Page 13 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

‘You okay?’

I looked into the concerned eyes of a care assistant I didn’t recognise. They’d taken on a few new staff members recently.

‘Just feeling a bit sad today. I sometimes need to gather my strength before I go and say hello.’

She glanced across at Dad. ‘Is that your granddad by the window?’

‘My dad.’

Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. ‘I’m sorry. I just?—’

‘It’s fine. I’m used to it. I had friends at school whose grandparents were younger than my parents.’ I didn’t have the energy to tell her my story. Not today.

‘He’s a lovely man,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you to your thoughts, but let me know if you need anything.’

‘Thank you.’

Dad had aged significantly since moving in. He looked his years now. Frail. Lost. Another reason for me to feel guilty. I had to keep reminding myself that he’d been blessed with a youthful appearance for most of his life and it was perhaps inevitable that it would catch up with him at some point, especially when he was only a day away from his ninetieth birthday.

Residents always got a cake on their birthday but a landmark birthday received extra-special attention. For Dad’s, the staff had arranged a visit from Cuddles & Paws, a local charity that brought in animals – mainly guinea pigs, rabbits, cats and dogs – for the residents to pet. I’d visited once when they’d been here and it was incredible to see how engaged everyone became, talking about pets they’d had or had wanted and looking relaxed as they stroked the animals. I’d been so touched when Marnie told me she’d booked their next visit for Dad but, thinking about his birthday now, panic stabbed me. What if his ninetieth birthday was his last? The urge to rush up to him and bury myself in a hug was so strong that it took my breath away. I wrapped my arms across my body, blinking back the tears and trying to push down the lump in my throat.

I missed hugging Dad so much, but it was one of the many things this cruel disease had taken away from us, like being unable to call him Dad because it confused and upset him. Thefirst visit when he hadn’t recognised me at all would forever haunt me as the day I said goodbye to the man who wasn’t connected to me by blood but who’d been the best dad I could ever have wished for.

I drew in several deep breaths and once I felt more in control of my emotions, I made my way over to the chair adjacent to Dad’s.

‘Good morning, Stanley!’ I said, my voice bright. ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’

Dad looked up with a smile and a nod before returning his gaze to the birds, his fingers twiddling a piece of blue satin ribbon on his cushion. That lack of recognition kicked me in the guts every time.

‘Are you watching the birds?’ I asked. ‘My dad loved doing that.’

‘I know all their names. My dad taught me.’

The proud tone of his voice made me smile but, seconds later, tears pricked my eyes as he twisted round, searching the room, and added, ‘Not sure where he’s gone. He asked me to wait here.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be back soon. How about you tell me the names of the birds in the meantime?’

And so my dad told me the names of the birds, just like he’d done when I was a child, and I encouraged him to tell me stories about twitching trips and birds he’d rescued. I didn’t care that I’d heard them countless times before. All I wanted was to hear my dad’s voice and be in the moment with him, even if he was talking about things from decades ago as though they’d only just happened.

Dad’s voice became slower and his eyelids drooped heavily until he drifted off to sleep. I stayed for another ten minutes, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, battling with my own fatigue. What I wouldn’t do to be able to cuddle up to him and sleep too.

I yawned and rubbed my tired eyes. I needed some time away, but could I leave him? Having Sharon visit every day would be some comfort, but I hadn’t missed a single day in eighteen months. Would I be able to break that pattern? Did I even want to?

Rising from my chair, I placed a light kiss on his cheek.

‘See you tomorrow for your birthday, Dad,’ I whispered.

Walking across the car park a little later, I was trying to keep the tears at bay while I hunted in my bag for my car keys.

‘Everything okay with your dad?’

Startled, I squealed and dropped my keys on the ground.

‘Damon! What are you doing here?’

‘You looked upset earlier. I was worried about you.’

‘So you followed me?’ I snatched up my keys and stared at him defiantly, hating that he’d encroached on a private emotional moment.

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