The Day Of Second Chances by Julie Cohen

She’d ask if they were all right.
    But no one came. It was the same as after Stephen’s death, when the phone stopped ringing.
    It was a confirmation that from now on, Jo was on her own. Everything was down to her, only to her. The thought made her cry even harder.
    â€˜Whoever he is, he’s a bastard,’ said a voice in front of her. Jo had wiped her nose, though it was useless, and looked up to see a woman standing with a baby on her hip. Her curly hair was like a black halo around her head. ‘Or is it post-natal depression? I had that with my first one, it sucks.’
    â€˜Do you – don’t you know?’
    Sara peered at her. ‘No. Should I? Are you famous or something? Here, have a tissue.’
    Jo took it gratefully. ‘I thought everyone would be talking about me.’
    â€˜Mate, haven’t you noticed? Everyone in this park is too busy taking selfies with darling Hugo or Eugenie to spare a glance for anyone else. Rich people, they drive me crazy. People are much nicer over at Palmer Park. Last time I had a crying fit over there a nice little old lady came over and offered me some homemade curry in a plastic container. I only come to this park for the sandpit. You want a wet wipe?’
    Now, a year later, months of coffee and confidences behind them, Jo said, ‘I don’t mean to be negative. I think it’s seeing Honor like that. I thought she was a force of nature, Sara. I thought nothing could ever happen to her.’
    â€˜Well, I only met her that one time, and she was terrifying. How old is she?’
    â€˜In her mid-seventies, at least. And she looked every year of it in that hospital bed. She didn’t wake up once.’
    â€˜It’s going to happen to all of us eventually, no matter how scary we are.’
    â€˜She’s a very intelligent woman,’ said Jo. ‘She raised Stephen all by herself, you know, while she was working as a university lecturer, and this was in the seventies and eighties. She’s very admirable. She’s just … outspoken. And she likes having her own way.’
    Sara shook her head. ‘It’s amazing about you, Jo. You never say anything bad about anyone.’
    â€˜Well, there’s nothing bad to say. We’ve had our difficult moments in the past, but I feel sorry for Honor. She’s so alone. Imagine putting me down as next of kin. It just shows how few people she has to help her.’
    â€˜She has money though, right? Wasn’t she some sort of doctor?’
    â€˜Not a medical doctor; she’s got a PhD. She’s an academic.’
    â€˜So she should be able to afford to get someone in. She’s probably saved up for something like this.’
    â€˜I don’t know. Academics aren’t rich. I think she’s living on her pension. I don’t like to ask, of course. I’d offer to hire a nurse for her, but …’ Jo trailed off. Sara knew her financial situation already: how she was more or less completely dependent on her ex-husband for support while the children were small. ‘It’s not the sort of thing I can ask Richard to do.’
    â€˜Well, the local authority will get someone for her, to help her out.’
    â€˜The house is completely impractical, though. The kitchen’s in the basement. That wouldn’t be such a problem if she had someone bringing her meals, but even if she put a bed in her lounge, the ground floor doesn’t have a bathroom. You have to go downstairs to the little toilet off the kitchen, or upstairs to the proper bathroom on the first floor.’
    â€˜Time to install a stairlift?’
    â€˜I don’t think Honor would hear of that; they’re so ugly and slow. And anyway, the entire house is up a flight of stairs from the road. If she stays there, even if she can get around inside, she’d be housebound most of the time. I think it would drive her crazy. She rides her bicycle everywhere normally.