Lying in Wait(72)

‘I don’t know. I don’t know him. He’s a psychiatrist.’

Helen began to laugh, and in the emotion and horror of what had just happened, I began to laugh too. And it was like loosening an air-pressure valve. The hilarity subsided.

‘What am I going to do?’

Helen was thoughtful for a minute or two.

‘You definitely don’t want her to go back into psychiatric care?’

‘No. Besides, we can’t afford it.’

‘Can you afford to hire me?’

‘You? What do you mean? You have a job in St Vincent’s … don’t you?’

‘Not any more. They fired me last week. They found out I’d nicked a load of Valium.’

Why was I not surprised?

‘Helen! Why?’

‘I don’t know. It was stupid really. I should have nicked amphetamines or something that gives you a bit of a buzz. Fuck’s sake. Valium are just downers. I was at a party a month ago and everyone was asking for them, but the fucking eejits got greedy and took them like Smarties. Nearly everyone fell asleep. Disaster!’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know. I was lucky they didn’t take me off the register. I was going to apply for some nursing-home jobs, but I could work here, couldn’t I?’

‘What?’

‘Just for a few weeks, until she stabilizes, like. I still have the Valium. That’s probably all she’ll need for a while, and I could monitor the dosage –’

‘Helen, my mother doesn’t even like you very much.’

‘Yeah, well, she likes me a lot better than she used to. And what option does she have? Are you going to give up work and nurse her, watch her?’

It seemed like a drastic solution but Helen was right. I didn’t have a lot of choices.

‘You’re not moving in. Just watch her while I’m at work.’

‘Fine.’

We sat up till 3 a.m. We negotiated a fee. She actually charged a lot less than I expected. ‘Mates’ rates. For cash, like,’ she said.

I told her about work. We talked about our disastrous relationship in the past, and she admitted that she had been unnecessarily cruel to me. I admitted that I hadn’t been attracted to her.

‘Wanker,’ she said. She told me about the nine different boyfriends she’d had over the previous six years. ‘You weren’t the only gobshite I dated.’ She complimented my weight loss. I let my guard down and told her about my break-up with Bridget and the non-proposal. As expected, Helen thought this was hilarious. Helen convinced me that I must move out, that I had to live independently.

‘It will be good for you. And her. Get the Malcolm fella on board.’

I was incredibly grateful to Helen for her company that night.

I stayed off work the next day and carefully explained to Mum that Helen was going to mind her for the next few weeks and reassured her that I would not move out until she was more stable. She was tearful and ashamed. She apologized over and over.

‘I’m so, so sorry. Why am I so useless? Why am I like this?’

‘You’re not useless, Mum, far from it. You’re just not ready for me to move away yet. I should have let you get used to the idea for a while.’

‘Please don’t go!’

‘We’ll talk about it again when you’re stronger. Would you like me to ring Malcolm?’

‘No! Don’t tell him. He’d just – don’t tell him.’

‘OK, I won’t. But, Mum, why are you … Is he married, is that it?’

She was taken aback. ‘No, of course not.’

‘You never talk about him. You never have him around to the house when I’m here … but when you’re better, I’d like to meet him properly, OK?’

She nodded. ‘Malcolm is … he’s … I just want to keep him separate, away from the rest of my life.’

‘But why?’

‘He knows me … too well.’

‘Don’t you … like him? Do you want to go on seeing him?’

‘I do, he’s a good man. It’s just that … he knows.’

‘About Annie Doyle?’

‘No, of course not, I’d never tell anyone about that, it’s just …’ She trailed off.

I had no idea what she was talking about but speculated that she might feel she had compromised her privacy with him. If that was the case, though, why did she continue to see him? It hardly made sense, but further questions increased her unease so I let the matter drop.

I recalled how Helen had behaved around my parents before with her couldn’t-care-less attitude, and I worried that it was a big mistake to have her looking after Mum, but she was completely different when she was in nursing mode: courteous, respectful and caring. I came home from work one evening to find her repotting plants with Mum at the kitchen table. She spoke softly and gently held Mum’s arm steady when the pot threatened to fall from her hands. If only she could be like that all the time. I said so to Helen later.

‘Yeah, well, I’m a good actor, aren’t I? I should get a fucking Oscar.’

Mum and Helen bonded over those few short weeks. Who would have ever thought it? Helen said Malcolm rang a few times, but Mum refused to talk to him. He sounded concerned, apparently.