Ghost Moon by Ron Butlin

Author:Ron Butlin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Salt Publishing Limited
Published: 2014-03-31T11:33:50+00:00

SUNDAY

TIME TO BRACE yourself on the Rosehaven doorstep, press the bell. Stand on the yellow cross marked on the doormat, show yourself to the CCTV angled above. Speak your name into the security grille: Tom Stewart.

Buzzed into the overheated hall, into the combined smells of floral air-freshener, yesterday’s macaroni cheese, urine, today’s stew and vegetables, laundry, disinfectant.

Not managing more than the first few steps along the corridor leading to the dayroom before it hits you – you’re about to throw up there and then.

Reaching the visitors’ toilet just in time.

Forget about what your ex-wife said about your having no feelings. What does she know? Too many feelings, more like – and always too keen to share them. You just keep trying and hoping. And getting hurt. The lovely Janice . . . and now Mandy. A steady girl, a caring girl. Maybe that’s what you need?

Feelings? Clearly you’re deeply, deeply distressed about your mother’s deteriorating condition. Visiting her at the cottage every Sunday without fail and now coming here to her care home is the hardest thing you’ve ever done . . .

Hours it seems like, leaning over the wash hand basin . . . one dry heave after another. Retching and retching. There’s a slick of cold sweat on your cheeks. Your hands shake as they grip onto the porcelain rim. Your stomach’s churning, but nothing comes. Never does. Hard work even to spit. You keep trying.

Then stop.

Because, quite abruptly, you’re feeling fine again. Back in top form. A1 and then some. Yes, you’ve got the magic touch, all right!

Now, bin the paper towel – your face and your feelings at default setting once more, you’re ready to go through and greet your mother. Bringing her a smile!

‘Hello, Mum. How are you today?’ You sit down in the empty seat next to hers. A few minutes’ chat to get things started, and then you’ll suggest she zimmer herself through to her room – no old biddies there, talking to themselves, crying and the rest of it. There you can almost pretend everything’s normal. At least you’ve got her into a good place – costs megabucks, but hey, she’s your mother. It was the best of the homes you checked out, the very best, and every time you sit with her in the dayroom you do what you can to shut out the worst of it – the little accident that’s not been mopped up, the spilled food, the helplessness, the calls going neglected, the residents’ feeding, bathing and bedtime arranged for the convenience of the staff. Most of all, the total dependency. The locked doors. The closed windows. The smell.

She’s calling you Michael again today. Better to ignore it and tell her instead about your drive down from Edinburgh, the weather, the traffic, why you prefer the Moffat road via the Beef Tub to the multi-lane racetrack of the M74, show her your new iPad, tell her how you didn’t manage to leave Edinburgh till lunchtime as you’d had a late gig last night.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.