Chapter 8
Finn
‘You’re late,’ Suzy said, leaning into the car and tossing her bag onto the back seat before plopping down into the passenger side. She was clutching a large Tupperware box that smelled like sugar and coffee. ‘I want all the gossip!’
‘Suze, it’s been one week. What gossip do you think there is?’
Finn edged the car into the Friday afternoon traffic along with all the people making an early dart from work or escaping for the weekend. He had only been called for a couple of scenes that morning, so he had finished by lunchtime.
‘I know you actor types, there’s always something. Like that actress you were on tour with who got arrested for skinny dipping in Liverpool docks.’
Finn snorted at the memory. That had been a very good night out, and everyone present had dined out on the story for months afterwards, including Lula, the actress who was—briefly—questioned by police.
‘There are no docks on this show,’ he retorted.
‘C’mon,’ she persisted. ‘Who is a nightmare to work with? Who takes,’ she gave a dramatic sniff, ‘things they shouldn’t? Who’s sleeping with who?’
Violet’s face suddenly came into his head. He frowned and slowed to a stop at a red light.
‘You read too many trashy magazines. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not at all like that.’
The lights went green, and Finn’s old car bounced down the road.
‘Do you know where you’re going?’ Suzy asked. ‘I found that if you go left—’
‘Yes,’ Finn snapped. ‘I know the way. This route is fine.’
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he felt a muscle in his cheek twitch.
‘Okay, okay,’ Suzy muttered.
They were silent for a while. Finn’s irritation was as clear as Suzy’s pout.
Terraced residential streets turned into spacious suburbs. Roads got wider, and gardens were landscaped.
Suzy’s nails drummed tunelessly on the cake box.
‘Come on, Finn,’ she wheedled. ‘There has to be something. Every production has a diva.’ She gasped. ‘Unless it’s you! That’s why you don’t know who it is—you’re the diva!’
Finn rolled his eyes and sighed.
‘I can see it now. Always late,’ she started counting off on her fingers. ‘Demanding a vanilla chai latte before you can work. Refusing to leave the make-up trailer until they’ve made you pretty. Demanding soft lighting to hide your wrinkles—’
‘I don’t have wrinkles!’
‘Exactly what a diva would say!’ Suzy said, clapping her hands.
Finn laughed and the remains of the tension fizzled out.
‘Okay, you want gossip?’
‘Yeah, gimme the inside scoop. I promise not to run to the tabloids.’
Finn, glancing back and forth as he pulled out of a junction, lowered his voice.
‘Last week…’
‘Yes?’
‘Jennifer was late to set.’
‘I knew it would be her!’
‘And it turned out…’ Finn swung the car into a left turn.
‘Go on…’
Finn shot her a sideways glance.
‘That she accidentally snoozed her alarm and overslept. She was very apologetic.’
‘Oh,’ Suzy slumped back in the seat. ‘Is that all?’
Actually, it wasn’t all. ‘You remember I did drama at college?’
Suzy scoffed. ‘Of course I remember. I was forced to go and see all your stupid shows.’
He sighed. ‘Well, there was a girl on my course who really didn’t like me. Hated me, actually. And the feeling was pretty mutual.’
‘Must be a shock for you, finding a woman who doesn’t think you are God’s gift.’
Finn ignored her.
‘Yeah, well, now she’s on this job with me. She’s the trainee—’ He stopped. ‘She works with me. I’m sort of…it’s like I’m her boss.’
‘I bet that’s horrible for her,’ Suzy said cheerfully.
‘Hmm,’ Finn managed in reply. ‘Maybe it is.’ The thought brought him less satisfaction than expected.
Suzy turned to stare at the passing hedgerows and addressed herself to the window pane. ‘Honestly, bro, I am so proud of you and so pleased for you.’
‘Thanks,’ Finn said, staring straight ahead, a little thrown. Moments of emotional honesty were rare. They were more of a take the piss and tough love sort of relationship.
