‘Mrs Cotter? I’m Di Wilson, a nurse at the accident and emergency department at the QMC. Your mother has had a fall at home and has been brought in. She’s asked me to ring you, to let you know.’

‘Oh no.’ I stood up quickly, my free hand flying to my throat. ‘Is she OK? When did this happen?’

Jo looked up from typing up Bryony’s valuation report.

‘It happened at lunchtime,’ Di continued. ‘We think she’s badly bruised her shinbone. It’s painful and nasty and she’s quite shaken, but apart from that, she’s fine. She’ll mend.’

‘Is she at home now?’

‘She’s still here, at A&E.’

When I came off the call, Jo had called Dale and Bryony through from their offices.

‘Are you OK, Toni?’ Dale asked.

I began to garble out the details. ‘Mum’s stuck in A&E right now and there’s nobody to pick Evie up later, I—’

He held up his hand and I stopped talking.

‘Go now,’ he said kindly. ‘I hope your mum’s OK. If you need me to do anything, just shout.’

Bryony walked over to me and placed her hand on my arm.

‘Me too.’ I looked down at her hand, not quite believing she was offering me comfort. ‘I could pick Evie up from school, she knows who I am now.’

‘Thanks so much.’ I grabbed my jacket and coat. ‘I’ll text you, Bryony, once I know what’s happening. Whatever happens, I’ll be in the office tomorrow though, no problems. Thank you.’

‘Don’t worry about it, Toni, we completely understand.’ Bryony smiled and I felt a little shiver run down both my arms.

---

By the time I got to the hospital and found a parking space, it was nearly three o’clock. I had to be back at school for four thirty at the latest, to pick Evie up from her after-school session.

I dashed into the grubby unisex loo near the entrance. My throat felt like sandpaper and the beginnings of the mother of all headaches began to gather momentum at the base of my skull.

Before I could think better of it, as I sat on the loo, I unzipped the compartment in my handbag and shook out a single tablet, swallowing it dry. Just the one.

Out in the main area, I gave Mum’s name and the receptionist pointed me to a second patient waiting room, beyond the initial one. I spotted Mum, huddled over in the far corner of the packed, noisy space. She sat close to the wall, her eyes downcast. The domineering, outspoken woman I knew and regularly fought against was absent. She looked smaller, more vulnerable, somehow.

I negotiated my way around the various injured bodies and wheelchairs. Toddlers ran around aimlessly, brandishing the sticky, chipped toys they’d gathered from the chaotic play corner.

‘Toni.’ Mum’s face lit up when she spotted me. ‘You came.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I looked at her pale face. ‘Of course I came.’

‘I just thought . . .’ Mum lowered her eyes. ‘You know, we’d fallen out and—’

‘Don’t be silly.’ I shook my head. ‘I’m always here for you, Mum, you know that.’

Her eyes glistened and she reached for my hand. I felt her fingers quivering slightly in mine. ‘It really shook me up, love, I just don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid.’

‘What happened?’

‘I slipped, on the stairs,’ she said, shaking her head as if she still couldn’t quite believe it. ‘And you know how strict I am about keeping the stairs clear.’

I nodded. The memories were still fresh in my mind of coming in from school. Within seconds, Mum would demand I take my shoes, coat and bag up to my bedroom. She’d always had this obsessive thing about clutter being dangerous if it was left around the bottom of the stairs.

‘I tripped over my shoes, coming down. I couldn’t see a thing because I’ve somehow mislaid my glasses. I still haven’t found them.’

I looked at her. ‘You left your shoes on the stairs?’

In particular, footwear left on the stairs was a lifelong pet hate of Mum’s.

‘That’s just it. I didn’t leave them there. Of course I didn’t,’ she said vehemently. She looked down at her hands and her voice grew quieter. ‘There were two pairs of shoes there, Toni. On different steps.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t remember even wearing them, never mind putting them there.’ She shook her head at the troubling thoughts obviously swirling inside. ‘If I actually did that, I’m scared. I mean, you read about dementia and all that stuff, don’t you? And I am getting on a bit, now.’

I raised my elbows briefly to ease the clammy feeling under my arms.

I couldn’t think what to say, but I also couldn’t stop staring at her. For a few seconds, it seemed as if only a diluted version of Mum remained, compared to the woman who had so recently stormed out of my house in a self-righteous strop.

I looked at her wide, cloudy blue eyes, her pale, soft skin, the way she kept biting the inside of her lip to keep the tears at bay. Mum was only in her late sixties, but this had unnerved me.

‘You probably just forgot to move them,’ I mumbled, trying to mask my concern. ‘We’ve both had a lot on our minds with Evie being unhappy at school and everything.’

‘It’s all swollen.’ Mum looked down at her roughly bandaged lower leg. ‘I’m waiting to see someone else now, who’s going to do a more thorough job.’

‘I can sit with you for an hour and then I’ll go and pick up Evie,’ I said, patting Mum’s hand. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll both stay over at yours tonight.’ We sat mainly in silence. I tried to make bits of inane conversation but, understandably, Mum wasn’t in the mood.

I glanced at my watch; it was three forty-five.

Mum’s pale, clammy face looked waxen and her eyes were half closed. I could see she was in a lot of pain, despite the tablets they’d given her to take the edge off while she waited for her treatment.

I sighed and stood up. Mum had been waiting for over two hours now; it was time to ask some questions of the staff. At that moment, a male nurse appeared and called her name. We helped her into a wheelchair, which I pushed after the nurse, narrowly missing a scarpering toddler’s foot and earning myself a torrent of brusque-sounding words from a large Italian woman.

I smiled graciously and pointed to a sign which informed parents they must supervise their children appropriately.

‘Let’s get her in here,’ the nurse said, indicating a large side room off the main space. He closed the door behind us and a quiet calm instantly settled the charged air. I let out a long breath.

‘I know, crazy out there, isn’t it?’ He grinned. ‘Believe it or not, this isn’t busy. Compared to last week, anyway.’

He sat in front of a computer and tapped at the keyboard. After a couple of seconds, he swivelled round in his chair to face Mum.

‘OK. Anita, isn’t it? I’m Tom. Don’t worry, we’re going to get you sorted out, love.’

Mum looked up forlornly and nodded. I felt a rush of emotion; I wanted to cuddle her close, like I’d do with Evie. ‘Can you tell me what happened to your leg?’

Mum was weary but I let her tell Tom in her own words. She didn’t mention her memory concerns.

Tom began to open various pieces of sterilised equipment. I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was a couple of minutes before four o’clock. I had to say something.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to Tom. ‘I have to go and pick my daughter up from school.’

‘I see.’ He looked at Mum and I followed his stare. She looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

‘That’s OK, isn’t it, Mum?’ I said, alarmed. ‘I’ve got to pick up Evie, remember?’

Mum nodded but didn’t reply. She seemed totally out of it.

‘Is there no way you can stay with your mum?’ Tom pulled a wad of cotton wool out from a packet. ‘I think she really needs you to be here for her.’

I swallowed down a lump in my throat and tugged at the top buttons of my work blouse to let some air in. For a second I felt like bursting into tears myself. I hadn’t got anyone I could call on to help me with Evie, yet I really wanted to be there for Mum. But Evie’s safety was paramount.

And then I remembered.

‘Give me a sec,’ I said, pulling out my phone. ‘I might be able to sort something out.’