“No, I mean...how did you know to do this? To reframe everything in a way she’d respond to? I’ve literally spent thousands of pounds on healthcare professionals who’ve come into my home and been chased out because they couldn’t work with her, and you...you’ve been here a few days and she’s...”
Matty smiled. “I work in hospitality. I deal with ten Glorias a week, in some form or another.”
They both stared back out at the garden.
“She’s always been difficult. Even before her stroke,” Sloan admitted.
Matty nodded. “Why does she call you Joan?”
Sloan’s eyes closed and she moved away from the door, retreating further into the kitchen. “Because that’s the name she gave me. I changed it when I was old enough to legally do so, and she’s hated me for it since.”
“I don’t think she hates you,” Matty said, easing the back door closed. “I don’t think it’s hate… I think she’s angry and frustrated.” She looked at Sloan and smiled. “Has she ever called you Sloan?”
“No,” Sloan said, holding Matty’s gaze. “At first, she played it off—said she couldn’t remember. Said I was being dramatic. And honestly, it didn’t bother me so much. I barely saw them. They travelled a lot and did their own thing. My siblings and I had all moved out…had our own lives to live.” She glanced away. “But when Dad died, and then Mum had her stroke, someone needed to step up, and everyone else made that decision for me because they all stepped away.”
“Must have been hard for everyone. Especially you and Gloria.”
“My life is now work, and her,” Sloan said.
“What about you? When does Sloan get to just be Sloan?” Matty asked as she turned the oven down low.
Sloan laughed and thought about the club and how long it had been. “Not often enough.”
“Maybe that needs to change?” Matty said, before patting Sloan’s arm and walking past to get ready to leave. “Dinner’s ready when you are.”
“Matty,” Sloan said as Matty reached the door. She turned back. “Thank you—for this, for...her. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you think... Would you be interested in doing this full-time? She seems to like you and—”
“Ask her if she wants me to.”
Sloan nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Chapter twenty-one
Gloria had finished the glass of lager and a fresh can sat beside it on the table. The empty one was gone, presumably binned by Matty before she left.
“Has she gone?” Gloria asked, not taking her eyes off the TV.Countdownwould be on any minute.
“If you mean Matty, then yes, she’s left for the evening.”
“Good. Bloody hippie.”
Sloan narrowed her eyes and stared at her mother. “I thought you liked her.”
“They’re all the same,” she said, offering no further explanation.
“I’m pretty sure they’re not.” Sloan sat down on the same end of the sofa she’d been perched on earlier. “I don’t recall any of your other carers pushing you round town in your wheelchair while you waved your arm in the air and squealed with delight.”
Gloria’s head swivelled towards her, but there was something in her eyes Sloan hadn’t seen in a long time—a twinkle of life. “As if I had a choice. Girl’s mad. What kind of grown-up wears skates?”
“The kind you want to pretend you don’t like.” Sloan watched her mother closely, and then she saw it—a twitch at the corner of her mouth she still had full control of. “Careful, Mother. You might smile,” she gently teased, smiling as she said it.
“Is she coming back?”
“She is.”
