“Mind your backs!” shouted a paramedic as she and a colleague burst through the door with an elderly man on a trolley. A host of medical professionals appeared from nowhere, checking the man’s vital signs as they hurried him through. “He’s going into arrest!”
The waiting room seemed to hold its breath as they disappeared down a corridor. “Don’t want to end up like that poor old bugger, do you?” said the woman, tapping Eudora’s arm. “Being poked and prodded when you’re on your way out. May as well take control of your destiny if you can.”
“But how?” asked Eudora, curiosity getting the better of her fear.
The woman tapped the side of her nose and winked before reaching into the bag that she wore slung across her front like a life belt. She held out a dog-eared leaflet, which Eudora accepted as if it were a dirty sock. “Give them a call.”
“Elsie Howlett?” called a nurse.
The woman rose steadily to her feet. “Take care, Eudora,” she said without a backward glance.
It wasn’t until much later, after Eudora had undergone rounds of tests and consultations with overworked, red-eyed doctors and breezily efficient nurses, that she realized she’d never told Elsie her name. Eudora supposed she must have overheard her conversation with the paramedic. Against her better judgment and for want of something else to do, Eudora had read Elsie’s leaflet from cover to cover. It had set her brain into overdrive as a frenzy of thoughts rushed through it like a series of fireworks igniting one after another. As the doctor addressed her with hand-wringing sympathy, presumably in response to the fact that she was extremely old and he couldn’t offer a cure, a switch flicked in her mind and a decision was made. When she was finally given permission to leave, she clutched Elsie’s leaflet to her chest and approached one of the nurses.
“Excuse me, I was wondering if I might be able to see Elsie Howlett, please?”
The nurse’s face fell. “Are you a relative?”
“No. I’m a”—Eudora searched for the appropriate word—“friend.”
The nurse glanced behind her as she spoke. “I’m not really supposed to give information to nonrelatives.”
“Oh right. Well, I’m her sister then.”
The weary nurse managed a half-smile. “I’m sorry, my love. Elsie passed away about half an hour ago.”
“Oh,” said Eudora, squeezing the leaflet into a ball. “She died.”
The nurse touched her lightly on the sleeve. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
Eudora looked into her eyes. “Don’t be. She was ready to go.”
The nurse nodded uncertainly. “You take care.”
As Eudora traveled back from the hospital, blinking into the autumn sunshine from the questionable comfort of the patient transport vehicle, she felt as if she’d been reborn. The NHS now had her in their well-meaning grasp, but Eudora had Elsie’s wisdom and bloody-minded determination on her side. She couldn’t imagine a more potent force.
Ruth had been another one in the long list of people determined to preserve Eudora’s existence at all costs. She arrived on a drizzly day in October. Eudora had been housebound for nearly a week and was frustrated to the point of fury with her uncooperative joints. When Ruth presented her with the walking stick, Eudora experienced an unexpected wave of fondness for this woman. It was a gift in the truest sense of the word. Her freedom was restored, the outside world hers for the taking. She could start to put her plan into action.
This fondness rapidly dissolved as Ruth produced a folder and a pen from her bag and pulled out the inevitable form.
“Eu-dora Honey-sett,” she said as she wrote.
“With two t’s,” said Eudora. The misspelling of her name was a lifelong bugbear.
“And you live alone, Eudora?”
Eudora would have preferred “Miss Honeysett” but managed to stifle her disappointment. “Yes.”
“Any relatives at all?”
“No.”
Ruth’s expression folded into one of sympathy. “Friends?”
“I have a cat.”
Ruth glanced over at Eudora’s fat, lazy excuse of a feline, who was asleep on the back of the sofa. She smiled. “I’m guessing he’s not much help when it comes to shopping or cleaning the house.”
It was meant as a joke but only served to provoke defensiveness in Eudora. “I manage,” she said firmly.
“I’m sure you do, but I want you to know that we offer all kinds of support. I can put you in touch with agencies who offer cleaning and laundry services, or even organize a carer to come in every day.”
Eudora stared at the woman as if she’d suggested a Bacchic orgy. “I don’t need any help. Thank you.”
Ruth nodded. It was a knowing nod—a nod that had heard this response many times before from all manner of elderly people like Eudora. “Please be assured that the help is there if you need it. I’ll leave one of my cards in case you change your mind.”
Eudora had thrown it straight in the bin as soon as Ruth left. Montgomery the cat curled around her feet, almost tripping her up, as he demanded food by issuing forth a series of loud meows.
“We don’t need anyone, do we, Montgomery?” said Eudora, filling his bowl with biscuits. She placed it on the floor and attempted to scratch the cat behind his ears before receiving a sharp nip in response.
Eudora reaches the leisure center and is grateful for the anonymity that her swim membership brings. She has a card that enables her to sweep past reception. The only issue is with the card-activated barrier. Eudora loathes and detests all technology and very nearly rescinded her membership when they installed these monstrosities. However, she has become well-practiced at the skill of swiping and manages to sail through to the changing rooms with little effort now. She goes to the same changing cubicle, puts her belongings in the same locker, and makes her way to the pool, nodding to the swimmers she sees every week while blessedly avoiding verbal communication. Once in the pool, she ignores the initial chill, disregards the cheerful young woman who remarks on the temperature of the water, and launches herself into aquatic bliss. This is the only place where Eudora feels something akin to joy. For a moment in time, she is weightless and pain-free. She has always been a strong swimmer and glides through the water now with a similar ease to when she swam as a teenager. The aches are still there but they melt into the background as she stretches and reaches her way along the pool.
Eudora doesn’t swim for long—half an hour or so—but it’s enough to bring her what she needs: a sense of purpose and sufficient impetus to face another day. She climbs out of the pool feeling the inevitable weight of reality again as she retrieves her stick and traipses back to the changing room.
As she leaves the leisure center a while later, she notices two women arguing over a parking space. The air is filled with vibrant expletives. Eudora stares openmouthed, unable to mask her horror. When did the world get so loud and angry? One of the women notices her.
“What the fuck are you staring at, grandma?” she snarls.
In her younger days, Eudora might have replied, scolded her to stop being rude and respect her elders. But those days are long gone. Eudora can see that this woman is unpredictable and beyond reasoning. You were vulnerable when you were old. Everything is fragile and in danger of breaking.