Chapter 29
T he decorations at the old people’s home were obviously well meaning, but somehow they served to highlight what a lonely place it was, however nicely done or however hard they tried. There was a full nativity play taking place downstairs, including some very under-enthusiastic, terrified-looking children, and, for some reason, a miniature pony. Most of the residents looked extremely underwhelmed.
Mirren went straight upstairs. Violet was home from hospital, but weaker, she’d learned, even in the short time she’d been away, and when she went in the silent room – one strand of tinsel around the framed photo of her family – it was nearly dark. Violet’s breathing sounded strained, but she stirred.
‘Mirren?’ she said.
‘It’s me, Violet,’ said Mirren. ‘Hello. I’m back.’
‘Hello, my love,’ said Violet, lifting her head up a little. ‘Did you ... did you find it? Did you bring me it?’
There was eagerness in her cracked voice. Mirren drew very close to her and hugged her tightly.
‘My lovely great-aunt,’ she said.
Violet looked sad as she indicated she wanted some water, and Mirren gave it to her. She fell back on her pillows, looking yellow on the white pillowcase; exhausted, the skin lying thinly on her skull, her eyes searching Mirren’s empty hands and looking so disappointed.
‘No,’ said Mirren sadly. ‘I’m so sorry. I did try. Really hard.’
‘I ...’ Violet let the sentence drain away; she wasn’t able to finish it. The one thing she had wanted, the one memory of her childhood, of her life before everything had gone so bad.
‘But I brought you something else,’ said Mirren softly, nodding at the door.
‘Well, this place could proper give you the creeps,’ said June, hobbling in.
Mirren was briefly worried Violet was having a heart attack, but she was only struggling to sit up. Mirren used the bed controls, holding on to her great-aunt carefully.
‘Is that ... no,’ said Violet. ‘No. It can’t be.’
‘VIOLET SUTHERLAND????’
‘JUNE! Is that JUNE????’
Mirren stared at Violet in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe after all this time ...’ she began.
The two ancient women weren’t listening to her, just embracing each other by the bed.
‘I would like to say you haven’t changed a bit,’ said June. ‘But I am afraid that would not be strictly true.’
‘You always were a cheeky mare,’ said Violet, and suddenly Mirren caught sight, once more, of the woman she knew.