February 2018
I arrived home just after four, to see Angela crying on her doorstep – loud heart-wrenching sobs into her hands echoing down the street – as a man ran down her path and got into a car. He slammed the door, before screeching past me. I couldn’t see his face, but I noticed a blue disability badge in his front window.
I jumped from my car, and headed up Angela’s path. ‘Oh God, whatever’s wrong?’ I said, taking her into my arms. She buried her face in my shoulder, a sour smell of wine on her breath. ‘Was that the same man as before?’
She nodded. ‘You wouldn’t understand, Rachel.’ She pulled away from me, wiping the backs of her hands across her cheeks and sniffing.
‘Try me, please. I’m your friend. Whatever it is, I’d never judge you.’
She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, before opening her mouth as though to speak. But she closed it again, remaining silent, leaving a brick wall between me and whatever she was going through. She rummaged in the pocket of her cardigan, pulled out a threadbare tissue, and sniffed into it.
‘I need to get on,’ she said, touching my arm gently and tilting her head. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow, yes? You must tell me all about Ireland. I’ll look forward to it.’ She turned and went inside, and I glimpsed the rabbit slippers Grace had worn, before she closed the door behind her.
I lifted my arm to ring her bell, but retracted it, letting it fall to my side, defeated. I would go round in the morning, comfort her.
Once I’d lugged my holdall into my lounge and thrown it on the chair, I flopped onto the sofa and closed my eyes. I found flights tiring, even short ones.
My phone blasted, and my eyes shot open. It was a withheld number.
‘Hello,’ I said, apprehensive.
‘Rachel?’ It was a woman.
‘Yes, who is this?’
‘It’s Margo, love, from Dream Meadows.’ I recognised her voice. ‘They’ve asked me to call you, as I had such a strong connection with your mother.’
‘Had? What do you mean, had?’
‘Love, your mum passed away this afternoon. It was her heart.’
I rose and paced the room, struggling to take in her words, to hold back tears. ‘What? No! That can’t be right. She was taking tablets for her heart.’
‘For some reason she’d been stashing them away in her drawer. Not taking them.’ My mind flashed to her saying she didn’t want to take her medication – that it was poison. ‘I know you’ve suffered a bogus call, Rachel, and I …’ Her voice broke off. She was crying. ‘I’m so sorry …’
‘But she was only fifty-one.’ I choked back tears.
I’d worried, after Mum’s heart attack ten years ago, that I could lose her that way, but the reality was intolerable. ‘This isn’t right. This can’t be true.’
‘Come to the home, dear,’ Margo said, her voice kind and warm.
‘Yes, yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘I’m so sorry, Rachel,’ she repeated. ‘I know it’s nowhere near enough, and you would think I would have a thousand words, but it’s such a shock.’
I ended the call, tears blurring my vision as I searched for my keys. I’d only had them a moment ago. I looked under the cushions, under the sofa, in the door. I was in shock, agitated, and the tears rolling down my face weren’t helping.
I lifted my holdall from the chair and threw it on the floor. There they were – but my eyes had already drifted.
‘Mr Snookum?’ I whispered, picking up my toy rabbit, staring into his bead eyes. He’d been in the loft, hadn’t he? How had he got down from there? In fact, with everything else, I’d never questioned how he’d got up there in the first place after I’d seen him with Mum. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation. But then the only person with a key was Lawrence who’d been in Disneyland – although I still wasn’t sure if Angela had returned the spare set.
I put down the toy rabbit, and grabbed my keys. I would worry about Mr Snookum later.
I ran out into the cold afternoon, and jumped into my car, slapping my face to stop more tears flowing. I started the engine, pressing Lawrence’s number on my phone.
‘We’ve landed,’ he said, before I could speak. ‘We had a brilliant time.’
I sniffed back tears. ‘Lawrence, can you take Grace to your place for tonight? I’ll collect her in the morning.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Rach, she’s desperate to see you. Why?’
‘It’s my mum,’ I said in a whisper. If I said it out loud, it would be true.
‘What’s happened?’
‘She died, Lawrence. She went and bloody well died.’ I let out a cry, as I shoved the car into first gear, and released the handbrake. ‘I’m heading to Suffolk now.’
‘Oh, Rach I’m gutted for you.’ He sounded more sincere than he had for a long time. ‘Are you OK? You sound distraught.’
‘I’ll be fine, just look after Grace, please,’ I said. ‘Tell her I’ll see her soon.’