Sent Away to the Care Home
Dont start with that, Maisie, dont even say it! Margaret Mary Alcott swatted the bowl of porridge away from her. You want to dump me in some home, do you?
So they can poke me with whatever they like and smother me with a pillow if I scream?
Not on your life!
Maisie took a deep breath, trying not to look at the tremble in her grandmothers hands.
Gran, its not some dreadful home. Its a private care home. Theres woodland nearby, nurses on call all the time.
Youll have people to talk to, a massive telly.
Here, youre alone all day while Dads working.
Oh, we all know what that company is like, the old woman groaned, shifting stiffly among her cushions. Theyll rob me blind and pinch my flat, and tip me in a ditch.
Tell George right now: his mother isnt leaving this house alive. He can look after me. Hes my son, isnt he?
I raised him, sat up nights when he had measles. Now its his turn.
Dads slogging away at two jobs so you can have your medicine! Hes fifty-three, his blood pressures all over the place, hasnt been to the cinema in three years, never mind on holiday!
Hell cope, Margaret pressed her lips together, set her face like stone. Hes still young.
And you mind your tongue. Dont go teaching your grandmother how to suck eggs. Go wipe up that porridge. Mess everywhere!
Maisie left the lounge and exhaled loudly into the hallway. How was she meant to talk to her?
Her father arrived at seven that night. He didnt even bother to take off his shoes, just plonked himself down on the ottoman and stared at the carpet for a while.
Dad, you alright? Maisie hurried over, taking the heavy bag of groceries from him.
Fine, Maisie. Theres a mountain of work at the depot, year-end deadline looming. Hows Gran?
Same as always. Another scene about the care home. Swears we want her out of the way.
Dad, we cant go on like this. I checked the accounts for this month weve got sixty pounds left for shopping.
And Ive got to pay rent at the halls, and for books.
Well sort it out, George pulled himself to his feet and kicked off his shoes. I took an extra shift. Overnight, security, every other day.
You cant be serious! When are you going to sleep? Youll collapse somewhere!
George didnt reply. He shuffled into the kitchen, filled the kettle, put it on to boil.
Did she eat?
Poured half of it on the bed. I changed the sheets.
Right. Go get on with your revision. Youve got exams. Ill feed her and wash her myself.
Maisie watched him limp off to her grandmothers room.
It hurt to see it. Shed watched him, robust and always cracking jokes, turn slowly into a shadow.
No more jokes. No spark for living.
***
A week later, things only got worse he came home even later. He swayed a little at the door. Maisie was on edge instantly.
Dad? Are you ill?
Im fine, Maisie. Just a bit dizzy on the Tube. Airless down there.
Sit down. Ill check your blood pressure.
The machine flashed up 180 over 110. Maisie handed him his pills in silence.
Youre not going anywhere tomorrow. Ill call for the doctor.
Cant, her dad winced. Audit in the office. If Im not there, no bonus. And the councils hiked the tax on your grandmothers flat.
Sell it, Dad! Maisie dropped her voice to a whisper so her gran wouldnt hear. Sell that one-bed up in Kent.
Sixteen thousand thats a fortune for us right now. We could pay off our debts, get a proper carer.
Her father sighed.
She wont agree
Dad, shes not set foot inside for five years! Why does she need it, stuck in bed here?
He didnt get to answer from the bedroom came a loud thumping.
Margaret was banging her mug on the nightstand, wanting attention.
George! George, get in here! Who are you whispering with? Scheming against me again, are you? came the cracked, wavering voice.
George sighed, took the tablet from his daughter and went to her.
***
Six years ago, Dad had a lady friend. Jane, gentle and kind, would pop round with pies, and she and Dad used to plan weekends at some country retreat.
It all stopped when Gran took to her bed. Jane tried to help, but the old woman made it hell for her Jane couldnt take it.
Swanning in to snap up whats mine! Thinks she can rob my boy! shed shout through the house, faking heart attacks every time George tried to call on Jane. Get her out! Out, the lot of you!
In the end Jane left, and Dad never chased after her.
The phone rang while Maisie was revising that evening. Dad wasnt home yet.
Hello?
Is this Mr. George Alcott? a mans voice asked.
No, this is his daughter. Whats happened?
Miss, this is HR. Your father collapsed at a staff meeting today. We called an ambulance, hes been taken to St. Thomass. Heres the address.
Maisie scribbled it frantically in her notebook. She barely put the receiver down before her gran called out for her.
Maisie! came the rasp. Who was on the line? Wheres George? He can bring me a cup of tea, my throats parched!
