Page 61 of The Mother-in-Law

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Tom says to me as I slide out of my hospital gown.

‘I’mfine. It was a small knock to the head. It was a lot of fussing about nothing. The hospital only kept me overnight in case I sued them for a slippery floor or something.’ I step into the trousers Tom has brought for me.

‘I still can’t believe Lucy pushed you.’

‘She was worried about Harriet, Tom. As we all are. That should be our focus right now, not this silly bump to my head.’

I slip on my blouse and start matching up the buttons.

‘Are we going to pop up to the ward to see Harriet before we go?’ Tom asks.

I hesitate. ‘I don’t think I should.’

‘Nonsense. You’re hergrandmother.’

‘Lucy made it very clear—’

‘Lucy was emotional. She’ll probably apologise when she sees you.’

Tom is the eternal optimist and I don’t share his confidence. He didn’t hear the emotion behind Lucy’s words. Since yesterday, the only news I’ve had was a text from Ollie, saying:Harriet awake. MRI looked good. I’ve heard nothing at all from Lucy, despite calling three times. ‘I’m not sure about that, Tom.’

‘We’ll stop by on our way to the car,’ he says firmly. ‘It will all be fine, you’ll see.’

When we arrive at Harriet’s room, Lucy is sitting on a chair that has been pushed up to Harriet’s bedside. Her back is to us. From the doorway I can hear her humming ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ even though Harriet appears to be sound asleep. Inexplicably, my eyes fill with tears.

She’s a good mother, I have to admit. It occurs to me that I’ve never told her this before. It’s funny how all your mistakes can crystallise in an instant. All at once I see how I’ve alienated her.

Tom lifts his hand to knock on the door, but I grab it before it connects. ‘I just want to watch them,’ I whisper. ‘Let’s just watch for a moment.’

And so, we watch. And for the first time, I really see Lucy. Not a girl who was handed everything. A girl who knew what she wanted. A family. A woman who has stood by my son and her children, and even me, in spite of hardship. A girl a lot tougher than I gave her credit for.

I think about all my conversations with Jan and Liz and Kathy about daughters-in-law. We’d always focused on how different they are from us, how their mothering is different, their attitudes are different. We’ve never once focused on our similarities. As women. As wives. As mothers. It occurs to me suddenly that there are a lot more of them.

‘Let’s go,’ I say to Tom.

He looks as though he’s going to protest, but I pull him out of the doorway before he can. Lucy won’t want us here today. And today, I’m thinking about her.

Tom and I drive home in silence. I assume the quiet is to allow me to process my thoughts about what happened with Lucy, but when we pull up in front of the house and Tom doesn’t get out of the car straight away, I realise I’ve assumed wrong.

‘This was all my fault,’ he says. ‘I’m the one who dropped Harriet.’

‘Nonsense.’ I release my seatbelt and pivot in my seat. ‘It was anaccident.’

‘Accidents have been happening for a while,’ he says. ‘My grip strength has been getting worse and worse.’

I roll my eyes. ‘We’re getting older, Tom. Nothing works as well as it used to.’

‘I went to the doctor about it, a couple of months ago.’

I pause. ‘You did?’

‘Dr Paisley ordered some tests and told me I should make an appointment with a specialist. A neurologist. So I did.’

‘You did what? Saw a specialist?’ I’m stunned. How could this have been going on without my knowing? Tom doesn’t have secrets. (Once, when the kids were little, he told them on Christmas Eve that Santa had told him he was going to bring them bikes the next day. ‘I just couldn’t wait to see their little faces,’ he said.)

Tom stares straight ahead, his hands on the wheel at ten and two. ‘I haven’t seen the specialist yet. But I have an appointment tomorrow. It’s with a guy who specialises in motor neuron disease.’

I stare at him.