Marigold could barely see for tears. They blurred her vision and streamed down her cheeks. She dropped her head and hoped she didn’t bump into anyone she knew. Then she set off up the hill, the same route she took every morning in an effort to help her memory. Well, a lot of good that had done!
The guilt she felt for missing Suze’s big moment was like a dagger in her heart, twisting and turning and causing her unbearable pain. She hated herself for failing Suze. She hated her memory for failing her. There was nothing wrong with her devotion; if anything, she had too much of it. But there was everything wrong with her brain. How could she explain that to Suze? Suze, who was now furious and hurt and let down.
She marched up the path and allowed her unhappiness to come out in loud, rasping sobs. The doctor might tell her there was nothing wrong; her friends might try to reassure her that she was simply getting older; Beryl might say it was happening to all of them, that they were all getting forgetful. The truth was there was something wrong, she wasn’t just getting older and it wasn’t happening to all of them. It was happening to her and her alone. And now she had let her daughter down on one of the most important days of her life. It should have been a special day for mother and daughter. A moment to treasure for ever. The first sight of her little girl all grown-up and in her wedding dress. The thought of having missed it made her cry all the more. How could she have forgotten? How could she? She had remembered Cedric’s party!
Marigold walked along the clifftop with her hands in her coat pockets and watched the gulls wheeling in the early evening sky. The sun was a ball of fire, sinking towards the sea, catching the tips of the waves and scattering them with sparks. Touching the tips of the gulls’ wings and turning them to gold. It was so beautiful that she put a hand to her chest, above the place where it hurt the most, and allowed the glory of nature to move her further. Oh God, what is happening to me? she asked. And the gulls cried mournfully for the answer that didn’t come.
The sea was a long way down. Marigold stood on the clifftop and watched it foam around the rocks, rising and falling, ebbing and flowing, just as it always did. The sight was mesmerizing. It reminded her of her childhood when she and her brother had stood together on these very cliffs and wondered what it would be like to jump. She had worried that her brother might actually try. He’d been like that, had Patrick; daring, mischievous and brave, and hungry for attention. Marigold had never considered jumping, but she wondered now what it would be like landing on those rocks. Whether it would hurt. Whether she’d die on impact, or whether she’d lie broken on the rocks for the waves to gradually take her. She knew she was being morbid and self-indulgent. After all, she hadn’t killed anyone, she’d just hurt one of the people she loved the most. That didn’t warrant throwing herself off the cliff. It wasn’t something one died for. But right now she did want to die. She continued to stare down at the foaming sea as a sense of helplessness descended upon her like a shroud, separating her from the light.
Suze returned home in a fury. She had spoken to Batty on the phone and he had dropped everything and fetched her from the dressmaker. She had considered breaking all the rules and showing the dress to him instead, just to punish her mother, but she’d seen sense at the last minute and met him at the door in her jeans and shirt. Batty had driven her home in his green van with Atticus Buckley Garden Design written on the side in purple writing, listening to her ranting all the way. ‘I hate my mother,’ she had grumbled. ‘How could she forget? Aren’t I important to her? Doesn’t she care? How can she put her shop above me? I suppose now Daisy’s home, Mum’s not interested in me anymore.’ Then she had cried hot tears and Batty had had to stop the van to comfort her.
He had embraced her, kissed her head and told her, wisely, to be patient. ‘Old people forget things all the time. It’s not her fault. Be kind. She’s not going to be around for ever.’
‘She’s not old enough for age to be an excuse.’
‘Then you can’t punish her because she forgot,’ he’d smiled, trying to ease her out of her tantrum. ‘It’s human to forget – and divine to forgive.’
‘It’s my wedding. I’m her first wedding. This year is about me!’
‘It is about you, sweetheart. All about you. I bet she feels terrible.’
‘She’d better. Trust me,’ she’d said, looking at him with a face as tight as a fist. ‘If she doesn’t, I’ll make her feel terrible!’
‘This isn’t like you, Suze, to be so hard-hearted. You’re overreacting and blowing it out of all proportion. Come on,’ he’d cajoled, serious now and disapproving. ‘Enough of this.’
‘I’m just hurt.’
‘Don’t be hurt, be forgiving.’ He’d smiled then, but Suze had simply folded her arms and stared out of the window, her jaw set in a determined scowl.
Batty dropped her off at her front door, but didn’t come in. He had no desire to witness an unpleasant scene. He knew what Suze was capable of, especially when she was hurt. They had split up once and she had thrown all his clothes out of the window into the street. He had since learned how to avoid such a scene.
Suze stomped into the kitchen to find Nan at the table. ‘Oh dear, has someone died?’ she asked, looking at her granddaughter over the rim of her spectacles.
‘I’m absolutely furious!’ Suze exclaimed.
‘With whom?’ asked Nan.
