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“Hi Dad.” I bend and kiss him on the cheek before settling down in the seat next to him.
His face brightens. “Victoria, my girl. How lovely to see you. I was just watching the swallows diving about out there. They’ll be heading south soon.”
“They will indeed. Would you like to sit outside? You’ll be able to see them better out there. The staff are bringing the tea tray round. Shall we have ours on the terrace?”
“That would be lovely.”
He lifts his sweater from the back of the chair and I help him to bring it down over his shirt. Most of his companions are dressed in casual wear. Some are even in their pyjamas. But not Major Canmore. He is sporting chinos, a shirt, and a cricket-style sweater. His hair is carefully combed in his favourite military fade style and he is freshly and cleanly shaved.
The Major’s mind might be going but he is very much still with us.
I offer him my arm as we walk out to the terrace. He grouses a bit under his breath but he takes it. I manage to stifle a gasp at how light he feels on my arm.
As we take our seats, he looks at me and his eyes cloud.
“What are we doing?” he asks, a frown creasing his brow.
“We are taking our tea on the terrace and watching the swallows.” I wave my hand towards the gardens, where the birds continue their aerial display.
“Oh, lovely. I forget, you know. My mind’s away.” He brushes his fingers against his temple. My heart aches.
“Well, that’s what I’m here for, Dad. I can do the remembering for both of us. Teamwork.”
“Teamwork,” he echoes with a smile.
A carer approaches the table and places a cup of tea in front of both of us. She smiles as she sets a china plate loaded with a selection of biscuits on the table between us.
“Popped a few extra ginger nuts on there for you, Major,” she says, winking at my dad. “I know how much you like them.”
My dad beams. “Thanks,” he replies, reaching to take one from the plate. The carer smiles and pats him on the shoulder.
I’ve got to hand it to Ben. He runs a wonderful establishment. Dad is quite content here. I’d endured many sleepless nights fretting about how he would cope with the transition, but as ever the Major surprised me. He loves his new barracks.
“So, how are things with you?” Dad rolls out the stock question he keeps up his sleeve for when conversations flag.
I shake myself, guilt welling at having left him to make conversation. I’m normally a bit more on the ball than this.
“Great, Dad, thanks. I’ve been busy at the house.”
His face drops. “Not much needing done there, surely?” he asks with a grimace.
“No, not much,” I assure him. The guilt flares again, both over bringing up a delicate subject without proper prior thought, and over the lie I just told him. And the lies I’m about to tell him. He doesn’t need to know that I’ve been sorting out the bits and pieces that fell apart while he didn’t realise that he couldn’t manage any more. “It doesn’t need much done. Just a little freshen up. You know how these things are. It is a never-ending task keeping up a house that size.”
He nods sagely, satisfied.
“Well, I hope you will be very happy there, darling. Just let me know if you need anything. Don’t try to do it all yourself. I know you are very capable, but it never hurts to get a bit of help. Just call me if you need me, I’ll come up.”
I pat his hand. “Thanks, Dad.”
I ignore the squeeze in my chest. He’s unlikely to see the inside of The Pines again. He can’t even go on the regular day trips into the town. The doctor, if needed, has to visit him in the nursing home. The change in environment is too much for him. His brain can’t cope. A man who traveled the world, who led teams of incredibly clever, highly educated, massively experienced Army doctors in truly game-changing developments in rehabilitation work for veterans can’t leave his home to visit his own GP. My teeth grit involuntarily together.
Alzheimer’s Disease has a lot to answer for.
I hate that my father will never be able to see his beloved house ever again. I hate that he is stuck in this nursing home, beautiful and comfortable and cozy and well-run as it is. The house on the hill is where his heart lies. It was the house he couldn’t bring himself to move away from, even after my accident, even after I returned to university, even when he retired, even when my mum died. He loved it there. It was his home after a lifetime of globe-trotting.
He probably wouldn’t even recognise it now. The inside would definitely be a mystery to him. The entire living room had to be plastered and redecorated after he left the bath running and went out for the afternoon. The kitchen needed completely re-done after the pan-fire incident that precipitated his move to Meadow View.
The re-fits, along with the modernising work that was needed, would be too much for him. The Pines that he loved exists now only in his mind, and the memories of that fade by the day too.
