Eudora can’t remember the journey in the ambulance, but Rose is keen to tell her that she almost died. When she wakes up in the hospital, Eudora is adamant that she needs to leave as soon as possible.
“It was a mild heart attack, Ms. Honeysett,” says the doctor, a bright young woman with eyes full of hope. “But you do have some underlying problems.”
“My valve,” says Eudora. “I’ve always known it was compromised.”
“Yes. We could operate.”
“No,” says Eudora. The doctor’s face crumples. “Please don’t be upset. I’m eighty-five. It’s the right time.”
Eudora hadn’t realized how much bureaucracy is involved in being permitted to die at home. She is harangued on an almost daily basis by all manner of nonmedical staff regarding her care arrangements. In the end, it is Sheila who saves the day. Eudora is delighted to learn that this woman is almost as bloody-minded as she. She liaises with the hospital, contacts Hannah the death doula, and organizes a rotation of people to care for Eudora when she arrives home.
“I organized it for Vic when he was dying,” Sheila tells Eudora, her chin set with determination. “Best decision I ever made.”
“Thank you, Sheila,” says Eudora. Sheila pats her hand.
Eudora stays in bed most of the time now. She had wanted to be downstairs in her chair with the radio beside her for company, but Ruth, the social worker, persuaded her that “one-level living” was the best way. She is now Eudora’s “allocated caseworker” and has been visiting as often as she can. Eudora knows she doesn’t need to drop in as often as she does but is grateful. Ruth arranged for her favorite furniture, radio, and television to be moved upstairs along with her photos. She was on the verge of organizing carers four times a day as well when Maggie intervened.
“We’ll look after Eudora,” she said.
Ruth looked unsure. “That’s a lot to take on. She needs someone with her nearly all the time.”
“I can hear you, you know,” said Eudora.
“Sorry, Eudora. I just need to make sure that you’re safe and properly cared for.”
“We’ll sort it, dear,” said Sheila. “I’ll draw up a rota with Maggie, Stanley, and Hannah. It will be fine.”
Ruth looked at Eudora, who shrugged and said, “I wouldn’t stand in the way of these determined women, if I were you. Now, shouldn’t you be getting home to that little boy of yours?”
Ruth smiled. “Very well. But call me if you need anything. I’ll pop in as often as I can.”
“Thank you, Ruth,” said Eudora.
They fall into an easy routine. Either Stanley or Sheila is there in the mornings. Eudora prefers Sheila’s tea but enjoys doing crosswords with Stanley.
“Eight across. Five letters. The clue is ‘fool.’”
“Idiot,” says Eudora.
“How rude,” says Stanley. “Actually, that’s not right. The first letter is ‘m.’”
“Moron,” says Eudora.
Stanley clutches his chest. “Ms. Honeysett! How can you be so cruel?”
Eudora laughs. There’s something about Stanley’s gentle humor that reminds her of her father. She couldn’t give in to it when they first met, couldn’t allow herself. Now it brings her nothing but comfort. “I never thanked you properly,” she says.
“For what?”
She fixes her gaze on the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes. “For saving me.”
Stanley puts down his pen and turns to face her. “That’s what friends are for. After all, you saved me when I was in the doldrums.”
Eudora reaches out to him. Stanley looks surprised but responds in kind. “Thank you, Stanley,” she says. “Truly.”
Stanley leans forward and kisses her hand. “It’s a pleasure and a privilege, Eudora.”
They hear the front door open. “It’s only us!” calls Maggie up the stairs.
“Eee!” confirms Daisy.
“Right,” says Stanley, giving Eudora’s hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “I’d better take those pesky hounds for a walk.”
Eudora nods. “Later potater, as Rose is fond of saying.”
Stanley smiles. “Later potater,” he says, issuing a swift salute from the doorway before he leaves.
Moments later, Maggie appears with Daisy in her arms.
“Eee, eee, eee,” says Daisy, reaching out toward Eudora.
“Will you be okay with Daisy while I make your lunch?” asks Maggie.
“Of course,” says Eudora. “It’s the least I can do. Come here, madam,” she says, sitting Daisy on the bed beside her.
“What would you like for lunch today? Soup maybe?”
Eudora wrinkles her nose. Her appetite has been draining away from her like water disappearing down a plughole. “Just some toast and tea, please, Maggie.”
“Coming right up.”
Eudora turns back to Daisy. Aside from Rose, Daisy is the best at entertaining her. Eudora could watch her all day. She marvels at the way Daisy approaches the world in a state of constant astonishment—everything is a wonder to her. Right now she is staring at Eudora with the studied concentration of a mind reader.
“You needn’t look at me as if I’m going to expire at any moment,” Eudora tells her.
“Aaaaaa!” says Daisy, grabbing hold of her hands.
“Precisely,” says Eudora.
Eudora’s favorite time of day is around four o’clock when Rose appears. She flings open the door and shouts, “Eudora! Are you still alive?”
“Yes, thank you, Rose!” she replies.
Hannah was visiting one day when Rose made this particular entrance and she laughed for nearly ten minutes. “That is one of the most hilarious and refreshing things I have ever heard.”
“That’s Rose for you.”
Eudora often rediscovers her appetite when Rose is around. She always manages a slice of Sheila’s homemade cake while they spend time discussing Rose’s day or Eudora’s mortality.
“I want to show you something,” says Eudora as Rose enters the room one day, carefully carrying a mug of tea, which she places on the bedside table. “Can you reach my treasures box in the wardrobe, please?”