‘Mum.’
‘What’s she done?’
Suze’s face twisted into an ugly scowl as she began to cry again. ‘She forgot to come to my dress fitting. I was waiting there for half an hour and she didn’t come. She just left me. Then, when I called her, she couldn’t even remember that we’d arranged it. She couldn’t even remember me having called her. Can you believe it? I’m so cross, I could hit someone.’
‘Well, don’t hit me,’ said Nan. ‘You might send me to an early grave.’
Suze growled and went to boil the kettle. ‘If I go into the shop, I might destroy it,’ she said.
‘That would be unfortunate. Why don’t you just go and talk to her, without destroying anything? You’re not a child, you’re a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t destroy things when they’re angry. They talk things through in a sensible way. Once, when I was angry with your grandfather I—’
Suze couldn’t bear listening to a long-winded story about a fight her grandparents once had. ‘Okay, I’ll go and talk to her,’ she said, leaving her grandmother mid-sentence, which is exactly what Nan had hoped she’d do.
Suze crossed the courtyard at a march, jaw jutting with intention, face grey with rage. When she entered the shop, Tasha was behind the counter talking to Eileen. ‘Where’s Mum?’ she demanded, looking from one woman to the other with impatience.
‘She’s gone out,’ said Tasha.
Suze clicked her tongue and heaved a loud, irritable sigh. ‘Where?’
Tasha glanced at Eileen. Eileen said nothing. ‘She was very upset,’ Tasha told her. ‘She’s gone for a walk.’
‘She forgot my dress fitting,’ said Suze. ‘She’s ruined the most important day of my life!’
‘I think your wedding is going to be the most important day of your life,’ said Eileen.
‘Be patient, Suze. She’s really upset. I’ve never seen her so upset,’ said Tasha gently.
Eileen put a hand on Suze’s arm. ‘I think she’s unwell, dear. You must be kind.’
Suze frowned. ‘Unwell? With what?’
Eileen looked at Suze with compassion. ‘I think she might have dementia, dear,’ she said. ‘She’s not the first. I’ve got a friend who’s in a nursing home and she started just like Marigold. Forgetting things, feeling tired and unwell for no reason. Falling over. Not recognizing people. It’s a different sort of forgetting.’
Suze’s anger evaporated. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Do you really think she’s got dementia?’
‘I wasn’t going to say anything,’ said Eileen. ‘But I can’t stand by and let you get cross with her for something that really isn’t her fault.’
‘What should I do?’
‘She needs to see a doctor,’ said Tasha. ‘I spoke to your father about it, but I don’t think he wants to face it. You and Daisy need to take her in hand. If it is dementia there are lots of things you can do to help. At the very least it will make you more understanding and less quick to anger.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t be angry if she was unwell, would I?’ said Suze defensively, crossing her arms. ‘I need to speak to her.’
‘I think she’s gone for a walk along the clifftops,’ said Tasha. ‘That’s where she goes every morning. When she had that fall, it was there that Mary found her.’
‘Okay, I’ll try there,’ said Suze, making for the door.
‘She was very upset,’ said Tasha.
‘Very upset,’ Eileen agreed, not having seen her but wanting to add her bit to the drama.
Suze felt guilty. She knew she had said something mean; she always turned mean when she was angry. If only she could control it, but when the feeling came over her, she was unable to shrug it off. It just consumed her. She had said something horrid and now her mother was upset and feeling terrible for having let her down. It wasn’t really the most important day of her life; it was just a dress fitting. There would be others. She wished she hadn’t made such a drama out of it.
As she strode up the hill, she thought about what Eileen had said. Suze didn’t know much about dementia, except that those with the disease forgot things all the time. There had been a lot about it in the press, but as it hadn’t concerned her she had never read any of the articles. She’d also heard people discussing it on Radio 4, which Nan liked to listen to in the kitchen, but again, she had dismissed the subject as irrelevant and tuned out. Of course, Eileen could be wrong, she considered. Eileen loved a situation. It would be typical of her to think the worst and to spread her theory around the village. But her mother had become very forgetful recently, and what was it with all those Post-it Notes and lists on the fridge door? It was like she had to be reminded of the smallest things. Things most people remembered by default. She decided she would google dementia when she got home and find out more about it. Right now, she had to find her mother.
Suze hurried up the hill. The wind had picked up and was blowing inland off the ocean with a cold and bitter edge. The sun had gone behind a thick cloud, the sort of cloud that might bring a shower. It had an angry grey belly and was charging across the sky like a bull. She couldn’t bear for her mother to be upset, and worried that she might take another fall. Suze would never forgive herself if her mother got injured on account of her.
She almost ran along the path, eyes scanning the horizon for the diminutive figure of her mother. The bull in the sky now lingered overhead, snorting angrily. Drops of rain began to fall from its grey underbelly. They were cold and sharp. Suze wished she had brought an umbrella, but it hadn’t looked like rain when she’d set off. This morning had been beautiful.
