Friday

There was a scheduled visit to Lesley’s dad in the running order today. Just a quick, last-minute  check before Lesley’s sister arrives from several time zones away early next week. That was all changed when the home help messaged us about the latest calamity. She’s only with him two days a week. We seemed to have reached the point where he needs assistance first thing in the morning every day. He also seemed to accept the suggestion. At this time of asking at least.

The result of the visit was the same as it usually is – I got to The Home far later than I’d hoped. The night shift had just got going.

Mum was dozing when I went into her room but she was aware that there was someone there and who it was before I’d said anything. It had been quite a while since Mum hadn’t needed me to say who I am. She said she was pleased that I’d come to see her.

“I’m here every day Mum. Whether you like it or not. Sorry!”

That made her laugh.

It took her a few minutes to get her speech warmed up and the first few phrases were very indistinct. I wasn’t sure but I thought she was trying to tell me that her pad needed changing. 

“Can you smell it?” she asked, confirming my suspicion.

“Blimey! Is that you!? I thought it was the farmyard next door!”

That made her laugh too.

Mum didn’t moan that nobody had been to see her for once. Her mum had been to see her this morning. Then there had been a girl who’d been for a long chat. I gathered that Mum had recognised her.

“She’s from down there, from the market. You know who I mean…”

“Yeah. I know who you mean.” I lied.

A man had been too.

“Was he wearing a yellow jacket?”

“Yeah”

“His name’s John. He’s a nice bloke.”

“Yeah. He is.”

“But then they’re all nice here. They all know what they’re doing and they’re a very caring bunch of people.”

“Yes. They are.”

Then she went indistinct for a bit before asking

“Could you read me a story?”

“Of course I can!”

“Go on then!”

Nice little cameo appearance by Impatient Mum there. She doesn’t normally show up until much nearer Peak Active Mum.

* Spoiler Alert *

I started reading.

“This story is called Pride & Prejudice Mum”

“Oh yeah.”

The chapter is about a TV crew arriving in the village in the Cotswolds to film a period drama starring “the most handsome actor on the planet” – Connor Flirt – and how all the ladies have a touch of The Vapours when they see him.

Mum was much more engaged with the story than she normally is. Half-way through the chapter, she interrupted me.

“Connor Flirt? This sounds like that thing with Colin Firth in it”

I was gobsmacked. I don’t think she’s mentioned anything relating to the real world since Christmas at least. I congratulated her on remembering his name. She liked that.

All through the chapter we could hear Eleanor wandering up and down the corridor like Moaning Myrtle – calling out for help, wailing that she couldn’t find her ‘Babies’ and claiming that someone had stolen her dog. Mum even tried to invite her in to her room.

“She’s lost her toys Mum. I should go and help her.”

“Yeah. You better had.”

I found Eleanor sobbing in her room.

“Have you found everybody?”

“Yeah, look at them all. I don’t know what to do. They haven’t had anything to eat. They won’t give me anything for them to eat. How could they be so cruel? I haven’t done anything to deserve this!”

They didn’t look like they hadn’t had anything to eat. All her toys had Bourbon biscuit all over their faces. She continued to fret that she wasn’t able to look after her ‘babies’ properly and that the staff weren’t helping.

“They’re horrible here. They say they won’t give me any food for them because they’re all dead. They’re not! I can hear them talking to me!”

“Well, they all look happy enough to me Eleanor. I think you’re looking after them alright. I’m sure if you asked them they’d say that they’d rather have you as their mum than anyone else in the world.”

“Do you think so? I think I’m a good mum.”

The sobbing stopped. Instantly.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m going back to my Mum now.”

“Is she still here?”

“Yes, she’s next door.”

“Is that your Mum!? Oh, she’s a lovely lady. She’s never miserable.”

“I’ll tell her you said that. Perhaps you could pay her a visit when you get a minute.”

If I can’t get Mum to meet the other residents in the lounge perhaps I could get them to visit her instead.

When I got back to Mum her mum had come back to see her and seemed to be hovering somewhere near the wardrobe.

Mum spent the remainder of my visit trying to get her mum to decide whether she was staying for the night or whether she wanted me to give her a lift home. She couldn’t get an answer.

“She can’t hear me.”

That wasn’t a surprise. Mum’s mum was notoriously deaf.

“She doesn’t need to decide now Mum. I’m going to get the car started. If she wants a lift she can meet me in the car park. If not, there’s a phone downstairs and she can ring me for a lift. If she wants to stay, I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“Oh. Alright.”

It only dawned on me as I made my way home how much louder and clearer Mum’s speech was when she spoke to her Mum compared to when Mum spoke to me.

I thought that was odd.

Bibliography

Tales from the Parish: 31 humorous short stories about community, family and village life, set in the English countryside

Kindle Edition

by Stefania Hartley

Author’s Note

My Mum is in a nursing home in a small village in the Thames Valley. The photo is not of the home. I used an AI image generator to give the reader some idea of the home she’s in.

All, some or maybe even none (you’ll never know!) of the names have been changed to protect privacy and hide real identities. If you think you recognise someone then let me know and I’ll edit the post or remove it entirely