Page 79 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

He sat down on his bed, and I sat beside him.

‘Do you know why people associate them with Christmas?’ he asked.

I did, but I pleaded ignorance.

‘There are two main stories. The first is from the Victorian days. The postmen wore red-breasted uniforms and, because of that, they were nicknamed robins. The robin birds started appearing on Christmas cards to represent the robin postmen and, because of that, people associate robins with Christmas and notice them more at that time of year.’

He bobbed the robin across the bed, as though it was hopping around a garden.

‘The other story is that, when Jesus was on the cross, a robin appeared and sat on His shoulder, singing a song to distract Him from the pain. The blood dripped from Jesus’s crown of thorns onto the robin and stained his chest and, after that, all the robins were born with a red – or orange – breast. Which story do you like best?’

‘Impossible to choose,’ I said. ‘They’re both lovely, just like that little chap.’

He bobbed the robin again. ‘I think so.’

The hug he gave me without prompt nearly broke me. I bit my lip as I held on tight, hoping he couldn’t feel the silent tears dripping from my cheeks and soaking into his blazer.

He looked tired so I left him to have a nap, clutching the robin in his hand, and sought out Marnie, who admitted that she had noticed a decline across the week but nothing significant enough to have bothered me, knowing I’d need to regain my strength for what was to come. I asked what she thought about moving him to another home.

‘It’s not beyond the realms of possibility but I personally wouldn’t recommend it and…’ She sighed heavily. ‘Completely transparent as always. I don’t think it’ll be long.’

They were the words I’d been dreading. ‘Months? Weeks? Days?’ I asked, the words barely audible.

‘Impossible to predict, but I’d suggest you prepare yourself for weeks.’

‘But he was really lucid today.’

Marnie didn’t say anything and I guessed what the words would be if she had.Yes, but yesterday he could barely string a sentence together.My heart shattered.

By the time I’d unpacked and set a load of washing away, my eyes were a little less red and my face not so blotchy. I nipped next door with a box of Wilf’s favourite shortbread biscuits to both apologise and thank him for getting involved in the Damon situation.

‘Have you reconsidered going to the police?’ he asked. ‘There’s something not right about him.’

‘I will. I just can’t face it today. I’ve been to see Dad and it’s not good. We could be talking weeks.’

‘Oh, Poppy. I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s a lot to go through the Damon stuff after that.’

‘Understandable. Hopefully he won’t turn up but you might want to get CCTV or one of those doorbell cameras installed for when he does. Video evidence might be helpful.’

When I returned home, I went straight online and ordered a doorbell camera for next-day delivery, after which I made appointments for two estate agents to come round to value Dove Cottage later in the week. As soon as I told the estate agents which house it was, they said they had people on their lists desperate to buy a property like mine in Winchcote and I’d likely have an offer before afor saleboard even went up. If Ianand Sharon weren’t interested, it was good to know I wouldn’t struggle to sell. Booking the valuations wasn’t a kneejerk reaction to what Marnie had said because I’d already made the firm decision. It was more of a practical thing – if Dad didn’t have long, I wouldn’t have the time or inclination to organise it later, so it was best to get the ball rolling now.

Next, I rang Sharon to say that I was back and had scheduled a couple of estate agents to value the house. She’d spoken to Ian and they were both very interested in making Dove Cottage their home, but it had been years since they’d visited so would need a good look around before they confirmed that for definite.

‘On to less positive news…’ I said, filling her in on my visit to Dad and what Marnie had said.

I felt strangely detached as I talked to Sharon about Dad. Marnie had warned me that the emotions I felt as Dad approached end of life might not be what I expected and I remembered reading about that in a booklet. Because I’d started to lose Dad when the Alzheimer’s took hold, and properly lost him when he no longer remembered me, I’d done so much of my grieving already and might find that I felt numb and possibly even relieved. That made sense to me – after all, who’d want to see someone they loved go through all of that suffering?

But when Joel FaceTimed me in the evening and asked me how my visit to Dad had been and whether he’d liked the felt birds, I broke down in tears.

‘I wish I could be there for you,’ he said, looking tearful himself.

‘I know you would be if you could, but you’ve got an important couple of days ahead of you and then you’re back at work. Besides, she said weeks, not days. And even then I know you might not be able to be here with me.’

Feeling the tears again, I asked if we could change the subject.

‘No problem,’ Joel said. ‘Tilly messaged me to say they’re definitely going to Scotland on holiday – away for ten days from this Saturday. I said I wanted to see Imogen before they go but she ignored that so I sent her another message suggesting that Imogen didn’t go to Scotland with them at all and she spend the ten days with me instead.’

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