Chapter 3
THREE
‘We trust you, love. We’ve hardly seen her in three years, so only you would know what’s best for her?
’ my dad says, and I close my eyes to hold back the tears.
I try hard not to let my emotion travel down the phone, but I’m sorely disappointed that my parents have chosen to stay away at this moment rather than help with the situation or give advice.
They’re just going to throw money at it and hope it means something.
I watch Nana now as she sits in the day room of this nursing home, looking out of the window at the garden.
Her maisonette was very much in the heart of the city, around the corner from bustling markets, the Tube station, shops and life.
But maybe that was the problem: as her memory faded and doctors gave us their diagnoses of how she would fade further and struggle more with everyday life, somewhere built up and busy was the worst place she could be.
After numerous calls from the police telling me they’d found her again, lost and unable to tell them who she was, it was time to step in, make sure she was safe and had care round the clock.
‘Dad, I’ll call you later, yeah? Have a look online, see what you and Mum think? ’
‘Will do. You’re a gem for this, thank you.’ I love you, Dad, I want to say but I don’t reply. I hang up and walk over to Nana, running her fingers along the tinsel hanging from the window frame. ‘They’ve got a garden, Nana. Isn’t that lovely?’
‘So I can do my sunbathing in the summer. Get my bikini on,’ she says with a wink.
‘Bag yourself a boyfriend,’ I say.
‘Oh, behave,’ she says, nudging me.
‘They’ve got tulips, look,’ I say, pointing.
She gives me a look like she’s embarrassed for me. ‘Those are snowdrops, darling… and supposedly I’m the one losing my mind.’
I laugh as she threads a hand into mine.
We’ve walked around a few of these places already, always hand-in hand.
Nana with all her questions, usually asking about the availability of hot water and whether I can still smuggle her in teacakes.
This one hasn’t been awful. This day room is well-lit, decorated in pastels and light wood; Christmas decorations are up and there’s a mixture of chairs, sofas and tables, shelves well-stocked with board games.
Beyond the hallway, I can see a group of ladies playing mahjong, a TV room showing an old Christmas film, and another place where a group of people have easels up, painting.
‘Do you think they do life drawing?’ she asks me. I laugh. ‘I prefer this place to the other one. That one smelt of Cup-a-Soup and bleach. This one’s got nice curtains.’
I’ve been poring over brochures and websites for weeks now, looking at contracts, prices and medical provision.
Nana’s simply been scouting out the soft furnishings.
This one would give her a lovely private room overlooking trees and the river, the menu looks varied, and most importantly, Tuesday night is bingo.
‘I liked the room. We could really make it your own, bring your own things in. We could hang some pictures.’
‘Would my Netflix work here? Could I watch my shows? I’m still on that one with the firefighters. Got two more series of that.’
‘Yes, and I’d give you my password to Prime too. They’ve got great stuff on that.’
She nods. I glance at her, seeing all the anxiety and fear in her eyes, and it breaks my heart.
She’s not resistant to this but I think she knows it means life is moving in a certain direction, away from independence, towards a time when her mind will leave her completely and she won’t remember all the things that make her life what it is.
‘Can you visit whenever you want?’ she asks me.
I hold her hand tightly. ‘I will be on call whenever you need me, but I’ll make it here once a week at least.’ I feel a lump lodge in my throat.
I still don’t know if that’s too much or not enough.
I’d come every day if I could, but the last few months have shown me that I couldn’t juggle work and being Nana’s carer, and that fills me with incredible guilt.
‘Don’t do that, lovely,’ Nana says.
I shake my head. ‘I just… I wish I could do more.’
‘I don’t want you here all the time, you daft thing,’ she says. ‘Popping in at one in the morning to say hello? I’d tell you to sling your hook.’ I pull a face, knowing she’s trying to make me feel better about it all. ‘I will be fine. When did they say I could move in?’
‘New Year? Gives us Christmas together,’ I say. ‘We could do something special.’
‘Get a bigger turkey?’
‘We could go away?’ I suggest. Maybe we could escape to a dreamy Christmas market in Germany, toast this next adventure with spiced cookies and mulled wine.
She shakes her head. ‘Nah, let’s spend it in my house.
Maybe we’ll have a day in London. Go to a gallery or something, get an afternoon tea somewhere posh.
’ I nod, trying not to tear up. ‘Hey, do you remember that Christmas when I got that stupid big tree off Facebook and you had to saw it up in the street?’ she says.
The episode comes to mind again. I’m curious at how her brain and memory work. ‘That buggered my hands, do you remember the blisters, the splinters?’ I say, giggling.
‘And didn’t something jump out of that tree?’ she asks.
‘A mouse. Leapt out at me from the branches.’
‘Then you screamed, told me you were going to get rabies, waving that saw around like a loony and then the neighbours…’
‘Called the police.’ We both stand there, broad grins on our faces.
‘And when the police came, you sweet-talked them into helping us,’ I remind her. It was peak Nana on form. She was a little old lady who’d been scammed by the internet and she didn’t want to be a nuisance.
‘You went on a date with one of them!’ she says, pleased as punch to be remembering her matchmaking skills. That night, Nana really had been on form.
‘Lewis, his name was Lewis.’
‘Hold up,’ she says, a little worried. ‘Did I go to your wedding and not remember it?’
I shake my head at her cheeky smile. ‘No. We only lasted a couple of months.’ He was good at trimming Christmas trees but had debatable sexual fetishes involving feet, which wasn’t great when his smelt like cheese. I don’t tell Nana that much.
‘I’m sorry that didn’t work out,’ she says, taking my hand.
‘I’m not,’ I joke. Since university and a move to London, my love life has followed quite the trajectory and Nana has witnessed a lot of it; the highs, the lows, the laughs, the tears.
‘You will get married one day though, won’t you?’ she asks me.
‘Maybe. If the right man comes along.’
‘I’d just like to come to your wedding. That’s on my bucket list, you know?’ she says, and my heart prickles to hear her use that term, to look forward to the future. ‘I’d wear the biggest hat. Something with fruit.’
‘So you’d have something to snack on all day,’ I joke. She sticks her tongue out at me, and I see that adorable, wonderful woman I know so well. ‘We could have a dance to “Copacabana”. I’d be Lola, you’d be Rico. We’d act the whole thing out.’
She takes my hands and starts humming a bit of Manilow to herself. I dance with her on the spot and spin her round. I think whatever the future holds, I have to make this happen now, don’t I? We both separate, dancing on our own, a strange version of disco-salsa.
A cough in the background, however, gets our attention. It’s the lady showing us round, formal and well-presented in a suit and gold name badge. Please don’t think we’re strange and tell us there’s no room at the inn now.
‘I’m so sorry…’ I start to say.
‘I take it the dancing is a good thing?’ she says.
Nana nods. ‘Am I allowed to dance here?’
‘We actively encourage it as a means of keeping fit. We have classes.’
Nana looks at me and smiles sweetly. ‘Then me and my granddaughter will see you in the New Year.’ She grabs my arm and squeezes it tightly, pulling me in as close as she can.