Where the Memories Lie (6 page)

let me take a look.’ I read her notes on the screen while she lay

down and lifted up her jumper. She’d told Elaine originally she’d cut 33

Sibel Hodge

herself falling onto a glass coffee table a few weeks ago, which broke as she landed on it. Elaine had removed some embedded fragments

of glass from a wound that stretched under her ribs and along her

abdomen. Considering she would’ve been drunk at the time, she

was lucky it hadn’t turned out worse. It could’ve quite easily been a fatal injury if she’d caught an artery or vein. Because she hadn’t come in to get the glass removed quickly, the wound had become

infected, and she’d been on a course of antibiotics for ten days,

along with regular appointments for dressing changes, since it was

considered unlikely she’d bother with it herself.

I pulled on some latex gloves and gently removed the old

dressing. ‘It looks great, Rose. It’s healing up nicely now. You’ll need to come back tomorrow for another dressing change, and then the

stitches will come out, OK?’

‘OK.’

‘We’re in for some scorching weather, apparently,’ I said as I put

on another dressing.

She mumbled something in reply.

‘Knowing my luck, it will rain at the weekend when I’m off

work.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Doesn’t the British weather always do that?

Are you doing anything nice at the weekend?’

No response. I didn’t really expect one.

I pulled her jumper back down over her protruding ribs and

mottled, pale skin. I wanted to ask her if she’d had any word from

Katie but Rose always got angry when I tried to find anything out.

She swung her legs over the side of the couch and walked to the

door. ‘Thank you,’ she said gruffly.

‘You’re welcome. Take care.’ I smiled at her retreating hunched

shoulders and wondered what Katie was up to. What did she look

like now? Was she happy? Had she made something of her life or

was she an alcoholic like her parents?

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Where the Memories Lie

The next patient entering shook me back to the present, and

before I knew what had happened Elaine was there to take over

and it was time for me to leave.

I grabbed a quick sandwich at home before heading off to

see Tom. I was going to take him for a nice walk along the cliffs

at Durdle Door. The nursing home encouraged family members

taking residents for days out or on trips.

Mary wasn’t at the desk when I arrived. A younger nurse called

Sue rushed out of a resident’s room, looking flushed and harassed,

and almost bumped into me.

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there!’ Sue exclaimed. ‘You OK?’

‘Yes, I’m just going to take Tom out for a walk up at Durdle

Door. I’ll bring him back in a few hours.’

‘Oh, great. He’ll love that.’ She grabbed a dressing from a

drawer of medical supplies behind the desk and hurried back to the

room she’d just come from.

When I entered Tom’s room he was wearing thick green cord

trousers, a shirt buttoned up wrong and a pair of his walking boots that didn’t get much use anymore. He sat in the high-backed chair

again, staring out of the window at the grounds. By now, he had

trouble dressing himself most days and the nurses helped, although

he often tried to redo what they’d already done, hence the odd

buttons. Sometimes he forgot to go to the toilet, too, and had to be changed more than once in a day. If he could see himself now he’d

be so degraded.

‘Hi, Tom.’ I kissed his cheek. ‘How are you today?’

‘Olivia.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Lovely to see you again. Are we going

to Durdle Door? I’ve been waiting all morning.’

‘You remembered?’ I grinned. It seemed to be so random now,

the things he remembered and the things he didn’t. ‘Yes. Let’s get

going, shall we?’

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Sibel Hodge

He steadied himself on the edge of his chair with one hand

while I took his other and helped him up.

After we walked down the corridor and out of the entrance,

I settled him in my Mini. Once it would’ve been a tight squeeze for him to fit in. Not anymore.

‘How’s Anna?’ he asked, looking out the window.

‘She’s absolutely fine. She’s busy with schoolwork but they

break up for summer holidays soon.’ I glanced over.

‘She’s a good girl.’ He smiled at me.

‘She is indeed. I’m very proud of her. I keep waiting for her to

turn into a terrible teen.’

He laughed. ‘Like Ethan and Chris, you mean?’

‘They weren’t terrible.’

