Homecoming by Cathy Kelly Page B

wasn’t bitter, just resigned. That was why her three children were made to sit down and diligently do their homework every night. Janet was determined that education would get them out of the trap that was Delaney One.
    After Janet’s, Rae and Dulcie headed across to Delaney Three where Mrs Mills, an eighty-five-year-old, lived with her mentally disabled son, Terence. Hugging was theoretically forbidden on the job for a variety of reasons but Mrs Mills always hugged the CC volunteers. She hugged Terence too, and her ginger tom, Liberace. Both Terence and Liberace got the best of everything and Mrs Mills herself wore clothes she’d owned for fifty years, clothes that were now too large for her shrinking frame.
    She was looking for some money to take Terence to the Marian shrine at Lourdes, where she’d taken him every year since he was a small boy.
    ‘He gets some comfort from it, I know he does,’ Mrs Mills said, petting Terence’s huge knee with love. Terence was a gentle man but big. Rae wondered how his fragile and ageing mother dressed him every day, carefully putting on the adult diapers he needed. A public service nurse came in three times a week, but she was retiring soon and wouldn’t be replaced.
    What would Mrs Mills do then? But she never complained, not about anything to do with her son.
    ‘I’ve got nearly all the money saved,’ Mrs Mills added proudly. ‘Just another seventy is all we need.’
    ‘We’ll talk about it at the committee next week,’ Rae promised.
    She was afraid that there wasn’t enough money this year to help send Terence to Lourdes. The CC’s list of clients had grown exponentially in the past couple of years. People who’d once donated money at the charity’s church collections were now asking for money themselves.
    ‘I understand.’ Mrs Mills put a tiny, pale hand on Rae’s. ‘Lourdes is low down the list, Rae, I understand.’
    She didn’t look sad or upset, Rae realised with surprise.
    ‘What happens will happen.’ Mrs Mills finally let go of Rae’s hands. ‘I’ve got some chutney for you,’ she added. ‘A friend of mine gave me a couple of pots at Christmas.’
    She bustled off into her kitchen and left them sitting alone with Terence. He didn’t smile or say anything. Terence lived in his own world. Lack of oxygen at birth, Mrs Mills explained sadly. He might have been handsome in another world, Rae reflected with pity. A strong, handsome man who could look after his elderly mother in her later years. Except Terence would always remain a child, the cared-for instead of the carer. ‘It’s lovely chutney.’ Mrs Mills appeared carrying two jars with fabric-covered lids.
    Rae and Dulcie had been given many things over the years. Rhubarb from someone’s back garden, many hand-made cards from children, sometimes a few roses wrapped in tinfoil. It was always the people who had the least who wanted to give the most.
    Rae put her jar into the small rucksack she used for CC visits, then she and Dulcie took their leave.
    ‘Isn’t she sweet?’ Dulcie said as they trooped down the concrete stairs, trying not to smell the ever-present scent of urine.
    ‘Yes, she’s wonderful,’ agreed Rae. ‘I don’t know how she copes, to be honest. Perhaps it’s easier to let your mind float off; easier than dealing with the daily reality, that’s for sure.’
    Rae was still sitting on the bed, thinking about Mrs Mills when Will’s voice broke into her daydream. ‘Hi, love, I’m home.’
    ‘Coming,’ Rae replied.
    She’d give Will some of the chutney to try. He loved cheese after dinner. When they were first married, Rae had teased him that cheese and crackers were the ‘posh person’s dessert’.
    ‘Oh yes, I suppose you had trifle in tin bowls?’ Will would joke.
    ‘Trifle? We couldn’t afford trifle!’ she’d say.
    They’d never had dessert in the Hennessey household. A lot of the time, they didn’t even have dinner. Few days passed when Rae didn’t