assistant thought for a moment and then shook her head. ‘Not good today, Mr Aitken. Not good.’
This news did not disturb Ian unduly. In fact he smiled to himself for this was what Jolanta had said every day he’d visited for the last two years.
Ian nodded, and walked through the door with his hands shoved in his trouser pockets. He avoided touching anything in this place – it felt unclean and shame engulfed him once more. His mother ought to be living with him, her only son, not here in this awful place. If he had married a different sort of woman to Raquel, perhaps it might have been possible. If he’d still been married to Sarah, so kind and compassionate, he was almost certain it would be so …
He found her in bed, her head propped up, staring at the ceiling and clutching a white tissue in her sinewy, liver-spotted hand. She tilted her head to look at him standing in the doorway and gave him a lopsided smile, which made her eyes almost disappear in her crinkly face. Ian had been a late and only baby – a miracle his mother used to say in wonderment, gazing upon him as a small red-haired boy. She was now eighty-one years old.
‘Hello, Ian,’ she said a little slowly. Her speech had been affected by the stroke and, though it sometimes took a little longer to find the words, she was still perfectly intelligible. It was just she sounded different, like an old woman, not the pretty, bright mother with the sing-song voice that he remembered from his youth.
‘Hello, Mum,’ he said and sat on the chair placed on the left side of her bed. ‘I can’t stay too long. Raquel’ll be home soon.’
‘Mmm, Raquel, yes. Tell me, is she still working as a shop assistant?’
Poor Raquel, with her platinum blonde hair and lack of tertiary education, she had never quite lived up to his mother’s exacting standards. ‘No, mother,’ said Ian patiently. He suppressed the more robust retort that sprang to his lips, choosing to ignore her snobbishness and the intended provocation because he was pleased, in spite of both, that she still had all her wits about her. The day these left her, the fight would leave her too. ‘You know perfectly well that she’s been promoted to manageress. Of a very upmarket boutique.’
‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten.’ A whisper of a smile played about one corner of her mouth followed by a long pause during which the smile evaporated. ‘Is everything all right between you two? You don’t talk about her very much. And I can’t remember when I last saw her.’
Ian rubbed his hands together and looked at the floor. Part of him wanted to tell her that his four-year-old marriage to Raquel was on the rocks. He couldn’t remember when they’d last slept together, though sex had once been the most important aspect of their relationship. He’d lusted after her, but his old-fashioned, outdated scruples would not allow him to take her outside of marriage. And so they’d wed. What had he been thinking?
He looked at his mother and forced a smile. She’d warned him not to marry Raquel and she’d said some rather unkind things about her. Sadly, they had mostly proved to be true, though at the time, he’d been too seduced by her sexuality to listen. It was difficult now to admit that he’d been wrong, that he’d been blinded by lust (so much more humiliating than being blinded by love). He could not bear to hear his mother say she’d told him so. ‘Everything’s fine, Mum. Raquel’s just very busy at work. She works six days most weeks. She’s so tired come Sunday, she just wants some me time.’
‘Me time,’ she said with a faint raspy snort. ‘We didn’t have that in my day.’
‘Well,’ he said in Raquel’s defence, trying to sound like a loyal husband, ‘times have changed.’
Thankfully, she lost interest then. He heard someone come into the room and his mother’s eyes crinkled up with pleasure when she saw who was there. ‘Oh, look, it’s Sarah!’ she cried out in a
This news did not disturb Ian unduly. In fact he smiled to himself for this was what Jolanta had said every day he’d visited for the last two years.
Ian nodded, and walked through the door with his hands shoved in his trouser pockets. He avoided touching anything in this place – it felt unclean and shame engulfed him once more. His mother ought to be living with him, her only son, not here in this awful place. If he had married a different sort of woman to Raquel, perhaps it might have been possible. If he’d still been married to Sarah, so kind and compassionate, he was almost certain it would be so …
He found her in bed, her head propped up, staring at the ceiling and clutching a white tissue in her sinewy, liver-spotted hand. She tilted her head to look at him standing in the doorway and gave him a lopsided smile, which made her eyes almost disappear in her crinkly face. Ian had been a late and only baby – a miracle his mother used to say in wonderment, gazing upon him as a small red-haired boy. She was now eighty-one years old.
‘Hello, Ian,’ she said a little slowly. Her speech had been affected by the stroke and, though it sometimes took a little longer to find the words, she was still perfectly intelligible. It was just she sounded different, like an old woman, not the pretty, bright mother with the sing-song voice that he remembered from his youth.
‘Hello, Mum,’ he said and sat on the chair placed on the left side of her bed. ‘I can’t stay too long. Raquel’ll be home soon.’
‘Mmm, Raquel, yes. Tell me, is she still working as a shop assistant?’
Poor Raquel, with her platinum blonde hair and lack of tertiary education, she had never quite lived up to his mother’s exacting standards. ‘No, mother,’ said Ian patiently. He suppressed the more robust retort that sprang to his lips, choosing to ignore her snobbishness and the intended provocation because he was pleased, in spite of both, that she still had all her wits about her. The day these left her, the fight would leave her too. ‘You know perfectly well that she’s been promoted to manageress. Of a very upmarket boutique.’
‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten.’ A whisper of a smile played about one corner of her mouth followed by a long pause during which the smile evaporated. ‘Is everything all right between you two? You don’t talk about her very much. And I can’t remember when I last saw her.’
Ian rubbed his hands together and looked at the floor. Part of him wanted to tell her that his four-year-old marriage to Raquel was on the rocks. He couldn’t remember when they’d last slept together, though sex had once been the most important aspect of their relationship. He’d lusted after her, but his old-fashioned, outdated scruples would not allow him to take her outside of marriage. And so they’d wed. What had he been thinking?
He looked at his mother and forced a smile. She’d warned him not to marry Raquel and she’d said some rather unkind things about her. Sadly, they had mostly proved to be true, though at the time, he’d been too seduced by her sexuality to listen. It was difficult now to admit that he’d been wrong, that he’d been blinded by lust (so much more humiliating than being blinded by love). He could not bear to hear his mother say she’d told him so. ‘Everything’s fine, Mum. Raquel’s just very busy at work. She works six days most weeks. She’s so tired come Sunday, she just wants some me time.’
‘Me time,’ she said with a faint raspy snort. ‘We didn’t have that in my day.’
‘Well,’ he said in Raquel’s defence, trying to sound like a loyal husband, ‘times have changed.’
Thankfully, she lost interest then. He heard someone come into the room and his mother’s eyes crinkled up with pleasure when she saw who was there. ‘Oh, look, it’s Sarah!’ she cried out in a
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