‘They had their moments.’ He sighed with contentment, as if

remembering their childhood. ‘Nadia was always the good one.’

‘What about Chris? He was so into boxing, he didn’t have time

for much else.’ Except Katie, I thought. At one time, he was com-

pletely in love with her. The only woman I’d seen him fall head over heels for until his wife Abby. Ex-wife, I should say.

‘Chris came to see me. He said his divorce came through.’ He

shook his head sadly. ‘Shame he couldn’t give her a child.’

Abby had always wanted kids. Longed for a big brood. After

she and Chris got married, they tried madly, the same as me and

Ethan, but although I eventually gave birth to Anna, it still didn’t happen for them and the strain of IVF and fertility treatment took

its toll eventually. I felt for her, I really did. She went a little crazy with the anxiety and stress of it all, and I knew what that was like.

‘Where’s Eve? She hasn’t been to see me.’

I stiffened, not wanting to bring it all back. Every time we had

to explain Eve was dead, Tom got hit by a new wave of grief, as fresh as when it had first happened. We all thought it was best not to tell him anymore if he didn’t remember it himself.

36

Where the Memories Lie

‘That’s right. She went to Spain on holiday, didn’t she?’ he

carried on, forehead crinkled up, thinking. ‘Oh, it’s nice in Spain.’

He shrugged and glanced back out of the window. ‘They have these

strange bits and pieces of dinner. Taps.’

‘Tapas. Yes, they’re lovely.

‘Something was rubbery.’

‘Squid, probably.’

As we pulled up in the car park at the top of the cliffs half an

hour later, a little boy and his dad were flying a kite in the shape of something robotic.

Tom sat for a while, watching them. ‘I remember Chris had a

kite. Ethan hated them. Said they were for . . . for . . .’ He looked blank for a moment. ‘For turtles.’

‘Do you remember when you taught Anna how to fly a kite?’

I said, hoping he didn’t notice his slip-up. ‘You took her up on top of the hills behind the barn.’

‘Yes, she wanted one with a cartoon character on it, didn’t she?’

He smiled fondly.

‘SpongeBob SquarePants.’ I chuckled.

‘I looked everywhere for one, but nowhere had anything like

it. I made it in the end, do you remember? I painted SpongeBob

on. Copied him off a TV programme. It was almost as big as

she was.’

‘If I remember rightly, it didn’t last long, did it?’

‘No. A sudden gust of wind took it away and it ended up

smashing on the ground. It took me another two weeks to make a

new SpongeBob one, and by that time she said she’d gone off him

and wanted one that looked like a ladybird.’ He sighed wistfully.

‘Those were the days.’

I got out of the car and then went round to open his door and

help him out. I linked my arm through his and we walked very

slowly along a path over the top of the cliffs, well-worn with years’

37

Sibel Hodge

worth of use. There were signs at regular intervals that read ‘Danger!

Cliff Edge!’ and ‘Keep Away from the Edge!’

‘I’ve got a good idea,’ I said. ‘How about I bring you in some

gardening magazines, instead of reading all those horrible stories in the papers that make you worry?’

‘What stories?’

‘Like the one you mentioned yesterday. The one that you

must’ve seen about Georgia Preston, who was murdered.’

‘Georgia?’ He shook his head, looking confused. ‘Who’s

Georgia? I never mentioned anyone called Georgia.’ He shook his

head and narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re lying.’

I opened my mouth to deny it but thought better of it. It didn’t

matter, anyway. It wasn’t important. ‘Yes, I’ll bring you some in next time.’ I smiled decisively.

After a short walk we sat on our usual bench overlooking the

sea. He couldn’t manage long distances anymore. As we chatted

about the kids and Nadia, Chris and Ethan, he seemed really alert,

remembering things we’d all got up to in the past. Even coming

out with things I’d completely forgotten, like the time Chris was

in a boxing match when he was about sixteen and he knocked

out his opponent with the first punch. Chris was always the quiet

one of our group, preferring to be on his own a lot of the time,

although sometimes his quietness bordered on being broody.

