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“She’ll be all right. It’s been a shock, even though she knew this was coming. Give her time. She’ll come away when she’s ready.”
“Thank you. Is it okay if I wait here?”
“Of course. Or you could go in to sit with her.”
“I didn’t actually know Mrs Lowison…”
“I meant sit with Ruth. She might appreciate it, even if she’s not ready to talk yet.” She leaves me to make up my own mind.
I’m not remotely convinced my presence will be welcome, but I risk it anyway. I enter as quietly as I can so as not to disturb her. Even so, she glances up.
Her eyes are red-rimmed, her cheeks tear-stained.
“I’m sorry.” The words seem hollow, meaningless, but it’s all I have. “Is there anything I can do?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you want me to go?”
Another shake.
I grab one of the spare chairs and pull it around the bed to sit next to her. My eyes are drawn to the frail presence in the bed, so still and pale.
So empty.
The family resemblance is there. I can see both Beth and Ruth in this elderly lady. “She looks to be at peace,” I observe, somewhat irrelevantly.
Ruth makes no comment. She clutches her mother’s thin hand and lays her forehead on it. And she sobs.
I’m not sure how long we stay there, me silent, Ruth quietly weeping. Eventually, she raises her tear-filled gaze to mine.
“Thank you for waiting.”
“That’s okay. Are you ready to go yet?” I don’t want to rush her, but even so…
“Go where?” She appears utterly lost.
“Home. Your mother’s house.”
She gets to her feet but seems unable to move from the bedside. “I…it doesn’t seem right to just leave her…”
The nurse chooses that precise moment to materialise in the doorway. “You can leave her with me, love. I’ll take care of her for you.”
Either she’s telepathic or just very good at her job. Ruth seems content with this and shuffles towards the door.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and lead her out into the corridor. She halts suddenly, her expression startled. “I… I have things to do. Arrangements to make. I need to organise the funeral. Tell people…”
“Yes, but—”
“I don’t know what to do.” She looks up at me, helpless and confused. “I have no idea…”
“We’ll work it out,” I reply, though organising funerals is way out of my normal scope, too. The only experience I have was my own mother’s funeral a couple of years ago, but that was during Covid and I was the only person there apart from a harried priest. I doubt if Mrs Lowison will be laid to rest with so little fanfare. Even so… “We’ll start by phoning an undertaker.”
She nods. So far, so good, though she’s still numb from shock.
Beth and Faith are waiting for us in the foyer. They take charge of Ruth while I ask the front desk to call us a taxi. A few minutes later, we bundle Ruth out of the building and towards the car.
“Miss Lowison, wait.”
