Marilyn explained that all the apartments were one or two bed, each with a wet shower room and a lounge/kitchen. ‘We cater for all your needs here. There is a wide range of activities you can join in if you want to.’ She reeled off a list of activities then took them to see the apartment that had just become available. It looked modern, clean but a little bare, Sandra noticed.
‘Obviously you can furnish it however you want, add your own personal knickknacks and make it homely,’ Marilyn said.
‘What do you think, Mum? It looks perfect for you, doesn’t it? And you’re so lucky that it’s available.’ Don was beaming.
Sandra didn’t think it was perfect for her. It was too new, too modern, too compact, too… bland. And although there were the communal gardens to sit outside in, she had no plot of her own where she could tinker about. She loved being out in the garden, potting plants, pruning, doing a bit of weeding. It cheered her up and took her mind off things. She understood why Don wanted her to live here, the apartment would be easy to clean and keep warm, there were lots of available facilities and healthcare; she would be looked after. He wouldn’t have to worry about her. He’d probably planned it, that this would be her home from now on. That she could grow old here, her ever increasing care needs would be met by the staff. She would be safe.
And miserable. She couldn’t see this apartment ever feeling like home. She loved her house: it might be a bit shabby, the furniture and carpet a little weathered, but it was home. It held lots of wonderful memories – and some not so wonderful, but that’s life, you get your ups and downs. Becky had only been three when they moved to Worcester, the boys had followed later and they had all grown up in the house. What would she do in this apartment? There was hardly room to put anything. It seemed soulless. And there was no room for the grandchildren to have a sleepover, like they did now. Although Don had said she could sleep over at their house if she was babysitting, so obviously he’d thought of everything. But she enjoyed having the girls to stay overnight, they had such fun and didn’t have to worry about creating a mess in her house, like she did at Don and Laila’s.
‘There’s the alarm to pull if you have an accident or need help,’ Laila said. ‘And there’s a sit-in shower, we won’t have to worry about you falling and lying injured for hours.’
Goodness, how old did they think she was? To hear them talk, she had one foot in the grave! You’re seventy-one, she reminded herself. And Brian died so suddenly at the same age you are now. No wonder they’re worried.
Even so, she didn’t feel old. She cast her mind back to Patti yesterday. She was only a little younger than Sandra and look at her overcoming cancer and getting her first tattoo to celebrate. Seventies wasn’t old any longer, there was plenty of life left in her yet. And she couldn’t help wondering why the apartment was suddenly available.
‘What happened to the person who lived here?’ she asked.
‘They’ve moved out, gone to live with their sister who was recently widowed,’ Marilyn explained. ‘Come and have a look at the communal quarters, there’s so much to do here.’
Sandra followed them down in the lift to a large lounge with various armchairs scattered about, sensible straight-back armchairs with wooden arms to hold on to, not the comfy armchairs she had at home that snuggled around her as she curled up and read a book.You can have a comfy armchair in your flat, you can furnish it however you want, she reminded herself.
There were a couple of residents dozing in the chairs. Each had a blanket over them and looked to be in their mid-eighties. It was clean and cosy but very quiet.
‘It’s used more in the evenings, and we also have some activity afternoons where we have a singer in, or a craftsperson, to entertain the residents,’ Marilyn told them. ‘It’s very lively then. A lot of the residents are out and about all day, off out in their cars or visiting their families. Not everyone uses the communal hall.’
Sandra listened as Marilyn listed all the advantages of living there, the services she could opt in for, meals, cleaning, shopping. But whilst she could see the advantages for some people, she knew that it wasn’t for her. How did she get Don to understand that though?
‘When were you thinking of moving in?’ Marilyn asked, as if it had already been decided.
‘My house isn’t on the market yet,’ Sandra said quickly, taking charge of the conversation. She didn’t want Don speaking for her. This was her life. Her decision.
‘I see, well you can make an offer, if you’re interested, but it will be subject to selling your own property, of course.’
‘We’ll get Mum’s house up for sale right away and be in touch by the middle of next week with an offer for the apartment.Would you take it off the market for a couple of weeks then to give her chance to sell her house?’ Don asked.
‘We could, but only for three weeks,’ Marilyn said. ‘And if someone else comes along in a position to proceed, we’d have to go with them.’
They were discussing this as if she wasn’t here, as if it was nothing to do with her. Sandra fought down the wave of anger that rose in her. Don was only looking out for her, she reminded herself, he was worried that she wouldn’t cope when he moved away.
And how would they cope without her being on hand to childmind when needed, a small voice inside her head whispered. She’d always been happy to do that, she loved Rana and Kali but was that a strong enough reason for her to move away with them?
‘I’ll get in touch with our estate agent right away, Mum. I’m sure your house will sell quickly once we’ve tidied it up and decluttered a bit.’
They were outside now, where Laila and the children were waiting in the communal gardens for them. ‘These gardens are pretty, Nanny. Mummy said we can play in them when we come to see you,’ Kali, a mini version of Laila, said excitedly. As if it was all settled that she would move here.
‘It looks very posh!’ Rana gazed around approvingly, her big, brown eyes wide.
Yes, it did but it wasn’t where she wanted to live.
‘What did you think of the apartment, Sandra?’ Laila was looking thoughtfully at her.
Sandra took a deep breath. ‘It’s very nice, and the place is clean and the staff are lovely. But I don’t think it’s for me, love. I prefer more space, a house with my own garden.’
‘I doubt you could afford a house in Cambridge, Mum. Andyou really could do with somewhere without the stairs. What if you fall down them?’
‘I live in a house now and I’ve never fallen down the stairs,’ she pointed out.
‘You’re getting older now, Sandra. You have to think of the future,’ Laila said.
