Font Size:  

“Sheila?” Roberts voice was full of wonder as he stepped towards his wife. She flinched and pushed herself further into the corner of the room. Robert’s eyes clouded again, and he looked around the conservatory like a lost little boy. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“This is…”

“I’m tired,” Robert interrupted. “I’d like to go to bed.”

“Come on, Dad,” said Bob, taking his father’s hand. “I’ll take you to your bed.”

Kate’s throat tightened at the site of Bob leading his father from the room. It was the most heart-breaking sight she had seen. Joy moved towards Sheila, holding out a hand for her to take.

“How about you and I make a nice cup of tea,” said Joy. “It’s been an age since I last saw you at the WI and I’m sure we’ve got lots to catch up on.” Sheila grabbed Joy’s hand, and pushed herself up to standing. With meek resignation, she leaned against Joy and headed towards the kitchen.

Kate sat herself down in an armchair. How could she have been so unaware of what was going on in her friend’s life? Bob walked into the conservatory and slumped down beside her, leaning his back against the wicker leg of the chair. Neither of them spoke for what felt like an age. It was Kate who broke the silence.

“I’m so sorry.”

Bob looked up at her. “What on earth do you have to be sorry about? It’s me who’s been the arsehole.”

“I should’ve made more effort to help.”

“You didn’t know what was wrong.”

“I knewsomethingwas wrong.”

Bob put his head in his hands. “I didn’t want to bring you into all this. You’ve been my sanctuary these past few months.”

“Well I’m here now, so you might as well tell me what’s been going on.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

BOB LAY HIShead on Kate’s knee and she ran her hands through his thick hair. With every stroke she felt him relax, until finally he was able to talk.

“When I first moved back here after Ellie died, Mum and Dad were amazing. They pieced my shattered heart back together, both emotionally and practically. They decorated the spare room so it felt like a fresh start rather than a backwards move, held me when I cried, listened for hours as I talked and talked. Dad got me a job at his solicitor’s firm. He even took me camping, I think to remind me of happy times before Ellie. Not that they wrote her out of history. Mum put photos of her up around the house, and brought her up regularly in conversation. They were amazing.” Bob looked up to be sure Kate understood. She smiled at him, and he lay his head back down.

“We were good for a few years. I felt no shame being back with my parents, because in truth, they were my best friends. It was more like a house share than a parent child relationship. It was a couple of years ago when things started to go wrong. You have to remember, I was living and working with Dad, so it was natural, given how much time we spent together, that I was first to spot the signs.

To begin with it was little things, losing keys, forgetting clients' names, things Mum could pass off as tiredness or stress. But soon it became impossible at work. I was covering for him, smoothing over mistakes, sitting with him in meetings. Effectively I was doing the job of two people, and I couldn’t handle it. It was a long, nasty process getting Dad to leave work. It was his company after all. Plus, he was still sharp enough to figure out what I was trying to do. Eventually I got the diagnosis and power of attorney I needed, but I paid a heavy price for it. It ruined our relationship and precipitated the start of the anger.

I’ve told myself over and over that anger is a symptom of his condition, it’s not personal. But it feels bloody personal when you’ve been screamed at and hit. He’s never once hurt Mum, but I’m worried it could happen.”

Bob took a deep breath and his shoulders started a slow heave up, down, up, down. Kate felt the wet of his tears seep into her trousers and reached her arms round him.

“It’s OK,” she whispered, “it’s OK.”

“Somehow I’ve managed to keep it to myself. I know some of the people I work with guessed, they’re not stupid, but we all went along with the farce. The retirement party, the gold watch, as if retiring was Dad’s idea all along.”

“What was the diagnosis?”

“Dementia.”

“Bob, I know it’s not my place to say, but don’t you think you need professional help?”

“I have carers coming in when I’m at work, or can’t be in the house. But they’re struggling to cope and it’s increasingly hard to find someone who will come. He’s starting to need round the clock care, but Mum won’t hear of him going into a home. She doesn’t want to lose him.”

“That’s understandable.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like