The Choir on Hope Street: A gorgeously uplifting romantic comedy to make your heart sing!. Annie Lyons

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СКАЧАТЬ He didn’t even try to smile. ‘Shall we go into my office?’

      I followed him along the corridor. When I first came here to look round, they had offered me tea and cake. I could remember rooms full of snowy-white-haired old ladies and well-turned-out gentlemen doing stimulating activities, smiling and happy. This time, there was no offer of tea and all I could smell was that day’s lunch, which reminded me of cat food. My stomach flipped.

      Peter ushered me into his office and heaved his large backside onto the chair behind his desk. I took my place opposite him, noticing the certificates rewarding ‘excellence in care’ on the wall and a framed photograph on the desk of his similarly fat wife and two chubby children.

      He pressed his fingers together and looked at me. ‘Mrs Taylor, I have to tell you that we have a problem. Did you get my call last night?’

      I was irritated by his accusatory tone. How dare he talk to me in this way? I decided that attack was the best form of defence. ‘We most certainly do have a problem,’ I replied. ‘I pay a great deal of money for my mother’s care and I do not expect to be called in the evenings because your staff are unable to do their job.’

      He blinked at me in surprise before regaining his composure. ‘Your mother tried to stab one of our staff with a pair of nail scissors.’

      It was my turn to be surprised now. My mother had certainly been trying in the past but it was mostly verbal abuse. She had never tried anything physical. ‘I see.’ I wasn’t sure what else to say.

      ‘So you can understand that we have a problem. I appreciate that your mother requires specialist care but I cannot have my staff placed in danger.’

      ‘Where is she now?’ I asked. I had visions of her locked in a padded cell.

      ‘In her room. We had to call out a doctor to sedate her. It took two nurses to restrain her. She’s very strong.’

      I felt an odd sense of pride at this, even though I knew it was wholly inappropriate. ‘I take it she didn’t actually hurt anyone?’

      He shook his head. ‘Our staff are well trained and fortunately the nurse in question saw what was happening and reacted quickly. She managed to get the scissors from her but your mother kept trying to fight them, which is why we had to call the doctor, unfortunately.’

      ‘Can I see her?’ I asked.

      ‘She may be a little sleepy but I can get a nurse to take you to her, of course.’

      ‘I meant the nurse,’ I replied. ‘I want to apologise on behalf of my mother.’

      Peter looked confused. ‘There’s really no need.’

      ‘All the same, I’d like to.’

      ‘Okay, and then we can take you to your mother.’

      ‘Well if she’s sleepy, there’s probably no point.’ I knew I was trying to wriggle out of it. Peter Jarvis knew this too. He gave me a grave look.

      ‘Mrs Taylor, I really think you need to see your mother. Forgive me if I speak out of turn but I think she needs to see you. The nurses tell me that she calls your name at night sometimes.’

      Anger and guilt washed over me. ‘You are speaking out of turn, but seeing as we are laying our cards on the table, I will try to reason with her if you can promise to continue with my mother’s care as you see fit. Confiscate anything dangerous, sedate her if necessary but please, don’t cast her into the street.’ I stared him down, noticing how he shifted with discomfort in his seat. See? I can layer on the guilt and drama too.

      He pursed his lips and smoothed his tie. ‘We will continue to care for your mother but please take this as a first and final warning. If anything like this happens again, we may need to exclude her.’

      My cheeks burnt red with humiliation but I took it. I had to. St Bartholomew’s was my only hope. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I appreciate your honesty and commitment to her care.’

      He nodded, raising his hefty bulk from the chair. I followed him back along the corridor. Two nurses were walking towards us. ‘Oh, Laurie,’ said Peter to one of them. A woman of about my age with an open, friendly face stopped and smiled at us. ‘This is Mrs Winter’s daughter.’

      I watched her face and saw no flicker of reaction to the incident. In fact, she held out her hand to me. It was small and cool to the touch. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said. ‘Shall I take you down to see your mum?’

      ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Peter, turning away. ‘I’ll be in touch, Mrs Taylor. Thank you for your time.’

      Laurie nodded to her colleague before ushering me along the corridor. As we reached the door to my mother’s room, I stopped and turned to her. ‘I just want to say sorry—’

      Laurie held up her hand. ‘There’s really no need,’ she smiled. ‘Your mum would never hurt me. It’s a stage of her disease, although I am concerned that something has upset her lately. She seems more het up than I’ve seen her before.’

      ‘Oh. I see.’

      ‘I’ve only been working here for about three months but she seemed a lot calmer back then. Have you noticed anything?’

      I stared at her, unable to think what to say. I only saw her once a month so honestly had no real way of knowing. ‘Perhaps.’

      ‘I’m very fond of your mother. She thinks the world of you.’ She smiled again.

      ‘Does she?’ I asked with genuine surprise. Unlikely, given our history.

      Laurie nodded. ‘She says your name all the time. I think she’s lost in memories from the past but you’re always in them.’

      I felt my chest grow tight as she opened the door and I saw my mother lying in her bed. She looked tiny, like a child. Her face was grey, her hair matted and thin. I thought she was asleep at first but she turned her head towards me, a confused frown creasing her expression.

      ‘Hello,’ I said in a croaky voice.

      Her face flickered with recognition but she didn’t speak. She just gazed at me as if searching for the answer to a question.

      ‘How are you, Mrs Winter?’ asked Laurie. ‘Are you feeling better today?’

      My mother’s gaze transferred from me to Laurie. She raised her eyebrows and then smiled in reply.

      ‘That’s good,’ said Laurie. ‘And lovely to have your daughter visiting too.’ My mother glanced at me and then back to Laurie, like a spectator at a tennis match. ‘I’ll let you have some time together,’ she said, giving me an encouraging smile before she left.

      I stood by the side of the bed and took in my surroundings. I didn’t usually come in here. My mother was normally sitting in the lounge area, staring into the middle distance, whilst activities such as bingo or singing went on around her. She reminded me of a lonely person at a party and I felt sad that she couldn’t seem to take part in her own life any more. Then I would remember how she had barely participated when she’d had her marbles and dismissed the thought.

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