‘Salim, you’re looking at me as though I’ve grown two heads. Shower. Eat and talk.’ Michelle kissed him. ‘I promise you it will all make sense.’
‘You can watch TV for another thirty minutes and then you’re off to bed,’ Ramouter said as he watched his son carefully carry his plate and place it in the sink.
‘Can I watchX-Men?’ Ethan asked as he spun around in the kitchen in his version of a superhero landing.
‘One episode and then bed.’
‘He’s got far too much energy,’ said Michelle. ‘It was exhausting watching him run around with his cousins.’
‘It’s good for him though,’ said Ramouter, tearing a slice of garlic bread in half. ‘To be around family.’
Michelle leaned back in her chair. ‘You sound as though you want to go back to Bradford.’
‘What? No, I’m happy here. We’re happy here and the last thing I want to do is to uproot us again. We all need stability, which is why—’
Ramouter paused as he reached for his glass of wine.
‘Go on say it,’ Michelle said, staring him dead in his eyes. ‘Go on,’ she repeated.
‘I don’t understand how your consultant can suggest that you go back to work,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that a bit irresponsible?’
Michelle rolled her eyes. ‘You sound just like my mam.’
‘You discussed it with her first and not me.’
‘It wasn’t like that. She was eavesdropping on my call. You know what she’s been like ever since she found out that I went walkabout before I moved down here. Hovering over me at every opportunity to make sure I don’t lose my way.’
‘You didn’t just go walkabout, Miche,’ Ramouter said, working hard to keep his voice gentle. ‘You went missing and broke into our old house.’
‘It was hardly a break in. I had a key,’ she replied with a short laugh.
‘It’s not funny. Early onset dementia is not funny.’
‘And no one knows that better than me.’
Michelle took a breath, reached for a glass of water, changed her mind, picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. ‘I had all these plans for my life, Salim. Not just my life but ours and none of them included not having any memory of you or our son and even that annoying budgie by the time I’m fifty.’
Ramouter reached across the table and took hold of Michelle’s hand. ‘I know that it’s hard for—’
‘No, sweetheart. You don’t know how hard it is.’
Ramouter straightened up and shifted his chair closer to Michelle. ‘Tell me what the consultant said.’
‘I’m doing well. A lot better since he changed my medication. My symptoms have reduced, so I’m a lot less agitated and the memory recall is improving. I’m more confident than when I first got here, and he’s suggested that I try cognitive simulation therapy.’
‘What is that?’
‘Sitting with a bunch of strange men in the park playing chess.’
‘I really don’t know if you’re serious or not.’
‘Half serious. It’s focusing on activities that help improve my memory and thinking skills. Forty-five minutes every week. I can handle that, which is why Mr McNamara suggested working part time. Obviously not as an accountant but I was talking to one of the mams at Ethan’s school. I’ve told you about her, she has the bookshop on Honor Oak Road.’
‘You want to work in a bookshop?’
‘Why not? It’s better than sitting at home watching repeats ofDeath in Paradiseall day. It will just be for a couple of mornings during the week. My life isn’t over yet, Salim.’
Ramouter buried his face into Michelle’s neck, breathing in her hair and hiding the fact that tears had filled his eyes.
