Granny is waiting with Mum at the front door when I arrive in Cambridge. They both seem to have shrunk since I last saw them.
Mum opens her arms. Her eyes are small and red. ‘Did you not bring a bag?’
I hug her. ‘I can’t stay, Mum. I’ve got too much to do.’
She nods her understanding but can’t disguise the disappointment on her face.
I kiss Granny, and we step inside. ‘Haven’t you grown, Daisy?’ Granny says.
Mum stifles a sob. She closes her eyes and nudges Granny towards the kitchen.
She has framed a photo since I was last here and positioned it on the hallway table in front of all the other ones. It’s of Daisy at her prom. One I haven’t seen before. Mum made her dress for that night. A royal blue maxi that fitted her like a glove. And I did her hair. Styled her curls and pinned them up on top of her head. I swallow the lump in the back of my throat that thememory brings. I can just see Daisy now, twirling as she studied her reflection in the hallway mirror. ‘How do I look?’ she asked. And Mum and I said, in unison, ‘Stunning.’
I loop my arm through Granny’s. ‘I hope you’ve got the kettle on,’ I say.
‘Of course,’ Granny says. ‘Then I must get going.’
‘Where’re you going?’ I ask as I guide her to follow Mum into the kitchen.
‘Home, of course.’ She takes a seat at the kitchen table and stares out of the window into the garden.
I wash my hands as Mum makes three cups of tea. ‘Thanks for coming.’ She nods at Granny and lowers her voice. ‘She’s getting worse. She keeps talking about going home. I don’t have the heart to tell her that her house is now sold. She keeps tripping up, too. I’m scared she’s going to have a fall any minute. And I can’t get her out of the house much now. And she keeps crying.’ She sniffs. ‘Which I find particularly hard.’
Granny breaks out into song, making up words to an unknown melody. Mum and I look at each other and smile. I put my arm around her shoulder. ‘Do you think it’s time you got some help? This is too much for you. Especially given everything that’s happened.’
The strain of my sister and Granny’s increasing needs is lodged in the lines of Mum’s face. It hurts to look at her. ‘My friend is going to come and sit with her for two hours on a Monday, so I can go shopping. And I’ve contacted an agency. That’s another thing. I keep finding her wandering around the house at night. She’s going to need night-time care before long.’
Granny stops singing. ‘Is breakfast ready yet?’ she asks.
Mum nudges me. ‘See what I mean?’ She delivers a cup of tea to Granny. ‘It’s evening, Mum. You’ve had supper.’
‘Have I?’ Granny says, staring back out of the window.
Mum returns to me, standing at the centre island. We sip our tea. ‘I started unpacking Daisy’s uni stuff.’ She shakes her head. ‘I thought I’d be OK, but I had to stop.’ Silent tears fall down her face. ‘You will look after yourself, won’t you, Scarlett?’
My stomach turns. ‘Always. You don’t need to worry about me.’ The flight tickets spring into my mind. I wonder if it’s right to go there.
‘I can’t have anything happen to you. Anyway, let’s talk about brighter things. What are you doing this weekend?’
‘Working.’ I cringe, hating myself for the lie I’ve just told her.
‘You work too hard. You’re not working both days, are you? Perhaps you could come back here for Sunday dinner.’
‘I can’t, Mum. I’m sorry.’
More tears come. I don’t know what to say any more. She wipes her face with the back of her hand. ‘I think I’ll go and freshen up.’
I watch her walk away. How hard it is to comfort someone in their grief when you’re drowning in your own. All I know is I have to go to Edinburgh. Because unless I find out what happened to Daisy, Mum is never going to survive this.
26
BETH
I read the notices for self-help and support groups for family carers on the hospital notice board but take nothing in. Justin sits beside me, as he has at almost every appointment since my diagnosis. Even if he’s had to bring Hattie along, which more often than not turns into a nightmare and stresses all three of us out. She thinks we’re here for her and has been known to scream and shout for him to take her home. He ends up juggling looking after the two of us. So he’s right when he says that it’s better that she’s at home being looked after by someone she’s comfortable with.
I pick up a trashy magazine from the table beside me but quickly put it down again when I read the headline:My Husband Cheated On Me With An Alien And Now He Wants Me Back. A door opens. My consultant appears. ‘Mrs Lakeland.’ He scans the waiting room, spots my hand waving in the air and nods a greeting.
Justin rests his hand in the small of my back and guides me into the consultant’s office. A large, bright room overlookingwell-manicured gardens. The air smells of antiseptic and new equipment. Best of all, it has air-conditioning; just one of the benefits of private health insurance Justin insisted I arranged through the company. He doesn’t wait to sit down before diving straight in. ‘We thought perhaps it was worth discussing Beth’s medication,’ he says to Dr Fletcher, who is a no-nonsense, balding man with a clipped tone.
