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“And how’s work going? You keep working for that promotion. Going to out-rank your old dad one of these days.” He looks at me with such pride that my breath catches in my throat. He leans towards me. “If you need me to put a word in, just let me know,” he whispers. He grins and takes another ginger nut from the plate. He snaps it between his teeth and sits back contentedly as he munches it noisily.
I nod and turn away, pretending to look at the view as I hold back the tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. Because that’s how my father shows love. By doing. By making sure I’m well looked after. Even now.
Major John Canmore does not use words. He expresses his love through his deeds.
And that’s why the day he told me loved me was the day I knew there was something wrong.
Dad helps himself to another biscuit and takes a long sip of tea. “So,” he says brightly. “How are things with you?”
CHAPTER 6
Victoria
I sit with Dad, watching the swallows diving about the summer sky and eating biscuits, until a glance at my watch reveals that the evening news is due to start.
“The news is about to come on, Dad. Do you want to watch it?”
“Oh yes,” he says. He brushes the crumbs from his lap and drains the last dregs of his now cold tea. He grimaces. “Need to keep up with what’s going on in the world.”
“Indeed. Do you want to watch it in the day room, or would you like me to take you back along to your room to watch it?”
“I’ll go back to my room, please, darling. If I stay in the day room, that old git Benny will just talk all the way through it.”
I smile and shake my head. “That ‘old git’ is your friend, Dad.”
“I know,” says my father with a shrug. “So, he should know how much I hate it when he talks through it.”
Sometimes it isn’t the Alzheimer’s. Sometimes it is just Dad.
As we head into the corridor, we pass Nurse Watt.
“Just taking him back to his room. He’s going to watch the news.”
She nods. “I’ll come and fetch him after it finishes, for his dinner.”
“Thanks,” I reply.
Nurse Watt knows the Major and his ways. All of the staff do in here. And yet they all report that they love working with him. I’m not sure whether they tell me that to assuage the guilt I feel every time I hear him berating one of them, or whether it is actually true. I suppose at least they know where they stand with him.
I settle him back in his bedroom, parked in a wingback chair, remote control in hand. By the time I shut the door behind me, he is engrossed in the events of the day.
The nurse is making her way back along the corridor as I enter the corridor.
“Is that him settled?” she asks.
“Yeah, that’ll be him happy for a good hour.”
“We’ll get him along to the dining room for his meal later. He likes that.”
“Probably reminds him of the Officers’ Mess.”
“Probably,” she agrees with a laugh. “He’s such a conundrum. Sometimes he loves company, sometimes he hates it. Still, wouldn’t change him. He is very much who he is and that’s that. It is to be admired.”
“Yeah.”
“Um, Victoria, Mr. Hatchell has asked if you’ll pop in to see him in his office before you leave. Do you have time? If not, I can let him know…”
That’s the third time this week he’s asked. It irks me that he gets his staff to ask me to attend his office like I’m some naughty schoolgirl. But I’ve been ducking him since Dad moved in here three weeks ago and I don’t suppose I’ll be able to do it forever. There’s no point in procrastinating the inevitable.
