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The radio on the windowsill burst to life at her touch, but she hushed the volume so she could hear her nan call out. She worked her way through the kitchen, scraping at old grease and spraying away dust and mould. Elda wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm, then vacuumed and mopped every floor in the house. In a frenzy, she sponged dirt from skirting boards, poked crevices, and dusted in corners.
By the time the nine o’clock news was playing out on the radio, Elda was dressing her nan for bed, with a fresh nightie and socks.
“You’re a good girl, Elda. Thank you for looking after me.”
Elda fought back a sob and squeezed her nan’s hand. Her blotchy skin was paper thin, as if it would tear easily. She followed her shuffling grandmother into the downstairs bedroom. She was breathless, and the journey from one room to another had taken all of her energy.
“Will Cath be coming again tomorrow?”
“She might come and see you, Nan. But I’ll be here to look after you. Don’t worry about that now.” Elda gave her an empty smile as her mind flicked through all the things she’d left abandoned at home. She wished she could fold into Charlie’s lap right now.
She adjusted the pillows and quilted blanket and laid a fleece over her nan’s feet. Elda closed the door behind her and turned her back to the room, struggling to breathe for a few seconds.
After she’d climbed into the spare bed, she studied the faint spots on the dark ceiling. The room was unfamiliar, but she could make out the shapes of the wardrobe and drawers in front of her. She reached to touch Charlie, but she wasn’t there.
She began talking to herself, grasping at the meaning of words that were coming to her and then falling away. She counted her heartbeat in the silence, praying that sleep would rescue her from her thoughts.
It didn’t. Rest was not coming in this house.
Elda swung her legs out of the bed, and the cool air hit her calves. She stepped out of the bedroom. Standing tall, she summoned every ounce of bravery and crept down to her grandmother’s bedroom to listen at the door for any movement. If she could hear her nan sleeping from there, she’d walk away. She opened the door and leaned in. Her nan had slipped down into her pillows, her neck twisted into a fold.
Elda wedged the door open with a slipper and put her hands on her hips. She stood over the bed guard and traced her fingers along the crisscross seams of the quilt. She could smell her childhood. The quilt was big enough to throw over the backs of upturned chairs and hide underneath. Her grandmother would sit next to her, passing her toys. Safe inside, Elda would explore each diamond, following the story of the painted pictures.
Looking down at the quilt now, it was random and chaotic, but as a child, she’d found patterns and made sense of the stories.
“Linda?”
“It’s me, Nan. I’m here.” Elda took her hand and inched closer. “Hold on, I’ve got you. Let me move these pillows, and we’ll sort you out.” Elda hesitated, unsure what to do next, and petrified of hurting her nan’s tiny body.
“Don’t leave me, Elda.” She was alert, reaching for Elda’s hand. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You really are.”
Her grandmother rested again. Elda’s skin still tingled, and her heart boomed in her chest. She rooted herself to the spot and tried to slow down. Then she headed into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle.
As the boil became rapid, Elda picked at her dry lips. Her teeth ached from clenching them. This was going to be hard in so many ways. She hated her mum for being in hospital and leaving her alone to cope. But Elda also dreaded having to care for them both.
Why was this happening now? When all she wanted to do was spend every waking hour with Charlie. Was this punishment for finally finding a crumb of contentment in among all the shit she’d had to deal with?
The weight of her selfishness crushed her, and she burned with guilt. Her mind was telling her to be a grown-up and look after her nan. But every muscle twitched to run away, back to Charlie, back to everything she’d known twenty-four hours earlier.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Charlie studied her shoes on the doorstep and crinkled the plastic wrapping of the bouquets bursting from her grip.
Her pulse raced as the door opened, revealing a paler version of Elda. “Hello, you.”
“Thanks for coming.” Elda melted into Charlie’s arms, and tears fell down her cheeks.
Her heart cracked seeing Elda so fragile.
Elda led her to the kitchen and took down some fresh mugs. “Nan hasn’t been out of bed since I put her there last week. She’s drifting in and out now.”
“How’s your mum doing? Are they discharging her today?” Charlie pulled out a wooden chair and sat down. She put her finger on a tiny crumb on the plastic tablecloth then flicked it away.
“I think so. She’s waiting for a prescription and creating some drama, as usual.” Elda tried to laugh, but she looked devastated. “I don’t know how long this is all going to —” Elda choked back the words. “I can’t even think about it.”
Charlie stood and wrapped her arms around Elda’s waist, pulling her close. “Tell me. It’s okay,” she whispered into Elda’s neck.
“I’m awful. I feel like I want it to be over so we can get back to our own lives. But then I feel terrible for that.” Her voice was thick with grief. “I’m not sure how much help Mum is going to need. She’s been going on about rehab and resting.”
