Lilly brought the paper to her face and rested it against her cheek.
‘I felt you there. Iknewsomeone was watching me, Mum! I always knew it. I just wish I’d known it was you.’
Lilly stood on the pavement, staring at the uninspiring 1970s building with a wood-cladding front, once pale green, but the paint had peeled and now hung in thin strips to reveal bare dark timber. The windows were wide, white and plastic with locks on them, and the roof was flat. The front door, housing two large panes of safetyglass, was reached via a shallow, ugly concrete ramp with two sturdy rails on either side. The kind of thing that was built for practicality without any consideration of aesthetics. Lilly understood why. She let out a long, slow breath, trying to calm her pulse before pressing the button on the entry system, and waited until a tinny, slightly harassed voice came over the intercom.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes, please, my name is Lilly Cooper. I called yesterday, about coming to visit ...’
Without any further interaction, a buzzer sounded. This was it; too late to back out. She pushed on the metal door plate that revealed a thousand smudged fingerprints, and it opened. The place carried the potent and unappetising odour of urine and cabbage, putting her in mind of every horrid municipal facility she had ever imagined.
It was a surprise to find the curved reception desk unattended, where dusty plastic daffodils sat in a vase, unattended. She stood, feeling a little awkward, her tasselled poncho hanging down over her jeans, wondering if coming here was such a good idea and looking for the door release button, in case she wanted to make a hasty exit. An old woman using a walker, being chaperoned by a young carer in a pale lilac tunic, walked past. Slowly.
‘I’m seventy-six!’ the woman shouted, as if delighted by the achievement.
Lilly offered a benign smile while feeling the grip of horror in her stomach when she realised this lady was only six years older than her, yet Lilly was young, so young! The borrowed phrase that Bertie had always favoured stuck in her mind, one that had stood her in good stead:It’s not how old you are that matters, darling, but how you are old!It had never felt more true than in that moment.
‘Be with you in a sec!’ The young woman raised a finger towards Lilly and patiently wandered along with her charge.
It was some minutes before she returned, giving Lilly a chance to study the noticeboard that was haphazardly covered with notices and postcards. Apparently there was a sing-along in the TV lounge on Tuesdays and Thursdays with Wendy on the piano. Armchair yoga on Wednesday morning. And anyone wanting to go on the coach trip to St Leonards-on-Sea had to pay the deposit to Linda by next Friday. It was heartening, to see so many activities, the sense of community, despite the slightly depressing exterior.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting. We’ve only just had lunch so always a lot of rejigging and getting residents to and from the dining room and cleaned up after lunch.’
‘Of course.’ She felt guilty for having interrupted the busy schedule, knowing she should have enquired as to when was the best time to visit.
‘Who are you here to see, my love?’ The young nurse had a wonderful way with her that she was sure must be most reassuring if this was your home.
‘Erm ...’ It felt odd to be saying the name in anything other than a derisory way. ‘Derek Manners.’
‘Oh, yes. Lovely. Is he expecting you?’
‘No. No, he’s not.’ Lilly shook her head and laughed nervously, knowing she’d be the last person he’d be expecting. ‘He’s my, erm ...’What was he?She had never let him get close enough to be a stepdad. But as someone once reminded her, a lot of water had flowed under a lot of bridges. ‘He was my mum’s husband.’
‘Right. Well, just sign in and I’ll take you to his room.’
Lilly filled in the time and date and signed before following the young woman up a flight of stairs and turning right along the wide corridor.
‘This is him.’ The carer smiled and rapped her knuckles on the door as she opened it. ‘Derek, love?’ Her voice was loud. ‘Youhave a visitor!’ She pointed at Lilly, who waved awkwardly from the doorway.
‘Good Lord!’ Derek looked like he might have been about to doze, and she felt bad for interrupting, watching as he shuffled into a more upright position in his recliner chair and pushed his glasses up on to his nose. He was very old, frail and pale. Lilly could only reflect on how similarly she had aged since she had seen him last, on the day they buried her mother. A quiet, poorly attended affair that had felt as awkward as it had sad.
‘I’ll leave you two to it.’ The young woman left them alone and Lilly wondered if this was such a good idea, was almost tempted to ask her to stay.
‘Pull up a chair.’ He pointed to a dining chair that was in a corner with a tapestry cushion on it. ‘Well ...’ He took his time, speaking slowly, yet clearly, robustly really, for his age. ‘This is a turn-up for the books.’
‘Yes.’ She sat on the chair she’d pulled closer to him. He looked neat, hair brushed, whiskers trimmed, and wearing a camel-coloured cardigan that was buttoned up with a clean, pressed shirt underneath.
‘I got the fright of my life when I looked up.’ He paused. ‘For a minute I thought you were Jeannie! Thought she’d come to get me. Not that I’d mind. I tell her that every day. “When you’re ready, love!”I say.’
‘Oh.’ She hadn’t expected to get on to the topic of death or her mother quite so quickly. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d recognise me.’
‘I’m ninety-seven, the old legs have given up the ghost, my hearing’s not too clever, but my memory is good. Some poor souls in here, they don’t even remember who they are, let alone anyone else.’
‘That’s rotten.’
‘’Tis.’ He nodded. ‘Time is no one’s friend in here, Lilly-Bob, so you might as well cut to the chase.’ He folded his fingers, now with large, knobbly knuckles, over his stomach. He wasn’t rude, exactly, but was certainly cutting her no slack. She understood that he had no need to watch his tongue or his tone, no Jeannie around to impress, no apple cart that might be upset, and he owed her nothing.
‘How ... how have you been?’ She didn’t know how to start.
