“Hi, Mum,” Dina says. “How are you today?”
“I’m fine,” she replies, with an edge to her tone. “Stop asking.”
“Okay,” Dina says. She glances back at me before taking a few steps into the room. “There’s someone here to see you. Can you be nice for a few minutes?”
Rachel makes apfftsound. “I’m always nice. Unless it’s one of those bitches out there.”
Dina bites her lip. “Sorry. She’s been a bit difficult recently.”
I wave a hand to tell her not to worry. I know already that dementia can cause changes in personality.
“Hello, Rachel,” I say. “Can I sit down?”
“I suppose so.” She leans forward, as though interested in who I am.
I bring the chair closer so that she can see me properly.
“I know you,” she says. “You’re the girl.”
“I was once,” I reply.
“No. The girl!”
“Which girl?” I ask gently.
She stares out of the window. “It’s going to rain, you know. And when it rains, I get tired. I always say that, don’t I?”
“You do, Mum,” Dina says.
“I totally understand,” I say. “I promise I won’t stay if you’re tired.”
“That’s good of you,” Rachel says with a huff.
The sense of disconnection grows. A hot flash works its way up the back of my neck. I move my hair and waft air around my shoulders.
“Hot, are you?” she asks. “It’s always fucking freezing in here.”
“Sorry,” Dina says. “She never used to swear.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” I say. “Rachel, can I tell you something?”
“If you want,” she replies.
“Fifty years ago, a young woman gave me up for adoption. I think that young woman was very scared but very brave to do that. I was adopted by two amazing people who loved me very much. I don’t feel any anger or animosity towards my birth mother. I’m just sorry she was so afraid.”
Rachel listens, her eyes misty, her expression impassive.
“Do you remember anything about that?”
“No,” she says.
I glance at Dina.
Dina shrugs.
I pull my attention back to Rachel. This time, before I speak, I take in her features. She has the same heart-shaped face and thin lips she gave her daughters. I wish I’d seen her before her hair went grey. I’m guessing we share the same natural colour.
“Did you have a baby when you were young?” I ask.
