book.
‘Enough of that mush, yes,’ came a muttered reply.
Rachel narrowed her eyes. ‘Judging by the clothes hanging in the wardrobe, I’d say you’ve lost a fair bit of weight recently. If you’re so determined to get home then you’re going to have to do better than that.’
There was a sigh as Mrs Wilson put down her book. ‘The same could be said of your cooks.’
‘If you could make it down to the dining room, there’s a better selection. It’s not all mush,’ Rachel said, tipping her head towards the scrambled egg congealing on soggy, brown toast.
‘I think I’d rather have the mush, thanks.’
Rachel wasn’t going to be fobbed off for the second day in a row. ‘How about we try again to get you up and dressed?’ she said with an air of confidence that had nothing to do with Mrs Wilson and everything to do with Martin. He had spent the night telling Rachel how wonderful she was, how lucky he was to have her and how amazing their life together could be. She had woken up that morning believing him and, more importantly, believing in herself.
The steel in Mrs Wilson’s eyes seemed unyielding but then she said, ‘Oh, anything to shut you up.’
‘Another way to shut me up would be to talk to me. I’d love to hear about your family or all of those boisterous kids you taught over the years. Maybe you could give me some tips on how to keep my six-year-old in check.’
‘The best advice I can give is that, if you make a promise, keep it and if you make a threat, follow it through. Children like the reassurance of knowing what comes next even if they know they won’t like it.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Rachel said as she picked out a blue summer dress from the wardrobe and lifted it up for Mrs Wilson’s approval, but she was already nose deep in her book again. ‘Now, back to the promise you made to me.’
Mrs Wilson looked up. ‘Whatever you think,’ she said, wafting her hand dismissively.
This time, when she tried to return to her reading, Rachel stared at her with silent disapproval. Eventually the protest worked and Mrs Wilson lifted her head. ‘I’m not in the mood for talking but by all means carry on the conversation for both of us. Tell me about your date last night if you must.’
‘Ah, you were listening yesterday. Well, it went very well, thank you for asking,’ Rachel said, trying not to notice how Mrs Wilson’s eyes were already glazing over. ‘It was lovely having that much more time together. We’ve had a few dinner dates but normally we make do with meeting up at the end of my shift; we spend an hour together before I go to collect Hope from school, going to a cafe for a quick cup of coffee or the park to feed the ducks. Martin’s a software developer so his hours are quite flexible. He’s designing a new appointments system for a local dentist at the moment.’
‘How fascinating,’ Mrs Wilson said dryly, as Rachel helped her to the side of the bed so they could begin the complex manoeuvre of getting her dressed. Her legs, or at least the one that wasn’t encased in plaster, was scrawny and had a network of dark blue veins threaded beneath pale, almost translucent skin.
‘Okay, so it’s not exactly working for NASA but his mum has left him enough to set up his own business. In fact, we were up half the night talking about it. A friend of his has suggested they go into partnership together.’
Rachel was helping Mrs Wilson take off her nightdress and when her face re-emerged from the folds of cotton, her eyes had narrowed as if she was actually taking an interest in Rachel’s love life. ‘But you’re not happy about that, are you?’
‘Rob lives in Liverpool and from what Martin’s said, it would make more sense to set up there – and he wants me to go with him. I was playing with the idea of doing an accountancy course anyway, so he thinks I’d be perfect to do all the business admin … It’s just all so daunting.’ Rachel’s voice had trailed off and she had to clear her throat.
‘I thought you were a straight-A student?’
Rachel was shaking her head. ‘It’s not the training that worries me, it’s the whole new life Martin’s offering, especially while our relationship is still so new,’ she said, thinking of her mum’s cautionary advice rather than the web of dreams she and Martin had been spinning. ‘Three months is no time at all to get to know someone. I knew my last boyfriend, correction, my ex-fiancé for two years and he promised me the world too. It was no one’s fault when it didn’t work out, we just fell out of love, but if it can happen once it can happen again.’ There was a pause before Rachel was able to voice her biggest fear. ‘And I’ve yet to see how Martin copes with a ready-made family.’
‘If he has any sense he’ll realise how privileged he is,’ Mrs Wilson said.
‘I think he’ll make a good dad,’ Rachel said, as she tried to recapture some of the enthusiasm from the night before. ‘He was certainly a devoted son. He misses his mum of course, but he put his life on hold for such a long time. He’s twenty-nine now and has a lot of catching up to do. It’s such an exciting time for him and if his plans come off then it’ll be an amazing legacy for his mum to have left behind.’
The old lady’s eyes fixed on her. ‘Then I envy her.’
‘You can’t tell me you haven’t already made an impression on this world,’ Rachel said, slipping the blue dress over Mrs Wilson’s head.
‘I have a couple of nieces who will probably be grateful for the estate I’ll leave them but I can’t claim to have influenced their lives in any way.’
Rachel looked furtively at the family photograph on the windowsill, focusing on the faces of the two people who had not factored in the brief summation Mrs Wilson’s had given of her life. ‘The little boy, what happened to him?’
It wasn’t so much that Mrs Wilson froze but rather that time stopped as she too looked over at the photograph. When she drew her gaze away, she made sure the focus of the conversation changed. ‘I suppose there are people whose lives I’ve touched. All those boisterous schoolchildren you mentioned, but it’s not the same. Other than bumping into one or two on the high street occasionally, I wouldn’t know what became of any of them. Who’s to say they didn’t all throw away their education to spend their lives wiping the noses of silly old ladies like me?’ There was a look of reproach in her eyes as she held Rachel’s gaze.
‘Maybe that is my fate,’ Rachel replied, no longer buoyed by Martin’s enthusiasm but dragged down by yet another dose of reality. ‘I really do want to believe that I can make something of myself. It feels like Martin has entered my life at the right time, but what if it’s wishful thinking? What if moving to Liverpool is a step too far?’ She shook her head as if to free herself from a tangle of emotions. ‘At least it’s not a decision we have to take until next year, and who knows where we’ll all be by then?’
‘If there’s one thing you can’t take for granted, it’s the future,’ Mrs Wilson said. As she set about straightening her dress, her eyes swept across the room like a lighthouse beacon, lighting up briefly as she caught sight of the photograph on the windowsill, only to dim again as her gaze settled on the calendar hanging on the wall.
‘Once I’ve done your hair, how about we get you out of here?’ Rachel offered. ‘I could introduce you to some of the other residents if you like?’
Mrs Wilson