Unlike Nadia and Ethan and me, who were outspoken, he was

shy and much more introverted than the rest of us, always a bit

of a loner. He loved the boxing, and had religiously practised and

sparred at a gym in Weymouth when he was growing up. He did

it originally to try and lose some of his puppy fat, but I think the main thing he liked about it was he didn’t have to talk to anyone

else when he was working out or fighting. He could just lose him-

self in the match.

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Where the Memories Lie

It wasn’t until we were walking back to the car that Tom stopped

suddenly and said, ‘Did you say something about Georgia? Did you

mean Georgia Walker? I killed her, Liv.’ He dropped his head in his hands. ‘Oh, God, I killed her!’

I froze, my spine erect and stiff.

39

Chapter Four

I need to talk to you,’ I whispered as soon as Ethan came through

the front door.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly before Anna ran out

of the kitchen and threw herself into her dad’s arms.

I smiled. Or at least tried to.

‘Missed you, Shortie Pants,’ he said, his nickname for her which

was woefully out of date now since she’d be taller than me soon.

‘Missed you, too, Dad.’ She pulled back and grinned happily.

‘I’ve been helping Mum make focaccia and scones for the picnic

tomorrow.’

I pulled a face. ‘Yeah, well the focaccia looks more like Poppy’s

just thrown up on a plate, and the scones are rock hard.’

‘They taste OK, though,’ Anna said. ‘We’ve still got quiches to

do. Are you going to help us, Dad? Go on, please!’

He took his jacket off and hung it on the end of the banister.

‘I don’t even know what focaccia is, let alone know how to make

it, although if it looks like puke I won’t be trying it anytime soon.

I think you two are better off in there than me, but I’ll have a beer and keep you company while you work.’

Where the Memories Lie

‘Yeah, give your dad a bit of time to relax. He’s had a hard

week.’ I ruffled Anna’s long hair, dusty now with flour. ‘Can you

beat those eggs for me? We’ll be there in a minute.’

I waited for Anna to disappear back into the kitchen and slid

my arms round Ethan’s neck, kissing him hard on the lips. He

smelled of mint and coffee and the outdoors. His tongue parted my

lips and sought mine.

‘I know you’re snogging out there! It’s gross!’ Anna shouted out.

We pulled back and laughed. That was the trouble with

having a bright twelve-year-old; it was hard to keep any secrets in the house.

‘You’ll be doing it one day,’ I called back.

‘Will not. Boys are gross.’ At least I could be thankful she still

thought that. It wouldn’t be long before she had boyfriends and was getting her heart broken. It didn’t bear thinking about. I was buying her a chastity belt for Christmas.

‘What’s up?’ he whispered to me.

‘It’s about Tom. And this Georgia,’ I whispered back.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Not again. I thought we went through this

yesterday. It’s just the ramblings of a senile man.’

‘Yes, but he said something else today.’

His shoulders stiffened underneath my touch. ‘What did

he say?’

‘He told me her surname. He said Georgia Walker. I thought

he’d just been fixated on a story I found online about a girl called Georgia Preston who’d been murdered by her boyfriend, but it

wasn’t her. He called her Georgia Walker and said he’d killed her

again. Do you know who she is?’

Ethan pulled back. ‘I’ve never heard of any Georgia Walker and

there’s no way Dad could’ve killed someone. You’ve got it wrong. Or rather,
he’s
got it wrong. He’s confused, like I said. Look, I’ve had a 41

Sibel Hodge

stressful week, and quite honestly, I don’t want to waste my week-

end talking about some ridiculous story that can’t possibly be true.’

‘But I—’

‘Just drop it, Liv. It’s nuts. I need a drink.’ He walked off into

the kitchen, loosening his tie.

But I couldn’t drop it. Not like that. Not without at least trying

to find out anything else about Georgia Walker. It wasn’t like Tom

had mentioned something casual and inconsequential like a set of

keys he’d once lost or a fly he’d killed, and it was niggling away.

Even with the Alzheimer’s it seemed very out of character for him