Time to Let Go (6 page)

Hanna took Biddy upstairs to the bedroom. To her astonishment her father had neither made the bed today, nor tidied up the room: that had to be a first. What Biddy was wearing today was terrible. The jumper and the trousers did not match and her mother looked as if she had come from a squat rather than a respectable household.

“What would you like to wear today?” Hanna asked her mother.

“But I am already dressed.”

“Do you like what you are wearing? Why not put something on that is more flattering and exciting?”

Biddy giggled and shook her head.

Hanna went through her mother’s wardrobe and picked out all the dresses and outfits that her mother could or would probably no longer wear. Over the span of a lifetime
, Biddy had accumulated many clothes in a broad variety of styles and the wardrobe was crammed full. No wonder her father kept making such terrible choices. She had to get rid of some of the space fillers that would never be worn again; she put all those in a black bin liner for a charity shop and hid them in her room.

Biddy was watching her with a blank expres
sion, which Hanna was not sure was either just shock at the radical measure, or a lack of understanding of what was going on.

Hanna went through the options left and offered her mother a choice of slightly more respectable outfits.

“What do you reckon?” she asked.

Biddy chose a woollen one piece dress with a black leather belt that might not have been the most flattering
choice for her slightly bulging stomach, but in some ways it made her look very smart and elegant.

Mother and daughter went downsta
irs and put on their coats. On impulse Hanna persuaded Biddy to wear high heeled shoes. Despite the cold November temperatures, Hanna decided that for the short drive she would convert the car into its open top position and steered her mother to get in next to her.

“Well I never!” said a fascinated Biddy. “I didn’t know you could drive like this.”

Throughout the whole journey Biddy grinned like a little girl, until they came past the cemetery where she suddenly signalled Hanna to stop the car.

“In there,” she shouted. ”Let me go in there!”

“Of course,” Hanna said gently and turned the car around.

As soon as they stopped Biddy got out of the car and walked towards the gate. Hanna had trouble catching up with he
r mother. She worried that she might fall since she was moving so quickly, but Biddy seemed remarkably stable on her feet and walked with a clear sense of purpose in the direction of the family grave, where her mother and her sister were buried. Having come half way, she suddenly stopped and turned towards Hanna.

“I can’t remember now what I am doing in here. Do you know what I was meant to be doing?” she asked.

“You don’t have to do anything, Biddy. I thought you just wanted to look at the flowers. You can do that or we can turn around and go into town as we had planned. It is up to you.”

“What were we going to do?” Biddy asked.

“We were going to have coffee together. Spend some money buying clothes and I definitely have to get some food for the house.”

“We have a lot to do,” Biddy said, took her daughter’s hand and led her towards the exit.

They got back into the car and drove on towards the town centre. Hanna parked in a small private car park, which was more expensive but very convenient.

From there Biddy walked immediately towards the park with the duck pond and Hanna let her mother take the lead and followed. A woman with a toddler was feeding bread to the birds and Biddy became quite agitated.

“I have no bread.”

“We can buy some if you like?” Hanna offered.

“Yes, please. Quick.” Biddy urged her.

The two women went back towards the centre to find a corner shop, but it had been some time since Hanna had been in town and the first one she went to had changed into a tanning studio. She could not find another one easily and decided she might as well do all the shopping now and be done with it. She took her mother into the big supermarket just around the corner.

She heard an ambulance in the distance and shivered. Someone in this town was in trouble, she thought, someone else was swaying between life and death and would depend on another human being to be saved, just like the woman on the plane, the woman Hanna felt she had let down.

She hugged her mother briefly. “It is so nice to see you, Biddy.”

“Thank you,” her mother replied with a radiant smile.

“We need a lot of food today,” Hanna said, “I would like to stay with you for a week or so. Would you mind if I did that? Stay with you and Dad in your house?”

“I don’t know your father. Where is he?” Biddy asked confused.

“He’s not here
, Biddy. Never mind. Let’s get some food,” her daughter replied.

“But he needs food!”

“Don’t you worry about him. He has got everything that he needs.”

“Everyone needs food,” Biddy insisted.

“Exactly, that is why we are going to buy some now.”

“Let’s get some fo
r him. We can’t have him hungry.”

“You are right. We are going to buy him some f
ood too then, just to be sure.”

In the supermarket Hanna easily filled a large trolley. Twice she lost Biddy in the grid of aisles and shelves, but luckily she found her again before her mother could leave the place or panic. Walter would never forgiv
e his daughter if he could see the two of them, and witnessed how little Hanna controlled her mother. It was meant to be a purely liberal and humanitarian approach that aimed not to patronize and imprison Biddy, but to Walter – who would claim to subscribe to the same principles – this was probably already shameful and criminal neglect of Hanna’s duty as a guardian. What means would be reasonable to protect someone from themselves? A leash? A chain? Handcuffs?

At the check-out a handsome young boy, who looked to Hanna no older than fourteen, helped them pack their goods. Her card was declined at first but it worked when they tried again. Hanna remembered she had to check her bank account on the
Internet tonight. She had not done that in weeks and she could not be sure how much money she currently had left in there. She hated mundane things like that, especially since she too often got it all wrong.

“I did not think this through,
” Hanna said to her mother as she tried to lift all the shopping bags. “I bought more than we two can carry,” she said with a laugh.

“Shall we order you a taxi?” offered the young boy.

