My Happy Place by Jayne Amanda Burford

As she woke, she could hear birds, calling to each other; a noise that she could have done without, her mind was foggy again this morning. She struggled to remember things from the last few weeks, months sometimes days, but could remember, in detail, things from years ago, right back to childhood memories. What was wrong with her?

Her bones creaked as she rose from her bed. “Am I old?” she wondered.

It took much longer nowadays to reach the bottom step as she counted out the 17, as she did every morning because she kept forgetting. She thought she would write it on some paper and leave it on the hallway table at the bottom of the stairs, but this wasn’t the first time she had thought this.

In the kitchen she sat at the table, just staring out of the kitchen window taking in the neatly edged lawn, the riot of flowers, the bird feeders that looked quite empty. “I’ll fill those later,” she thought.

Her mind drifted. The children were playing; whose children were they again? A little tea set sat on a checked picnic basket, the children were pouring into the small china cups, one for each of them and one each for the little dolls that sat beside them. “Ahh yes,” she mused, “my girls, their favourite summer pastime.”

She walked out into the garden; the children excitedly poured her a drink into the small cup. “Mummy!” they cried in unison, “sit with us.” So, she sat on the warm grass, drinking the warm cordial from the little china cup.

 “MUM!” cried Chrissy, “what on earth are you doing out here in the cold, still in your nightie and barefoot?”

Chrissy helped her mother up from the cold wet grass and ushered her inside, where she ran upstairs to fetch her mother’s thick towelling dressing gown.

Confusion and fog dulled her thought, but she knew instinctively that she needed to quickly think up an excuse. As Chrissy helped her into her dressing gown, she asked again, “What were you doing out there mum? It’s the middle of winter.”

She can see a bird attempting to retrieve something from the empty feeder, and blurted out, “A baby bird was lying on the grass, injured and I was helping it.” She didn’t want to tell her daughter that she had been having a tea party with the children. Chrissy counted out the tablets and poured her mother a glass of water, then put the kettle on. She took the tablets, not questioning. “Such good girls,” she thought to herself, as she sipped the hot tea. Chrissy had made her some toast with jam too, which she ate greedily.

“Right then mum, “Chrissy said, “we have the nurses calling later, so Dawn and I will be here for when they arrive, so let’s get you showered and dressed.”

“I can manage Chrissy,” she said, “you get yourself off home.”

“Nurses?” she mused, “why are they coming? I’m not ill or hurt.”

She tried to remember if she knew why they were coming but for the life of her she couldn’t. After showering and getting dressed, she brushed her hair, looking at her lined old face in the mirror, she wondered when had she got this old? How?

Her thoughts wandered to The Black Boy Inn, her regular haunt as a young woman, meeting with the office girls after work, giggling about who liked who and who they had nicknames for, and Miss Wright who was usually annoying. Her best friend, Annie, worked in the typing pool, so it was difficult to catch up with her during work, so each night they would nurse half a bitter in the pub, making it last as long as they could, waiting until Harry & George came in and offered to buy them another.

Her Harry. They had grown up together, gone through school together, their parents were best friends, so it was inevitable that they would go into adulthood together too. When Harry asked her to marry him, it was a given that she would accept. He had given her his grandmother’s engagement ring. She treasured it to this day, absentmindedly she twisted it around her finger as she mused.

The engagement party had been held at The Black Boy Inn. All of their friends, neighbours and parents’ friends had been there; both sets of parents were overjoyed that this union was sealed, and soon the wedding preparations were underway.

They married at St Leonard’s and of course the celebrations were held at Black Boy Inn; all of the locals held their celebrations there: births, deaths, marriages, christenings, birthdays, the list was endless. Happy memories she smiled to herself.

The front door banged as Dawn the youngest of her two daughters, shouted, “Mum! Where are you?”

“I’m up here love, won’t be a min.” She hurriedly applied some mascara and lippy. It was more hit and miss these days, her eyes weren’t the best anymore. As she got to the bottom stair, 17 she counted in her mind as she didn’t want Dawn to hear her counting them out loud.

The doorbell rang, she opened the door to see two young girls dressed in official looking uniforms with name badges.

“Hello,” the short portly one said, “you must be Mrs Esprey , we’re from Age UK, we have an appointment with you and your daughters.”

“No dear,” she replied but as Dawn came from the kitchen, she welcomed the two young girls in saying to her mother,

“You remember Mum, these ladies are meeting us today, just to have a little chat with you.”

“Why?” she replied.

