Chapter 5
Chapter five
Almost a month passed before Sloan let herself slip into a false sense of security. There had been complaints, and of course Gloria Slater had been a tyrant, but nothing that apparently couldn’t be handled—until it all fell apart.
Patsy was standing on the doorstep when Sloan pulled into the drive and parked the Saab.
Her heart sank at the sight of Patsy’s expression and folded arms. It was difficult to ignore the large wet stain spreading across Patsy’s sky-blue uniform.
“I’m sorry, Ms Slater, but I won’t be continuing with your mother’s care,” Patsy said, stepping off the porch and heading for her car, adding, “Today it was a bowl of tomato soup—launched at me because it wasn’t hot enough.”
“I’m so sorry—” Sloan began before she was cut off.
“I thought I could handle her. When the girls warned me, I brushed it off, but she’s...impossible.”
Sloan drew in a deep breath. “I’m sure we can work something out. Just give me a moment to—”
“No, I’m sorry, but it’s the last straw.” Patsy gestured at her uniform, emphasising her point.
“I’m going to have a very stern word with her,” Sloan said. “I can get meals delivered. Take that off your hands.”
“She’s rude. Obstructive. Aggressive. I’ve dealt with demanding patients, Ms Slater. This isn’t my first rodeo, but your mother... She’s something else entirely.” Patsy pulled her keys from the bag she clung to like a lifeline. “I’ll inform the agency.”
Sloan nodded and watched as Patsy climbed into her little Nissan Micra and started the engine.
“Seventeen carers,” Sloan whispered to herself.
When Patsy had turned off the drive and onto the country lane, Sloan let herself into the house she’d grown up in.
She’d left it twenty years ago and never imagined she would end up coming back—at least, not forced into it like she’d been—parking in the same gravel drive, opening the same stubborn front door, coming home not out of love or nostalgia, but obligation.
Her mother’s stroke had caught them all off guard, coming so soon after their father’s death, and in the chaos that followed, Sloan had been the one who’d stayed.
The one who’d moved back in. The one who’d rearranged her life around medication, carers, appointments, and the daily grind of managing Gloria Slater’s fury.
Their mother’s needs hadn’t stopped Lionel and Janet from what they were doing. Her siblings had carried on with their lives, dipping in just enough to feel involved, then disappearing again and leaving Sloan to deal with the reality of it all.
She paused in the hallway, set her bag and keys on the sideboard, then unbuttoned her jacket and shrugged it off over the banister.
Her heels clicked against the wooden floor, pausing again at the closed door to the lounge.
She adjusted her sleeves, removing the cufflinks that had been her father’s, and just for a moment, she imagined walking into an empty, peaceful room.
“Is that you, Joan?” Her mother’s voice echoed from beyond the door. The slight slur barely registered with Sloan anymore. The name did.
Sloan drew in a breath and pushed it open.
“It’s Sloan. It’s been Sloan for years, and who else would it be? The carer you’ve seen off? Again!” She stared down at her mother, sitting in her throne as usual, the battered, wing-backed armchair having seen better days. “This has to stop, Mother.”
Gloria shooed her off with a dismissive wave of her good hand. “The woman was an idiot. Couldn’t even heat up a can of soup.”
“She was perfectly capable. I don’t understand why you can’t just be nice.”
“Pfft. I can do it better myself and I’ve only got one working arm and leg,” Gloria spat.
“No, you can’t. And you’re going to have to get your head round the idea that you need someone to care for you.” Sloan moved in and plumped the cushion behind her mother.
“I’m fine. Just leave me a sandwich and I’ll sort myself out.”
Sloan stood back and glared at her. “Oh, really? And how will you manage when you need the toilet?”
Gloria shrugged.
“Three carers left because you wet yourself on purpose. It’s degrading—to you and them.”
“I’m sure you’ll find another one to dump your old, disabled mother on.”
Sloan pressed her lips together, cheeks hollowing as she held her tongue. When she finally exhaled, she said, “Yes. So, as I said, get over yourself and accept it.” She turned and strode away, out into the hallway with her mother’s voice chasing her.
“I’ll see them all off. Gloria Slater needs nobody.”
“Really?” Sloan turned and glared back through the door. “Then you won’t mind if I go out tonight, will you?”
Gloria blinked rapidly but said, “Do what you like. You usually do.”