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by Jordi
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Family · #1691587
Coming to terms with a parent's illness
The rain was drizzling down as the silver Aston Martin glided up the winding driveway and parked outside the large, Victorian manor house. A tall, casually dressed man climbed out of the car and looked around at the empty gardens. He ran his hand through the slightly long blond hair as he looked at the house, his face somber as he thought about the task ahead. Shaking his head, he locked the car and walked up to the front door.

Compared to the greyness outside, the hallway was a bright and welcoming place. Warm yellow walls covered with large landscape paintings gave the building a homely feel about it. Shrugging off his raincoat, the man placed it on one of the hooks on the coat stand before entering the lounge. An older lady sat knitting by the log fire, her forehead furrowed as she concentrated on the small piece of clothing that she was making.

A sound must have alerted her to his presence for she looked up and smiled, her blue eyes twinkling as she watched him enter. "Sam, there you are. I thought you'd got lost. Did you get your paper?"

"Hello Mu - Margaret," he greeted, leaning over to place a kiss on her pale cheek. He closed his eyes as the familiar scent of her perfume washed over him, reminding him of so much that had been lost. "Took me a while to find a shop selling one."

"These shops seem to close earlier and earlier these days. Did you have a good day at work? You're looking very smart, today. I thought you were working on the factory floor today."

"I was, but I had a meeting to go to so I thought that I'd better smarten up before I went." Sam sat down across from her and looked at the little blue scrap of knitting in her lap. "What are you making?"

"I thought I'd make David a new jumper. He's growing so quickly these days that I can't keep up with him. He's going to be tall just like you, dear." She picked up her knitting and continued working on it, her fingers flowing as they carried on with the pattern.

Sam smiled sadly. "What have you done today?" he asked.

"Well, I got the washing and ironing done. Made some bread to have with dinner later. Oh, and I took Katie to nursery. She does love going there. I hope she likes her school as much as she likes that place. Did you manage to get the information on the new school? I'll need to know what uniform she'll need. I think it's wonderful that they have to wear a uniform. You know how messy she can get."

Sam sat and listened as she continued to tell him about her busy day. He said very little, just nodded and agreed when it was expected of him. Before he knew it a half hour had passed and the clock in the hallway chimed the passing hour. He looked at the watch on his wrist as a young woman entered the room. She wore a simple uniform of trousers and a white shirt, with a name badge pinned to her left breast pocket.

"Margaret, dinner's ready. We're having soup today with some fresh bread."

"Lovely. I'll come right in." Margaret quickly finished her row and placed the knitting in the small basket by the side of the fire. "Coming, Sam?" she asked.

"I'll be there in a moment. Just need to make a quick call." Sam stood and gave Margaret a quick kiss on the cheek before she left the room to go to the dining room.

After Margaret had gone, the young woman turned to Sam and smiled softly at him. "Did you tell her?"

"I wanted to but I don't think she would have understood. She seemed to be in her own little world." He rubbed his hand wearily over his face and sighed. "How do you tell someone that their husband was buried today when they think that he's you?"

"Perhaps it's for the best that she doesn't know, David. She seems very happy at the moment. Dr Warren said that her illness is progressing more rapidly and he doesn't know how much longer she'll be aware of her surroundings."

"What a way for your life to end. Your mind slowly destroyed by mental illness so that you forget everything and everyone. She used to be such a strong woman. Always busy, looking after her home and family. Now," he sighed, trying to stop his emotions from getting out of control as they threatened to overwhelm him as he thought about his mother. "Now, she thinks that my father works in the factory, my sister goes to nursery school and I'm still a baby." He walked towards the hallway where his coat was hanging, needing to leave that place. "I'll call and see her next week. I've got a few meetings to sort out but I'll give you a call and let you know when I'm coming."

The woman watched as David quickly left the house and ran to his car. It was always the same when people visited St James's home. Their hearts would slowly break as they watched a loved one slowly succumb to some form of degenerative mental illness. She knew that Margaret's 'Sam' had been buried today and that David had wondered whether or not to tell his mother that her husband of forty years had died whilst she was in the home. As it was, her mind was firmly latched in the past and she believed that David was Sam and that nothing would convince her otherwise.

She watched the car drive away before heading down the corridor to the dining room and the handful of residents that would be waiting there.

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