Olivia must have mentioned it. I could picture it: my chatterbox of a girl telling her grandmother all about her friends, then ours, including her aunties next door, Penny and Louise.
NINETEEN
PAUL ARRIVED AT NOONon Friday, just as promised. He looked thinner, paler than he had at the beginning of the week. There were blue-black circles under his eyes.
I went out to the driveway to meet him.
He hugged me, one of those weak hugs people give because they feel they should. Then he pulled away, saw my face, and looked worried. “Everything okay?” he asked. “Is Mavis…?”
“She’s doing okay,” I said. “Things are going well for the most part.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Good.” His eyes darted from the house to me and back again.
“Mother seems to be settling in fine. We have our ups and downs.” I paused, thinking that was quite an understatement. “But overall, I’d say it’s going okay.”
I looked at Paul. His expression made it clear he suspected I wasn’t being a hundred percent truthful.
“The hospice nurse is working out?”
“Yeah. Teresa’s great. She’s really down-to-earth. At first I was a little worried that she wasn’t Mother’s type, but it turns out they really like each other. Teresa comes every morning. In fact, you just missed her.”
“I’m glad it’s going well. Is Mavis up now?”
“Oh yes, she’s been eagerly awaiting your appearance.”
He nodded, though I thought I caught a hint of disappointment on his face. But that was silly—surely he hadn’t come all this way hoping to find her asleep. “Good, good. I’ve got some paperwork to go over with her.And I brought some more of her possessions from the house in Woodstock. Some books and personal things to help her feel more at home.” He reached into the backseat where a couple of bags and a box were piled.
“Paul?”
“Yeah?”
“You know my mother well. Probably better than anyone else. Better than me, certainly.”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, lips pressed together. He nodded.
“The thing is, I was wondering, before she got sick, was she… I don’t know, showing any signs of confusion?”
“Confusion?”
“It’s just… well, it’s little things. She’s been wandering; getting up in the middle of the night and leaving her bed. And there are times she seems genuinely addled. She doesn’t seem to know where she is. She even got the bedroom window open one night.”
He looked worried.
“It hasn’t happened since. Most of the time, she’s really clear. But now and then… well, it’s almost like her whole personality changes. She’s even told me she’s not really Mavis.”
“Not Mavis?” Paul’s jaw tightened, and he squinted his eyes like I was going out of focus. Like maybe I wasn’t really Alison.
“And a couple of times she’s gotten agitated, told me she shouldn’t be here. That it’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” He raised his eyebrows.
“I was talking about it with Teresa, and she wonders if there might be a dementia component to some of this behavior.”
He shook his head. “No. Not that I’m aware of, anyway. I’ve never seen any signs of it. Mavis… well, she’s always been sharp, perfectly clear.”
“Probably just her illness and the medicine, then.”
The lines in his forehead deepened as he gave me a seriously worriedlook. “Are you really doing okay with this, Alison?” he asked. “I know it’s a lot, having her here. If you need more support, we can get more nursing care, have someone here round the clock if necessary.”