Maisie went to the bedroom. Gran reclined among pillows, frowning.
Dads in hospital, Maisie said quietly.
Hospital? For a second, Margaret froze, then snapped, Well, what did I tell you? He yelled at me yesterday, now the Lords punished him.
No one cares about me! Whos going to feed me now? Put the kettle on.
Maisie left the room without a word.
***
Three days she ran ragged between the hospital and home.
The doctors said it was a hypertensive crisis, brought on by exhaustion. Dad was to stay in bed, completely, for at least a fortnight.
Maisie, hows Mum? he asked first thing when she got there.
Shes fine, Dad. The neighbour pops in, helps out. Think about yourself for once. You must stay put for two weeks, minimum.
Two weeks Theyll let me go. We cant afford for me not to work…
Close your eyes, she tucked his blanket up. Ill sort everything. Promise.
On the fourth day, when she got home, Gran was waiting with a hail of complaints.
Where have you been swanning off to? Im lying here filthy, Georges lolling about, and I rot away!
Maisie clenched her fists and spoke with forced calm.
Listen, Gran. Dads in a bad way. If he gets this stressed again, it could be a stroke. He might not make it.
What nonsense! Gran snorted. Hes tough, takes after his father. Come on, help me turn over, my hips numb.
No, Maisie perched on the edge of a chair. Im not moving you. Not feeding you either.
Margaret stared, wild-eyed.
Whats all this? Have you lost your wits, girl?
No. We havent got any money. At all. Dads off work, he wont get a bonus. Your pension doesnt even cover nappies and medication.
Nonsense! George must have a secret stash somewhere!
Theres nothing. It all went on your tests last month. So heres your choice: we sign the papers to sell your flat in Kent, or social services will take you away to a council-run home. Free of charge.
You wouldnt! Margaret shrieked. Im his mother! I run this house!
Run what, Gran? Youre killing your own son. Doesnt bother you he might never come home? You just want a softer mattress and a warmer duvet.
I phoned the care home we talked about. Theyve got a room open, and the sale will cover it. The cares excellent.
Im not going! Margaret hacked and coughed.
Then you can go hungry. I cant feed you. I work tomorrow, wont be back till late. Theres some water on the bedside table. Think it over.
Maisie left and closed the door. She shook all over. Shed never been cruel, but this was survival: if she didnt break the cycle now, shed lose her dad.
Her gran gran would outlive them all, if they let her keep stealing the life from everyone around.
The night shrouded the house. Maisie didnt enter the room. She heard her name called, sobbed, cursed went in only at dawn.
Give me a drink, the old woman croaked.
Maisie held the mug for her.
Well? Will you sign? Solicitor will be round at twelve.
You vultures croaked Margaret, but the fire was gone. You want it all Fine. Get your forms.
Just tell George tell him to visit, sometimes.
He will. Once hes back on his feet. So will I. Thats a promise.
***
George sat on a bench in the gardens of the care home. He looked healthier more colour in his cheeks and an extra stone round the middle.
Beside him, in a wheelchair, was his mother neat and clean, wrapped in a new woolly scarf, munching on an apple.
George? You called Jane, didnt you? You made it up, hmm?
George looked at her, surprised.
I did. She said shell visit on Saturday.
Good, the old woman turned away, eyeing the flowerbeds. Let her come. Theres a nurse here, Lorna, shes a right brusque one always telling me off for this and that.
Let your Jane have a look how they treat me. And you, George, dont upset her! No good man makes a woman cry, mind. Your own father…
George smiled and held his mothers hand. Maisie came skipping along the path towards them, waving with a wide grin.
Dad! Gran! she called before shed even reached them. I got the scholarship! And I got made permanent at work!
George stood, embracing her. Margaret watched, lips pursed, but she didnt say a word about being cheated out of her home.
When the carer came over and gently offered to wheel her to physiotherapy, Margaret only nodded gravely.
Take me along, love. But be careful, Im nothing but skin and bone. That masseur of yours nearly had my leg off last time
The nurse wheeled her away. Maisie hugged her father tightly, and they stood together gazing at the ancient oaks.
For the first time in forever, the three of them were truly, peacefully happy.
***
Margaret lived to see her great-grandson Maisie finished university, married a good man, had a baby boy.
George married Jane, and Margaret, strangely, accepted her this time; with age, even the barbs softened, and small kindnesses grew. Jane let the old grievances slide, and the air between them turned gentle.
The old woman slipped away quietly in her sleep, with no hard feelings for daughter or son, as if peace was all she had left to give.
