Page 21 of Things We Never Said
‘You haven’t been waiting too long, have you?’ he asks.
April shakes her head. ‘Ten minutes, max. The traffic was easy, that’s all. I should really have just gone in, but ...’ By way of explanation, she shrugs.
‘It’s scary,’ Sean says. ‘You know you don’t have to come at all. I know how upsetting she can be.’
‘I’d feel bad if I never came,’ April says. ‘And I’m overdue. I haven’t been once since she changed homes. Plus, like I said on the phone, I’m on my way to Cardiff.’
‘Cardiff, eh?’ Sean says as they cross the lobby to the reception desk. ‘The lives of the rich and famous ...’
‘It’s where Simon’s living now,’ April explains. Simon is her oldest, most faithful friend from her student years and Sean has met him on a number of occasions.
‘And how is Simon these days?’ he asks.
‘He’s good. Writing for the Beeb. And still dating Gavin.’
‘That’s good,’ Sean says.
‘Hello? Can I help you?’
Sean turns to face the receptionist. ‘Hi, yes,’ he says. ‘Sean Patrick. Here to see Cynthia Patrick, my mother. This is my daughter, April.’
The receptionist checks her computer screen, then gives Sean’s driving licence a cursory glance before handing it back.
‘Room twenty-three,’ she says, then, glancing at the clock, she adds, ‘She should be in her room at the moment. You know the way, right?’
Sean nods. ‘I do indeed.’
She buzzes them through the glass security door, and they walk past the empty dining room and on through the open-plan lounge area. It’s a large, airy space, elegantly furnished with blue wingback armchairs and comfortable blue velour sofas. Large French windows look out onto a pretty garden area. A dozen elderly residents are dotted around the room in various states of wakefulness.
‘It’s not bad here,’ April says. ‘It’s definitely better than the old place, anyway.’
‘Well, it needs to be,’ Sean says. ‘It’s costing a bloody fortune.’
When they get to room 23 the door is slightly ajar. ‘Ready?’ Sean asks, his hand raised in preparation to knock.
April takes a deep breath and smiles tightly. ‘Go for it,’ she says.
Sean raps with his knuckles and eases the door open. ‘Hello?’ he asks, gently pushing at it until they can step inside.
The room is clean and pretty, if minimally furnished. It has a blue carpet and matching blue bedspread and curtains. It contains an unmade double bed, a chest of drawers, a small desk with a chair and another blue wingback armchair. The interior designer at The Cedars clearly has a favourite colour.
Sean’s mother is sitting in the armchair. She’s staring into the middle distance and working her mouth.
‘Hello?’ Sean says again more loudly as he steps into her line of vision. ‘Hello? Mum? Look who I’ve brought to see you!’
Cynthia turns her head only slightly. Her eyes flick towards April and then back again to face Sean.
‘Hi Gran,’ April says, wiggling her fingers and looking doubtful.
Cynthia wrinkles her brow.
At that moment a pretty black nurse appears in the doorway. ‘Oh, hello!’ she says with fake-sounding enthusiasm. ‘Got visitors, have we?’ Her accent is an unusual combination of Caribbean and West Country.
She enters the room and crosses to Cynthia’s side, then gently reaches out and tucks a stray wisp of grey hair behind Cynthia’s ear, before turning to face Sean and April. ‘It’s good that you’ve come see her. You’s her son, yes?’
Sean nods. ‘Yes, and this is my daughter.’
‘Of course,’ the nurse says. ‘Yes, it’s good of you to come, only ...’ She blinks slowly and shakes her head almost imperceptibly.
