Page 56 of Forever, Maybe
“Oh, Mum,” she spluttered, “you look—you look totally daft.”
And that was it. She was off, hiccupping with laughter, quickly joined by Stephanie and then Cate herself, who twirled dramatically and gave her bottom a wiggle, the flesh jiggling from side to side, suddenly and unmistakably a little girl again.
“Nell, where did you put the—oh, shit, shit, sorry!”
Danny had barely stepped into the room before retreating with a slam of the heavy oak door.
Stephanie instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, her mouth forming a dramatic, theatrical ‘O’ of horror—which only made Nell dissolve into more laughter. Cate joined in too, her eyes bright.
“He saw you! He saw you in your panties!” she wheezed.
“He saw you too!” Stephanie shot back, mock-offended. There was no heat in it—just the kind of giddy, silly moment they all needed.
Nell bent to scoop up her mum’s jumper and skirt from the floor. “Come on, let’s get you changed back into your normal clothes, Mum. Stephanie’s going to do your hair and make-up. That okay?”
Cate’s face crumpled in confusion. “Is she?”
And just like that, the laughter thinned.
Nell felt the air go heavy. She’d told her mum about Stephanie’s make-over last night. And this morning. And again ten minutes ago when Stephanie had walked through the door.
Common symptoms of dementia: memory loss. Difficulty recalling recent events, names, conversations. Tick, tick, tick.
“Yes, I am!” Stephanie stepped in without missing a beat.
Her grandmother had died with dementia seven years ago. When Nell had confided her fears last night, she’d said simply, “That’s shit. But honestly? It’s often harder on the family. Nanna was a happy wee soul right to the end.”
“Let’s get a photo of us!”
Stephanie rummaged in her tote bag and pulled out her battered iPhone 6s—which, miraculously, still took razor-sharp pictures. The three of them squeezed together as she held the phone aloft, directing Cate to purse her lips and give the camera a good pout.
“Perfect!” she declared, flashing them the screen.
It was heads and shoulders—no sign of Stephanie in her underwear or Cate in a dress bunched awkwardly at her waist, knickers proudly on display. Just three women, their faces pressed close, smiling into the lens.
Nell stared at it, eyes pricking in that annoyingly familiar way.
One day, she’d treasure this photo. Wish that she could step back into the exact moment Stephanie had caught on camera.
Her mother was beginning to disappear—not all at once, but gradually, like an old film reel slipping from its spool, memory fraying frame by frame. A slow, quiet unravelling. A kind of reverse pixelation. The pieces of Cate that had always been solid and familiar—her laugh, her quickness, the way she knew just when to squeeze Nell’s hand—were starting to blur, to slip quietly out of frame.
“Okay!” Stephanie clapped her hands. “Let’s get changed, and the makeover begins! You ready, Cate?”
Cate nodded—an old instinct still flickering, guiding her to trust the voice that sounded like it knew what it was doing.
Nell helped her out of the dress and back into her jumper and skirt, the soft, familiar fabrics of home.
They settled Cate into the armchair. Stephanie whipped a bottle from her bag—thickening spray for hair, she announced. Worked bloody miracles.
She sectioned Cate’s faded blonde hair with expert fingers, spritzing the roots with the mist before aiming a hairdryer at them with the flair of someone on a makeover show.
And it did the job. The limp, defeated clumps of hair began to lift and plump, forming a soft, halo-like frame around Cate’s face. For the first time in days, she looked a little less lost. A little more herself.
Then came the make-up. Stephanie kept up a cheerful stream of chatter as she dabbed and blended—explaining each step like a beauty therapist on a mission.
Had Cate ever worn red lipstick? No? Well, they’d give it a whirl. What about Daniel—Nell’s husband—wasn’t it hilarious that he’d walked in on two women in their underwear, when neither of them were his wife. Outrageous!
Cate gave a delighted hee-hee, eyes crinkling.
