Finishing Touches (51 page)

Mrs Bishop had taken very good care of her mother from the time of her discharge from hospital and Nora had been glad to get home. She had shown a marked improvement once she got into her own
familiar surroundings and a much-relieved Cassie had gone back to work in Liverpool.

Then Nora’s condition had begun to deteriorate. When Cassie came home for Christmas, she could see that her memory was slipping. Her mother’s short-term memory was hopeless. She
could not remember things she had done an hour beforehand, or the day before. But she still had good recall of far-distant events in her life.

By Easter, Cassie knew the time was approaching when she would have to decide to come home. Mrs Bishop told her that her mother was getting very distracted as regards time and place. She was
beginning to wander and was confusing day and night. There had been several incidents when she had been found walking along the streets of Port Mahon in the early hours of the morning, ‘on
her way to Mass.’ She needed much more care than Mrs Bishop could give and Cassie reluctantly began to consider taking leave from work to go home to Port Mahon.

There was no other option as far as she could see. She spent nights tossing and turning trying to come up with a solution that would suit everyone, a solution that would mean she could retain
some control over her life. The truth was that Cassie did not want to leave Liverpool. She didn’t want to leave work, where she relished her new role as assistant manager, making decisions
and following them through. It was hard work and entailed a lot of responsibility but it was well within her capabilities. It was what she had trained and studied for, and when she was working she
was able to concentrate on her job and put all her other problems to the back of her mind.

More than anything, she did not want to leave her house. She had spent so much time scouring the antique and bric-à-brac shops, to get just the right piece for each room. She had
rag-rolled, and marbled and sponged and stencilled to get the desired effect on her walls, and had turned her house into a light, airy, welcoming abode that had earned much praise from those who
had seen it. As a result, she always had a decorating project on the go. Her last scheme had been to redesign and decorate the foyer and reception area of a local law firm. She had been thrilled
with that, even though it took up all her evenings and weekends for several months. It was a nice change to move out of the domestic market. The carpenter, electrician and painter whose services
she used for her various projects had been as pleased as punch; it was a big job. It had turned out very well indeed and consequently she had been approached by a Birkenhead businessman to do a
similar job with his offices.

Reluctantly, Cassie turned him down, and it had really been a big disappointment to her because it would have been great experience and an important addition to her already crammed portfolio.
She guessed she would be going home and, as it was a big job, she felt it unlikely that she would have completed it before she left for Port Mahon. In spite of herself she felt angry and resentful
at what she was giving up.

Nor did she want to leave her friends and excellent social life. When she wasn’t doing her interior design work, Cassie spent her spare time at the social club. She windsurfed, she swam
and she still played basketball occasionally. Her life was very full and active and her heart sank at the thought of going home to Port Mahon. She knew nobody there now; all her schoolfriends had
moved away or married and she had long since lost touch with them.

‘Tell Irene to get her ass home from America!’ Aileen said grimly one evening as they strolled down around the Marine Lake, enjoying the breeze blowing in off the sea. She had come
to spend a weekend with Cassie, having just flown in from the South of France, where she had been on location. Tanned and glowing, loving her job and her life of exotic travel, Aileen knew she
would never be able to make the sacrifice Cassie was considering. She felt desperately sorry for her friend but also a bit angry. In Aileen’s opinion, Cassie always had to cope for the rest
of her family; they expected far too much of her. She should put her foot down.

Cassie sighed. ‘Aileen, there’d be no point in Irene coming home. She’d go to pieces. She’s afraid of her life to come home even for a visit.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s very convenient – if I may say so!’ Aileen snorted. ‘Imagine if
you
decided you couldn’t cope and were going to fall to pieces.
Then what would happen?’

‘I suppose John and Karen would have to do something about it.’

‘Well, let them get on with it. They live there, they wouldn’t have to uproot themselves like you do.’

‘They would do it, I know that. It’s just they’ve a new baby to look after and John’s doing his best to get the business going. It’s practically a twenty-four-hour
job and I don’t think it would be very fair,’ Cassie argued.

