Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Neither Gloria nor Matty heard the door open when Sloan came home two hours early. Unable to settle, she’d packed up her things and left work.
Like the previous days when Matty was here, something good was cooking, the aroma drifting through the house.
As she put her bag and jacket in their usual places, she listened, hearing something she hadn’t heard in a long time—no commotion, no shouting, and no carer running out of the room in terror.
The TV wasn’t set loud just to annoy anyone.
None of that previous chaos. It was the complete opposite.
Peace.
The TV was on, but at a volume most people would have considered normal. Occasionally, her mother and Matty would laugh at something on the screen.
Sloan slipped off her heels and walked in stocking feet to the doorway, where she found her mother in the throne, picking at a bowl of crisps, with a can of beer and a glass on the tray beside her.
What the hell was happening here? The only answer she could think of was Matty. But how? How had this woman managed in a few days what seventeen professionals couldn’t?
She found herself torn between wanting to celebrate this moment, and still wanting to give Matty hell for taking her mother off on that crazy adventure. She stopped herself as the word adventure metaphorically slapped her in the face.
“Either come in or sod off,” Gloria said without looking at her.
Sloan found herself smiling as she stepped into the room and saw Matty looking up at her from her place on the sofa, half-hidden behind the open door. There was space on the other end of the sofa and Sloan sat down carefully, perched on the edge.
“Good day?” Matty asked. She reached down to the floor and lifted two cans clipped together, snapped one free, and passed it to Sloan, who took it with hesitant fingers.
“Actually, I’ve spent all afternoon worried sick. What the hell were you both thinking?” She put the unopened beer to one side. “You could have really hurt yourself,” she said to her mother, before turning to Matty. “I thought we were both clear about her limitations.”
“I am clear on Gloria’s limitations. So is Gloria,” Matty answered.
“I read your notes—very detailed, thank you. And I read the notes from her previous carers. They said nothing about exercise, other than that she refuses to do it. So I took it upon myself to research what might help Gloria with her movement, and put it into practice.”
“And whizzing round in a wheelchair with you on skates was high on that list?” Sloan’s eyebrow lifted. “She’s supposed to be doing chair exercises.”
“And yet, she doesn’t.”
“I am in the room,” Gloria said, lifting the beer to her lips and taking a large swig.
“Mother, you don’t even drink beer,” Sloan said.
“Says who? Have you ever asked?”
“What? No. Why would I ask? I’ve never seen you once drink beer,” Sloan replied. “Can we turn the TV off and actually have a conversation?”
Gloria turned to Matty. “Oh, now she wants a conversation.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sloan faced her mother and glared. “I’m always trying to talk to you.”
“No, you talk at me, you talk about me, you talk to everyone but me,” Gloria said sharply.
“You’re being unfair,” Sloan said, standing up quickly. “My whole life revolves around you—what you need.” She turned and left the room.
“That went well,” Matty said.
Gloria shrugged. “You can leave too.”
***
Matty found Sloan at the open back door, staring out at the roses and the rest of the garden.
“Geraniums, delphiniums, sweet peas...I think,” Matty said gently.
Sloan turned around. “What?”
“The flowers... That’s what they’re called.” She moved into the space beside Sloan so they could both look out. “Those are roses.”
“Obviously,” Sloan said with a small huff of irritation.
“Gloria knows a lot about flowers. She told me about them when we were walking around the garden earlier.”
“She talked about flowers?”
“She talks about a lot of things...if you’re interested in listening.”
Sloan exhaled. “I do listen.”
“Maybe—and hear me out—could it be you’re listening to the wrong things?”
Sloan bristled, caught off guard by the gentle challenge in Matty’s words.
She’d spent months listening—really listening—to every doctor, consultant, and care agency, desperate to get it right.
She’d read every leaflet, attended every meeting, made notes, asked questions, followed instructions.
She’d done everything she was supposed to do.
But now, standing here in her own kitchen, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d simply listened to her mother talk about anything that wasn’t medical, necessary, or urgent.
She folded her arms, trying to mask her discomfort. “It’s not as if I haven’t tried,” she said, her tone clipped. “I’ve done everything they told me to do.”
Matty didn’t push, just nodded, letting the silence settle between them.
Outside, the garden glowed in the late afternoon light, the sweet peas climbing in a tangle of colour, the roses heavy with bloom.
Sloan continued to stare out, jaw still tight. Maybe she had been listening to the wrong things. Maybe she’d been so focused on care that she’d forgotten about everything else.
She cleared her throat, suddenly unsure. “What else did she talk about?”
Matty shrugged. “All kinds of things. It’s how you ask. That’s all.” She smiled. “She likes to be given her own agency—or at least to think she has it.”
“What do you mean?”
Matty shrugged. “Well, if I ask her what she wants for breakfast, she tries it on with eggs Florentine. But I give her toast.”
Sloan looked confused.
“The point is...I asked her what she wanted. She knew she wasn’t getting it, but she had the chance to offer a suggestion. I didn’t just make the toast and put it down in front of her.”
“But she threw the toast at you?”
“Yep,” Matty said. “That first day, she did, because I tried to do it for her. I learned.”
“I don’t get it.”
“She’s not as incapable as you think. She just needs to adapt.” Matty wrapped her hand round Sloan’s bicep. “She can spread the jam on her toast by herself. That’s why she wants it in a pot. She can use her left hand to hold it while the right does the work.”
“How do you know all this?”
Now Matty looked confused. “I just told you. I reframe—”
“No, I mean...how did you know to do this? To reframe everything in a way she’d respond to? I’ve literally spent thousands of pounds on healthcare professionals who’ve come into my home and been chased out because they couldn’t work with her, and you...you’ve been here a few days and she’s...”
Matty smiled. “I work in hospitality. I deal with ten Glorias a week, in some form or another.”
They both stared back out at the garden.
“She’s always been difficult. Even before her stroke,” Sloan admitted.
Matty nodded. “Why does she call you Joan?”
Sloan’s eyes closed and she moved away from the door, retreating further into the kitchen. “Because that’s the name she gave me. I changed it when I was old enough to legally do so, and she’s hated me for it since.”
“I don’t think she hates you,” Matty said, easing the back door closed. “I don’t think it’s hate… I think she’s angry and frustrated.” She looked at Sloan and smiled. “Has she ever called you Sloan?”
“No,” Sloan said, holding Matty’s gaze. “At first, she played it off—said she couldn’t remember.
Said I was being dramatic. And honestly, it didn’t bother me so much.
I barely saw them. They travelled a lot and did their own thing.
My siblings and I had all moved out…had our own lives to live.
” She glanced away. “But when Dad died, and then Mum had her stroke, someone needed to step up, and everyone else made that decision for me because they all stepped away.”
“Must have been hard for everyone. Especially you and Gloria.”
“My life is now work, and her,” Sloan said.
“What about you? When does Sloan get to just be Sloan?” Matty asked as she turned the oven down low.
Sloan laughed and thought about the club and how long it had been. “Not often enough.”
“Maybe that needs to change?” Matty said, before patting Sloan’s arm and walking past to get ready to leave. “Dinner’s ready when you are.”
“Matty,” Sloan said as Matty reached the door. She turned back. “Thank you—for this, for...her. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you think... Would you be interested in doing this full-time? She seems to like you and—”
“Ask her if she wants me to.”
Sloan nodded. “Yes, of course.”