physical perfection, seem even greater. He’d even toyed with the idea of a hair transplant – until common sense kicked in.
Inside a light came on, his reflection disappeared and the door opened.
Sarah was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, her hair tied up in a spiky ponytail, her feet bare. ‘Ian,’ she said, looking past him into the darkness as if looking for an accomplice. ‘What’re you doing here?’
He shuffled awkwardly on the doorstep, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, regretting the decision to come.
‘Is everything all right?’ she said and her eyes widened in alarm. ‘Is it Evelyn?’
He rubbed the end of his nose. ‘No. Yes … she had a fall on the way to the toilet but she’s okay.’
‘Is she hurt?’ gasped Sarah.
‘No, she’s fine, really. Jolanta says they’ll make sure she’s accompanied on trips to the loo in future. I … I was just wondering if you could spare some time for a quick chat. About her care.’
Immediately she stood aside and ushered him in. ‘Of course.’
‘I haven’t come at a bad time?’ he said, nearly falling over the pile of schoolbags, shoes and coats in the hall. Bisto, the brown-and-white cat Sarah had rescued from the cat home, came and circled his legs warily. He bent down to stroke his back, but he immediately scarpered up the stairs.
‘No, not at all,’ said Sarah, brushing crumbs off the front of her hoodie. ‘We’ve just finished eating. The kids will be thrilled to see you.’
Molly and Lewis, drawn by the sound of voices, appeared at the end of the hall. As soon as Molly saw him, her face lit up in a smile and she bounded along the hall like a long-limbed gazelle and latched on to his arm. Lewis barrelled up the hall at full pelt, colliding with his father and wrapping his arms around his waist. In spite of his worries, Ian laughed. Lewis lifted his head to look his father in the face, grinning cheekily. Ian leaned down and planted a kiss on his tomato-sauce-stained cheek. ‘Let me guess? You had spaghetti bolognese for tea.’
‘How did you know?’ said Lewis suspiciously, while Ian kissed the top of Molly’s head, her hair the same colour and texture as Sarah’s. He hadn’t done much right in life, but his children made his heart swell with unfettered pride.
‘That’d be telling,’ he said.
‘How’s Gran?’ said Molly.
‘She’s fine,’ said Ian without missing a beat. ‘Lewis, will you take your swim medal in to show Gran on Sunday? She’d love to see it.’
‘Come on kids,’ said Sarah. ‘Dad and I need to have a little chat. Why don’t you switch the TV on in the lounge?’ She glanced at the clock. 'The Simpsons are just coming on. I’ll bring you through some ice cream.’
‘Ice cream on a Wednesday?’ said Molly with an exaggerated look of surprise on her face. ‘What’s got into you, Mum?’ Sarah, who was a big fan of healthy eating, gave Molly a withering look. Ian was a bit shamed to admit that the children were spoiled when they came to him. Raquel seemed to think that plying them with sweets and sugary treats was the secret to winning their affection. It hadn’t worked.
‘Seeing as your Dad’s here,’ said Sarah with a conspiratorial wink at Ian. ‘Now scram before I change my mind.’ That was enough to send them scarpering into the lounge, slamming the door shut behind them.
In the kitchen, strewn with pots and pans, Ian smiled. Sarah had always been a messy cook, never tidying up as she went along. ‘Take the weight off,’ she said. ‘I’ll be right with you.’
He sat down at the table, pushed a plate out of the way and dabbed ineffectually at the spills on the table with a used napkin. He missed the mess of family life.
‘I don’t know about you but I could use a drink,’ said Sarah, as she came back into the kitchen, taking a half-empty bottle of white wine out of the fridge. ‘Want some?’
He shook his head. ‘No thanks. I’m driving. Some orange juice would be nice.’ He watched her drain the juice from a carton, toss the carton at the bin – and miss. She shrugged and he smiled, feeling himself relax for the first time that day. The homeliness of Sarah’s chaotic kitchen reminded him of happier times.
She handed him a tumbler of juice and half-filled a stubby-stemmed glass with wine for herself. Oblivious to the state of the place, which would’ve had Raquel hyperventilating, she sat down opposite him, the bottle of wine close at hand as if her glass might need replenishment soon. ‘What’s up?’
‘It’s just that … well. I wanted to ask your advice.’
She stared at him with grey eyes, steady and clear. ‘About Evelyn?’
‘Yes. I spoke with the staff on the way out. They assured me that she’d finished the antibiotics two days ago but that fall just made me realise how weak she is. That’s the second dose in the last four weeks. She just doesn’t seem able to shift that infection.’
‘Did you speak with Linda?’ Linda was the manager and a trained nurse.
‘No, she wasn’t there.’
‘Hmm,’ said Sarah, took a drink of wine and added, ‘And what have the staff done about it?’
‘Nothing, as far as I can see. They said she was tired and needed a chance to rest.’
There was a long pause. Sarah looked into her glass, held between both hands. ‘I think you should get Dr Glover back to see her tomorrow. If the chest infection’s not cleared, she might need stronger antibiotics. Left untreated, it could turn into pneumonia.’
He nodded glumly and took a swig of juice. She’d not told him anything he had not thought himself, but it was reassuring to hear that she agreed, that his instinct had been right. He swallowed, and emotion – something akin to, but not quite the same as anger – welled up inside him. ‘You know,’ he said, his eyes stinging the way they did when he took the kids to the chlorinated pool, ‘I don’t think the staff in that place know what they’re doing.’
He set the glass down on the table with more force than he intended and some juice slopped out, to mingle with the blob of bolognese sauce he’d smeared across the vinyl tablecloth. ‘How come they didn’t volunteer the information about her antibiotics? How come they haven’t called in a doctor already? They just leave her lying in that bed, hour after hour, all alone.’
Sarah sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Ian. I know how much it hurts you to see her like that. Me too.’
He put his hands over his face and his shoulders shook. ‘I hate to see her in that place.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up over that again, Ian. You had no choice. She needs professional care. And she’s in the best place possible.’
He removed his hands and looked into Sarah’s sympathetic eyes. ‘But they stole her Bible.’
‘I know.’ Sarah paused and added gently, ‘But we don’t know if that was the staff, another resident or a visitor. And from what I can see, they’re kind to her. And professional.’
He
