Chapter 1
Meg pressed the buzzer and drummed her fingers on her thighs as she waited for a voice on the intercom.
‘Come on,’ she muttered, fanning her denim shirt, wishing she’d worn something more appropriate for the early December heat.
She had an urge to buzz again, but resisted. The Rosedale nursing staff were stretched enough as it was. Instead, she focused on the sound of water bubbling over smooth pebbles in the water feature by the door. She closed her eyes, imagining she was standing in the shade of a willow tree beside a cool creek. She opened her eyes. No such luck. She was still at a care facility in Sydney’s outskirts, too far from the coast to feel a sea breeze. With a looming deadline. She buzzed again.
‘Yes?’ an impatient voice said through the intercom.
‘Sorry, it’s Meg Hunter. Jenny’s daughter.’
‘Oh, good.’ The tone softened. ‘Come in.’
Stale air filled her nostrils as Meg stepped into the foyer, an acrid cocktail of stewed meat and disinfectant. A large woman got up from behind her computer screen. Doreen, according to her name tag. Meg hadn’t seen her before.
Doreen gave Meg a pained smile. ‘Thanks for coming down.’
‘That’s fine,’ Meg said. Although it wasn’t really fine. Pete would be going crazy. He’d already called twice.
‘She’s quite agitated, she’s—’
A beep came from Doreen’s pocket and she reached for her phone, shaking her head at the interruption. ‘You know where you’re going, don’t you?’ She was already walking back into the office.
Meg nodded. ‘Of course.’
Patterson Wing. Room 422.She’d find it eventually. She’d only visited once since her mother had moved rooms. How long ago was that? A month ago? Six weeks?
She moved through the labyrinth of dark corridors, following signs with arrows and room numbers, until she reached an open area that was vaguely familiar. A small group of silver-haired ladies, decades older than her mum, sat on upholstered chairs, exercising with large elastic bands. Meg gave them a smile as she passed through to the opposite corridor. Yes, Jenny’s room was down here on the right.
The first room looked empty. She stepped tentatively towards the door of the second room and met the gaze of a stooped man in navy pyjamas, standing behind a walking frame. His face lit up, clearly thrilled to have an unexpected visitor.
‘Hello, there!’
‘Oh, sorry,’ Meg said. ‘Wrong room.’
His face dropped slightly. ‘Who are you looking for, love?’
‘My mum, Jenny.’
‘Ah, Jenny. Next door,’ he said, jerking his head in that direction.
Meg thanked him and stopped outside the next room, watching her mother through the open door. Jenny stood at the window looking towards the garden, where the sun was starting to sink in the sky. The only sound was the distant shriek of cockatoos. She was still. Her blonde ponytail almost reached the waistband of her skirt. Meg had suggested a haircut a year or so ago, back when self-care was becoming too hard. Nothing too short, just shoulder length. A long bob. But Jenny had protested, and Meg had given up. She was glad now. Jenny still looked like Jenny. Beautiful. Slightly fragile. Young, despite the streaks of grey.
There had been no grey in her mother’s hair when the first signs of this terrible disease had made themselves known. At first, it was just little things. A forgotten name. A mixed-up plan. An overdue bill. Silly little things, easy to ignore or explain away. Her mother was only forty-six then. Who would suspect it? But when Jenny stopped getting book-keeping work from her longest, most-loyal client, Meg started to wonder.
At the first appointment with the neurologist, as they recounted all these little things in one heartbreaking conversation, it was obvious that something was wrong. Their worst fears were confirmed when Jenny failed a memory test, a test so simple that she had laughed when the doctor had given her three words to remember: pumpkin, train, chair. But when she was asked for the words just five minutes later, her brow had furrowed and she’d looked at Meg, glassy-eyed.
‘Mum?’ Meg said softly.
Jenny spun around and her face broke out into a smile. ‘I thought you would never come. Where have you been?’
Meg bristled. ‘I’ve been working.’
Jenny’s smile fell just a fraction. ‘Yes, of course.’ There was a crease now between her eyes as she looked past Meg into the hallway as though she’d been expecting someone else. She looked down at her hands.
‘Is everything okay?’ Meg asked. ‘The nurse rang me this afternoon, she said you were upset.’
‘She did?’
