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I don’t get many visitors. When you reach my age, the Grim Reaper has a habit of picking off your circle of friends, one by one. It seems as if, every few months, I’m dusting off my black suit ready to attend another funeral. So when I hear a knocking at the door, I assume it’s Jason the postman with a package too large to put through the letter box.
I push on the arms of the chair to help get me to my feet, then reach for the walking stick that leans against the radiator. It’s a little chilly in here, I think. Winter exacerbates my sensitivity to pain and encourages small but intense muscle spasms. So when December’s cold weather brings out the worst in my arthritic joints, I long to feel the sun’s heat on my skin again. I’ve been on the NHS waiting list forever now, waiting to have both knees replaced. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s any point in going ahead with it. I doubt I’ll be around that much longer to enjoy new joints anyway.
Peering through the spy hole, I find a young woman outside, slight in build and height, casually dressed and with a handbagdraped over her shoulder. Her face isn’t familiar to me but I open the door anyway. A fortnight must have passed since I last spoke to anyone. But that’s not even close to my record of ninety-three days during the last pandemic lockdown.
‘Mrs Harper?’ the stranger asks.
‘It’s Miss,’ I correct her. I deliver it like it’s a badge of honour when it couldn’t be further from the truth. She apologises.
‘I wonder if I could have a few moments of your time.’
‘And who are you?’
‘I’m a friend of your cousin, Gwen.’
‘Gwen?’ I repeat, my curiosity piqued. ‘That’s a name I haven’t heard in an age. Well, yes, you’d better come in.’
I lead her into my modest front room. It’s a three-up, two-down cottage. I outgrew it years ago and should have moved, yet still I remain.
‘I’m Connie,’ she says and offers her hand to shake mine. ‘I was Gwen’s carer.’
‘Carer?’ I repeat. ‘Is she alright?’ From her return expression and the fact she has turned up here unannounced, I can only assume she’s not.
‘Should we sit?’ she asks.
I offer her one of my two armchairs. I don’t have enough guests to justify the space a sofa takes up.
‘I’m really sorry to tell you that she passed away a few months ago,’ she continues.
I place my fingertips on my cheeks. ‘Why did she need a carer? Did something happen to William?’
Connie contemplates the name before realising who I’m referring to. ‘Oh, Bill,’ she says. ‘Well, I’m afraid he died about fourteen months before Gwen. I didn’t know him, I only met your cousin after he passed.’
‘Oh, how sad. Gwen and I lost touch such a long time ago that I know hardly anything about her life. I assume they had children, as he always wanted a large family?’
‘Actually no, they didn’t. From what I gather, Bill had some health issues soon after they married which meant it wasn’t to be.’ She clears her throat. ‘Miss Harper—’
‘Please, call me Meredith,’ I interrupt.
‘Meredith,’ she continues, ‘about three years ago, Gwen was diagnosed with dementia. Her doctor thinks the stress of losing Bill meant her condition rapidly escalated.’
‘Oh,’ I say, ‘that’s awful. I’ve seen it happen to friends and, well, it’s merciless.’
‘It is,’ she agrees. ‘But that’s not what killed her.’
‘Then what did?’
‘A head injury, according to her inquest. At some point on the night of her death, she left her bedroom and tried to go downstairs. Unfortunately, she fell and hit her head on a radiator. By the time she was found in the morning, she was already dead. I’m afraid I didn’t realise she had any family until recently, otherwise I’d have been in touch sooner.’
I pause to take a moment and absorb this news. Connie stares at me so sympathetically that I think she’s about to cry.
‘Where have you travelled from?’ I ask.
‘Avringstone in Buckinghamshire. That’s where Gwen had been living.’
‘The last thing I heard they were in a villa somewhere in Spain. But that was back in the mid-1990s, I think.’
‘They lived in Germany too and travelled a lot, from what she told me. She mentioned your name from time to time, but when I asked about you, she’d lose her train of thought. She even called me Meredith a few times, particularly towards the end, or she’d ask meto find you. In fact the last time I saw her, she said: “Don’t forget to find Meredith and tell her I have Tom.”’
