Something had been changing lately. Something unexpected.
She dropped the pen back onto the desk and sat back in her chair.
She'd been so angry—no, scared—and in that fog she'd missed what was really happening; hadn't seen the important details until they'd been pointed out to her.
Her mother was right.
She’d laid out exactly how Sloan saw her now: old, broken, frail. When had Gloria Slater gone from being vibrant and alive, to just a hollow version of herself?
And what else had she missed? Her mother had sided with Matty? Siding with a carer? For the first time, Gloria had someone on her side—and she liked it that way, didn't she?
Chapter twenty
Neither Gloria nor Matty heard the door open when Sloan came home two hours early. Unable to settle, she’d packed up her things and left work.
Like the previous days when Matty was here, something good was cooking, the aroma drifting through the house. As she put her bag and jacket in their usual places, she listened, hearing something she hadn’t heard in a long time—no commotion, no shouting, and no carer running out of the room in terror. The TV wasn’t set loud just to annoy anyone. None of that previous chaos. It was the complete opposite.
Peace.
The TV was on, but at a volume most people would have considered normal. Occasionally, her mother and Matty would laugh at something on the screen.
Sloan slipped off her heels and walked in stocking feet to the doorway, where she found her mother in the throne, picking at a bowl of crisps, with a can of beer and a glass on the tray beside her.
What the hell was happening here?The only answer she could think of was Matty. But how? How had this woman managed in a few days what seventeen professionals couldn’t?
She found herself torn between wanting to celebrate this moment, and still wanting to give Matty hell for taking her mother off on that crazy adventure. She stopped herself as the wordadventuremetaphorically slapped her in the face.
“Either come in or sod off,” Gloria said without looking at her.
Sloan found herself smiling as she stepped into the room and saw Matty looking up at her from her place on the sofa, half-hidden behind the open door. There was space on the other end of the sofa and Sloan sat down carefully, perched on the edge.
“Good day?” Matty asked. She reached down to the floor and lifted two cans clipped together, snapped one free, and passed it to Sloan, who took it with hesitant fingers.
“Actually, I’ve spent all afternoon worried sick. What the hell were you both thinking?” She put the unopened beer to one side. “You could have really hurt yourself,” she said to her mother, before turning to Matty. “I thought we were both clear about her limitations.”
“Iamclear on Gloria’s limitations. So is Gloria,” Matty answered. “I read your notes—very detailed, thank you. And I read the notes from her previous carers. They said nothing about exercise, other than that she refuses to do it. So I took it upon myself to research what might help Gloria with her movement, and put it into practice.”
“And whizzing round in a wheelchair with you on skates was high on that list?” Sloan’s eyebrow lifted. “She’s supposed to be doing chair exercises.”
“And yet, she doesn’t.”
“Iamin the room,” Gloria said, lifting the beer to her lips and taking a large swig.
“Mother, you don’t even drink beer,” Sloan said.
“Says who? Have you ever asked?”
“What? No. Why would I ask? I’ve never seen you once drink beer,” Sloan replied. “Can we turn the TV off and actually have a conversation?”
Gloria turned to Matty. “Oh,nowshe wants a conversation.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sloan faced her mother and glared. “I’m always trying to talk to you.”
“No, you talkatme, you talkaboutme, you talk to everyonebutme,” Gloria said sharply.
“You’re being unfair,” Sloan said, standing up quickly. “My whole life revolves around you—what you need.” She turned and left the room.
“That went well,” Matty said.
