The Psychedelic Furs: ‘Pretty in Pink’
‘Hello Mum,’ I said, momentarily forgetting I wasn’t meant to call her that.
‘Hello,’ Mum replied, smiling. It was three days after Christmas and to my relief she seemed in a good mood. She was sitting up in bed and looked as though she’d put on some make-up and brushed her hair. ‘Have you come to see me?’
‘I have. Is that okay?’ I perched on the chair nearby and waited.
Mum looked at Suzy questioningly, and Suzy gave a small nod. ‘You like talking to Erin,’ she reassured her.
Mum turned back to me and smiled again. ‘Oh good.’
‘I’ll leave you two for a while shall I?’ Suzy said, heading towards the door.
‘Thank you,’ I replied.
A silence hung in the air for a few seconds after she left. I stared out of the window behind Mum at the gardens where, in the misty distance, a small figure trudged across the grass, and wondered whether they were supposed to be out there alone. My attention was brought back into the room by Mum’s voice. Despite everything that had happened to her mind over the years, she still sounded the same, and when I wasn’t looking at her I felt consumed with joy when I heard her and truly believed I had her back again. Until reality crashed back in.
‘Sorry,’ I said, turning my attention to her. ‘What did you say?’
‘What dear? What did who say?’
I sighed. ‘Never mind.’ I held out a small package wrapped in red and silver paper. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘What’s this for?’ she said, eyeing it suspiciously.
‘It’s your Christmas present.’
‘Ooh, is it Christmas? I love Christmas.’ She snatched it from me and held it in both hands, gazing at it excitedly.
‘Are you going to open it?’ I encouraged her gently.
‘What? Oh yes, in a minute.’ I’d lost her again; her mind had wandered off somewhere else, to some far-away place. I hoped it was nice there. Minutes ticked by, and when Mum started to slowly peel the tape from her present I took a moment to study her. The last few years hadn’t been kind to her. Even as her mind had begun to give up on her and she’d lost a little bit more of herself with each and every day, the vibrant, happy woman she’d always been hadn’t disappeared completely. It had always been there, if you’d known where to look, in the subtle upturn of her mouth at some small piece of joy, or the glisten in her eye when she remembered some happier time. Now though, it seemed as though Mum’s last sliver of sparkle had finally disappeared, and most of the time she was just an empty, sad shell. Her eyes were blank, her youthful glow had become a dull grey despite the make-up, and she dressed in baggy, shapeless clothes that made her look at least ten years older than her fifty-seven years. My heart ached for her.
Finally, Mum had her present unwrapped and she stared at it.
‘It’s a necklace Mum,’ I explained, leaning over and lifting the delicate silver daisy from its silky base.
‘But I have one of these already.’ She looked up at me in confusion.
‘Yes you did, but you lost it.’
‘I don’t think I did.’
I smiled patiently and pulled it from the box.
‘Do you want me to put it on for you?’
‘Yes please.’ I stood and moved behind Mum’s chair, carefully closing the clasp and letting the daisy hang against her chest. Her fingers flew up to touch it.
‘Does it look pretty?’
‘It does.’
‘Michael bought this for me you know, for our tenth wedding anniversary.’
I smiled. ‘I do know.’
She smiled back, the memory pleasing her.
‘I have something else for you,’ I said.
‘You do?’
I stuck my hand into my bag again and this time I pulled out a Christmas angel. When I hadn’t been able to find the one Mum had wanted at Dad’s house, I’d taken mine from the top of the tree and wrapped it up for her, hoping it would suffice. I held it out to her now, and she took it gently and pulled the paper off. I studied her face for a reaction as she saw what it was. Then, completely out of the blue, she threw the angel on the floor in anger. ‘That’s not mine,’ she said, and when she looked up, her eyes glistened with tears.
‘I know it’s not exactly the same, but you wanted an angel for your tree didn’t you?’ I said.
She shook her head vigorously and I waited for her to calm down before reaching for her hands which were fluttering in her lap.
‘It’s okay Mum. It’s fine. We don’t need to talk about it any more.’ She sat staring into the distance just over my shoulder for a moment, her confusion clearing. I was furious with myself. I should have known any old angel wouldn’t do. Mum might not know who I was, but she knew that wasn’t the Christmas angel her daughter had made her thirty years ago. The mind was such a cruel place sometimes.
When I was sure she’d calmed down, I said, ‘Would you like to listen to some music?’
‘Ooh yes please,’ she said, any upset seemingly forgotten already.
