My Name is Eva(84)
We’ll be together again soon, my darling.
All my love for ever, Your Evie xxx
Ps I love you
79
Mrs T-C, 19 December 2016
Ask Me Another
There are two of them and Pat. They all stare at her, daring her to remember. It’s rather amusing, thinks Evelyn. So easy to fool them.
They sit in a barren meeting room at the care home under stark white lights, reminiscent of the interrogation centre, Evelyn remembers. She and Pat are on one side of the table, the two professionals on the other, files and notepads spread before them. It’s like an important career-changing job interview or an audition for the lead role in a major film and it’s one she must pass. She needs to convince them beyond all possible doubt that her mind is impaired, that her memory is unreliable.
The first few questions are far too easy. They don’t ask about the fire, they say, what is the date today? How old are you? What did you have for breakfast? Who is the prime minister? But after that it becomes a lot more entertaining.
‘I’m going to show you a series of cards now,’ says the memory assessor, an overweight woman with stringy grey hair, who looks as if she might be losing her own memory soon. She sets out a row on the table in front of Evelyn, as if she is dealing a round of poker. ‘I’d like you to look at each one. Take your time, then I’m going to ask you to read them aloud.’
Evelyn looks at the four cards. Each one bears a word in large print – saucer, dominoes, postcard and school. She reads them out and decides to adopt a suitably frail, stumbling voice, aiming to convey anxiety and uncertainty, the qualities she feels are most appropriate for the role she is hoping they will award her.
This is going to be far too easy. Evelyn has always had a good memory and when she trained years ago, they all undertook memory-boosting exercises to help them retain vital information. Even until recently, she has ensured that her memory has been stretched with frequent exercises. When she shuffles around the Forest Lawns public spaces, she notes how many leaflets are on the hall table, whether there are any new posters pinned on the noticeboard, which china shepherds and shepherdesses are slightly out of place on the mantelpiece and how many framed pictures are left askew on the walls after the cleaners have finished dusting. She creeps along the corridors to the residents’ quarters, memorising names and room numbers. She is alert, her mind is retentive and she almost wishes she was being given a harder test of her skills, to demonstrate her ability, but nevertheless, she acts her part and stares at the words.
The assessor smiles at Evelyn. She taps the first card and says, ‘Can you tell me what category you would put this word in?’
Evelyn smiles back and thinks, what a stupid question. The woman has pointed at the word saucer. If Evelyn weren’t wishing to fool her, she would say it was a common noun, of course. That would stump her. She probably doesn’t know the difference between common and proper nouns. She probably wants her to say crockery or china, but instead, Evelyn says, ‘Are we going to have tea soon?’
The woman doesn’t smile. She points again: ‘And this one?’ The word dominoes is indicated. Evelyn shakes her head. Then the woman moves on to the other words and with each one, Evelyn gives a confusing answer. Then the assessor says, ‘I’ll give you a clue. Which one of these is a game?’
Evelyn wants to laugh, but takes a breath to help her keep a straight face. But this is the game. This is a wonderful game. I’ve been playing it for weeks and it seems that I might be winning. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she says. And so it continues with all four words. Evelyn guesses that the word postcard is a fence and the word school is where to see the doctor, and pretends she has no idea what to do with the saucer.
Then the woman says she is going to ask Evelyn to remember these words in a few minutes and turns the cards face down on the table. Evelyn strains to prevent her laughter. She often plays patience and pairs in her room with an entire pack of playing cards, so four is hardly challenging.
She is then asked to spell world backwards. Evelyn’s spelling has always been excellent and is sharpened with her daily crosswords, but she manages to stumble and mutter, ‘D-O-L?’
‘And could you count backwards from twenty for me, please?’
Again, Evelyn bites her lip and maintains her composure, then jumps from twenty to twelve to ten and five. This is going rather well. They must be convinced by now that her mental powers are diminished.
So when the woman asks her to recall the words that were printed on the cards, she enjoys staring blankly and saying, ‘What cards?’ She can hear Pat sighing in the background, which is rather irritating. I’d like to see what her memory is like at ninety-five. Pathetic, I bet, with the amount of alcohol she drinks all the time at home. I know she does, I can see it in her mottled complexion; nothing like as good as mine at her age.
And she takes note of the look that is shared between all three members of her audience and knows that she has given an award-winning performance. She must have got the part by now: the Demented Duchess, the Mad Marchioness. The assessor is scribbling on her forms and the doctor is nodding at Pat, who is shaking her head with a weary expression. Evelyn studies their faces. They should be applauding and asking me to take a bow. It isn’t easy pretending to be something you aren’t.