“Of course. You know how much I love treasures,” says Rose, throwing open the doors and embarking on a thorough search. Eventually, she finds the cardboard box labeled “Eudora’s Treasures.” She blows off the dust and carries it to the bed. Eudora lifts the lid and stares inside. It’s all there. Photographs, tickets to dances, a postcard from Joss Bay. A whole life. Rose looks as if she’s about to explode with excitement.
“Dive in, Rose,” says Eudora. “Ask away.”
She tells her everything: about her father, her mother, Stella, Sam, Sylvia, and the baby who never was. Rose’s face reflects the joy and sadness as she listens. She holds up a photograph of Sam and Eudora taken at Broadstairs. “He’s very handsome and you look beautiful, Eudora.”
“Thank you, Rose.”
“I hope Daisy’s never as mean to me as Stella was to you.”
“It was a different time, Rose. I think you’ll be fine.”
“I love the sound of the dances you went to with Sylvia.”
“We had fun,” admits Eudora.
Rose looks at the scattered memories and fixes Eudora with her steady, honest gaze. “I know you had sad stuff with your dad and your sister, but you’ve had a good life.”
Eudora stares at Rose and smiles. “Yes,” she says. “On balance, I suppose I have.”
One day, Rose brings Tommy to visit. He’s a little shy at first, eyeing Eudora fearfully. “It’s all right, Tommy, you don’t need to be scared. Eudora is going to die but probably not today,” says Rose. “That’s right, isn’t it, Eudora?”
Eudora nods. “You’re quite safe, Tommy, and very welcome.”
Tommy seems to relax a little. “So we thought we’d watch The Greatest Showman with you,” says Rose. “Tommy’s never seen it and it’s pretty much the best film ever. I know all the words to all the songs.”
“Sounds as if we’re in for a treat, Tommy.”
Eudora is too weary to follow the plot of the film. Instead, she delights in gazing at the faces of the two children as they watch. At one stage, a woman with a beard performs a rousing song about being an unapologetic version of yourself. Rose leaps up and joins in, her face absorbed in the moment. It’s a Hollywood-glazed, but nonetheless powerful, sentiment of having confidence and self-belief. Eudora watches the little girl in awe and notices Tommy do the same. Rose seems transformed these days: assured and brave. Eudora is overwhelmed with pride. She knows that this child will always change other people’s worlds for the better. She feels melancholy that she won’t be here to see it but takes sheer delight in this truth.
As autumn blusters toward winter, Eudora watches the light on the ceiling change from the color of ripe wheat to a pale yellow. The year is fading and so is she. Every day she eats a little less and sleeps a little more. Hannah is a constant companion, observing, filling the space with kindness.
Stanley has volunteered for night shifts. Rob offered but Stanley refused. “You’ve got a family and work. I have time.”
He sleeps in what used to be Eudora’s old room under the rainbow-colored blanket that Beatrice crocheted in a different lifetime. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages,” he tells her every morning as he brings in a cup of tea. He always taps lightly on the door before entering. Ever the gentleman.
As she reaches the end, Eudora is hardly ever on her own. Having spent aching chasms of time alone, she is grateful for the constant stream of district nurses, friends, and loved ones. Stanley’s granddaughters call ’round to read to her and Helen, their mum, brings casseroles, flowers, and good humor. Rob always pops in on his return from work. They usually talk about how wonderful Rose is. Eudora feels shored up and safe.
She starts to struggle with her breathing and is given oxygen. It helps but she is tired. She feels as if she’s being pulled backward. Away from all this. She doesn’t resist.
Rose appears later that day. Hannah and Stanley are downstairs waiting to intercept her. Eudora hears their muffled voices, calm, resigned. Rose hops up the stairs and taps on her door.
“Come in, Rose,” says Eudora.
Rose approaches her bed and sits down. She is carrying Osman in her arms. “I brought him to see you.”
“That’s kind. Hello, Osman,” says Eudora, her voice rasping with tiredness. She reaches out a frail hand, relishing the feel of his silky fur. Rose places him on the bed. He turns three times before curling into a perfect ball.
Rose looks at the breathing tubes and places a smooth hand over Eudora’s wrinkled one. “You’re dying, aren’t you?”
Eudora would laugh if she had the energy. “I think so.”
“What does it feel like?”
“At the moment I feel quite relaxed.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I suppose it’s worse for me.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, because you’ll be able to go and see your mum and dad and sister, wherever they are. And then you can come back for Day of the Dead and still see me. But I won’t be able to see you.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll know I’m here.”
“How? Are you going to haunt me?”
“I’ll try.”
“Cool.” There’s a pause. “Can I hug you now?”
“If you must.”
Rose climbs up beside Eudora on the bed. “Let’s just be quiet together, shall we?”
“Do you think you can manage that, Rose?”
“I’ll try for you, Eudora.”
“Good girl.”
Eudora watches the pale lemon sunlight cast a dappled shadow from the last straggly leaves gently blowing outside in the breeze. She feels Rose’s warmth, her small perfect form, her steady breathing, two breaths to her one.
Stanley peers around the door. “I just wondered if you needed anything?”
Eudora shakes her head. “No. Thank you. Come and sit if you’d like to.”
Stanley nods and brings the dressing-table chair over beside the bed. He smiles at them both before taking a seat. A faithful sentry. Osman has settled into a gently wheezing sleep.
Eudora closes her eyes, relishing the quiet. A long-forgotten, cherished sentence floats into her mind.
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
She knows this is true now. She feels nothing but peace, along with the presence of an old man who shares his feelings a little too readily and a small girl with terrible dress sense.
She loves them. They love her.
All is well.