Nathan settled on a corner of the sofa with his coloring book, and Rachel and Claire both sipped their tea in surprisingly peaceful silence.
“How did this morning go?” Claire finally asked. “With your mum?”
Rachel grimaced. “Hard. We really need a wheelchair, but there’s none available at the moment. Bloody NHS.” She glanced worriedly at Nathan, but he seemed oblivious. “I don’t know what we would have done without Andrew. He helped me carry Mum inside.” She closed her eyes briefly. “Not something I want to ever have to do again, in all honesty.”
“I can imagine.” Although she wasn’t sure she could. Janice Campbell was a big woman.
“Mum looked so miserable,” Rachel continued, her voice catching. “I’m sure her back is absolutely killing her, although of course she can’t say. She’s on a million different meds now. I’ll never get them straight, and they all cost a mint.” She sighed and shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t mean to moan.”
“You have every right to moan, Rachel. It all sounds pretty awful.”
“It is.”
“Will your mum—will she improve? In time?”
“There’s no saying. With rehab, maybe a little. But...” Rachel paused, her face contorting a little before she took a measured breath. “She’s only fifty-one. She could live like this for God knows how long.”
Which meant Rachel could live like this for God knew how long. It was a life sentence, and a very tough one.
“I’m sorry,” Claire said quietly. “Are Lily and Meghan helping?”
“Meghan disappeared this morning and hasn’t been back.” Rachel glanced again at Nathan before giving Claire a pointed look. “I don’t know when she will be.”
“You mean . . . ?”
This time she looked pointedly at Nathan. “I don’t know.”
“Look, let me help—”
Rachel raised her half-drunk cup of tea. “You already have.”
“I mean really help. Properly. How on earth are you going to cope otherwise?”
Rachel’s face took on a pinched look. “Trust me, Claire, I managed fine before you came along.”
“I know you did. Of course you did. But I want to help, and I have some time.”
“That’s what Andrew said.”
Claire jerked back a bit in surprise. “What?”
“He said I should ask you to help. But you went ahead and asked me.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, let me help, then.”
“Doing what? Changing my mother’s nappy? Wiping the spittle from her chin?” Her voice rang out, and Claire drew back, shocked, and then even more shocked when Rachel’s face crumpled and she started to cry.
“Rachel . . .”
“Don’t.” Rachel held her hands up to her face as she drew in several shuddering breaths. “Honestly. Please don’t.”
Don’t what? Help her? Comfort her? Claire saw Nathan looking like he was about to cry too, and quickly she scooped him up into her arms. “Back into the kitchen, I think. How about another digestive?”
“Ray-Ray...” he began, but he didn’t protest as Claire deposited him in a kitchen chair and thrust another digestive into his grubby hands.
Then, for lack of anything better to do, she made Rachel another cup of tea. By the time she brought it into the sitting room, Rachel had gotten control of herself. Claire handed herthe tea and Rachel took it, bringing the cup up to let the steam hit her face.
“Sorry about that,” she said, her gaze on the tea.