Chrissy came bounding in then and as usual took charge. I saw a look pass between my daughters; this look I had seen many times over the years. Two bloody peas in a pod they were. When Harry had been alive, we used to divide and conquer, but I couldn’t do it on my own, so I gave up.

Chrissy then started to explain that I had been becoming increasingly forgetful recently then proceeded to reel off a list of things I had and hadn’t done; forgot to lock the door, lost my purse, got on the wrong bus, left my shopping trolley at the supermarket, the list seemed endless, even to me!

The other young woman spoke up then, “We would like to speak to your mum, we have an assessment to do, and these questions really must be answered by Mrs Espley herself”

I could feel my face reddening and said, “I am bloody here you know, I’m not deaf. What’s this all about?”

The two young ladies introduced themselves apologetically: Sarah & Katie. They explained that the girls had become increasingly worried about me, and they had come to carry out an assessment to see if I had the beginnings of dementia. I felt betrayed and it must have shown on my face. As the girls looked at each other Chrissy started to explain that we had had the conversation some weeks ago, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember! Reluctantly I agreed to this assessment malarkey, even if just to prove the girls wrong.

Sarah started by asking me questions about years ago, questions about my parents, my brothers and sisters, where I worked, how I had met Harry, my first address, my first job, God knows why this mattered but I answered, smug that I could remember all of the answers without any hesitation.

Then they asked me how old I was, this had me stumped a little.

“Just a minute,” I replied as I went into the kitchen to get the, oh god what’s it called? I rooted through the junk drawer, the tea towel drawer, cutlery drawer. Dawn came into me.

“What are you looking for mum?”

“The bloody wotsit, “I replied, getting more and more anxious by the minute

“What wotsit?” she said, looking at me like I had gone quite mad.

Sarah come into the kitchen then, seeing the mess I had made, she said, “Mrs Esprey, come back into the sitting room, please don’t get yourself all worked up like this.”

 I looked at her trying to hide my embarrassment, as I couldn’t remember what I had been looking for in the first place!

“So”, said Sarah, “what year were you born Mrs Esprey?"

“Ha, 1935,” I replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

“What year was Chrissy born? What year was Dawn born? How old were they?”

The questions went on and on until Katie, who had been busy scribbling up until now, said, “OK Mrs Esprey, I think that’s quite enough for today, I’m worn out.” She looked at me kindly. Thank God for that I thought but just smiled my agreement. I sat in my old comfy chair as the girls saw out the two young girls. They came back in and looked at me.

“Mum, we are worried about you, we just need to know that you are safe and can look after yourself, there’s lots of help out there you know,” Dawn said as Chrissy looked at me, and as usual I couldn’t stay mad at them for long.

“I know, “I replied, “but I’m fine, a little forgetful at times but I’m fine honestly, I am.”

A few weeks later Chrissy came to me with a fretful look on her face.

“Mum, we have the assessment results, Sarah and Katie are calling round later to have a chat with us.”

“Sarah and Katie?” I looked at Chrissy blankly.

“The ladies that called the other week Mum,” she replied.

 “Oh right,” I said, not having a clue.

“They will be here at two, so I’ll pop back for then. OK Mum?”

“Yes fine,” I replied.

I was sitting in The Black Boy Inn, waiting for Harry to come in. We were going to the cinema tonight. I loved going to the cinema. Jean from work sold the ice creams in the interval and always gave us much more than we paid for; cuddling up with Harry watching a soppy love story eating the creamy rum and raisin ice cream was my favourite date night. Harry coming into The Black Boy Inn.The black boy, looking so handsome, beaming at me, we were so happy, I couldn’t have wished for a better husband.

“Mum!” I heard Dawn call, as she came in the front door, I looked at the clock 1.45. “Are we going out?” I thought as I looked at her blankly.

“Sarah and Katie will be here soon Mum,” she said.

“Yes I know, Chrissy popped in earlier. I hadn’t forgotten,” I lied.

The two young girls looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on how I recognised them.

“Mrs Esprey, the results of the assessment have come back to us and it would appear that you are showing signs of early dementia, but please don’t worry, we have many aids than will help you. Your doctor can prescribe a medication that will help, and we can put a care plan in place.”

I look at this slip of a girl. Dementia? Isn’t that what old people get? I remember Granny, being found down by the river in her nightie, barefoot in December!!

Ok so I forgot to lock the front door one night, and now they’ve got me rounded up with the loonies! Granny ended up in a nuthouse that smelled of wee and was full of scary old ladies that pulled funny faces and made awful noises.

My mind goes back to my happy place, with my Harry in The Black Boy Inn and my final story begins.