“I never understood what Aretha was singing about, but you really do make me feel like a natural woman.”
He didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he knew how she felt. “I’m glad, KitKat. Rest now.”
“I will.”
As Cheryl’s breath slowed, he smiled to himself. He probably wouldn’t sleep tonight, but that wasn’t a problem. He didn’t think he’d ever had less of a problem. Suddenly, a sensation like falling down a staircase flashed through him.
You don’t deserve Cheryl, an internal voice muttered. Whatever you can do for her, someone else can do it better.
That line seemed to open a network of doors, all joined to paranoid thoughts, but he pulled Cheryl closer and willed them away. Everything was fine. It would all be fine.
15
Six months before the yacht party
“Are you sure it’s in the kitchen?” Cheryl called to her mum. She was shuffling through the papers near the toaster for the overdue gas bill, but all she could find were old prescriptions, letters from doctors, and birthday cards.
“I’m pretty sure,” her mum shouted back. “It’s got a big red stamp on the top.”
“Final notice,” she muttered. “Great.”
She shifted aside an old Aldi catalogue and saw it, red ink and all. One hundred and eighty dollars. She swore under her breath. “Found it. I’ll pay it right now.”
Her mum didn’t answer. She hated not being able to manage her bills, which was probably why she’d let this one go unpaid for so long. Cheryl opened the banking app on her phone, but a glossy brochure among the stack of papers caught her eye. It was poking out of the edge of the pile, and she could just make out the words ‘24-hour medical care.’
She pulled it out and found a leaflet for Wheelers Hill Assisted Living.
‘State of the art assisted living!’ screamed the front page. ‘Twenty-four-hour medical care, award-winning chefs and a wide range of daily activities, including music therapy and art lessons. Ask about our suite package prices today!’
She opened the pamphlet. It was mostly pictures; green lawns, chandelier lit lobbies, and neat white and blue bedrooms.
“CeeCee?” her mum called. “Everything okay?”
Cheryl could taste puke. She put down the leaflet and paid the gas bill, tearing it apart and throwing it in the bin.
“CeeCee?” her mum sounded nervous. “What’s happened?”
Shaking, Cheryl took the brochure into the living room. Her mum was sitting in front of the TV watching Sunrise and when Cheryl saw what she was holding, she drew back into her wheelchair. “I thought I threw that away.”
“You didn’t,” Cheryl said, surprised by how cold her voice was. “Why do you have a nursing home brochure?”
“Felicity brought it around. She thought it might be helpful to consider some… options.”
Bile rose in Cheryl’s throat, burning her tongue as the breakfast show hosts chirped happily away, unaware anything had changed.
“CeeCee, I don’t have to go into full time care yet. I won’t for a long time.”
She was lying. Felicity was an amazing nurse, kind and practical. If she’d brought up full-time assisted living, it was for a reason. She held up the Wheelers Hill brochure. “How much does a suite cost?”
“We don’t need to talk about this.”
“How much? Or I’ll call them and find out. You know I will.”
Sharon Walker let out a slow sigh. “One hundred and fifty dollars.”
Panic blared through Cheryl’s body. “A day?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Or there’s a deposit—it doesn’t matter. I’m not going there. I know we can’t afford it. It’s just apparently, the care is good compared to some other places…”
