The Secrets She Kept

The Secrets She Kept - Chapter 10

The old Victorian hotel overlooked beautifully tended gardens. In its new life as a care home, people in scrubs walked among the shrubbery as they guided their charges along the walkways. It was a slow process but the carers showed only unwavering patience.

I wish I had their patience.

Gentle wind rustled through the leaves of the trees as sunlight poured down from above. After a week of rain, which had seemingly matched my sour mood, the weather had finally turned. Coats had been cast aside as the temperatures increased by over ten degrees in a matter of days.

Lifting my hand to shield my face, I squinted in the bright afternoon light. My head throbbed with the remnants of my hangover. Bloody vodka. Clearly, my thirty year old body could not cope with alcohol the way my eighteen year old self had.

Not that I needed the hangover to remind me of that night. The memories were all firmly imprinted in my mind, no matter how much I wanted to forget. No matter how much I tried to bury them.

I was already dreading Monday morning. The less time I spent around Richie the better. What had I even been thinking?

I hadn't.

I supposed that was the problem. I hadn't been thinking at all about the consequences. I could try and blame it on the alcohol but deep inside I had wanted to do it. The terrible part of me wasn't sure that it was because it had been Richie. Or would I have still attempted it with a stranger? Would it have just taken someone to show me just the slightest bit of attention for me to make a move?

Maybe.  All I knew for certain was that I would consider anything if only to try and fill the horrible emptiness within me.

I breathed in deeply. As I stood on the top step of the small patio, floral scents tickled my nose, the knot within my stomach loosened. The air was filled with only calm murmuring of quiet conversation. It was peaceful.

This was a good choice. Probably the first good choice in months and it hadn't even been mine. Thank you, Tanya.

After Mum had been relocated to her final home, they had prohibited any visitors for the first weeks while she settled in. It had been like torture. I had probably suffered from the separation more than Mum had. Did she even notice I gone? There was a selfish side of me – the one that wanted to be needed - that hoped she did. I hoped she missed me much as I missed her.

God, I'm so fucking selfish.

I shook my head. Tugging down the hem of my skirt, I hesitated on the stairs. But, with one last tug on the sleeves of my cardigan, I made my way towards her.

She looked the same. Almost. The hair was different. It had been pulled back into a simple plait – a style she had never worn before. With her eyes closed, and head tilted back so she could face the sun, she looked so much younger than her age. A few wispy strands of grey hair had broken free, swaying in the light breeze.

I swallowed. She didn't belong here. It was unfair. Alzheimer's was a disease I had always associated with the elderly but the first symptoms had started early. If I think back on it, the signs were there earlier than either of us had known. Or at least we hadn't wanted to know. Ignorance was bliss.

Unable to stop myself, my hand reached out and tucked the flyaway strands behind her ear. As soon as my fingertips made contact, I froze. My hands still on her hair, as her eyes fluttered open and I found myself at the centre of her attention.

I swallowed, a brief flare of panic taking hold as I wondered which Evelyn I would get today. There were so many versions of her now all centred on her volatile emotions. Panic. Confusion. Anger. Or would I be lucky and get one of those rare occasions where I got a glimpse of the Evelyn I knew.