‘I just hope the cameras don’t pick up too much of that receding hairline,’ Suzy added.
Okay. They were back.
‘What?’ His hand flew to his brow, feeling for his hair. ‘I do not have a receding hairline!’
‘Or those frown lines.’
‘I have laughter lines, Suze.’
‘Or your lazy eye. Or your bandy-legged walk.’
The modern suburbs and landscaped gardens had now given way to old stately avenues.
You couldn’t see the houses from the road here, only the huge gates and pillars that flanked the driveway entrances.
Most were now converted to luxury flats or bijou hotels, and there was at least one spa.
Finn slowed the car, looking for the sign, indicating to turn.
They were silent as the car crawled up the long gravel driveway before Finn parked them in front of a huge sash window of an imposing Georgian mansion.
The sign in front of the car said, ‘Visitor Parking.’
He turned off the engine and palmed the keys, turning them over in his hand. He made no move to get out. Suzy reached for the door handle, then stopped and swivelled to face him.
‘It’s really nice, Finn,’ she said.
‘Is it?’ he asked dully.
Suzy’s voice was soft, reassuring. ‘It is. Honestly. I’ve been twice, and it’s like I told you.’
Finn leaned forwards and rested his head on the steering wheel as he let out a long sigh. ‘I still…I wish…’ He sat back. ‘Maybe if I—’
‘She’s happy,’ Suzy said firmly. ‘Her room is lovely, the staff are really kind. There are events and activities every week. It’s a good move for her.’ She reached out and squeezed his arm. ‘You’ve done a good thing.’
Finn turned his head away and swallowed. ‘Okay, let’s go in then.’
He let Suzy take the lead as they climbed the steps to the mansion. A sign welcomed them to Gable Hall Nursing and Residential Home. Finn looked away and focused on Suzy’s back.
Finn was the first of his friends to go through with this with a parent. Making painful decisions, laced with guilt and shame, about what to do for the best for his mum, and for him and Suzy too.
His parents had had him and Suzy relatively late in life.
She and his dad had tried for years to have children, and eventually, after grieving for what would not be, they built a life for just the two of them.
The spare room they had expected would become a nursery had been turned into an office, and they swapped the sensible family estate car for a coupe.
Until, at 43 years old, his mum had suddenly found herself pregnant with Finn.
Her miracle baby. The office was quickly dismantled, and the room was painted yellow - good for a boy or girl - and his dad drove the coupe to a local dealership and returned with a Ford Cortina.
Less than two years later, baby Susannah was born.
Their mum had started to develop dementia in her mid-seventies.
At first, it was manageable with lifestyle adjustments and medications.
As it worsened, she needed carers to come to her home to help.
Things had seemed okay for a while, and he and Suzy had thought the system was working, until one morning her neighbour found her, locked out of the house, in her nightie.
She had come out at some time in the night—what for, she couldn’t remember—and the door had blown closed behind her.
She was calling through the letterbox for their dad, long since deceased, to let her in when the neighbour found her.
The council had moved her to residential accommodation, but it was over an hour’s drive from him, and ninety minutes from his sister, which made it difficult to visit often.
The staff were pleasant but overstretched, and the room was small and cramped, and smelled of disinfectant layered over a faint urine smell and over-cooked cabbage.
His mum’s room had one window which overlooked a small, paved seating area with a few pots of flowers, but the windowsill was too high for her to see out of when she was in her chair.
He and Suzy had cried but agreed it was for the best.
After one Saturday afternoon stuck in three hours of Christmas shopping traffic on their way back from visiting her, he and Suzy had sworn to one another that they would do what they could to find her somewhere more suitable and, critically, closer to them.
She was mobile and still had moments of lucidity, and Finn was sure she would do better somewhere with room to walk and gardens to poke around in.
His mum had always enjoyed gardening and knew all the Latin names for all the flowers.
They had spoken to their care liaison and were told that everywhere closer was full, but they could be added to waiting lists.
And that was how things had been for the past few months. Waiting.
