Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Matty arrived for her second day just as she had the first—coffee in hand, smile on her face, skates off at the door.
“Beautiful day today,” she said, grinning at Sloan.
“Is it?” Sloan asked.
Sloan’s eyes flicked to Matty’s mouth as she spoke, then away again, as if she could pretend she hadn’t.
She’d climbed out of bed, gotten herself dressed and ready, then spent the last half hour running around after her mother. She’d barely glanced outside and hadn’t paid attention to the weather.
After picking up her skates, her eyes found Sloan’s again, not looking away as she set the coffee on the shelf. “Yes, the sun is shining, everyone is smiling, it’s a lovely day.”
“We’ll see if you still feel that way at the end of it,” Sloan retorted as she turned away. “I’ll be in meetings all day. If there’s an emergency—”
“There won’t be,” Matty insisted. She lifted Sloan’s jacket from where it hung over the banister and held it up for her. “You don’t need to worry.”
Sloan stepped in close and caught Matty’s scent—soap and coffee—and for half a second, she forgot to move. Matty’s smile softened, like she’d felt something too.
Sloan had hesitated. She wasn’t used to anyone doing anything for her. A simple task like holding her jacket up felt almost chivalrous. It took Matty shaking it to get Sloan into action, sliding one arm in, then the other, before shrugging it on.
“Thank you,” she said, adjusting the way it sat on her shoulders and buttoning it up.
The words came out quieter than she meant them to. Intimate. Sloan cleared her throat, as if she could erase the way being this close to Matty was making her feel.
She found Matty’s eyes still on her and couldn’t look away. “Right. I’ll see you tonight.”
Matty grinned and opened the door for her. “Yes, you will. Have a good day.” She reached past Sloan and lifted the coffee cup from the shelf, passing it to her. “Don’t forget your coffee.”
Sloan’s fingers brushed Matty’s as she took it. It was nothing. It was everything. And she didn’t let her face show anything.
Sloan opened her mouth to reply to Matty’s comment, then thought better of it, nodded, and instead just said, “Thanks.”
She walked away, each step determined until she was at the car and able to open the door, and not think about the fact that Matty was watching her.
Sloan slid into the seat and popped the coffee into the holder before she reached for the seatbelt and pulled it across herself. Matty still waited at the door like she belonged there, ready to wave her off.
There was something about Matty that was getting under Sloan’s skin. She could feel it, but she shook it off for the moment. The last thing she planned to do was get involved with someone she was employing to watch her mother and risk losing that assistance.
She started the engine, switched it into gear, and reversed out of the drive, her eyes flicking back and forth between the road and the woman on her doorstep waving at her.
***
Gloria stared up as Matty entered the lounge, something cold and steely settling in her eyes as they fixed on the woman next on her hit list.
She almost laughed. Had Sloan thought this girl was going to get the better of her?
To her, Matty was a whimsical hippie, with her hair tied up in a rag and dressed in clothes Gloria wouldn’t have put on a toddler. It was too easy. She almost felt sorry for her.
“I need the toilet,” Gloria said.
Matty moved closer. “Alright, we can manage that,” she said brightly as she moved the table out of the way.
“Gonna wipe my arse for me?” Gloria sneered. “I like it when they do that.”
Matty straightened and held Gloria’s gaze. “If that’s what you need help with, then yes, I’ll do that. But I get the impression, Gloria, that you’re quite capable of a lot of things.”
The comment threw Gloria for a moment. She’d been all ready with the next remark, waiting for the woman to baulk at the idea of wiping the shit off her arse.
Carers were used to it. It was part of the job.
But this one—she didn’t sound or look like she had much experience caring for anyone other than herself, and yet she’d already noticed something none of the others had bothered with.
“Yes, well...” Gloria muttered.
“A lady likes to keep her dignity, right, Mrs S?” Matty smiled. “Do you need a hand getting up?”
“Pass me my cane,” Gloria demanded, as though that were the obvious answer. This one was different, she thought. Asking—not telling.
Gloria wobbled as she wriggled to the edge of the seat, shifted all her weight to the good side of her body, and heaved herself upright.
