‘Let me explain.’ Theresa drew a deep breath and assumed a solemn expression. ‘As you know, residents aren’t supposed to have alcohol in their rooms.’
Claire had an awful feeling she knew where this was going, but she was so giddy with relief that nothing serious had happened to her mother that she didn’t really care.
‘It’s for their own good. The rules are there for everyone. Of course, we let them have a little drink on special occasions, but it’s all properly regulated. We have a duty of care to our residents…’
Claire sat back and let Theresa’s words wash over her. Apparently her mother’s friends had been smuggling in drink for her and she had been holding raucous parties in her room, her fellow residents crowding in, getting drunk and disorderly, then staggering back to their own rooms trying to support each other when they could barely support themselves with their Zimmer frames and walking sticks. Last night, one of Espie’s friends, June, had fallen and broken her wrist. According to Theresa, June was being very stoical about it and was standing up for ‘Mum’, but her family had taken a dim view and were threatening to sue the home and go to the papers with their story.
‘Mum’s a bit of a live wire, isn’t she?’ Theresa said, creasing her face into a facsimile of a sympathetic smile.
Well,mymum is, Claire thought. I don’t know aboutyours. The way Theresa referred to her mother as ‘Mum’ made her skin crawl.
‘And that’s lovely,’ Theresa hurried on. ‘It’s great that she’s still so full of life. She’s a real character and very popular with the other residents. But I’m afraid she’s a bit of a disruptive influence on some of our old people.’
Oh God, Claire thought, resisting the urge to giggle, was her mother gettingexpelledfrom a nursing home?
‘She’s only here for convalescent care so?—’
‘Please don’t kick her out,’ Claire interrupted, hating that she was reduced to begging. ‘We really need this. I work full-time, and need her to be a bit more mobile before she comes home.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Theresa said, waving her hand in a calming gesture. ‘We’re not asking her to leave. If she was one of our permanent residents, we’d have to look at the situation very carefully. The welfare of our old people is paramount. However, as it’s only for another couple of weeks, I’m sure we can manage. But maybe you could have a little word with Mum? We really can’t afford a repeat of last night. Do you think you could get her to stick to the rules for the rest of her stay?’
‘Yes, I’m sure I can,’ Claire said, relieved. ‘Thank you.’ She had never imagined she would feel such abject gratitude to Theresa Byrne.
‘No problem.’ Theresa’s smile was genuine this time, so delighted was she to have the upper hand. ‘Maybe you could talk to her friends too. People mean well, but…’ She paused. ‘Does Mum have a problem?’ she asked, almost in a whisper.
‘Sorry?’
‘Mum – does she have a little problem?’
‘Well,’ Claire said, feeling confused, ‘she has a weakheart… and severe arthritis. You know that. I’d say she has a lot of problems.’
‘A drink problem?’ Theresa mouthed the words, raising her eyebrows.
‘No!’
‘No shame in it, you know,’ Theresa prodded.
‘I know, but she doesn’t have a drink problem. She enjoys a drink, like the rest of us – but it’s not a problem.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Theresa said doubtfully. ‘There’s lots of help available, you know, if?—’
‘Thanks,’ Claire said, standing up to go. ‘I’d better go and see her now. And thanks, too, for letting her stay.’ Theresa stood and they shook hands. ‘I’ll make sure she doesn’t break the rules for the rest of her time here.’
When she had her hand on the door knob, Claire turned back to Theresa. ‘Her name’s Esperanza, by the way,’ she said, wishing she could say it without her hands sweating and her voice shaking.
‘Sorry?’ Theresa frowned in confusion.
‘My mum. Her name’s Esperanza. Esperanza Kennedy. But everyone calls her Espie.’
It was such a lovely day that she pushed her mother outside in her wheelchair to sit on the lawn.
‘I got a severe talking-to from Theresa about you,’ Claire told her.
‘Oh dear, am I in the doghouse?’
‘She thinks you have a drink problem.’ Claire grinned conspiratorially.
Her mother threw back her head and laughed her hearty laugh.
