A sickening feeling of guilt churned in his stomach. Every day he’d planned to go and visit his mother and yet every day he’d found an excuse not to. He knew he was being a coward, but seeing Eleanor had been enough of a visit down memory lane; could he really handle any more?
‘She’s all right, not great but … you know, doing OK,’ Fin lied, praying his friend wouldn’t be able to sense the dishonesty.
‘I’m sorry, man. It must be tough.’
Yeah, really tough sitting around doing sweet nothing all day.
Fin’s guilt raged even stronger. ‘Thanks, mate, I appreciate it. Anyway, how are you doing?’
‘Me? I’m all good. Missing you. Working every hour the good Lord sends, but fine.’
‘What poor soul have you roped in to replace me while I’m gone, then?’
Rob burst out laughing. ‘I knew it wouldn’t be long until you asked me about work.’ He sighed in mockexasperation. ‘Some newbie from the agency. Not a patch on you, don’t worry. He’s a sweet kid but he’s got some stuff to learn.’
‘Don’t we all, mate,’ Fin replied whimsically.
‘You’re not wrong there, buddy. Anyway, speaking of work, I’d better go. I’m already running late to my shoot and I only wanted to check in and say hi. Send your mum my love. I’m assuming you’ve told her all about me.’ He chuckled childishly.
Fin felt the guilt practically clawing its way up his throat. ‘Sure thing. Bye, mate.’
As the phone went dead, all Fin could hear were the conflicting thoughts that were whirling around his head. Yes, it would be hard seeing his dying mother after all this time. Yes, it would mean facing all the things he ran away from so long ago. But was he really going to come all this way to wallow in empty chow-mein packets in his friend’s freezing cold apartment?
Just one visit. That’s all it is.
*
St Catherine’s Care Home was not, as he had imagined, a sterile block of a hospital building. In fact, if there hadn’t been the big white sign outside the driveway, he probably would have mistaken it for just another large Victorian house on the street. Seeing it, he felt a swell of relief; in spite of everything that had happened between them, he still wouldn’t want his mum to be holed up in some lifeless, dank place.
‘Hello! Can I help you?’ a small woman called out as he stepped into the reception. Her close-cropped wispy hair and large, round glasses made her look like a little owl,perched dutifully behind the desk. He smiled sheepishly, noting the name tag placed proudly on her chest.
‘Hi, Nurse Clara? My name’s Finley Taylor. We spoke on the phone a couple of weeks ago.’
Her face broke into a smile. ‘Ah, Mr Taylor, I’m so glad you came.’
‘Please, call me Fin.’ The nerves in his stomach were reaching peak intensity.
‘As you wish.’ Nurse Clara gathered up some papers and placed them to one side. ‘Shall I show you through to see your mother?’
‘Sure,’ Fin replied, shuffling nervously from one foot to the other, willing them not to turn around and run back out from where they had come.
‘Eileen won’t know what’s hit her. Two visitors in one day.’ Nurse Clara beamed; her harsh features softening instantly with her smile. ‘She’s just down here.’ The nurse opened the door to the side of the desk and walked briskly ahead, her tiny legs moving with efficiency. ‘Her friend should be finishing up soon; she only stays for half an hour or so. Luckily for you both, your mum is fairly lucid today. Fingers crossed it stays that way.’
‘About that.’ Fin paused, halfway through the door. ‘How bad is she? Like … what happens?’
Nurse Clara ushered him through and continued to stride down the long, red-carpeted hallway. ‘On good days it’s mainly just moments of confusion. Maybe some disorientation and forgetfulness. Bad days can sometimes mean she doesn’t remember where she is. How old she is. Who she is. There can be a lot of distress and anger on a bad day.’ She stopped and looked at him kindly. ‘Understandably, of course. It’s a terrible disease.’
‘Of course.’ Fin nodded, trying as hard as he could to digest all the information being given to him.
‘But like I said on the phone, your name never fails to crop up in conversation.’ The nurse patted his arm softly and stood outside the door at the very end of the corridor. ‘Here we go.’ She knocked loudly on the door. ‘Eileen, it’s your lucky day … we have another visitor for you.’ She smiled and winked at Fin, whose stomach surged with nausea.
‘Perfect timing, I’m just leaving,’ a voice called out from within. ‘Eileen darling, I’ll see you next week, OK? Stay strong and keep eating. Low blood sugars don’t help anyone.’
Fin felt his entire body freeze.
No.
It can’t be.
