you’re properly on the mend.’
‘And once I’m in there I’ll never come out,’ Rita replied vehemently. ‘I’ve seen it happen. My friend Valerie went into one of those places for two weeks because her family didn’t want to have to worry about her while they went swanning off on some long-haul holiday and two years’ later, she’s still there, poor soul. You’re not doing that to me. When I leave here, I want to go home.’
‘I’m sure no one has any intention of keeping you in there longer than necessary,’ the doctor began.
‘People are full of intentions,’ Rita interrupted, in a tearfully furious voice, ‘and they’re not always upfront about them. “Be very careful, then, how you live – not as unwise, but as wise, making the most of every opportunity,” Paul says in Ephesians and some people’s opportunities are other people’s disasters.’
‘Mum,’ Alastair said, a desperate tone weakening his voice, ‘I really don’t see that you have any choice.’
He cast a sideways glance at Jules, his eyes looking for some support.
‘Too old to have a choice now, am I?’
Rita dabbed at her eyes with an overly damp tissue. Jules rummaged in her bag and found a clean one.
‘Here you are,’ she said.
‘Someone at least knows how to look after me,’ she said accusingly to Alastair.
‘You’ll need someone to look after you for a few weeks,’ the doctor said, ‘not just in the moment. You’ll need help getting around, in and out of bed, to the toilet, maybe cook some meals for you.’
‘I’ve got a freezer full of meals,’ Rita said. ‘Enough to keep me going and before you say anything I have a granddaughter and friends who will rally around and a daughter-in-law who can help out.’
‘Mum, I really don’t think it’s fair to expect Christabel…’
‘Not Christabel, Alastair. You must think I’m losing my marbles. I wouldn’t expect such a thing of her in a million years. No, Rosie, your brother’s wife, just in case you’d forgotten. They’re coming back from holiday in France to see me tomorrow. She won’t mind staying for a while.’
Alastair massaged his temples.
