It was Sunday, which was usually cleaning day. Sometimes Grandma Joyce came round to help out, but she hadn’t been round for a couple of weeks.
‘Is Grandma coming today?’ Adele asked her mother.
‘No, she’s not so good. I’m going to try and go round to see her when I’ve got a minute.’
Shirley’s response was lacklustre and Adele realised there probably wasn’t much chance of that.
Adele sighed. ‘Do you want some help with the housework?’ she asked.
‘Oh please, love. I could do with some help today; I’m not so good myself. I tell you what, you start on the dusting and I’ll go and get the hoover.’
Adele soon set to work on the shabby furniture, which was covered with a thick layer of dust. It had been several minutes and her mother still hadn’t returned to the living room. Adele couldn’t hear the sound of the hoover elsewhere either. She went into the kitchen to see whether her mother had taken it out of the pantry yet.
Seated on a kitchen chair was Shirley who was putting some pills into her mouth and washing them down with a glass of water. The pill bottle stood on the kitchen table, its lid still off. Adele recognised the pills. They were diazepam, which her mother still took regularly.
‘I’m not feeling very well, love,’ said Shirley. ‘I’m just having a little sit-down then I’ll come and join you.’
‘Have you not got the hoover out yet?’ asked Adele, a look of scorn on her face.
‘No, I was just going to get it when I started feeling unwell.’
It was clear that her mother wasn’t going to do anything so Adele strode over to the pantry and dragged the hoover out. By the time she had finished hoovering the house her mother was still sitting at the table, although Adele noticed that she had managed to make a cup of tea for herself, which she was now drinking.
‘Oh, you are a good girl,’ said Shirley. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Adele said nothing. Instead she looked around at the state of the kitchen. The bowl was full of dirty dishes, and the table was stained and littered with crumbs. Despite her desire to get on with her studies, she knew that unless she cleaned up the mess, it wouldn’t get done.
She set to work but she was annoyed. How could her family live in such a pigsty? Adele felt irritated by her mother’s slovenly ways and, despite her protestations of illness, Adele didn’t feel much sympathy. She hated the way her mother shirked the housework. She also became annoyed at the way her mother took pity on herself and adopted a pathetic, timid tone of voice when it suited her.
At seventeen years of age, Adele had little understanding as to why her mother was the way she was. As far as Adele was concerned, if something needed doing, you just did it. But although she became irritated with her mother, she would then feel affection towards her and a tremendous guilt for being short-tempered. What if her mother couldn’t help it? Maybe she really did find it difficult to carry out the most basic tasks. But then Adele would spot her mother idling over a cup of tea or chatting with the neighbours, and she’d become irritated once more. While she toiled, she worked herself up into a fury and when she had finished she decided to go out.
‘I’m off out!’ she shouted to her mother once she had put her shoes on. She slammed the door behind her without waiting for a reply. Then she walked off in the direction of Grandma Joyce’s house.
Adele was curious. It wasn’t like her grandma to leave it so long without calling round. She also missed her. No matter how fed up Adele was feeling, Grandma Joyce always managed to cheer her up. She often brought small gifts for Adele and Peter, but even when she didn’t, her kind and supportive words gave Adele strength.
It wasn’t long before Adele arrived at her grandma’s home near Belle Vue. She knocked on the door and waited. And waited. Grandma Joyce didn’t usually take so long to answer. Adele’s curiosity turned to concern. But before anxiety could take hold, Grandma Joyce appeared at the door wearing her housecoat.
‘Oh hello, love. I was just having a lie-down.’
Adele stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Grandma Joyce.
Adele watched her walk into the kitchen. Her movements seemed laboured but Adele didn’t think much of it. Perhaps she was still tired because she had just got out of bed, although it was a bit late in the day for her grandma to be having a sleep. When Joyce came back into the room, Adele noticed her pallid complexion, her ruffled hair and the way her housecoat hung haphazardly.
‘How are you?’ asked Adele.
‘Oh, not too bad. Just a bit of a bad stomach, that’s all,’ she said, rubbing her abdomen.’
Despite Grandma Joyce’s words of indifference, her face was strained.
‘How long have you been like this?’ Adele asked.
‘Only a few days. Don’t worry, love; it’ll pass. It’s something and nothing.’
A niggling thought went through Adele’s mind; the contrast between her mother and grandmother. Her mother seemed to seek pity at every opportunity whereas her grandmother refused to let illness get the better of her.
‘I’ll see if that kettle’s boiled,’ said Joyce, rising from her chair.
‘No. You sit down! I’ll go and make the drinks. What do you want?’
‘No, it’s all right. I’m not ready for the knacker’s yard yet. You sit down!’
Joyce’s dominant tone forced Adele to remain seated. She watched her grandma walk across the room, noting how frail she seemed. She looked as though she had lost weight too.
‘Are you sure you’re OK, Grandma?’ Adele asked when Joyce handed her a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. ‘Only, you don’t look so good.’
‘Eee, what do you expect at my age? It’s all right for you youngsters; you’re fit and strong. But when you get to my age it takes a bit longer to shake things off. Give it a few days, I’ll be right as rain. You’ll see.’
‘Have you been to the doctors?’
‘Have I buggery! They’ll only tell me what I already know. There’s nowt you can do for a stomach bug but let it run its course.’
She put up a convincing argument and, as a girl of seventeen, Adele didn’t have a lot of experience with doctors so she accepted her grandmother’s word for it.
‘How’s your mother, anyway?’ asked Joyce. ‘She was supposed to come round but I’ve seen nothing of her.’
‘She told me she was going to try and come round too but she isn’t very well.’
‘The usual is it?’
‘I think so,’ said Adele although she wasn’t sure what ‘the usual’ referred to.
Grandma Joyce rolled her eyes. ‘Never mind, I’ll be round as soon as I’m feeling up to it to see if she’s all right.’
After a while Adele asked, ‘Is there anything I can do for you while I’m here? Shopping or housework?’
A smirk spread over Grandma Joyce’s face, ‘Will you give over?’ she said. ‘I’ve told you, I’m fine. Now, stop worrying and enjoy your tea and biscuits.’
‘I’ve finished,’ said Adele, placing her empty cup on the coffee table. ‘Those biscuits were lovely thanks, Grandma. Have you not had anything to eat? Perhaps I could make you something while I’m here.’
Grandma Joyce rolled her eyes and shook her head, and Adele knew what was coming.
She quickly interrupted, ‘It’s OK. I know… you’re fine.’
They looked at each other and laughed. Then Adele picked up her empty cup and plate, and took them through to the kitchen to wash. She noticed other cups in the kitchen which were stained with dried on tea and Adele gave them a quick wash too. It wasn’t like Grandma Joyce to leave dirty pots lying around.
‘Right, I’m off,’ said Adele when she returned to the living room.
Before leaving, Adele planted a kiss on her grandma’s face. ‘Take care, Grandma,’ she said. ‘I’ll be round to see you again soon.’
Then she set off for home, trying hard not to worry about her grandmother.