‘Well,
I
don’t think it’s very fair that
you
have to give up career, house, friends, just so as the rest of them won’t be discommoded,’ Aileen
retorted, tossing her auburn hair out of her eyes and scowling ferociously. ‘What about Martin and Jean? Couldn’t they move into your Mam’s house when they get married and keep
Mrs Bishop on during the day? I presume Barbara isn’t going to make any offers.’

Cassie looked at her friend and laughed drily. ‘You presume right. Now that she’s got an “invalid” for a husband, in her eyes that lets her off the hook entirely. But I
never thought of Martin and Jean coming to live in the house. That’s an idea. I wonder would they be willing.’ She felt a flutter of hope. Maybe, just maybe, that might be the solution
to all their problems. Martin and Jean would have somewhere to live. They could keep Mrs Bishop on and they’d have to take care of Nora only at night. Trust Aileen to come up with a
brainwave.

‘You know, Aileen, I think you might have something there. I’ll hop over next weekend and see if we can sort something out. O’Shaughnessy, you’re a genius,’ Cassie
smiled happily at her friend.

‘I know!’ smirked Aileen modestly.

Cassie felt quite buoyant during the following week. The more she thought of Aileen’s solution, the more perfect it seemed. Maybe she wouldn’t have to give up her job to go home;
she’d be able to do the office commission and her lovely life could continue as it was.

‘Ah . . . yeah . . . sounds reasonable to me,’ Martin nodded reflectively, ‘as long as everyone continues to contribute to Mrs Bishop’s salary.
Barbara’s a wagon for not paying up on time.’

‘I’ll speak to her,’ Cassie said grimly. ‘Of course, we’ll continue to pay the salary; take that as agreed. Martin, I’d be so grateful. I’d come home
for all my holidays to give you a break and you and Jean could have the use of the house in Liverpool any time
you’d
like a break.’ Cassie felt almost lighthearted as she sat
in the kitchen sipping tea with her brother. Martin was laid-back about things, and had always been good to their mother. Nora was watching Terry Wogan on TV and having a spirited conversation with
him. She thought he was speaking to her personally. Through the open door Cassie could hear her.

‘And another thing,’ she was saying, ‘you should tell that one beside you to put something else on other than her nightdress. It’s very immodest for a young girl to be
showing her bosom and wearing a nightdress in public. You tell her now, like a good man. Do you hear me?’

‘God, it’s awful, isn’t it?’ Cassie’s mouth quirked in a smile in spite of herself.

‘Do you know what she did yesterday?’ Martin chuckled. ‘You know that writer David Williams, who lives up the road?’

Cassie shook her head. She knew the man only vaguely. He had come to live in Port Mahon several years back, and was a well-known biographer.

‘Well, seemingly, Mrs Bishop was on the phone to Karen and Mam slipped out and went up and knocked on his door and told him she knew he was digging a tunnel from his house to right under
her bed, but she’d be waiting with a poker for him so he’d better watch out!’

‘You’re not serious!’ exclaimed Cassie, half-amused, half-horrified. ‘What did he say?’

‘Well, he was very nice about it. He promised her he’d stop tunnelling immediately and then he brought her home. He obviously knows Mam’s not well; everybody does at this
stage. The butcher brought her home the other day. She was trying to buy a half-pound of sirloin with three pebbles. He gave her the steak, too, and wouldn’t let Mrs Bishop pay for
it!’

‘Ah, wasn’t that nice of him!’

‘Look, I’ll head off to Jean’s and see what she has to say. I’ll probably stay the night in Dublin, seeing as you’re home. Would you mind?’

‘Of course I wouldn’t mind. I think I might take Mam for a walk. She finds the sea soothing and it might tire her out so she’ll sleep better tonight,’ Cassie said.

‘No way!’ expostulated Jean, when Martin put Cassie’s proposal to her.

‘But Jean, it would mean we wouldn’t have to buy a house for the time being, so I could expand the business a bit more. And Mrs Bishop would be there to take care of Mam during the
day and she looks after the house as well, so you wouldn’t even have to do much housekeeping. I think it’s not a bad idea at all. I’ll look after Mam at night; you won’t
have to get up. I’ll see to that.’

‘Martin, I want a house of my own, I’ve seen the perfect house in Skerries. You’ve plenty of money for the business that you earned abroad. I don’t want to live in Port
Mahon.’

