And Claire would drive over, telling herself not to drive too quickly: Mother mustn’t know she was panicked. But fear was etched into the folds of Norma’s face now too, and Claire could sense her thoughts – Can’t get up to the top floor today – what about next week? Will I be able to keep up with the garden? Claire would arrange her own face into the placid, faintly humorous mask she wore at work, and put all her effort into reassurance.
‘Did the doctor give you a puffer? Well, he can’t think it’s serious if he only gave you an aspirator, can he? No x-ray? No? Well, that proves it. You’re pushing seventy. And I know that’s not old by our standards, but it is a time when your pace slows. Accept it, relax a little.’ But Norma, lean and tense as a spring, could not and did not relax, but rather raged, quietly, within herself, exhausting herself even more.
And so Claire spent more and more time at her childhood home. First just dropping in after work each day, to take Johnny for a walk. He was placid enough to deal with. Then, later – but not much later – she stayed to cook, coaxing Mother to eat just a little bit more. Sometimes she’d stay over and make breakfast for them both before they climbed into Norma’s immaculate old Volvo and headed to work. Norma dropped Claire off, just a few streets away at the gates of the school, before swinging the car around and heading off in the opposite direction to her own school on the other side of town. She promised Claire that she was taking it as easy as possible.
‘I’ve got my lozenges. Got my will in my back pocket in case I give up the ghost on the way.’ And Claire tried to laugh along, tried to hide the worry in her face. If only she’d go back to the surgery, or see another doctor, at least. Avuncular Dr Gordon – he’d always been a good GP, but still, he could have missed something.
Claire occasionally asked, ‘Why not go private? See what all the fuss is about?’ But Norma, normally so level-headed, claimed that seeing another doctor would mean she was blacklisted by the practice. ‘It’s not true, Mother. It really isn’t, that would be illegal.’ Norma, pretending to be joking, but now so fogged by fear, replied that once you paid, they always found something wrong with you so you’d have to keep on paying. ‘I’d rather live in blissful ignorance for free, Claire.’
A thin, unbroken rattle culminating in a sharp cough like a dog’s bark; the sound followed Claire around the house, the harsh, pneumatic breath of the aspirator settling it, but only briefly. At night Norma slept propped up on three pillows, the aspirator at hand, along with a book of crossword puzzles to pass the time when she couldn’t sleep, but stayed awake, spitting phlegm into tissues she made sure to hide. And still she went to work every day.
* * *
A new school year, and Claire was supervising the plans for the Christmas play when she got the call. This wasn’t one of those schools with a sharp-elbowed PTA, so the teachers had to do the majority of the work, along with the Reverend Gary, who usually provided some thin-lipped church-goers to put together raffle prizes. Church – in the form of Gary – and State – Miss Brett and the young guard – clashed uncomfortably during each planning meeting, with Claire trying to keep them on as amicable a footing as possible. Today they were coming to the end of a protracted debate about the crib. A compromise had been reached whereby the crib would still be given its usual place at the edge of the stage, surrounded by lights, but there would be a disclaimer in the newsletter assuring parents that at no point would their children be compelled to visit it and coo at the baby Jesus. Both sides privately claimed victory.
Lorna hadn’t been in school all week. Claire had checked the absence register, and there was no reason given. Perhaps she should call her house? Would that be strange?
‘Claire. Phone for you,’ Ruth the office manager said through a mouthful of sandwich.
‘For me?’
She nodded. ‘Police.’
Claire hurried to the office without excusing herself from the meeting. Taking the phone, she cast about for a chair in a quiet corner, but there wasn’t one, and Ruth showed no sign of giving up hers, so Claire perched uncomfortably on the edge of the desk where everything she said could easily be overheard by anyone passing the office.
‘Hello?’
‘Claire Penny?’
‘Yes. What—’
‘We have your mother. Bit of a car accident. Collision. She says she doesn’t want to go to hospital, but she’s a bit confused, so . . .’
Claire could hear Norma now, querulous, old sounding. She heard ‘Ridiculous’, ‘Perfectly fine’, and ‘Have to get to work.’
‘Just outside the doctor’s? I’ll be there,’ Claire whispered, and put the phone down.
‘Accident?’ Ruth swallowed the last of her sandwich and picked her teeth with her fingernails.
‘Yes. My mother. Had a collision. I’ll have to go.’
‘Can’t do the dress rehearsal without you.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s today, isn’t it? Well, look, you don’t need me for that.’
‘Can’t do it by ourselves. You know the lines.’ Ruth blinked slowly.
Claire felt unaccustomed anger. ‘There’s all the rest of the teachers and the support staff, I mean, you can do without me just this once. I have to take my mother to the hospital for God’s sake!’
‘Not with Fergus Coyle as narrator we can’t. You can handle him. It was your idea to have him in the first place.’
‘Oh God. Look, just be nice to him. That’s all! That’s all you’ve got to do. Be nice to him and feed him the lines if he forgets.’ Claire shrugged on her coat and dashed out of the office.
‘Just be niiiice to him!’ she heard Ruth whine at her back.
* * *
The car was a write-off. The Volvo straddled the kerb over the flattened bollard, and pedestrians had to walk in the road to avoid the broken bumper. The crumpled number plate had been incongruously propped up by the stone steps, and Norma sat next to it, crouched on a chair borrowed from the surgery, wrapped in a checked blanket. A bruise bloomed on her cheek and her careful French plait had come unpinned. She was trembling.
‘Couldn’t catch my breath.’ Norma squeezed Claire’s fingers. ‘Just couldn’t catch my breath. On the way to the doctor’s. Started coughing. Before I knew it – all this.’
‘We need to get you to the hospital.’