The train ride takes up best part of my evening, the sun is setting when I arrive in the Welsh Countryside. I thought it was a beautiful place to be when we started the search for a home. The mountains are a stunning backdrop even in this sub-zero weather. I thought the fresh country air would do her the world of good in comparison to the smog of London, but now that I’m here alone after turning my back on the one man who is the only person to show actual interest in me, it feels too cold and too lonely. The sun is setting when I reach the station and I tuck my face into my scarf against the winter wind when I wait for a taxi. I keep checking my phone, keeping an eye on the time and the dwindling battery life. I need to be fast with this if I want to make sure she’s okay. I have no idea what else I’m supposed to do; the note didn’t give me any other instructions. But I’ll go to hell first before I check on my one favorite woman, the one who makes the best damn Tiramisu you’ll ever have. I’ll have to move her to a new home, I know that will upset her and confuse her even more. Either that, or she’ll have to come to London. But the flat...fuck. I sigh and look to the heavens; the stars are starting to twinkle in the dark indigo sky and I wish that someone up there would give me a sign. For what, I don’t know, but I need something. It’s never gotten this bad with my mother, she’s threatened me before but never her own mother. Usually I can ignore her or catch her when she’s high enough and tell her to back off. I changed my number, I moved, I did everything in my power to get away from her and here she is yet again. I have no idea what I’m going to do and I’m none the wiser when the taxi pulls up outside the nursing home.
I’m lead back to my Grandmother’s room and I almost burst into tears at the sight I see. The once bubbly, over enthusiastic and plump old lady has now become a frail, thin and almost grey looking woman. My hand is over my mouth in shock when the nurse beside me rubs my arm in support.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me she had gotten this bad?” I whisper and turn the nurse. I have a mix of emotions right now. Sadness, anger, confusion and I have no idea what one to deal with first.
“She was eating well up until last week, we usually give them a few days to see if they’ll come around, but Grace here hasn’t. It’s protocol to call someone once the Doctor assesses them, the doctor is coming by tomorrow. It was the earliest we could get him here.”
“That’s not good enough” I say through gritted teeth.
“I know. I am sorry, but the services are stretched thin at the moment. Especially at this time of year. I am sorry Amelia. Let me know if you need anything” with that and a weak smile she turns and leaves me alone with the one woman who means the world to me. I shrug out of my coat and chuck it over the back of the chair next to her bed. She stirs a little but is otherwise out of it. I place my hand in hers and the tears fall freely when I feel how cold she is.
“I’m so sorry Gran” I whisper, leaning forward and stroking my hand through her now thin hair. I have every scenario possible running through my head, and none of them seem to fit what I need right now. I have no choice but to leave her here. They wouldn’t let me move her when she’s so weak and I have no other option but to fork out the money to that bitch. I know if I do it once, she will keep coming back for more, and I’ll be damned if I ever wanted to do that. But what other choice do I have?
I take one last look at the frail woman in the bed, the sheets pulled up around her. I wish for nothing more than for her to remember who I am. I hope silently that she will at least open her eyes tomorrow, sighing before turning and grabbing my coat and handbag. I blow her a kiss from the door way before mouthing the words, “I wish I knew what to do Gran” and turning towards the exit.
I pause in the hallway on the way to the reception, inhaling a lung full of air but I regret it instantly. The smell of antiseptic, sterile and the general odor of old people fills my nostrils, reminding me of the pain I had put Gran through at the hospital when I was sixteen. Her demands for me to tell her what had happened, the way she had tried yelling at me and then talking to me calmly with the hope that I would tell her how I’d got such broken bones and cuts across my whole body. In a sick way, I was glad that I was sixteen and they couldn’t force me to do a rape kit. I don’t think I would have coped with that, and so instead I had lied and said it was a bunch of girls from school. I was in agony for weeks but eventually my internal injuries healed by themselves and I’ve never had a problem since.
I wish I could go back to the few years I lived with Gran. They were some of the best years of my life, the ones where I plotted and planned for the creation of Bellucci. Where we would sit at the small dining table in the kitchen, and she would pretend that she understood what I was talking about with all the legal jargon. A small laugh escapes my lips at the memory of her nodding along silently, but her face being awash with confusion as to what the hell I was on about. The small comforts of the nursing home remind me of her small two bedroomed flat, the old, slightly faded photo frames hanging on the discolored painted walls. While this place has some of the best facilities for patients with dementia it is slightly behind on the décor. I remember one of the nurses telling me that they kept it this way, as some of the residents found it comforting. I hope they modernize these places by the time I get here.
Tugging my bag higher up on my shoulder and tying my coat around my waist, noting the missing button and ignoring the pang of guilt that comes with it, I head for the exit. The nurses are closing for the night, so I step outside to wait for the Uber I ordered. The bitter chill bites at the tip of my nose instantly, suggesting the drop-in temperature has been drastic in the space of an hour. I should have asked the nurses if anyone had tried to visit Gran, but it had slipped my mind, surely, they would have mentioned it anyway seen as I’m the only one that comes here – that I know of. If this was my mother’s doing why didn’t she take anything from my flat? Wouldn’t she have sold or pawned my jewelry for some instant cash? The throbbing at the base of my skull intensifies as a whirlpool of anxiety and questions kick in. My phone vibrates in my pocket for the millionth time since I got here, but I ignore it. Wrapping my coat tighter around me and turning to sit on the bench nearby I’m stopped dead in my tracks.
My breath catches in my lungs, and I try desperately to claw at the strong arm that’s pinned around my neck. I’m yanked backwards into a hard chest, and I almost fall in my mid-high boots. In a split second a rag is placed over my mouth and nose, and I will myself not to breathe. Don’t breathe Mia! The sweet smell tickles my nose, and I can feel myself going…. Don’t fall asleep Mia! On instinct I suck in a terrified breath of air and I know I’m in deep trouble. I can hear my own voice shouting in the distance. It’s no use, the darkness clouds my vision and I blackout.