Rachel Roberts walked across the car park towards the entrance of The Elms. She was an attractive woman, tall and slim, with natural red hair falling in gentle waves to her shoulders. A narrow but pleasant face accommodated wide-set grey-green eyes, with a small slightly upturned nose and full lips combining to present a striking appearance. With an aura of confidence around her, she could certainly pass for a woman much younger than her thirty-two years.
As she entered The Elms, she nodded briefly to the receptionist. It was an excellent facility and housed a secure dementia unit, where Alice could be assessed in a safe environment, and Rachel was free to visit at any time.
Dr Richard Edwards smiled as he offered his hand, her look of concern not lost on him.
‘I’ve seen your mother this morning, Rachel. Alice is still confused but perhaps a little better than previously.’
‘Really? That’s good to hear. Did she ask about Dad?’
‘Yes, he seems to be her chief concern. She even asked if I was a policeman so she could report him as missing.’ He paused as if to take in the pained expression which crossed Rachel’s face. ‘How long is it since your father died?’
‘Over four years, but she doesn’t seem to remember anything about it. Is this sort of thing usual?’
‘Sadly, yes, it is. Patients with dementia often live in the past. It’s a more comfortable existence for them. The memories of years gone by are generally clearer than those of yesterday.’
‘But what do I do? Should I tell her that Dad’s dead or let her live in her fantasy world, expecting him to come and visit at any time?’
‘For the moment, perhaps, it would be better to try to avoid the subject altogether. It could be painful for Alice to find out her husband’s dead; it’s like suffering the bereavement all over again. On the other hand, if she insists on answers, and your mother does seem quite a determined lady, then you’ll have to tell her the truth, and we’ll deal with any fallout as it occurs. I know how distressing this must be, but it’s still early days, too early to make any permanent decisions as Alice’s cognitive capacity is fluctuating from one day to the next. We’ll keep on with these short assessments for the time being and I’m always happy to answer any questions.’
‘Did my mother know what day it is and how old she is? The last time I saw her, she couldn’t even remember where she lived.’
Dr Edwards glanced at his notes. ‘Alice told me her date of birth and she knew it was Thursday but not what month it was.’ He looked back to his notes as Rachel nodded thoughtfully. ‘Your mother talked a little about her retirement from her teaching job in Matlock–’
‘Teaching?’ Rachel interrupted. ‘Mum’s never been a teacher. She spent her working life in an office!’
‘Ah, I see.’
He danced his fingers on the edge of the desk for a moment, made a few more notes on his keyboard, then smiled as Rachel asked, ‘Is it normal to invent such a story?’
‘Oh yes, I’ve known patients to invent a whole new history for themselves, careers, partners and lifestyles completely different from the reality they’ve actually experienced. I know it’s worrying, but as I said, it’s still early days. You could help with our assessments by recalling any unusual behaviour Alice might have been exhibiting lately. Sometimes it’s only with hindsight that we see the signs of dementia. It could be she’s been deteriorating for some time and you haven’t picked up on the signals.’
Rachel nodded again, tears welling in her eyes. ‘Thank you, doctor. I’ll give it some thought. I suppose there are signs I could have missed as she’s only recently moved nearby. Now I’d like to go and see her if that’s okay?’
‘Certainly, you can visit at any time. I’m sure Alice will be pleased to see you.’
Rachel left the doctor’s office and climbed thoughtfully up the stairs to her mother’s room.
* * *
Rachel pasted on a bright smile which Alice met with an anxious stare. ‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Rachel! Thank goodness you’re here. Please will you take me home? I don’t know what’s going on, but they seem to think I’m mad, and your father hasn’t been yet. Where is he? I’m seriously worried about him.’
‘Calm down, please. You’re not well enough to go home yet, but I’ve just spoken to the doctor and he seems to think you’re improving, so that’s good news, isn’t it?’ Rachel perched on the edge of the bed next to her mother’s chair, her hair still damp from the continuing rain outside, the smell of fresh air clinging to her clothes.
