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as if she was surfacing from a great depth, struggling to comprehend, ‘Helena?’ she said at last and Rosie, too exhausted to start all over again, just squeezed her hand.
    Nurse Todd came in and seeing their joined hands, nodded and smiled as if this was a very satisfactory outcome for a first visit. ‘Shall we put your things away safely in your bag, May?’ she said but May was once again lost in thought. Nurse Todd started to pack away the mound of objects. Noticing the TV remote she exclaimed, ‘Ah! We’ve been looking everywhere for that!’ and surreptitiously slipped it into the pocket of her uniform. ‘This happens all the time,’ she said to Rosie. ‘May likes to watch
Doctors
but some of the men are very vocal about watching the sport.’
    Rosie smiled at her aunt’s ingenuity despite male vociferousness.
    Nurse Todd said cheerily, ‘We’ll have to keep it under lock and key. They all do it; sometimes it’s like hunt the thimble in here.’ She put the tidied bag back under May’s chair.
    ‘Can I come and have a word?’ Rosie asked before explaining to May that she had to go. She kissed her lightly on the cheek; it felt dry, so soft and loose, compared to the feel of hundreds of bedtime kisses on Sam or Cara’s plump cheeks, like a peach that’s gone over; her smell was a mixture of sweet and musty. As she bent over her, May lifted her hand and touched Rosie’s scarf, a filmy material with a William Morris pattern in cream and pale blue.
    ‘Nice,’ May murmured.
    Rosie unwound the scarf and softly draped it around May’s shoulders. May fingered the edge of the fabric, looking down at its lustrous folds against the dull, bobbly cardigan. She looked up at Rosie with eyes as open and delighted as a child’s.
    ‘It suits you,’ Rosie said. ‘I’ll come and see you again soon.’
    She followed Nurse Todd from the room and asked about May’s health. The nurse gave a recap: sometimes she became very confused and recognised no one, and she was often distressed when she woke at night. She was in better shape physically: arthritis, but still able to walk independently, her sight still good enough with reading glasses for her to attempt a little sewing although she had to use a darning needle and grew frustrated at the size and ungainly shape of her stitches.
    Thinking of her pleasure over the scarf, Rosie said, ‘Should I bring in some clothes? She used to be so particular about how she looked.’
    Nurse Todd flushed a little. ‘There are a lot of spillages. It’s better if they’re in things that you can get them in and out of easily.’
    ‘I’ll have a look what there is left at home,’ Rosie said mildly. She hadn’t meant to sound critical but felt quite determined on the point. The May she knew would be mortified to be dressed in clothes from some communal clothes store that fitted her like a sack. She smiled, ‘I’ll pick out things without lots of buttons.’ She thanked the nurse and shook her hand at the door saying that she would be back in a few days and asking if it was OK to bring the children.
    ‘Of course. It brightens everyone up to have young faces around,’ she said.
    As Rosie drove home she reflected that the visit had answered her question: May clearly needed care; she was certainly not going to be able to come back to the house. At least the home seemed sound and the staff competent and well intentioned; that was a relief. She would visit as often as she could while they were here, she decided, and, once she was back in London, when Josh had the children for a weekend, she’d try to get up to see May and make sure she had everything she needed. Still, she thought how sad it was for May to have reached the last few years of her life and to be so alone. However kind the nurses were she was still cared for by strangers. It struck a chord with her own loneliness, now that both Josh and Mum were gone. I have two children, she told herself. I still have someone to love,