My Name is Eva(69)

I know what you’re up to. I know you won’t love Kingsley as I did, as Hugh would have done by my side if he’d lived. You’ll never live there, never bring it back to life. You’ll probably sell it all. First the land and then the house. It will be like Stephen said, all sold for development, no fields, no woods. Where will the foxes go to earth then, where will the kingfishers fly?

But she said, ‘Yes, it would be nice to have some of my own things with me. The manageress seemed very pleasant, when she came to see me. She said I will have to sleep in one of their special beds, but otherwise I can take anything I like. I thought I might have Mama’s dressing table. It would feel more like home then.’

‘And what about clothes? Shall I sort them out for you?’

‘I think I need to do that myself, dear. I wonder, could we possibly go back to Kingsley, just for a morning, so I can pick out what I need? Then I could show you which pictures and ornaments I’d like to take with me too.’

Pat sighed. ‘Do we really have to? You’re not very steady on your feet yet. Kingsley isn’t the easiest place to get around. It’s full of traps and hazards with all those uneven brick floors and funny steps. I don’t want you falling over again. I’m sure I could bring everything you need.’

‘I’d like to try and go, dear. Otherwise you’ll be going backwards and forwards with clothes and other things. I’m sure it will be much easier for you if I could pop home and choose for myself.’

‘Oh, very well, but I haven’t got many free days. I can only do Thursday morning this week. We’ll have to do it then.’ As Pat took her diary out of her handbag to check, crumpled balls of tissue fell to the floor. ‘Yes, that’s right. That’s the only day I can do. I’ll check with the staff that you’ll be ready to go out by then.’

‘I’m sure I will be, dear. I’m feeling much better and the physiotherapist here says I’m walking very well with the frame thing they’ve given me.’

Pat snorted. ‘Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they? The sooner they free up a bed, the better. I make my patients take it slowly – when I can get to see my patients, that is. What with you and Kingsley taking up all my time, I haven’t been able to see any of my clients for weeks.’

‘Maybe we could have a little walk around the garden when we go, as well.’ I’d like to say goodbye to the plants I nurtured over the years. My deep purple flag iris, my speckled hellebores and the snake’s head fritillary. I may never see the like again if the home’s gardens are not well stocked.

‘Maybe,’ Pat said, standing up, ready to take her leave. ‘But only if I’m sure you can manage it. We don’t want you having another fall now, do we?’

Evelyn smiled at her niece, her wayward hair, her smudged lipstick. How did Charles manage to have such an untidy daughter? ‘It’s such a pity we’ll be too late for the snowdrops,’ she said. ‘They’re known as Schneegl?ckchen in Germany. Snowbells. Isn’t that a pretty name for them?’

‘Well, I never knew that. You are full of surprises, Aunt.’ Pat leant down to kiss her cheek and Evelyn caught a faint scent of sweat and fried breakfast in her hair as she did so. ‘I’ll give you a call later, about the power of attorney.’ And she left, bumping into the swing door to the lobby as she went.





63





Evelyn, 22 March 2016





Final Farewell





And when they returned it looked the same, leaded windows peering out from beneath the first signs of laden wisteria. Pat came round to the passenger door and opened it wide, then hauled Evelyn’s walking frame from the boot and stood it in front of her. Then she looked down at the metal contraption with its little rubber wheels. ‘Oh dear, I don’t think you’re going to be able to use this on the gravel, are you? I’d better nip inside and fetch a couple of walking sticks.’ She dashed away, leaving Evelyn smelling the scent of primroses and freshly cut grass through the open door, feeling the spring sunshine on her face and hands. Then Pat came rushing back, two sticks in her hand. ‘These will have to do.’ She bent down and helped Evelyn swing her legs out of the car and into a standing position. ‘Now, do you think you can manage?’

‘Thank you, dear. I’ll be fine if we take it slowly.’ Fine if you don’t fuss over me and hurry me. Evelyn took small but steady steps, looking around her every now and then, noting the tight green buds on the trees, the emerging bluebells and the dying daffodils. ‘I always dead-headed the daffs,’ she said, pointing with the walking stick in her right hand at the dead flowers that had been golden only weeks before. ‘It helps the bulbs build up their strength so they flower again the following year.’

‘Well, there’s no way I’m doing that as well as everything else,’ Pat grumbled. ‘And I’m not getting a gardener in to do jobs like that when there’s more than enough mowing and pruning to get on with, to make this place look half respectable. God knows what people will think if we don’t make a bit of an effort.’ She hovers in front of her aunt, watching her slow progress along the stone path to the heavy oak front door. ‘Here, you can use your walking frame now. Careful on the mat, and watch yourself on the step up to the hall.’