As she had expected, the rain began to fall fast and heavy.
Suze started to worry. She hoped her mother had brought a coat and hat. Perhaps she’d gone home by another route. She thought of her in the kitchen, making a cup of tea, and imagined herself returning all wet and her mother telling her to change out of her sodden clothes at once before she caught a chill. She visualized embracing her and saying sorry. Tears stung, making it hard to see through the rain.
At last she spotted her mother’s unmistakable figure standing on the edge of the cliff, staring down. She looked as if she was about to jump. Suze was gripped with panic. It clamped her heart like a vice. ‘Mum!’ she shouted.
Her mother looked round.
Marigold was not wearing a hat and her coat did not have a hood. Her hair was drenched and her face was white and pinched and strangely vacant.
‘Mum! Come away from the edge!’
Marigold was confused. She didn’t know why she was here. In fact, she didn’t know where she was. She knew she was staring into the sea and she remembered that she and her brother used to gaze into the sea like this when they were children and wonder what it would be like to jump. But she didn’t know how she had got here. When she realized that the woman shouting at her was her daughter, she was overcome with relief. Suze was like a lighthouse, shining her light from a familiar shore. Marigold took a step towards her, but her legs felt very heavy and she swayed. She swayed dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.
Suze reached her and grabbed her by the arm. ‘Mum, what are you doing?’ she shouted.
‘I don’t know, love,’ said Marigold in a voice that sounded strange to both of them.
Suze stared at her, horrified. ‘You don’t know?’
Marigold’s eyes were full of fear, which made the vice on Suze’s heart squeeze tighter. ‘I’m not sure how I got here . . .’
‘Mum, you walked here.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes. We had a fight. I said some horrid things to you on the phone. I’m so sorry.’
Marigold searched her mind for a memory of those horrid things, but her brain was full of porridge, she couldn’t find anything. She shook her head. She couldn’t find the words to explain the porridge feeling. She gazed at her daughter blankly. Suze gathered her into her arms and held her tightly. ‘Oh Mum, I’m so sorry,’ she repeated.
Marigold didn’t know why she was sorry, but she forgave her anyway, because that’s what one did when someone apologized.
‘Come, let’s get you home,’ said Suze gently, linking her arm and leading her away from the cliff and back to the path. ‘You’re soaking. We don’t want you to get a chill.’
Marigold smiled feebly. ‘That’s what I used to say to you when you were a little girl. “Get out of those clothes at once or you’ll catch a chill.” You’re wet too, love.’
Suze began to cry. ‘You frightened me, Mum.’
‘Did I?’
‘I thought you were going to jump.’
‘Now why would I do a silly thing like that?’
‘Because I was horrid to you.’
Marigold shrugged. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘Well, that’s one good thing about forgetting things,’ said Suze and Marigold was pleased that Suze had found a silver lining where she had failed to.
The porridge in her mind began to subside and snippets of memory began to peep through like sunshine through cloud. Marigold looked around her and recognized the path and the rocks and the landscape. Her breathing began to slow and her heart rate returned to normal.
‘I forgot your fitting, didn’t I?’ she said, wondering why she should remember that now.
‘It’s okay, Mum. There’ll be another one.’
‘I really want to see you in your dress, Suze.’
‘You will. I’ll make another appointment and take you there myself.’
Marigold patted her hand. ‘Oh, would you? That would be wonderful.’
‘But you have to do something for me first.’
‘Of course. What do you need?’
‘I need you to see a doctor.’
‘But I’ve already seen a doctor.’
‘You need to see him again.’
Marigold sighed. ‘I doubt he’ll say anything different.’
‘I’m going to come with you.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I want to.’
And as it turned out, Daisy and Dennis wanted to as well.
The four of them sat in the doctor’s surgery a week later. Dr Farah brought up Marigold’s notes on the computer and looked at them closely. ‘Have you had another fall?’ he asked, peering at her over his glasses.
‘No, but she forgot where she was recently,’ said Suze. ‘I found her on the clifftop, bewildered and confused, and if I hadn’t found her I dread to think what would have happened.’
Dr Farah nodded at Suze and then looked at Marigold. ‘And this has happened before, hasn’t it?’ He scanned his notes.
Daisy answered for her. ‘At Christmas. She forgot where the car park in town was, didn’t you, Mum?’
Marigold nodded. ‘It’s as if a mist comes in and hides everything. If I wait and breathe, the mist eventually lifts and it all comes back.’
‘And how do you feel in yourself?’ the doctor asked.
‘Some days are fine, others are difficult. Some days I just want to stay in bed because I feel so tired and my brain is slow.’ She turned to Dennis. ‘I’m sorry, love. I’m finding your puzzle a bit of a challenge.’
