‘I expect you’re wondering why I rang you?’ she said, wiping out my fantasy. ‘You see, I’d like to hire you again.’
‘But why?’
‘To find out more. That probably sounds a little feeble,’ she said, ‘but I still feel…I can’t shake…’ Emotion prevented her continuing. I gave her a few seconds.
‘Perhaps I’d better come round,’ I suggested.
‘Or I could come to you,’ she rallied.
‘No, I’ve got the car. I’ll be there in a quarter of an hour.’
I squirted de-icer over the car window inside and out and created streaky gaps to peer through. The steering wheel was so cold it made my fingers ache. Other people bought steering wheel covers or driving gloves. Somehow there was always something higher up my list like new shoes for Maddie or getting the vacuum cleaner fixed.
Agnes had tea already made and laid out in the front room. I took my coat off and sat down. I motioned to the teapot. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen a tea cosy.’
‘It keeps it warm,’ she said. ‘It’s not leaf tea, mind. I went over to tea bags as soon as they came in. All that mess, clogging the plug hole.’ She smiled. She poured the tea and passed me mine.
‘So?’ I invited her to talk.
‘You probably think I’m foolish, throwing good money after bad. Maybe so. I’m just so worried about Lily. I want to make sure she’s all right.’
Apart from having dementia, I thought to myself. ‘What’s actually worrying you?’ I asked. ‘What do you think might be wrong?’
‘They’ve rushed her into hospital, it’s all so sudden. Too sudden. Just like with her illness. Why all the hurry?’ She looked at me, eyes dark blue, frank. ‘I’m not an illogical person. I don’t like the way things are happening so quickly. I can’t stop worrying about Lily. I’m making myself ill with it.’ Her eyes glittered but she made no move to wipe them.
I set down my tea. ‘Lily’s ill. She’s deteriorating. Pretty soon the Lily you know will have gone. And sometime later there’ll be her physical death. It could be this that you’re anxious about.’
‘I have thought about that.’ As she spoke tears trailed down her cheeks, catching and spreading along the network of creases. ‘And I have tried to accept it. But there are these inconsistencies,’ she said. She stood up and went over to get a tissue from the box on the sideboard. ‘Alzheimer’s doesn’t progress so quickly, read any of the books. Two months ago Lily was at home, leading an independent life. Now she’s in hospital, transferred there in the middle of the night. It doesn’t add up. And that Dr Goulden, he’s been funny with me. He more or less accused me of taking Lily’s tablets.’