A Merry Little Christmas. Julia Williams
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for you,’ she said. ‘As if things weren’t tough enough.’
‘Apparently, I’m one of the lucky ones,’ said Pippa. ‘Other people have it worse. At least I’ve got Dan, and the boys are really good and helpful. They could easily resent the time it takes to look after Lucy and they don’t – or they don’t seem to. Of course, I could be in for a whole load of teenage angst, but it hasn’t happened yet.’
‘Be thankful they’re boys,’ said Cat. ‘James is a dream compared to the girls. Mel’s a total nightmare at the moment, and all Paige wants to do is read magazines, wear lots of make-up and listen to rap music with inappropriate lyrics.’
Pippa laughed. ‘It’s not that bad, surely?’
‘Worse,’ said Cat. ‘I swear Paige speaks a language all of her own. Have you any idea what “bad boy” or “peng” mean?’
Pippa looked understandably blank.
‘Me neither. And as for calling me a “swaggerdon”, I have no idea what she’s on about most of the time.’
‘Ah, that I do know,’ said Pippa. ‘It’s from The Only Way is Essex. I think it’s meant as a compliment.’
Cat laughed, ‘Well, you could have fooled me.’ She sat back and had another sip of her chocolate. ‘I do love your kitchen, it’s just the way a farm kitchen should be.’
‘What – old and falling down?’ chuckled Pippa, taking in the ancient welsh dresser with the soup tureen inherited from her great grandmother, the kitchen range that looked like it came out of the ark, and the worn-out flagstones.
‘It has character,’ said Cat. ‘I like it. Anyway, back to Lucy. Have you had any thoughts about what you can do? I’ll help in any way I can.’
‘I’ve written to the local MP,’ said Pippa, ‘but funnily enough – him being part of the government making the cuts – have had no response, so far. And I’m in the process of sorting out a petition. But what we really need to do is figure a way that the centre Lucy goes to can be self-funded and run at a profit. The basic problem is lack of funds – it needs to be able to keep offering the same services, but Social Services are cutting their budgets, and I’m not sure there are any charities who’d be able to step in.’
‘Any of the private care companies shown an interest?’
Pippa pulled a face.
‘I don’t know if that would help. I’m a bit cynical about these companies. You don’t read much good about them in the papers.’
‘The one that runs Mum’s nursing home seems okay,’ said Cat.
‘Still,’ said Pippa. ‘I was thinking of more of a kind of cooperative. If the people who actually benefit from the centre could also be involved, that would be brilliant. But money’s a problem …’
‘Isn’t it always,’ said Cat.
‘So the only thing I can think of for now, is to run a major PR campaign and raise the centre’s profile, and find out if there is a way to get it to self fund. But these services are expensive. Dan and I could pay some of the cost towards Lucy’s care, but lots of the families who use the centre can’t. They need help too.’
Cat thought about it.
‘I’ve always been a bit reluctant to use my mum for the purposes of newspaper articles,’ she said carefully, ‘but I think everyone who cares for someone else is in the same boat. I’ll pitch an article about caring to a few of the mags I write for if you like, and see if I can somehow write a feature about the centre, if you think that would help?’
‘Anything would be fantastic,’ said Pippa. ‘Although I feel a bit shameless, picking my famous friend’s brains.’
‘I’m hardly that famous,’ laughed Cat, ‘and besides, we’re mates. You and Dan made Noel and I feel so welcome when we came here. I’m happy to help.’
Cat slowly drove into the home where her mother lived on the other side of Hope Sadler. It was a bright modern building, on the edge of an old estate, so every room had a view of the impressive gardens that had one day belonged to a long-forgotten local gentleman. It was a lovely location, and Cat was really grateful for the care her mum had received. The home she’d been in briefly in London hadn’t been up to much, and getting Mum up here had assuaged a lot of Cat’s guilt about being unable to look after Louise. She knew it wasn’t practical, but still, she wished she’d been able to.
Ruby had come with her today. Cat never forced the kids to see Louise but she was grateful that even though they referred to her as ‘Mad Gran’, they all still loved and accepted Louise the way she was, and came to see her when they could. Even Mel took herself over here on the bus from time to time. As it happened, Ruby was quite happy to prattle on about what she’d been up to, regardless of the fact that Granny didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, or could barely remember her name. It made visiting easier.
It was getting harder and harder visiting Mum. For a start there was the sheer loneliness of knowing that she could no longer reach her mother in the way she once had. They had been so close once, and Cat missed her mother’s wisdom. Louise would have known how Cat should deal with Mel, and Cat felt all at sea without her support. Noel was much more relaxed about it. He too had been a rebel in his teens and kept telling Cat that Mel would get over it, which was probably true. But, Cat felt a massive failure for not having managed to create the same strong mother and daughter bond she’d enjoyed with Louise before her illness. Guiltily, she felt she’d let Mel down somehow, and the further Mel retreated from her, the less certain Cat was that she would ever get her back.
Their latest row had been about Mel’s mock results which, as predicted, were abysmal. Mel’s response to being told off was to spend even more hours out of the house, presumably at Karen’s, though Cat never knew if she was there, because Mel barely deigned to tell her. Andy’s name hadn’t been mentioned again, and if Cat tried to broach the subject, Mel clammed up, leaving Cat worrying why her daughter was being so secretive about it. Short of locking her in her room to prevent her going out, Cat didn’t know what more she and Noel could do.
Cat and Ruby knocked on Louise’s door, and found her sitting in her chair, rocking back and forth slightly, as was her wont.
‘Hallo, dear,’ said Louise with unseeing eyes. ‘How nice of you to come. I’m waiting for my daughter, she’ll be here soon.’
‘I am your daughter,’ said Cat, holding up the picture of the family which she kept by the bed for this express purpose. ‘See, here I am, it’s Cat. And here’s Ruby, your granddaughter.’
‘What, this little girl?’ said Louise. ‘My granddaughter? Well I never.’
‘Hallo Granny,’ said Ruby, ‘I made you a picture.’
Cat could have hugged her for taking it in her stride.
‘How lovely. What a kind little girl you are,’ said Louise, ‘My granddaughter. Amazing.’
Ruby rolled her eyes at Cat, and said, ‘Yes, Granny,’ before proceeding to rattle off a manic account of her week, which mainly consisted of the fact that Maisie Cordwell was really mean and it was unfair the boys got to play football and the girls didn’t.
Towards the end of her visit, Louise asked to go in the lounge.
‘I need to see Alfie,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a date.’
Cat grinned. One of the few good things to come out of Louise’s condition recently had been meeting up with Alfie, a fellow Alzheimer’s patient. They could barely remember each other’s names, but they seemed to get on like a house on fire.
‘Of course you do,’ said Cat. ‘Here, let’s take you down.’
Taking her mum’s arm, she gently led her downstairs