Dennis put his hand on hers and smiled. ‘That’s all right. It’s meant to be fun. Perhaps Daisy and Suze can help you with it.’
‘Of course we will,’ said Daisy.
The doctor continued to ask questions. He took her blood pressure and then another blood sample. Finally, he took off his glasses and sat back in his chair. ‘I’m going to send you off for a brain scan and refer you to a clinical psychologist,’ he said. ‘She’ll be able to test your memory.’
‘Do I have dementia?’ Marigold asked suddenly. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d been too frightened to open that up as a possibility, but now, sitting in front of the doctor, she decided she’d be brave.
Dr Farah shook his head and frowned. ‘I don’t like to speculate without having all the facts in front of me. For certain your memory is impaired, but to give you a diagnosis without being in possession of all the facts and test results would be unprofessional.’
‘Of course you haven’t got dementia!’ said Dennis.
‘You’re going to be fine, Mum,’ said Daisy.
Suze knew from Daisy’s forced smile that she didn’t believe it.
When they got home, Marigold and Dennis sat at the kitchen table with Nan. ‘They’re sending Marigold off for an MRI and referring her to a clinical psychologist,’ he told her.
‘I know what an MRI is, but what’s a clinical psychologist?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Dennis. ‘But they’ll do some memory tests and hopefully find out what’s wrong.’
‘You’re just getting older, Marigold,’ said Nan in a tone that suggested she thought the whole idea utterly absurd.
Marigold was tired of being told that. She poured hot water into the teapot and brought it over to the table. ‘I just want to find out what’s wrong with me and to be given the correct medication to get better.’ She smiled wearily. ‘I want to feel like myself again.’
Nan pulled a face. ‘You’re making it worse by being anxious,’ she said. ‘If you didn’t make such a thing out of it, you’d probably find it went away by itself.’
‘You mean, if I forgot about it?’ said Marigold with a smile. Dennis smiled back at her. Then they both laughed. ‘Sadly, the only thing I’m unable to forget about is that,’ she said and sat down. ‘Now, let’s have a nice cup of tea and talk about something else.’
‘Good idea, Goldie,’ said Dennis.
Marigold poured the tea. ‘What’s wrong with now?’
Nan’s face softened and she smiled tenderly at the thought of her husband. ‘Nothing’s wrong with now,’ she replied and Marigold nodded with satisfaction.
‘Nothing’s wrong with now,’ she repeated and put down the teapot.
That evening, while Nan nodded off in front of the television and Dennis made miniature pews for his church in the kitchen, Marigold, Daisy and Suze sat at the table in the sitting room and worked on the jigsaw puzzle. With their heads down and their bodies almost touching, they pieced together the picture that Dennis had so lovingly crafted. Instinctively, Daisy and Suze conspired. They collected clusters of pieces that went together and casually placed them in front of their mother. Oblivious to what her daughters were doing, Marigold studied the pieces, compared them for colour and form and, with a rush of pleasure, fitted them together. To her surprise and delight, she was able to complete a small section of the picture on her own. ‘It’s a cat slipping on the ice,’ she gasped, staring down at the black-and-white cat. ‘He looks just like Mac. Do you think that’s why Dennis chose the picture?’
Daisy caught Suze’s eye and they both smiled. ‘I think Mac would be just as useless on the ice,’ she said.
Marigold laughed. ‘If Mac’s in the picture, Dennis can’t be far away. I’m going to look for him now.’
‘They’re inseparable, aren’t they?’ Daisy mused with a chuckle.
‘Where there’s one, there’s always the other,’ Marigold added.
‘This is fun, isn’t it, Mum?’ said Suze, sliding the pieces that made up a couple in front of her mother.
‘Thank you for helping me,’ Marigold said. ‘I couldn’t do this without you.’
‘We’re a good team,’ said Daisy.
‘Ah! Look what I’ve found!’ Marigold seized upon the pieces in front of her and snapped them into place with growing confidence. ‘A couple!’
‘You and Dad,’ said Suze.
‘Could be, couldn’t it?’ Marigold agreed.
‘They’re holding hands, just like you and Dad,’ said Daisy.
Marigold’s smile wavered a little. ‘Trust Dennis to find such a beautiful picture.’ She traced it with her fingers. ‘He’s good like that, isn’t he?’
‘He is,’ Daisy agreed. ‘He’s the best.’
‘Now we have to find me and Daisy,’ said Suze.
‘And Nan,’ Daisy added with a giggle.
They glanced over to where Nan was asleep on the sofa.
‘She’ll be on her back in the snow, having slipped,’ whispered Suze.
‘Complaining,’ Daisy added.
The three of them laughed and Marigold felt normal again. Perhaps Nan was right, after all. If she stopped being anxious, it might just go away.