Amanda Brooke - Where I Found You

‘Then we’ll take our time and make the daft old sod wait,’ Elsie whispered, loud enough to be heard ten feet away.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after him,’ Alice promised.

As Maggie took her latest client into the treatment room, she couldn’t help but wonder about the man waiting patiently in reception. Had Freddie returned to save Elsa and refused to leave her side ever since?

The rigid plastic chairs in the treatment room squeaked as Maggie went through a formal assessment with her new client: taking some personal details; a brief medical history; checking for known allergies; and forming an idea of what fragrances Elsie preferred while she did her best to silence the internal voice that wanted to ask more probing questions.

She used a digital recorder for her notes and from experience knew that when she played the recording back, the squeak of the chairs would be as irritating then as it was now. Today the recorder would also pick up the chink of china as Elsie sipped her tea.

‘I’m sorry, these seats aren’t very comfortable, are they?’

‘With my joints, there aren’t many chairs that are.’

‘If I can convince you to try out some of my therapies, then the treatment chair over there will be much better.’

At this point, Maggie was meant to go through some options to help ease Elsie’s aches and pains but she still hadn’t told her how they had met before. The deceit played on her mind and she was about to confess all but the seemingly frail and vulnerable woman in front of her was already one step ahead.

‘I’m afraid I have a confession to make,’ Elsie said and if the squeak of the chair wasn’t enough to give away her agitation then the nerves constricting her throat certainly were. ‘Do you mind if we turn that thing off?’

Maggie switched off the recorder without a word.

‘This is a lovely room, so clean and colourful. It’s not what I was expecting at all,’ Elsie said as she scanned the shelves which held an intriguing mix of jars and bottles with bright labels that brought a splash of colour to counter the clinical white of the walls and the chrome fittings.

‘I’m a bit obsessive about adding lots of colour to the packaging of my products to match the colourful scents inside but as for clean, the dog hairs can be a problem,’ Maggie said, tapping the side of her leg to call Harvey over.

‘Hello, boy,’ Elsie said. ‘You are a cutie, aren’t you?’ The dog shook himself as she tickled his back. ‘One of our neighbours in Liverpool had a guide dog. They were quite a team. Mr …’ Her voice trailed off.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Maggie offered.

‘Remembering names is a bit hit and miss I’m afraid.’ There was a frustrated pause but Elsie wasn’t giving up. ‘Woodhouse, that was it. Mr Woodhouse. Anyway,’ she said, turning her attention back to the dog, ‘he had a German Shepherd and he wasn’t a patch on you, Harvey.’

‘You remember his name?’

Elsie laughed but it was hollow. ‘Like I said, hit and miss.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

Elsie stopped stroking Harvey. ‘I don’t remember meeting you before but I’m not denying that we may have.’

‘We’ve met twice before in Victoria Park. We sat together on the bench by the lake,’ Maggie said gently.

‘That bench has certainly seen a lot of comings and goings in its time.’

A flush rose in Maggie’s cheeks as she imagined Elsie trying to work out how much she had told her. Maggie wanted to explain but something held her back. Bizarre as it seemed, it was Elsa who had trusted Maggie with her innermost secrets and she was loath to break that trust, even with Elsa’s older self. ‘It’s a beautiful spot.’

‘And one that has played on my mind for a very long time.’

‘Do you remember anything of our meetings?’ There was the soft swish of hair brushing against her collar as Elsie shook her head. Struggling to find a diplomatic way to bridge Elsie’s present with her past, Maggie asked, ‘How long have you been having problems with your memory, Elsie?’

‘You mean how long have I had Alzheimer’s? That’s the medical term the doctors in Liverpool labelled me with. Now, when was that?’ she asked herself. ‘We moved to Sedgefield a couple of months ago … I think … So, oh, I don’t know, six months ago, a year maybe? It was when the police got involved.’

‘The police?’ Maggie asked, unable to hide her shock.

‘I kept trying to find my way back to Sedgefield and the local bobbies got used to picking me up and taking me home so I eventually agreed to see the doctor. Of course it started long before then, lots of silly things that we could joke about at first, like when I put my shoes in the oven and claimed I was making Dover sole,’ Elsie said. ‘But there are some things I can’t laugh off.’

‘Like your trips to the park?’

When she replied, Elsie’s words were choked. ‘I come out of the fug feeling so lost and confused and it terrifies me. I keep trying to convince myself that it’ll take time to settle in a new place but I’m not getting better, only worse.’

‘There’s a reason this town is special to you, isn’t there?’

There was a telling pause. ‘You know I’ve lived in Sedgefield before, don’t you?’

‘When we met, you introduced yourself as Elsa and told me you were twenty-two, which would be back in 1953 by my reckoning,’ Maggie said, having worked it out from the date of birth Elsie had given. But that was only one small piece of the puzzle. ‘I think you trusted me, maybe because I’m pregnant too.’

‘I did wonder how I came to have your card in my pocket. Can I still trust you?’

‘Yes,’ Maggie replied, eager to hear Elsa’s fate.

‘Then forget everything I may have told you.’

When Maggie reached out to take Elsie’s hand, the chair squeaked as the old lady pulled away.

‘But you came back to Sedgefield for a reason, surely? Perhaps I can help,’ Maggie offered although for the life of her she didn’t know how.

‘You can help by taking absolutely no notice of my ramblings.’

But the image of Elsa that Maggie had conjured in her mind persisted. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the young woman she had befriended was still there, hiding in the corners of Mrs Milton’s mind, still frightened of the future, still needing her help. ‘And if you find yourself at the lakeside again?’

When Elsie spoke, it was in the barest whisper and had echoes of Elsa. ‘Don’t try to save me.’

Maggie’s skin crawled. She reached over and this time took hold of Elsie’s hand firmly in her own. Elsie’s fingers were icy cold, the flesh slightly sagging and her arthritic joints swollen and gnarled. Little wonder Maggie had recoiled when she had taken hold of Elsa’s hand in the park, expecting the taut, delicate skin of youth. ‘I can’t promise you that.’

‘Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up next to the man you’ve been married to for fifty-odd years and think an intruder has found his way into your bed? Can you imagine how terrifying that is for me and for him too?’

‘No, I can’t. But if you jump into that lake then I promise you, here and now, that I’m going to dive straight in and drag you out.’

There was a moment’s pause as the two women squared up to each other then Elsie sighed. ‘You don’t have to worry – my husband won’t let me out of his sight these days.’

‘Is it Freddie waiting for you outside?’ Maggie ventured.

‘There is no Freddie,’ came the rather stoic reply.

Forced to consider that the American had been a figment of her fractured mind just like the swans, Maggie asked, ‘He didn’t exist?’

‘Freddie is a ghost from the past that my illness seems intent on bringing back to life. I have to keep reminding myself of who I am and where I am. My name is Elsie; I’ve been married to … Ted … for God knows how many years. I have … I have two daughters,’ she said, faltering as her mind failed to keep up with the sense of conviction she had wanted to convey.