Guppies for Tea by Marika Cobbold

Author:Marika Cobbold
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 1993-07-22T16:00:00+00:00

At Cherryfield, Sister Morris greeted them in front of the house, a large, ginger-haired man in tow.

‘Welcome back, Mrs Merryman,’ Sister Morris smiled, her lips moving not up, but horizontally before springing back to their usual defensive position clamped across her teeth. ‘This is Mr Jones, he’s joined us in your absence to help behind the scenes: fetching, carrying, that sort of thing.’

Amelia looked at the hefty, grinning Mr Jones and imagined him bounding up and down the passages and stairs of Cherryfield on all fours, old people dangling like wounded birds from his jaws. But he was gentle as he eased Selma from her seat, transferring her to the wheelchair parked on the grass verge.

Amelia hauled a small case from the car boot. ‘I left most of her clothes here. They should all be in her room still.’ She started to walk towards the house.

‘She’s not in her old room.’ Sister Morris, to Amelia’s surprise, coloured, lowering her gaze like a guilty child. Any moment now, Amelia thought, she’ll be scuffing her white lace-ups against the gravel.

‘Is there a good reason for moving her?’ Amelia asked.

Sister Morris looked up as Selma was wheeled past by Mr Jones. ‘At this present moment in time,’ the round-about phrase gave Sister Morris time to recover her breezy confidence, ‘we feel Mrs Merryman would benefit from a higher degree of care. So we put her in Honeysuckle.’ She added the last sentence speedily as if to race through any objections Amelia might have.

‘But that’s the Annexe.’ Amelia was horrified. She felt like a mother who having persuaded her child to have a verruca removed finds the surgeon poised for an amputation. ‘You can’t do that, she couldn’t take it.’ And as Sister Morris started towards the door she called after her, ‘She calls it Death Row you know!’

Sister Morris continued inside. ‘And that’s not a helpful attitude, not at all.’ She chucked the words over her shoulder at Amelia. ‘We are only doing what we think best for our residents. If I may remind you, it’s that kind of emotional response which got your grandmother into this sorry state in the first place.’

It was Amelia’s turn to hang her head. Sister Morris was right. It had been a panic withdrawal, removing Selma from Cherryfield. It had done only harm.

‘My room is upstairs.’ Selma tried to look over her shoulder at Mr Jones. ‘I’m sure of it. Amelia are you there? Could you please tell this man that my room is upstairs.’

Again, Amelia thought how easy it would be to cruise along on Selma’s senility, to say with absolute conviction that she was mistaken yet again, that her room was, and always had been, in the Annexe; as easy as pulling the lifebelt from a drowning man.

Mr Jones had stopped at the bottom of the stairs with a helpless glance at Sister Morris. Amelia hurried up to Selma and knelt at her side.

‘It’s all right Grandma, it’s just for a little while.’

‘What is?’ Selma’s voice rose to a squeak.

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