Chapter Forty-Five
Having said goodbye to Irene, I returned to the kitchen and sat back down at the table. Mum had nodded off in her chair. Chin on chest. I turned to Dad.
‘A little while ago, you said you wanted to revise your Will. Shall we make an appointment with the solicitor?’
‘Oh, that,’ said Dad vaguely. ‘I think I’ve already done that.’
‘What do you mean?’ I frowned. ‘You’ve revised your Will, or made an appointment with the solicitor?’
‘The latter.’ Dad waved a hand at the kitchen wall where, on a nail, hung a calendar. ‘Have a look for me.’
I stood up and read the entries for July. My eyes widened with surprise.
‘Dad, the appointment is for tomorrow.’
‘That’s right.’
Oh, terrific. I tried to remember what, if anything, was happening tomorrow in my own diary. At home, on my desk, was a large A4 affair. I didn’t carry it with me on account of it always being full of work-related inserts. Apart from anything else, it was too big to fit into my handbag. Nor could I check the calendar on my Smart phone because I never used it. However, I was fairly sure I was available.
‘When were you going to tell me?’ I grumbled.
‘Now,’ said Dad defensively. ‘I had to wait for that woman to leave first.’ That woman. Letting me know he was still cross. ‘I need you to taxi me, Maggie, because…’
He trailed off, suddenly shifty.
‘Because what?’ I prompted.
‘Because I’ve had a letter from the DVLA. It says I mustn’t drive until a doctor has passed me fit to do so.’
My mouth dropped open.
‘Oh,’ I said. What else was there to say? No doctor in their right mind would pass my father to drive a car. They’d take one look at his cataracts, swollen feet and stiff legs and suggest he use a local taxi. Or me, in this case.
‘Why are you looking so surprised?’ said my father. His expression had changed. ‘After all, you’re probably the person who reported me.’
‘What?’ I spluttered. ‘Of course I didn’t report you,’ I protested. Not that it hadn’t crossed my mind. Ultimately, I’d held off because I’d dreaded my father’s wrath. Although it looked like I was about to take some verbal blows anyway.
‘Sometimes, Maggie, you are a total cow.’
Ouch. I took a deep breath.
‘Dad, please don’t speak to me like that. You know perfectly well that, a few weeks ago, you had a row with a motorist.’
My father’s eyes narrowed.
‘What are you talking about?’
I looked at my father in disbelief.
‘Sanjit told me.’ I waited for my father’s expression to change. For his memory to kick in. For him to say oh yes, I remember now. Instead, he continued to look at me blankly. ‘You almost had a collision with another vehicle,’ I reminded.
‘This is preposterous,’ Dad spat.
‘Sanjit told me that the other driver was furious. The motorist leapt out of his car, banged on your window and then, when you opened it, he leant in and snatched your keys. He shouted that he was going to report you to the DVLA. Well, it looks like he did.’
Dad closed his eyes. For a moment he didn’t say anything.
‘Ah, yes. It’s coming back to me now. There was a bit of a kerfuffle.’
‘Apology accepted,’ I said sarcastically.
Oh, stop it, Maggie. Get off your high horse. You’re talking to a man whose memory is fading like the sky at dusk.
‘Look, Dad, I hate to say this but… well, I can’t help noticing that, of late, your memory isn’t what it used to be.’
‘I’m tired, Maggie. That’s all.’
‘If you say so,’ I muttered. ‘Right.’ I stood up. ‘I’d best be heading home. Things to do. I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll have to take Mum along. I’m not leaving her at home alone. How about I take you both out to lunch afterwards?’
Dad perked up.
‘That would be lovely, sweetheart.’
Sweetheart. I sighed. Better than cow.