AllFreeNovel
Share Us
*
It was late afternoon and the sun had crept its way across the room. In films and books this type of scene is short and poignant. But real life is somewhat different. As the minutes ticked slowly into hours, I could see the toll it was beginning to have on Hope. It was a lot for a sixteen-year old to deal with, and no one protested when she subtly drew out her phone and began messaging.
‘Sam?’ I asked quietly.
She gave a shy smile and nodded.
Dad and I had been playing a sad game of musical chairs, taking it in turns to sit beside Mum’s bed to hold her hand. There was a drip in her other arm, and a canula in her hand which made it awkward to hold. Between the discreet visits of the home’s nurses and carers, Dad and I told stories of a time when none of this would ever have seemed possible. We spoke of family holidays and Christmases, filling the room with long-forgotten memories. Sometimes Mum smiled as though she was listening and also remembering, at least that’s what I liked to think was happening.
Late in the afternoon I went to the communal lounge to fetch us all coffees. Chloe joined me a moment or two later.
‘Thought I’d give you a hand,’ she said, squeezing my shoulder gently. A buzzing from the depths of her bag made us both jump. As I poured coffee into plastic beakers, I saw her smile as she read the message on her phone and began tapping out a reply.
‘Just work,’ she said breezily, stuffing the phone back into her bag. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost six, and the library where Chloe worked part-time closed an hour earlier. I didn’t challenge her. Why would I?
Before I picked up the coffees, Chloe reached for my hand and took it between both of hers. ‘I don’t think it will be very much longer now.’
My eyes flared with panic.Not yet. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.
‘Oh?’ my voice sounded small and lost, like that of a child.
She nodded sadly. Her years of working as a volunteer on a geriatric ward had given her an insight. She knew how these things went. But when we returned to the room I wondered if she was wrong. Mum’s eyes were open, and she was talking more coherently than she’d done so far all day. She even turned her head our way, but her smile was vague and unfocussed.
‘I think she might be feeling a little better,’ Dad said hopefully, and no one in the room dared to break his heart even more by refuting it.
Mum lifted the arm with all the tubes in it and moved her hand back and forth through the air. A distant memory began to stir.
‘Cocoa,’ she said croakily, and then with even more feeling, ‘Cocoa.’
‘Do you want a drink, Grandma?’ asked Hope, springing to her feet. ‘We can get her some hot chocolate, can’t we, Mum?’ she asked turning to Chloe.
‘Cocoa,’ Mum said again, this time with a smile that showed her pale gums and yellowed teeth.
‘It’s not a drink she’s talking about,’ I said softly, my eyes meeting my father’s across the bed.
There were tears running down his cheeks. Mine too.
‘Cocoa was the dog we had when I was a child,’ I explained, my eyes fixed on my mother’s hand which was still moving through the air, stroking a collie’s head that only she could see.
‘Cocoa belonged to all of us… but it was Mum she loved the best. She was the one who fed her and walked her.’
Mum’s eyes were beginning to glaze, and in the corner of the room I saw Chloe reach for Hope’s hand. Ryan put his arm around them both.
Now? It was happening now?
‘Cocoa wants a walk. She’s got her lead in her mouth.’ Mum sounded so convinced I turned my head as though our long since passed dog was actually there beside the bed, her tail thumping the floor in anticipation.
And then Mum turned to me and smiled, and I froze the moment in my heart because I knew it would be the last one she would ever give me. ‘Be a good girl, Maddie. I’m just going to take Cocoa for a little walk.’
She disappeared behind my tears. ‘Okay, Mum. I love you.’
Dad had got to his feet and bent to kiss her gently on the lips. ‘You head off now,’ he said, turning away and glancing out the window at the red gold of the setting sun. ‘It’s a lovely evening for a walk. I’ll catch up with you in a little while.’
*
It was the very best and the very worst of goodbyes. Soon the room would fill with carers and nurses, but these minutes were ours and we took them, standing in silence, thinking of all we’d just lost.
*
