Chapter 29
29
I’m desperate to show Reginald the picture of the mosaic but, in the end, I don’t get time to visit him until Sunday afternoon.
‘Hi, Hazel,’ I say to the receptionist. ‘I’m just popping in to see Reginald.’
‘Oh,’ she says, and I spot a look of concern on her face. ‘Haven’t you heard?’
‘Heard what?’
‘He’s not here. He’s in hospital.’
‘Hospital? Why?’ My heart has started thudding uncomfortably in my chest. I know he’s old but, apart from being very frail, he’s always seemed fine.
‘They’re doing tests, but it looks like a stroke.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘This morning. His daughter’s with him.’
‘Is it serious?’
‘When you’re Reginald’s age, these things are always serious,’ she says softly. ‘Try not to worry about it, though. He’s had a long life, and it’s a comparatively kind way to go.’
‘He’s not dead yet!’ I exclaim, horrified.
‘Of course not. He might recover, but he’ll need a lot more looking after if he does. I’m afraid his needs will be more complex than we’ll be able to cope with here.’
I’ve always liked Hazel, but her defeatist attitude is seriously winding me up.
‘You don’t know it’s a stroke,’ I tell her firmly. ‘It could be a TIA. My grandad had one of those. Everyone thought it was a stroke but it wasn’t and he made a full recovery.’
‘You’re right,’ she says in the kind of soothing voice that lets me know she doesn’t share my optimism. ‘Let’s hope that’s it.’
By the time the taxi drops me at the hospital, however, my stomach is churning with anxiety and I’m barely breathing. It takes me a while to find the ward that Reginald is in but, when I do, my worst fears are confirmed. He looks absolutely tiny in the hospital bed; his eyes are closed and there’s a monitor next to the bed recording his vital signs.
‘You must be Beatrice,’ the woman sitting in the chair next to him says quietly. ‘I’m Jeannie, Reginald’s daughter. He’s told me so much about you that it’s lovely to meet you in person at last. I just wish it could have been in happier circumstances.’ She has a peculiar accent, I notice. Some of her inflections are pure American, but there’s the residue of a British accent there too. She’s elegantly dressed and, even though she must be well into her sixties, she looks younger. There’s a clear family resemblance; she has the same colour eyes as him and I can see hints of him in the shape of her face as well. I turn my attention back to Reginald, who looks so vulnerable; his white hair is spread out on the pillow and his mouth is slack and toothless. If it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of the sheet over his chest, I could believe he was dead. I’m aware of silent tears rolling down my cheeks as I look at him.
‘How is he?’ I ask, equally quietly.
‘It’s too early to say. It was a major stroke, they tell me. He’s stable at the minute, but very sleepy. He can’t speak, but the nurses tell me he should be able to understand, so I’ve been sitting here talking to him. It sounds a stupid thing to say, but I’m so grateful it happened when I was here. Please, sit down.’
She indicates the visitor chair next to the adjacent bed, which contains a sleeping woman almost as old as Reginald. ‘She won’t mind,’ Jeannie assures me. ‘Her visitors have just left. From the look on her face, she was relieved to see them go.’
I pick up the chair and silently move it next to Reginald’s bed, taking care not to snag the wires coming out of the monitor. Jeannie is holding one of his hands, but the other is resting on his chest. The skin looks paper thin so I take it in mine gently. It’s warm but limp; there’s no trace of the fierce grip that he had when he was imploring me to focus on love.
‘Talk to him,’ Jeannie urges. ‘I think I’ve run out of things to say for now.’
‘Hello, Reginald,’ I say gently. ‘This is Beatrice. Hazel told me you were in here so I came as quickly as I could. You’ve given us all quite a fright…’ My words dry up.
‘Tell him about the hotel,’ Jeannie suggests. ‘He’s been so interested in it; he’s talked about little else when I’ve called him.’
‘We took up the horrible floor in the lobby,’ I continue. ‘The original is still there, and it’s perfect. The mermaid mosaic looks as good as new.’
Reginald’s eyelid twitches.
‘We’re making really good progress. Do you remember I told you about the retro-style lift that we were going to put in? It’s pretty much finished and it looks amazing. Between you and me, Emilio is still being a mighty pain in the arse, though.’
This time, there’s no mistaking the reaction. The corner of Reginald’s mouth turns up and he squeezes my hand. Jeannie obviously notices too, because she mouths Keep going at me. So I carry on chatting to him about everything and nothing. Nearly half an hour passes but there’s no further reaction and, after a while, his breathing indicates that he’s asleep.
‘I expect you think I’m a terrible daughter,’ Jeannie murmurs sadly over Reginald’s prostrate form. ‘His only child living so far away.’
‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ I tell her gently.
‘The truth is that I tried to get him to move over so he could be closer to us all after Mum died. But he’s a stubborn old mule. I love him to pieces, and I couldn’t have asked for better parents, but he made it absolutely clear he wasn’t going anywhere. What could I do? My husband, my children and grandchildren are all American.’
‘He’s very proud of you,’ I tell her. ‘He’s never once said he wished things were any other way. Every time I’ve visited him, he’s told me your latest news. It’s funny. This is the first time we’ve met in person, but in many ways, I feel like I know you already.’
We’re still holding Reginald’s hands between us, but she lets go and moves her hand so it’s on top of mine.
‘Thank you,’ she says, with a tremor in her voice. I look up to see tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘You’ve been such a good friend to him.’
‘He’s a good friend to me,’ I assure her, as my own tears start to fall again.
We sit there for what feels like an age, either side of Reginald’s sleeping body. Although we don’t speak, I can feel a silent understanding pass between us. Eventually, the nurse tells us that visiting time is up, and we head for the door together. It turns out that she’s rented a flat quite close to the one I’m staying in, so we share a taxi.
‘Will you come by and see him again some time?’ Jeannie asks when we pull up outside my flat.
‘Of course. I’ll come as often as I can.’
‘He’ll like that. Goodnight, Beatrice.’
‘Goodnight, Jeannie.’
If Monday morning were going to reflect my mood, the sky would be slate grey and rain would be falling steadily. However, it’s a perfect autumn day, crisp, with a chill in the breeze, but the sun is shining brightly and there isn’t a cloud in the sky.
‘Are you all right, Flops?’ John asks as we’re dealing with a plumbing issue in one of the bedrooms after the morning stand-up. ‘You don’t seem quite yourself today.’
‘Sorry. Just got a few things on my mind and I didn’t sleep very well last night. Nothing you need to worry about.’
‘Would you like some good news?’
‘I always like good news, John. What have you got?’
Before he gets a chance to tell me, we’re interrupted by one of the chippies. ‘Sorry to bother you, Beatrice, but there’s a woman outside asking for you.’
I follow him downstairs and my heart breaks as soon as I see who it is. There’s only one reason Jeannie would be here.
‘When?’ I ask as she wraps me in a surprisingly fierce hug.
‘Last night,’ she says. ‘Barely an hour after we left him. Another massive stroke. The nurse said it was peaceful, but they always say that, don’t they? I should have been there.’
‘You didn’t know this was going to happen,’ I reassure her through my tears. ‘And maybe he wanted to be alone at the end. I read an article once that said that some people seem to manage to hang on until they’re alone so they can go quietly without an audience.’
‘I’m on my way to collect his things and the paperwork to give to the funeral directors. I know it’s an imposition, but would you mind very much coming with me? I’m not sure I can do this on my own.’
‘Of course I’ll come with you,’ I tell her. ‘Let me just tell my colleague where I’m going.’
By the end of the afternoon, I’m wrung out. Little things have set me off all day, like the sight of Reginald’s wristwatch among the possessions that the hospital handed over along with the medical certificate detailing the cause of death. I went with Jeannie to register the death at the registry office, and then to the funeral directors that Hazel recommended when we called in at the retirement home to break the news. Standing in his sitting room, where I’d spent so many happy hours drinking tea and chatting with him, was another tearful moment. His ‘whizzy’ chair looked so sad and forlorn, as if it knew he’d never sit in it again, and that set me off even more.
‘I know it’s probably way too early to think about this stuff,’ Jeannie had said as we’d sat on the sofa together, just letting the emotions pour out, ‘but if there’s anything you want to take, to remind you of him…’
‘You’re very kind,’ I’d told her.
‘I’m not a religious person, particularly, but I like to think he’s somewhere up there, reunited with Mum,’ she’d said after a long pause. ‘He’s young again and full of vitality. That’s how I want to think of him, anyway.’
‘I think you’re right,’ I’d agreed.
‘It’s just a shame he’ll never see The Mermaid back on its feet. He loved that place.’
‘Jeannie,’ I’d said as an idea had come to me. ‘There is something I’d like, actually, but I don’t need it for long.’
‘You can have whatever you want, I’ve already told you that.’
I’d pulled open the drawer where Reginald’s wedding album was and turned the pages until I came to the picture of him and Annie standing in the lobby of The Mermaid.
‘Can I borrow this picture?’ I’d asked. ‘I’d like to see if I can get it enlarged and enhanced and then, if you’ll give your blessing, I’d like to hang it behind the reception desk when we reopen.’
‘I think that’s the loveliest idea ever,’ she’d told me as she’d gently prised the photo out of its mount.