‘Don’t patronise me, Rachel. I want to go home! Surely they can’t keep me here against my will?’
‘It’s for your own good, Mum. You don’t seem to realise how poorly you’ve been and to be quite honest, if you went home now, you’d be vulnerable and probably back here in no time. Surely you can see that it’s better all round if you just do what the doctor suggests?’
‘But I won’t be alone. Your dad will be there! I might have been a bit confused, but I’m certainly fit to go home now.’
‘Oh, really?’ Rachel’s impatience took control. ‘Don’t you remember Dad died four years ago? He had a heart attack, I’m sorry, Mum, but you’re living in the past…’
‘No, that’s a wicked lie! Tom’s not dead. He’s away sorting out his business affairs; you know that as well as I do!’
‘I know that’s what you want to believe and it’s hard to accept that he’s dead, but it’s true! You’ll just have to trust me on this. Your memory’s playing tricks on you. You’ve lived alone since Dad died, but moved here a few weeks ago, don’t you remember?’
‘Yes, of course, I remember moving, we wanted to be nearer you, but your father’s not dead! Don’t you think I’d know if my own husband was dead?’
‘It’s all part of the illness, Mum, but it’ll come back to you soon, so don’t worry about it.’ Rachel smiled what she hoped would be a reassuring smile, but it was evident that her mother still didn’t believe what she was saying. Alice raised her voice, growing increasingly agitated and demanding to see Tom. The seemingly omnipresent Mavis appeared in the doorway, the last straw for Alice.
‘Everything all right, is it?’ Mavis asked with that fake smile on her face.
Alice picked up the water glass on the side table and threw it at the woman in sheer exasperation. ‘No, it’s not bloody all right! You’re all liars. Why are you doing this to me?’ She stood and made to run out of the door. Rachel jumped up too and grabbed her mother’s arm while Mavis pressed the buzzer beside the bed, then caught hold of Alice’s other arm.
‘Let me go. I’m going home!’ Alice screamed and struggled, trying to free herself from the two younger, stronger women. A nurse appeared in the doorway with a syringe which she quickly pressed into Alice’s arm as Mavis held her still. Very soon, all was quiet as the medication took effect.
* * *
‘She’ll sleep it off now and most likely will have forgotten the whole incident when she wakes.’ The nurse spoke kindly to Rachel, whose face was stained with tears.
‘Can I see Dr Edwards again for a moment?’
‘I think he’s still in his office. Let’s go and see if he’s free, shall we?’
The two women went down the stairs.
Rachel sobbed as the doctor looked on sympathetically. ‘Mum’s insisting that Dad’s still alive, she became quite aggressive.’
‘I’m so sorry, dementia’s such a cruel illness, but your mother might remember the truth tomorrow; we can never tell from one day to the next.’ Richard Edwards again tapped into Alice’s file and made more notes.
* * *
A few minutes later, Rachel left the residential home, her step brisk and purposeful as she crossed the car park, hurrying to get out of the rain. Starting her car, she pointed it in the direction of her mother’s cottage, in Melkinthorpe, five miles south of Penrith, where there were a few things she needed to do before returning to work.
It really was the perfect retirement cottage, situated in a quiet leafy village with enough privacy to be comfortable but with neighbours near enough not to feel isolated. It was quite a find. Properties as desirable as this one rarely came onto the open market, and when they did, they were snapped up immediately. Alice had been in the right place at the right time to secure the sale, and as the property had undergone a complete refurbishment before being placed on the market, there’d been only minor, superficial, work to be done.
Rachel let herself into her mother’s home and turned off the alarm. There would be decisions to make about the cottage, but not yet. It was too soon – she shouldn’t let her mind race too far ahead. What transpired in the next few weeks would determine what she would do.
The house was quiet, almost eerie, as she moved from room to room, finally entering the kitchen to empty the fridge and see that everything was in order. Rachel hurriedly completed the chores she’d come to do and then paused to look at the red coat hanging on the peg next to the back door. It was a small piece of the jigsaw puzzle and perhaps the catalyst for what had recently transpired.
