Cath Staincliffe - Go Not Gently

‘Shit.’ He made as if to rise, then slumped back into his seat. ‘Shit.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I ventured.

His jaw muscles clenched as he bit down hard. His fist pressing against his mouth. ‘You know anything about this guy?’

‘No,’ I answered.

‘I asked her,’ he said, ‘last night, whether anything had happened, what she’d done with the day. She’d been bored, she said, she’d rung her mum to arrange to go over for the weekend. She was thinking of taking up another class, something to do. Shit.’

I passed him the photos of the man. Jimmy looked at the top one, his hand trembling.

‘Do you know him?’

He shook his head. Breathed in sharply and sat upright. ‘OK, can I take this?’

‘They’re yours.’

‘And the money?’

I passed him the bill, he read it and drew out some notes from his pocket. ‘There’s sixty there, I can pay the rest next week.’

‘Fine. I’ll give you a receipt.’

He brushed the offer aside. He stood up, his whole body tense. I wanted to make it better but this wasn’t a child with a grazed knee. Jimmy and Tina were adults and only they could sort this out, for better or worse. I passed him the photo he’d given me of Tina. I felt a flicker of fear for her. ‘If you and Tina want any help…’ I held out a leaflet from Relate. I keep a pile to give out. If I have to go around uncovering betrayal and adultery then at least I can hand out a lifeline to those couples who might not want instant divorce.

He snorted and stuck his hands firmly in his pockets.

‘I’ll see you out.’

He bounded up the stairs to the door.

‘Hey,’ I said, as he made to leave. He turned to me, his face taut, his eyes bright with anger.

What could I say? Don’t do anything daft? ‘I’m sorry.’

He wheeled away to the van at the gate, hands fumbling in his pocket for his cigarettes.

It was Tuesday of the following week. Temperatures had plummeted and black ice glassed the roads and pavements. I was in the office with the little convector heater blasting out hot air. The phone rang. I picked it up, automatically pulling pen and paper towards me. Agnes introduced herself.

‘I wanted to speak to you about Lily,’ she said. ‘They’ve moved her. When I went to visit yesterday Mrs Valley-Brown saw me. They transferred her during the night.’

‘To Kingsfield?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, I am sorry.’ I waited for her to carry on. I sympathised with Agnes but what was she ringing me for? Was I the only person she could tell? I had a sudden chill as I imagined Agnes becoming dependent on me, investing me with the role of social worker as she herself became less independent, ringing me in the night, turning up on the doorstep…’

‘I expect you’re wondering why I rang you?’ she said, wiping out my fantasy. ‘You see, I’d like to hire you again.’

‘But why?’

‘To find out more. That probably sounds a little feeble,’ she said, ‘but I still feel…I can’t shake…’ Emotion prevented her continuing. I gave her a few seconds.

‘Perhaps I’d better come round,’ I suggested.

‘Or I could come to you,’ she rallied.

‘No, I’ve got the car. I’ll be there in a quarter of an hour.’

I squirted de-icer over the car window inside and out and created streaky gaps to peer through. The steering wheel was so cold it made my fingers ache. Other people bought steering wheel covers or driving gloves. Somehow there was always something higher up my list like new shoes for Maddie or getting the vacuum cleaner fixed.

Agnes had tea already made and laid out in the front room. I took my coat off and sat down. I motioned to the teapot. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen a tea cosy.’

‘It keeps it warm,’ she said. ‘It’s not leaf tea, mind. I went over to tea bags as soon as they came in. All that mess, clogging the plug hole.’ She smiled. She poured the tea and passed me mine.

‘So?’ I invited her to talk.

‘You probably think I’m foolish, throwing good money after bad. Maybe so. I’m just so worried about Lily. I want to make sure she’s all right.’

Apart from having dementia, I thought to myself. ‘What’s actually worrying you?’ I asked. ‘What do you think might be wrong?’

‘They’ve rushed her into hospital, it’s all so sudden. Too sudden. Just like with her illness. Why all the hurry?’ She looked at me, eyes dark blue, frank. ‘I’m not an illogical person. I don’t like the way things are happening so quickly. I can’t stop worrying about Lily. I’m making myself ill with it.’ Her eyes glittered but she made no move to wipe them.

I set down my tea. ‘Lily’s ill. She’s deteriorating. Pretty soon the Lily you know will have gone. And sometime later there’ll be her physical death. It could be this that you’re anxious about.’

‘I have thought about that.’ As she spoke tears trailed down her cheeks, catching and spreading along the network of creases. ‘And I have tried to accept it. But there are these inconsistencies,’ she said. She stood up and went over to get a tissue from the box on the sideboard. ‘Alzheimer’s doesn’t progress so quickly, read any of the books. Two months ago Lily was at home, leading an independent life. Now she’s in hospital, transferred there in the middle of the night. It doesn’t add up. And that Dr Goulden, he’s been funny with me. He more or less accused me of taking Lily’s tablets.’

‘What?’

‘He apologised later. It was yesterday. After talking to Mrs Valley-Brown I went to gather Lily’s things together. I was doing that when I heard people arguing in the corridor. It was Mrs Knight and Dr Goulden. He was shouting something about checking the bottles, accounting for everything. I couldn’t hear her reply, then he said he knew it had been the middle of the night, except he used very strong language, but it was still her responsibility.’ Dr Goulden seemed to have a propensity for bawling out his female colleagues.

‘Then they came into the room. He asked me what the hell I thought I was doing and told me to put everything back. Mrs Knight explained I was a friend and when he realised I wasn’t another resident his manner changed. I think she was quite embarrassed, she went crimson. Well, he explained that Lily’s tablets hadn’t been returned to the medicine cupboard as they always were in between doses. He said it had probably been overlooked in the commotion. He asked me to empty out the bags I was filling so he could check I’d not packed them by mistake.’

Agnes leant forward and replenished our cups. ‘I knew I hadn’t and I told him so but he insisted. He said it was a serious offence for drugs to be unaccounted for. So I tipped it all out and he rifled through it and thanked me and apologised for any confusion, as he put it, then off he went. I suppose they worry about somebody taking the wrong drugs.’

‘Lily hadn’t taken them with her?’

‘No. She didn’t take anything at all. Just the night clothes she was wearing. Mrs Valley-Brown said she had been extremely distressed and they’d found it impossible to calm her. She was already on tranquillisers, she didn’t respond to the sedative they tried and they didn’t want to give her anything stronger.’

I wondered whether Dr Goulden had done anything about Lily’s medicine in the week since we’d seen him. The situation certainly hadn’t stabilised and Lily had obviously become worse. But again I came back to the fact that I was no doctor. I might be able to uncover signs of negligence if Goulden had ignored our concerns and had not been monitoring Lily, but I thought that was about the best I could hope for.