She who laughs last
Jonathan: It’s already a fortnight since Denise’s Mum moved to Sacred Heart care home in Daliburgh: my goodness where does the time go! The move came much sooner than we’d expected. The need was already beyond doubt : it was just a matter of time before ‘a room became free’ (a euphemism if ever there was!). Of course we did have last minute doubts: was she really getting beyond our coping? were we just being selfish? For her last evening at home with us Betty was on better form than she’d been for a long time, actually following the TV – it was Countryfile in the Peak District – with interest and a degree of understanding, and we were able to talk with her about the Peak District – with which she has been familiar throughout her life – and the events of her younger days. But out of the blue, in the midst of the Countryfile weather forecast – she pulled her glasses forward and asked us to look at ‘something’ on her nose that was bothering her: Other than the groove in which her glasses have perched for more than sixty years, we could see nothing of note. We were about to say as much when she volunteered further clarification : “It’s a fish, I think … It might even be a Cod”. There followed a silence, as profound as it was brief, in which the nagging voices of doubt and guilt were swallowed up as if into a black hole of sound, re-emeerging the other side in one great burst of belly-deep eye-watering laughter, and even Mum herself couldn’t help but join in! Denise: What on earth do you mean, you daft old woman! Betty (glowing from the laughter): Well … I don’t rightly know! We’ve had plenty of the same over the past couple of years, but never to such good effect!
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