The Lido by Libby Page

Author:Libby Page [Page, Libby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781501182044
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2018-07-10T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 40

They were together until the end. Rosemary didn’t want to be apart from him and when one of the nurses who came to help suggested moving him to assisted accommodation she laughed out loud.

“Are you married?” asked Rosemary.

The nurse had looked surprised.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Well then, you should remember your vows. In sickness and in health. Till death us do part. I’ve been married sixty-four years and I still remember that.”

The nurse frowned and packed up her things quickly. Rosemary regretted snapping—the nurses were all very kind—but being with him was the only way she knew how to be. She couldn’t bear to think of him alone in a hospital.

Once the nurse had left, Rosemary took George a cup of tea. She pulled the cushions around him and heaved his body up by hooking her arms under his armpits. She held the mug and tipped his head gently, helping him drink the warm liquid. When he was finished she climbed into the bed next to him and held his hand. Each breath was shallow and rattling and made her wince but she tried to hide it.

He was trying to say something.

“Ffff . . .”

“Food?” said Rosemary. “Are you hungry? You’ve just eaten.”

George shook his head.

“Ffff . . . .” he started again. He was lifting his arm, pointing to the wardrobe.

She looked at where he was pointing.

“Photos?”

He nodded. Rosemary kissed his forehead and climbed out of the bed. She dragged a chair over and climbed onto it, reaching for the box on the top of the wardrobe. She took it down, stepped off the chair, and carried the box to the bed. Once she was back propped up against the pillows with the box between her legs she took off the lid and reached inside.

“Look at this one,” she said, holding a photograph out so George could see. “Oh, you were so brown. Just like a walnut.”

She reached for another photograph. They weren’t in any particular order so both George and Rosemary grew older and then younger again as Rosemary took out photo after photo.

“Look at me here,” she said. “I loved that swimsuit. I wish I could still fit into it! And don’t you tell me I wouldn’t look the same in it! Oh, and look at this—the diving board was so high. You were such a good diver, dear.”

She reached for George’s hand.

“Here we are in Brighton,” she said, leaning closer to him and holding the photograph up to his face. “Do you remember the doughnuts we ate on the beach? Mmm, I could go for one of those now. I remember the sound of the seagulls, and how did that song go? Elvis Presley . . .”

She remembered the jukebox and started to sing. She was out of tune but didn’t mind.

As she sang, she felt his hand move beneath hers, squeezing her fingers. Her voice shook but she continued, growing quieter for the words she couldn’t remember and louder for the chorus. Once she had run out of song she stopped singing and gently kissed his cheek.

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