Until this job. Until Huxton Bridge and the injection of cash it gave him, which meant they had been able to move her into a private home.
He had been to Gable Hall just twice before.
Once with Suzy to view it, and once on his own to sign the paperwork and write a cheque.
He hadn’t yet seen his mum in her new home.
Suzy had visited and sent pictures of her in her new room and a little video of Mum walking around the garden.
The best bit was, it was less than thirty minutes from his place and barely fifteen from Suzy’s, so they could visit much more often.
Standing behind Suzy as she signed them in, he was filled with a mix of sadness and guilt that they couldn’t keep her at home with them, and gratitude that he was able to bring her here.
Finn trailed down the corridor after Suzy.
Prints of old masters’ paintings in ornate frames hung on the walls, illuminated by brass picture lights.
A console table with fresh flowers, boxes of tissues, and magazines sat beside a small armchair in an alcove.
A daytime quiz show blared from one bedroom as they passed, and classical music floated softly out of another.
Suzy turned suddenly, and he followed her into the room. Their mum’s new room had French windows and a garden view. She sat in a chair by the windows with a view over wide, lawned gardens. Clumps of crocus were popping up across the grass.
She looked up as they entered. She smiled but didn’t greet them. She didn’t always know who they were these days; it came and went. Finn pushed down a lump in his throat. She looked calm and happy.
‘Hello, Mum,’ Suzy said, reaching for her hand, fingers slightly bent with arthritis. She still wore her wedding band after all these years. ‘I made you a cake,’ she said, as she lifted the lid.
Mum pushed herself forward in her chair. ‘Is that coffee walnut cake?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
She looked at them, eyes shining. ‘Oh, that’s my favourite!’
‘I know,’ Suzy said with a smile.
‘How did you know that, love?’ Mum said.
Suzy’s eyes flicked towards his. He saw her hesitate, unsure if she should try to remind Mum who she was, or not.
‘It’s me, Mum, Susannah. And Finn’s here, too.’
Mum looked at them both, and for a second, he felt Suzy hold her breath along with him as they waited to see which way this would go.
‘Oh yes, Susannah, love.’ Mum grasped at Suzy’s hand. ‘How lovely, how nice to see you.’
Finn knelt beside his mum’s chair as Suzy set about cutting up the cake and apportioning slices on napkins.
‘Have you seen the snowdrops?’ Mum was saying, gesturing towards the French doors.
‘Aren’t they cheery? Some crocuses are starting to come out, too.
’ She carefully lifted some cake to her mouth.
‘I do like to see the flowers,’ she said, a cake crumb in the corner of her mouth. ‘Means spring is coming.’
Finn nodded and smiled. Every night he thanked his lucky stars for this job, which had enabled him to do this, and every day he prayed that this show would be a hit and there would be more seasons and he could keep his mum there.
‘She seems really happy here,’ he said softly, as Mum licked some icing off her fingers.
Suzy studied his face. ‘I can help you know, Finn.’
‘You’re a teacher,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘We do get paid. I don’t do it for the larks.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, making light.
‘Production is going well. I’m getting on with the cast and crew.
’ Violet’s face flashed before him, but he dashed the image away.
‘The script is great, I think there’s every chance the show will be a hit.
And then there’ll be a season two and hopefully other projects, too. ’
‘So we’re okay?’
‘We’re okay,’ he said in a confident voice, not quite managing to meet Suzy’s eyes.
After he dropped Suzy off at home, he pulled out his laptop and logged into his bank account. Checking the balance on his current account, he sighed. It was in the black, but he didn’t have much in reserve.
He had paid for six months’ care up front, wanting to get the first part of his fee out of his bank and allocated to his mum before anything else could crop up for him, like car repairs or a new boiler.
Opening his emails, he started a new message to his agent.
He told her that he felt the first week had gone well, that he’d had good feedback on the floor, and asked if she could check whether there was any other feedback for him.
He hesitated for a moment, then, before signing off, asked her to remind him what his fee payment schedule was.