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“Come on, Tilly. Just because he forgets things doesn’t mean he’s got dementia. He’s old. Old people get forgetful.”

“He forgot Mum’s name the other day.”

That stopped me in my tracks. Mum had been Dad’s world, and there was no way he’d forget her name. It’d been on his lips almost every day since she died in the prayers he said every night.

“Did you ask him about it?”

She shook her head. “I was too shocked to say anything. I pretended nothing happened, and so did he.”

“Have you told the others?” The others being my siblings.

“No. I wanted to talk to you first. They’re always so busy.” She sipped her tea and gazed at me over the top of her teacup.

She wasn’t wrong. Between work and their families, it was hard to pin them down, but I’d always told her if there were any problems, she could come to me.

“Is it getting worse?” There were other things it could be, but I could understand her worry.

“It was only once. He does a lot of muttering, especially when he’s in the garden.”

“Then it’s probably nothing, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll drop by this weekend to see how he is.”

“Would you?” Her shoulders dropped, the relief on her face visible.

“I told you, you can always come to me, and it’s been a couple of weeks since I last visited. He’ll be packing the barbecue away soon, and I need my last fix of the year.” I smiled and took her hand. “We’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Mac. I don’t like to bother the others.”

“Don’t shoulder this alone. There are seven of us. Pretty sure we can share the load.” At twenty-two, the burden of caring for Dad shouldn’t have lain at her feet. Yes, Freya still lived at home, but it was down to us all to look after him.

“So, how’s it going at the vet’s? Isn’t this your last year at uni?”

“Yeah, thank fuck.” She slapped her hand across her mouth, her eyes wide. “Sorry. I shouldn’t swear.”

“Why not? You’re old enough, and I’m pretty sure it’s not the first time.” I laughed. If only she heard me mid-shift when things were going wrong.

“I know, but I try not to swear around Dad. He hates it. He can be such a stick in the mud.”

“And work is okay?”

“I love what I do. I can’t imagine doing anything else.” The smile on her face spoke volumes, and I understood. I loved being a doctor, too.

For the rest of our meal, she gushed over what she’d been doing, barely taking a breath. She’d found her vocation in life, and I couldn’t have been happier.

She finally paused when her phone rang. She looked at the screen, frowned, then answered the call. I took the opportunity to check my phone, but there was nothing from Frankie.

What the hell was going on with him?

Should I call in at his house? Would that be classed as stalking or a concerned friend?

Tilly standing up drew my attention. “Sorry, Mac. Gotta cut it short. Emergency at the practice and they need me. I’ll see you at Dad’s, though, right?”

I nodded. “I’ll be there, and make sure he’s got plenty of food and beer.”

“You and your stomach. Do you ever think of anything else?”

She bent to kiss my cheek, and I watched as she walked out of the cafe. She’d grown so much since being at uni, both physically and emotionally. Mum’s passing wasn’t as prominent for her as it was for us, since she was only three when Mum died. Poor Freya didn’t remember her at all. In a way, I envied them, but then I remembered how Mum was and how much they would have loved her. I was seven, and even now, the memories remained.

I rubbed my chest, then shook myself, not wishing to revisit them right then. I’d save them for another day when I could sit with them, give them the time they deserved.