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Elda’s ribs hurt. She could barely cope with her own grief but stepping over the messy feelings that her mum was spewing all over the house was worse. “She’s not though. We need to look after her and make sure she knows we’re there.”
“I can’t, Elda. I’m not strong enough. The doctor said I can’t lift her anymore, and I have to be careful not to have another heart attack. That last one was just a warning.”
Elda swallowed her impatience. “I know what the doctors said, Mum, I was there. But I’m not asking you to do anything physical. Just be there with her. Hold her hand. Talk to her… She can hear you.” She struggled as the anguish snuffed out the oxygen in her lungs. “I just think you’ll feel better if you spend time downstairs with us.”
“Watching my own mother die isn’t going to make me feel better.”
“I’m not sure I can do all of this on my own.” Elda turned her back. “Without us, she hasn’t got anyone else, has she?”
“I’ve been here the whole time, Elda. You haven’t. You’ve only just arrived. So please, don’t try to tell me that I need to be there for my own mother. I know that.” She shifted up the bed, blinking wildly and scratching at red blotches on her neck.
“Mum, don’t get agitated. You need to rest.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying all this time, but you’ve come in here bothering me. What’s she even doing? Sleeping. She only sleeps. She’ll sleep until she slips away. What are you expecting me to do about it? If I come down there, she isn’t suddenly going to wake up and say her fond goodbyes to us. She’s bloody gone. It’s just a shitting and pissing waiting game now.”
Elda’s stomach lurched with disgust. “This is so typical of you, Mum. This is all about how you feel. Can’t you think for a moment about Nan and just being there with her? Or even me, and just being by my side through the next few hours or days?”
“You can try and pick a fight with me, Elda, and we both know you’ll win because you’ve always got all the answers and all the words in the right order. Let’s just face it. You love your nan more than me, and when she’s gone, you’ll have no reason to be here.”
“Jesus, why does it always come back to how unloved you are? I can’t even have this conversation with you right now.” Elda clenched her mouth shut. “We do love you. We both love you, very much. But you’re selfish, and you’re hard to love.” Elda forced every word out of her mouth. She was tired of having the same worn-out argument with her mother. She went to the window and threw the curtains back. The glare flooded the room, lifting dust off every surface. She raised her hands to block out the sun and blinked away her burning tears. Her nan was her guiding light. What was she supposed to do without her?
***
The house was silent. Elda’s mum was sleeping after a cocktail of cider and anxiety meds. The rattle from her nan’s bedroom was louder and irregular. There had been a stillness for days, but today she twitched. It was midnight when Elda began the night-time ritual of checking doors were locked and curtains were closed. She’d been at the bedside most of the day.
The silence was soul-destroying and lonely. She wondered about the other people who were dying across the world now, surrounded by their partners, friends, and children. She hoped they were held tight with the love in the room. She imagined voices were hushed and gazes met across the body of their loved one, a mutual understanding of the weight of what was happening in front of them too heavy to bear.
Elda had no one to share this with. Her mum had abandoned her. She craved someone to hold her hand and be in the room when she couldn’t be. But there was no one. Her head hung like a dead weight.
In the early hours, Elda was hollow and hungry. Nurses had come and gone. When they tried to stay, she lied and said that her mum would be down soon. For some reason, she wanted to protect her mother from the shame.
She creaked with the slightest movement, and her stiff neck shot through with pain. Elda knelt at the side of the bed. She stroked her nan’s hand and brushed her hair away from her face. “I hope you know you’re loved.” Her heart ached to say more, but she couldn’t find the words without choking on her tears.
Time seemed to slow down. The thoughts inside her own head muted. She wondered if her grandmother was going to wait until she was alone to die. But all at once, there was movement, and she was strong and flustered for a few seconds. She moved her shoulders off the bed and back down again, looked at Elda, startled, as if death was a surprise. Elda held her nan’s hand tightly as the life drained away from her piercing eyes.
Then, there was nothing.
Only Elda. And now she was alone; it was her versus the world. Her nan had been her shield against the many flaws of Elda’s mum. She had fed her when she was hungry and clothed her when she had nothing in her own pocket. She had hidden the truths of her own daughter’s selfishness, and now she was gone. Elda remembered being held by her. Loved by her. Who would she be without her?
All moisture drained from her mouth, and she grew breathless. She’d been expecting this for days, but the shock of it landed on her chest like a bowling ball. Winded, she rocked on the bedside chair, willing the air back into her lungs. Flashes of memory filled her vision. She saw herself as a child, being held in her grandmother’s arms. She recalled being gently cradled to and fro while drifting off to sleep.
Echoes of what she’d lost burst before her, and tears sprang to her eyes. Brimming with the agony of fresh grief, she let them spill down her cheeks. Without censor, she screamed into the lonely, black night not caring who could hear her.
Her nan’s death was the rawest abandonment of them all. It ripped a fresh wound in her fragile soul, breaking her. A numbness overcame Elda. Unaware of time passing, her limbs stiffened. They stung with the slightest movement as she kept a motionless vigil at her nan’s bed.
Sat in the stench of her own anguish, the futility of it all tormented her. A terrible mix of rage and hopelessness rose inside her stomach, threatening to force its way to the surface. Unable to control her body, the bile surged, and she vomited in her mouth. She spat it into a nearby glass and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before she stood.
The physical affliction of grief—her head pounding—was easier to handle. She welcomed feeling something rather than nothing. She stroked her nan’s hand, her wafer skin already growing cold. Elda drew the quilt up around her collar as if that could keep her warm and put her hand to her cheek. “I love you, Nan. Sleep tight.”
With that, she kissed her final goodbye and laid her head on her grandmother’s shoulder, hoping for one last time she’d kiss away the tears.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charlie tossed the duvet over her shoulder. She was turning over the same few thoughts.When can I get to her? When will it end? I hope it’s not tonight.
Knocking hammered through the suffocating stillness. For a second, she thought she was dreaming. Confused, she opened her eyes. She jumped out of the bed, ran across the landing, and followed the noise. The knock continued, rapid and random. Sweat collected at the back of her neck and knees, the kind of sweat that comes with middle of the night panic.
She fumbled at the hooks on the wall and the keys clattered onto the floor tiles. “Hold on. Who is it?” Shivering, she jabbed at the lock and forced the heavy handle.