Matty was beside her at once, hands half-raised. Not touching, just there.
“Alright?” she asked.
“I’m not made of glass,” Gloria snapped, clutching the cane hard enough to whiten her knuckles.
“Didn’t say you were.”
Matty moved with her, through to the downstairs loo, slow step by slow step, giving her enough space she didn’t feel handled, but not enough to let her topple without warning.
At the door, Gloria turned and fixed her with a look.
“I can manage.”
Matty lifted both hands. “Fine. I’ll stay out here. Shout if you need me.”
“As if I’d shout for you.”
Matty smiled, leaning one shoulder against the wall outside. “Course not.”
She heard muttering. The rustle of clothes. The awkward shuffle of someone trying to do something alone that would plainly be easier with help. Matty looked down the hall towards the lounge, then back at the closed door.
There was a sharp scrape. A thud. A gasp that was more fury than fear.
Matty was through the door before Gloria could tell her not to be.
Gloria was half-slid off the toilet seat, twisted awkwardly, one hand scrabbling for the grab rail and the other clutching uselessly at her skirt. Her cane had clattered to the floor. One slipper had come off. Her face was blotched crimson with rage.
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, as though Matty had walked in to mock her.
“I’m not daring anything,” Matty said, already crouching. “I’ve got you.”
“I said don’t—”
Matty kept her voice even. “I know what you said. But unless you fancy spending the afternoon on the bathroom floor, you’re going to have to let me help.”
Gloria’s mouth tightened into a thin line, humiliation scrawled across her cheeks. “Fine.”
Matty stepped in carefully, one arm braced round Gloria’s back, the other steadying her hip. She could feel how little room there was for error; how easily the whole thing could go wrong. Gloria was lighter than she’d expected and somehow heavier too, all dead weight, resistance, and indignity.
“On three,” Matty said. “One, two—”
“Don’t count at me like I’m a child.”
“Fine. No counting.”
Matty slid her arms under her. Gloria gave a small, strangled sound as Matty shifted her back upright. “Are you alright?”
Once she was steady again, Gloria kept her face turned away. She ignored the question, but muttered, “My knickers are caught.” Each word dragged out of her throat with a mix of anger and frustration.
Matty blinked, then nodded as if this happened to everyone, every day. “Alright. I’ll sort it.”
“Can’t even go to the toilet by myself,” Gloria grumbled.
Matty crouched again, untwisting fabric as quickly and matter-of-factly as she could, refusing to rush, and refusing to make it weird.
She could feel the heat rising in her own face, could smell the sharp mix of bleach, old-lady perfume, and something sour beneath it, and suddenly this was not a joke, not a favour, but a proper job.
She was seeing Gloria for who she was—a capable woman, trapped by her disabilities and the lack of patience surrounding her.
“There,” Matty said quietly, stepping back, and not commenting on Gloria’s remark. “Try now.”
Gloria did, stiff and silent.
“Better?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Without comment, Matty handed her the toilet roll, which had fallen to the floor with her, and turned her back, giving Gloria what privacy she could in a room barely big enough for one person to breathe in.
“I’m done,” Gloria said, her voice much smaller than it had been earlier.
Matty turned back to face her. “Let’s get you dressed and back into that chair for a little while.
” She bent and brought Gloria’s underwear up over her knees.
Then she helped her stand and reached down to pull them higher.
Gloria didn’t stop her or complain. But once it was done, the old Gloria was back.
“Alright, stop fussing.”
Matty opened the door and held it for Gloria as she shuffled out. As she went to close the door, Matty remembered, then quickly lunged back into the tiny room and flushed the toilet.
Jesus Christ.
What the hell had she signed up for?
This wasn’t just making tea and keeping an eye on someone who grumbled at you. This was lifting and wiping and dressing and waiting for the next thing to go wrong. And she was meant to do it all again tomorrow. And the day after that. Maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew with Gloria?
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
She dragged it out, still trying to steady her breathing.
Sarah: Fuel bill’s come in. It’s ridiculous. Gone up again. We need to make a bigger payment than planned.
Matty stared at the screen.
Of course they would.