‘Who are you?’ She looks me up and down. ‘No uniform? Not a nurse?’
I shake my head.
‘God-botherer? Can’t stand God-botherers. If you’re one of those you can just bugger off. Try to get a nap and bloody God-botherers come and disturb you just as you’re drifting off. Blasted nuisance.’
‘I’m not a God-botherer. I brought you these,’ I say, offering gifts as if appeasing a volatile minor deity.
Olivia peers into the carrier bag. ‘Fruit is for birds and magazines are for idiots. You can leave the chocolate on the side.’
Rosie rolls her pale eyes. ‘You see?’ she says to me. To Cousin Olivia she says, ‘Now you be civil to this girl. She’s come a long way to see you. Says you wrote to her ma in a state of panic. What did you go and do that for? Don’t we look after you, me and Jem?’
The old woman narrows her gaze. ‘I know exactly what you do for me, Rosie Sparrow. Now why don’t you just bugger off?’ The black regard, as beady as Gabriel’s, is malicious and I am reminded of the portrait in the kitchen, the eyes that follow your every movement.
Rosie pushes herself to her feet. ‘Be like that, then.’ To me she says quietly, ‘Don’t believe a word she says.’ She taps her temple. ‘I’ll see you back in the car park in an hour. Don’t be late or I’ll go without you.’
She trundles off through the ward, stopping to pass the flask to a woman wheeling a tea trolley.
Olivia tugs my sleeve. ‘We must be quick.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’ll need a coat. Yours will do. There’s twenty pounds in my handbag. We’ll get a taxi.’ She shuffles her saggy old body into a more upright position, takes hold of her bound and plastered leg, resting on the footstool, and lifts it till the heel of the foot is on the ground. She wriggles her toes and gives a satisfied nod. ‘Right, you cause a disturbance and I’ll nip past you when they’re not looking. I’ll meet you by the lift. Now, where’s my stick?’
‘I, ah…’ I look around, alarmed, and at that moment one of the nurses comes past.
‘Planning your escape again, are you, Mrs Kitto?’
‘Miss Kitto,’ Olivia growls.
The nurse grins at me. ‘Don’t let her lure you into her schemes! We’ve already caught her sweet-talking the volunteer reader and trying to sneak out past the night staff. Luckily the lift was out of order, wasn’t it, Mrs Kitto?’
Olivia gives her a death-stare, which just makes the nurse’s smile wider. ‘Oh, she’s a character.’
‘Fuck off.’
The nurse sighs. ‘Luckily I do have some nice, polite patients to see to.’ She wags a finger at Olivia. ‘Now, you behave yourself.’
Olivia watches her go on her way, then swings her gaze back to me. ‘Interfering creature. Now, who are you and what are you doing here?’
I gather myself. ‘I’m Rebecca, Geneviève’s daughter. You wrote to her – do you remember? Asking for her help?’
Olivia frowns. ‘Her daughter, you say? That letter was a jolly long time ago. So rude not to reply at once, but I suppose it’s better late than never. Where is she, your mother?’
‘She’s—she’s…’ Still so hard to say it. ‘She died a couple of weeks ago. I found your letter at her flat and came down to offer you my help in her place.’
Olivia cocks her head. ‘Well, that’s extremely inconvenient. I always thought our family had a bit more gumption.’
Gumption? I feel my cheeks flush. ‘She had cancer.’ The vile word slips out, leaving my mouth dry and bitter.
The old woman subsides as if air has been let out of her. ‘I can’t believe it. Not Jenny.’
Only those who knew Mum well called her Jenny. It was always the full Geneviève, though Dad sometimes called her Vivi or Vivien.
‘But she’s far too young. Are you quite sure?’
How could I be unsure if my mother were alive or dead? I nod miserably.
There follows a long pause, then Olivia says, so quietly that I almost miss it, ‘I loved her so. How much more must I lose?’ Her gaze becomes rheumy, and she turns her head sharply away and rubs her face as if to erase the pain. She blinks several times then turns back and grasps my arm. ‘How is Gabriel? Is he well? Is he eating? I miss him terribly: he’s all I have left in the world.’
‘He’s fine,’ I reassure her. I do not mention the ruined carpet, the shit-stained furniture, the stench. ‘He had a good peck at the apple I gave him earlier and was very well behaved about it.’
Gabriel had flown to the lamp to get a good vantage on the offerings I brought, then had alighted on my forearm, making charming little cooing noises designed to assure me of his peaceable intentions. I had stood mesmerized, but also touched by the bird’s trust, watching him peck greedily at the apple, feeling his weight on my arm. Occasionally, he would cock his head and give me a disconcertingly intelligent look: You see? We can get along famously. But if you try anything underhand… The nictitating membrane had come down over the beady eye like a wink.
Olivia grins, showing dark yellow teeth. ‘Gabriel is an excellent judge of character. If he likes you, you must be trustworthy. Sit here on the bed and let me have a look at you.’
I sit down.
‘You don’t look much like Jenny,’ she says after a moment. ‘Put your hair up. Such a mess like that anyway. Let me see your face properly.’
So rude! Still, I catch my hair up with one hand and gather it into a ponytail with the elasticated hairband from my coat pocket. It does feel rough: sticky from saltwater. I will have to find a way to wash it.
‘Better. Lean towards me – my eyesight is wretched these days.’
Olivia takes hold of my chin, tilts my head this way and that. ‘Hmmm. Good bones. I can see your mother in you now. Your face has character, young lady.’
The nurse is back, wheeling a machine. ‘Time to check your blood pressure, Mrs Kitto.’
Olivia ignores her, but lets go of my chin. ‘I think it’s time to leave, dear. Where are my shoes?’ She gazes at the plaster on her leg as if it has appeared overnight by magic. ‘What’s this wretched thing doing here? Well, that’s a blasted nuisance. Still, I’m sure we shall overcome.’ She turns to the nurse. ‘If you’ve got some scissors on you we can cut one leg of my trousers and I can get dressed. Come on, girl, be useful. Then my young relative here can drive me home. You’ve brought a car, haven’t you, dear? Or do you have a driver?’
Oh dear, I’m beginning to see what Rosie meant.
The nurse grins at me. ‘Very inventive.’ She raises her voice. ‘You’re very inventive, aren’t you, Mrs Kitto?’
‘Miss Kitto,’ Olivia rumbles back softly but the confidence has gone out of her. She lets the young woman cuff her arm and take her blood pressure. When the nurse wheels away the machine, she says to me, ‘They can’t imagine how anyone my age never married, these young chits. Things were different in my time. I survived a war, you know!’
‘You must tell me all your stories. I’d love to hear them.’
She swings her head around to gaze at me suspiciously. ‘Why? What have you heard?’