Relieved, I reached into my bag and pulled out the mixtape and a tape player. Mum watched with the interest of a small child but didn’t register any recognition at the box or the handwriting on it, so I carried on.
I’d decided to play it safe and try one of our regular songs first. Seconds later the room was filled with the sound of David Bowie telling us to dance. I watched closely for Mum’s reaction as she let the music wash over her, transporting her back to another time, another place. It never ceased to amaze me how instant the reaction could be. Mum’s face relaxed, all the lines and creases softening, her worried frown smoothing out and her shoulders dropping. For a few minutes, as she listened to one of her favourite songs, she was no longer Penny the dementia patient, waiting in her residential home for her time to come, scared of everyone and everything. She was Penny, the funny, crazy, inspirational, independent woman who was loved by everyone who knew her. She was my mum again and my heart felt like it might snap in two. These moments, when I had my mum back again, were both amazing and heart-breaking all at the same time.
The song came to an end and her face changed almost instantly. I pressed stop on my phone and reached for her hands. She looked down with confusion at where our fingers were interlaced and I squeezed them gently. She peered up at me, her grey eyes intense as though she desperately wanted me to know something she couldn’t remember how to express. Then her gaze slid to my phone again.
‘More?’
I nodded and released her fingers. I loaded the mixtape into the player this time, then found the right track. ‘I thought I’d play you something a bit different today Mum, is that okay?’ She nodded, so I pressed play and waited for something to happen. My heart thumped. This was it.
And sure enough, seconds after the first jangly notes of ‘Pretty in Pink’ by The Psychedelic Furs floated through the room, Mum’s face lit up again, a look of intense adoration in her eyes.
‘Who’s there?’ I said, turning the volume down a notch so she could hear me. ‘What’s happening?’
‘He’s here,’ she said, her voice soft, younger than usual.
‘Who’s here?’ I said, gently, trying not to interrupt her thoughts, to keep her in the moment. She didn’t reply for a while and I wondered whether I should change the song, try a different one. But then Mum stood up, clasped her hands together and held them below her chin. I waited.
‘It’s Johnny.’ Her voice was almost a whisper as she swayed from side to side, and I leaned a little closer to hear her better.
‘Who’s Johnny?’ I whispered. She snapped her eyes open, eyes wide with surprise.
‘You’re having me on,’ she said, grinning. ‘You know who Johnny is.’
I hesitated. ‘Is he – your boyfriend?’
‘You silly sausage,’ she said, laughing. ‘We’re getting married.’
I held my breath. ‘Married?’
‘Yes. He asked me and I said yes and we’re getting married next year.’
My head swam. I’d seen the note from ‘J’, of course, but I’d assumed that the talk of marriage had been more from him than from Mum. After all, she’d married my father, hadn’t she?
Mum ran her thumb over her finger where her wedding ring still sat.
‘He’s going to get a good job and get me a proper ring one day. Daddy will let me marry him then, I know he will.’
‘Granda—’ I stopped. ‘Your father doesn’t want you to marry him?’
She shook her head. ‘He wants me to marry Michael.’
I tried not to gasp at the mention of Dad’s name. ‘But you don’t want to marry Michael.’ It was a statement rather than a question and I held my breath as she replied.
‘No. Michael is lovely but…’ Mum looked me in the eye. ‘Johnny is the love of my life.’ Her words pierced me like darts as my mind reeled back through the years; to all the times I’d watched my parents, seemingly madly in love; to the video of their wedding day that I’d devoured, dreaming of having a fairy tale marriage just like theirs one day; and then to all the times Mum had told me not to let the love of my life slip through my fingers, and I’d assumed she’d been thinking about Dad. I watched as everything I believed in crumbled around me, like dust.
Poor Dad.
I couldn’t speak, so I gave her a moment to get lost in the past, free from worries.
When the song stopped I clicked it off before a new one began, my hand shaking. Slowly, Mum’s eyes started to refocus and she slumped in her chair, exhausted.
‘Where’s Johnny?’ she said, her eyes flicking round the room, and I felt a dart of guilt. In all these years, Johnny must have been so deeply locked away that she’d never mentioned him before. Now, just one play of this song from the tape he’d made her, and he was back to torment her all over again.
‘He’s not here,’ I said, my voice wavering.
‘But where did he go?’
‘He had to leave.’ Sometimes it was best not to argue, and I could see Mum was becoming agitated.
‘Oh. Will he be back?’
‘He will.’