“Yes. I am afraid you will have to.”

“Where shall I tell the taxi company you are going?”

“Tell them I am really sorry, but I only need a lift to the private car park. Tell the driver I will tip him well for the inconvenience of such a short trip. I know it will hardly be worth his while getting in to the car for it,” she said apologetically.

“Save yourself the money for a taxi. I can carry the bags for you,” the boy offered. “I just need to tell my manager that I am taking a five minute break.”

“Are you sure you won’t get into trouble for that?”

“Positive. Just wait a minute.”

He ran down the cereal aisle and disappeared behind the ‘Staff Only’ door but was back shortly afterwards wearing a jacket over his uniform. The three of them divided up the bags between them and made their way towards the car park. Biddy seemed happy that she was doing something helpful and followed her daughter with an air of purpose.

“Thank you very much; you are really helping me out,”
Hanna said to the young man.

“Don’t worry about it. I am not really needed in there anyway. Most people don’t even wa
nt me to help them packing; they are too polite to say no but I can see that they are itching to push me away and not mess up their own system. You would be amazed how organised some people are with that.”

“Organised or neurotic?”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly comment,” he laughed. “Some people see it as an insult if I offer them my help. It can be quite frustrating sometimes but I am only doing it so I can get a more responsible job there eventually. It is like I am serving my time.”

“Well right now you are doing us a great service. What do you think Biddy?  Do you need someone as helpful as this young man at home?”

“Is he coming home with us? But we don’t have enough space,” she said with concern.

“No he won’t stay, don’t worry,” she reassured her mother.

“Sorry,” Biddy said sheepishly and fell silent.

“I am sorry,
” Hanna apologised to the young man. “Mother can get very confused.”

“Is it Alzheimer
’s?” he asked.

“Yes, unfortunately
.”

“I think I have seen your mother before, but not you. Do you live here?” he asked Hanna.

“No, I live in London but I grew up in the area. What’s your name?”

“
Billy.”

“Nice to
meet you Billy.  Did you know that who and what you are comes from the name you use? If you want a better job in there, think of yourself as William or Will and already you are a step closer to being the next head of department.“

“I like Billy. It says that I am uncomplicated and approachable, helpful and unpretentious.”

“Fair point, but it can also sound young and inexperienced. With your good looks and manners you can aim higher than that supermarket,” Hanna said firmly. “Don’t let a name be in your way.”

“Are you a life coach o
r something? You sound like one.”

“Far from it
...” Hanna began but was interrupted by Biddy crying out loud. One of her heels had got stuck in a metal grid and she had slipped forward and fallen onto the stone tiles. Her right knee and elbow were bleeding but fortunately the shopping bags seemed to have cushioned her fall. When Billy tried to help her up Biddy screamed in agony and fell down again.

“It seems like she can’t stand on her right leg. I hope it isn’t broken”

“Biddy, how is your leg?” Hanna asked and tried to examine it but her mother pushed her away.

“I’m sorr
y. I’m sorry.” Biddy uttered apologetically and held on to her knees.

“Don’t be silly
. It is not your fault. I shouldn’t have let you walk in high heels like that.” Hanna said. “Come, let’s try again and see if you can stand up,” she added encouragingly, but every time Biddy put weight on her right leg she couldn’t support herself.

Hanna turned to Billy. “Well, she can’t stand up. We need t
o get her to a hospital for an X-ray. I better call an ambulance.”

She got her car keys out and gave them to Billy. “William, could you go and find my car in the car park and put all the shopping in there? My car is a green vintage convertible. The attendant will tell you where it is parked.”

“Of course.” Billy said and ran off with the first load of bags.

“Don’t call an ambulance,
” protested Biddy. “I don’t need a doctor.”

Hanna ignored her mother and made the emergency call. She felt dreadful. It s
eemed as if everything she was involved in at the moment ended in a disaster, injury or worse; she fought hard to keep herself together.

Even though this was not a life threatening emergency an ambulance arrived before Billy had even come back from his second trip. Biddy w
as lifted onto a stretcher and heaved into the ambulance. The paramedics would not wait for Billy’s return and Hanna had to jump in or stay behind. Of course she joined her mother but she worried because Billy still had her car keys. What a mess this day had become.

“It does not feel like anything is broken,” said a tall and Middle Eastern lo
oking man. Hanna guessed he was about 30, at least ten years younger than her. He had bushy eye brows, a dark complexion and intensely dark eyes. “Maybe a tendon or ligament snapped. We will have a proper look in the hospital and take an X-ray just to be sure, but it will take a while. A&E is busy at the moment and your mother won’t be a priority: her condition is stable.”

“That’s fine
. We’ll just get ourselves a few magazines and a newspaper to keep us occupied,” Hanna assured the man, trying to sound as casual as she could. His name badge read Karim. She had been right, that name was Persian.

“How are you feeling Biddy?” she asked her mother.

“I am fine. You carry on talking. I am sleepy, I’ll rest my eyes,” was the reply and Biddy closed her eyes and appeared to drift off.

“I am terribly sorry for calling out the ambulance,” Hanna said, turning back to Karim. “But we had no way of getting her up and running.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself,” Karim said warmly. “You did the right thing. Too often people play the hero and try to carry someone who is injured, causing a lot more pain and long term damage. Especially with older patients, much greater problems can come from such ill-advised efforts than from unjustified calls for our services. Trust me,” he added generously.