‘But Jean, someone’s got to look after Mam, and if Cassie has to do it, she’s going to have to give up her job and come home from Liverpool. After all, I’m here, I
am
her son and Karen and John are perfectly willing to help out. Won’t you even consider it for a year or two?’ Martin pleaded. He hated the idea of disappointing Cassie. He
had really thought that Jean wouldn’t mind. She always seemed so sympathetic about Nora and she was very good to her own mother, who was a widow. Jean always had him cutting the grass or
clearing the gutters, despite the fact that Mrs Allen had two married sons of her own.

‘Look, Martin, Cassie isn’t married; she isn’t even going out with anybody. She can always buy another house some time. Even Barbara was saying the other day that
Cassie’s got no commitments like the rest of us and that she should come home.’

‘Well, Barbara
would
say that. She’s not prepared to lift a finger to help out!’ Martin scowled.

‘Martin!’ exclaimed his fiancée. ‘Barbara’s got an invalid for a husband. Poor Ian’s back will never be right after that terrible incident. She’s the
breadwinner, so how can you expect her to take care of your mother? It’s bad enough that she has to pay towards Mrs Bishop’s salary; she told me that it leaves them quite short,’
Jean said sympathetically. Barbara and she got on very well.

‘Invalid, my foot!’ Martin said scornfully. ‘He’s well able to elbow his way through a crush at the bar to get his pint. And that fellow’s rolling in money. He has
a house let in flats and he’s going to get a whopping sum in compensation. So don’t give me any more of that crap.’

‘
Martin Jordan!
’ Jean sniffed primly. ‘Kindly don’t use that sort of language in front of a lady! The answer for once and for all is no! I am
not
going
to live in your mother’s house and if Cassie doesn’t like that, there’s nothing I can do about it!’

‘I’m sorry, Cassie, Jean wasn’t happy about it. She has her eye on a house out in Skerries,’ Martin confessed.

Cassie felt her bubble of hope burst. She was so disappointed she actually had a lump in her throat. She swallowed hard.

‘Maybe we could think of something else,’ Martin suggested. ‘Why don’t we all get together tomorrow afternoon before you go home. I’ll ring Barbara now and we can
tell John this afternoon when he comes over.’

‘OK,’ agreed Cassie as lightly as she could, knowing her brother felt bad about Jean’s response. She supposed she couldn’t blame the girl. Not many would want to take on
the responsibility of a senile mother-in-law. Cassie had been clutching at straws. There was nothing else to be said; she’d just have to pack up and come home.

‘We could sell the farm and get twenty-four-hour nursing care for Mam!’ John suggested as they sat in the lounge of the Port Mahon Arms Hotel the next afternoon.
Karen had offered to look after Nora, and Cassie, Barbara, John and Martin were sitting in a secluded corner of the lounge trying to thrash out a solution.

‘What!’ Barbara choked on her G&T.

‘That’s a bit drastic, John. What happens if Mam lives to be ninety and runs out of money?’ Martin murmured.

‘Precisely . . . precisely!’ Barbara twittered. God, if they sold the farm to pay for round-the-clock nursing, there’d be nothing left!

‘And the market is very depressed at the moment. Land is going for nothing,’ Martin added. He didn’t like the idea of selling the business. He was ashamed to admit he had had
the same mercenary thought as Barbara, but the market
was
depressed, no doubt about it, he comforted himself. Even if they waited until prices rose . . .

‘What do you think, Cassie?’ John asked.

‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ Cassie said evenly. ‘It would mean Mam would have the best of care, she would still be in her own home, which is what she always wanted.
It’s
her
business. I don’t see why she shouldn’t sell it and reap the material benefit. After all, that’s what Poppa would have wanted for her. Let her use her
money to make her life as easy as possible and to hell with what’s left!’

‘She’d never be able to sell it in the state she’s in. I’m sure a senile woman can’t legally sign contracts,’ Barbara objected.

‘That obstacle could be easily overcome,’ Cassie retorted.

‘How?’ challenged Barbara.

‘Get Mam made a ward of court or have one of us made guardian. I’ll do it.’

‘Over my dead body,’ snapped Barbara.

‘
You
be her guardian then,’ Cassie snapped back. ‘I don’t care who it is as long as Mam’s looked after.’