Her hands were clasped in her lap, her knuckles white, and she was fiddling with her wedding ring. When she looked up, her eyes shone with tears.
‘He loves me so much you know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why he had to leave.’
‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘He’ll be back soon.’
We sat in silence for a moment, my mind reeling from what I’d just learned. I felt untethered, and scared.
‘Are you okay?’ I said, wondering what was going on in her mind now.
She looked at me and frowned. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Erin,’ I said, clearly.
‘And why are you here?’ Her tone wasn’t angry or accusatory, just curious, and I smiled at her.
‘I’ve just come to see you, to see how you are,’ I explained.
‘Oh okay.’ She hesitated, her eyes darting round the room uncertainly. ‘And I know you, do I?’
‘You do. I’m your daughter.’ I tried to ignore the look of fear on her face and continued to smile sweetly until I saw her body start to relax again.
‘Course you are, course you are,’ she said as if to reassure herself. ‘And where’s your lovely Adam?’
My heart stopped beating for a minute. This was the second time she’d mentioned Adam in just a few days. She’d done it a few times over the years too – she’d even occasionally talked about him in front of Greg in her confusion, who, to his credit, had always managed not to take it personally even though it must have felt like a dagger to the heart. But this time I felt rattled.
‘He’s not here Mum,’ I said. ‘You mean Greg.’
She looked round. ‘Who’s Greg?’
‘Never mind.’
‘Is Adam not coming?’
I shook my head. ‘No, not today.’
‘Shame.’ She rubbed her hands back and forth as though she was wringing out an old cloth. Suddenly, she reached over and grabbed my wrist.
‘Erin. You must never let Adam go. Promise me.’ Her voice was urgent, a whisper. I placed my hand on top of hers to try and soothe her, but she just leaned closer. ‘Don’t listen to your father. He doesn’t like Adam, but you do and that’s all that matters.’ She shook her head and rocked from side to side. ‘Never let anyone tell you who to love.’
As the words spilled from her mouth I was reminded of the time I’d taken Adam home to meet her and she’d said something similar. I waited, hardly daring to breathe, as Mum continued. ‘Never settle for second best, Erin. Not like I did. You’ll always regret it.’ She looked me right in the eye then, her gaze hard. ‘Always follow your heart.’
It was as though the air had left her like a deflated balloon as she slumped back into her chair. I didn’t know what to say, so we sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the low drone of voices outside in the hallway, and the occasional shout. I tried to swallow down the lump that was blocking my throat.
‘Do you mind if I close my eyes? I’m ever so tired,’ Mum said.
‘Of course. Let me help you into bed.’
‘I’m not going to sleep, just resting my eyes.’
‘I know. But let’s get you into bed anyway.’
She let me help her stand and waited patiently like a little girl while I pulled the covers down and plumped her pillows for her.
‘There you go,’ I said, standing back as she climbed beneath the covers, fully clothed. I was struck by how life had turned on a pin, how my mum, who had once tucked me in at night and sung to me, was now the one who needed the constant care and reassurance. I cupped her hand gently between mine and sat with her as she slowly drifted off to sleep. At least there she could dream, and pretend she was in some other place, some other time. A time when she knew who she was and what she wanted. A time before her mind betrayed her.
She was peaceful now, but my mind was all over the place. And I couldn’t get Mum’s words out of my head.
Never settle for second best, Erin. Not like I did.
Always follow your heart.
Although my heart bled for my father, who had always loved my mother with every fibre of his being, I couldn’t stop thinking about Greg, and Adam, and wondering whether I had made the wrong choice all those years ago after all.
I sat and watched the sky darken outside the window until I heard the shush of the door across the carpet and Suzy came back in.
‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes. Mum was tired. It’s been a long day.’
She nodded. ‘And did you get anywhere, with the songs?’ I’d told her I was trying something new today, but not why.
‘Not really. I think she prefers her normal ones.’
‘Never mind.’
I let go of Mum’s hand and placed it carefully on top of her blanket, then brushed a stray hair from her face and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
‘I should be off now.’
‘Yes, Penny will probably be asleep for the night now.’
‘Thanks Suzy. I know how much you do for Mum and I really appreciate it.’
‘Well apart from the fact that it’s my job, I do love it. She’s special, your mum, but I know you know that.’
‘I do. I just miss her.’
‘I know. But she is in there somewhere. You just have to look a bit harder to find it these days.’
‘Thank you.’
Suzy leaned over and pulled Mum’s curtains tight against the night, and we left together, leaving the bedside light burning.