The night passes uneventfully and for thatI’m grateful. It’s refreshing to be part of ‘normal’ conversation; easy-goingand light-hearted. I quiz Michael on whether he has a girlfriend and it’s justfriendly banter back and forth. “Of course I have, dad, who’s gonna say no tothis face, come on now.” Janey as well seems fairly relaxed and if she’s at allconcerned about our chat earlier this morning, she doesn’t show it.
I manage to sleep solidly for the mostpart throughout the night, resolving to push any thoughts of George to one sidefor now.
All was going well when I arose and setabout getting ready for work. That was until my mobile phone rang. Sunny DaysCare Home flashed up on the screen – mother’s care home.
“Mr Taylor.”
“Hello,” I respond.
“Hello this is Beatrice from Home FarmCare. Sorry to bother you and I don’t want to alarm you but there’s been anincident—”
I don’t let her finish, I interject, “Whatdo you mean there’s been an incident? What type of incident?”
“She had a visit earlier today from yourfather and nothing happened so don’t worry, she’s not hurt or anything, but shehas become very hard to handle. It’s quite unlike her, she’s been lashing outat the staff; kicking and biting and refusing to eat or drink.”
“Are you saying this is as result offather’s visit?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure, but it’s beena number of years since he’s been here, and he shows up out of the blue and thenext thing we know your mother is acting completely out of character … Peoplewith dementia can show these tendencies but your mother has never displayedthem before. Her illness is one which made her revert more into herself.Anyway, she’s refusing to allow any of the staff to come near her and saysshe’ll only speak to you.”
“OK, thanks for letting me know. Is shewanting to speak to me just now?”
“No, she’s resting up, Mr Taylor, but whenshe comes around if she is still asking for you would it be possible to giveyou a call back?”
“Sure, no problem,” and we end the call.
What on earth is going on? First, I haveGeorge pestering me to go back to Skye, now this! Why has father gone to visitmother in her home if he’s not been for years? Why now and what has he said toher to cause her to start lashing out?
I wait on tenterhooks for the phone toring and eventually it does a couple of hours later. Beatrice passes the phoneto my mother and I say a tentative “Hello.” A brief pause then, “Hello son.”Relief floods my bones, no matter what’s happened, at least she is lucid enoughnow and knows who I am. And, she has calmed down enough to speak to me.
“Are you OK, mother?”
No pause this time. “Bad man; bad man; badman.”
“Who was the bad man, mother?”
“Can’t say; not allowed to say.”
“What do you mean you’re not allowed tosay? What has happened, mum? Has someone upset you?” There is no response. Iwait patiently but nothing. I don’t know if mentioning father would be a wisemove or not and I wrestle with my conscious as I dive between concern aboutmother’s welfare and my own curiosity about exactly what happened during thevisit.
My curiosity is the victor and I press on,“I know father came to see you earlier today mother what—”
Before I can finish my sentence, sheimplodes, “No; no; no; bad man …” The rest I was unable to decipher but I couldhear Beatrice in the background calling for back-up. A noise akin to the phonecrashing on the ground was next, then the dial tone. I sit there for some time,unable to steady the flow of my breath. My heart feels as though it’s beatingout of my chest; my throat constricted and my temples throbbing. I am unable toshake the nervous tension which has enveloped me.
I don’t hear back from the care home untillater that evening. Beatrice had finished her shift so a barely interestedCarly phones to tell me mother is OK now. She lashed out at a couple of staffmembers, but they had the situation under control once they were able to sedateher. I thank her and tell her that I will phone in tomorrow to see how she’sgetting on.
I realise the events of the past few daysare my burden and my burden alone. I cannot share any of this with Janey. Thisfeels very strange because I am used to being able to share everything with mywife and best friend. She doesn’t know a great deal about my upbringing. I’vetalked about my siblings and she knows that mother is now in a care home, but Ihave never gone into any great detail about how bad things were. Why would I?Ever since I left Skye all I have ever tried to do is move on from it and buryit as deeply as I possibly could. She knows I had a difficult relationship withfather but a combination of me not wanting to delve into it and her notpressing me for information has meant we’ve only ever touched briefly on it.
No, I must figure this out for myself. Buthow? My thoughts are with mother and I hope the sedation has been effective.Perhaps when she wakes this time, if she’s not reminded again of father’svisit, she might be able to put it behind her. I truly hope so.
As I lay in bed, sleep only a whisperaway, a noise rouses me, and I realise someone has texted me. My brain notfully functioning, I reach out to pick the phone up. It’s an unknown number andI feel the veil of sleep diminishing rapidly. Before I open the text, I notethe time – 12:30 a.m. This had better be good. Who was trying to make contactat this
