The Legacy, Caroline Bond [popular books to read txt] 📗

Megan made a mental note to ask her about that later on in their chat. Lisa had good references, attesting to her professionalism and her ‘lovely manner with service users, especially those with mental impairment’. On the downside, she had only the most basic qualifications; she had no physical therapy experience and no direct experience with MND sufferers. But she answered all Megan’s questions in a calm voice. There was no fidgeting or fudging of her answers. She was happy with the proposed hours. She nodded with understanding when Megan explained about wanting to hold on to her three days at work at the local comprehensive school, at least for the time being. To all intents and purposes, Lisa Browne seemed fine. An acceptable, flexible candidate – Megan had interviewed far worse.

But the problem with a formal interview was that it didn’t allow for the real questions. Which were… What are you like as a person? What will it feel like to have you around for long periods of time? Can I share a kitchen with you without feeling uncomfortable? Can I bear to have you see me first thing in the morning in my dressing gown, with my face creased and vulnerable? Will I be able to relax, knowing you are under my roof listening and learning about our lives?

And the biggest question of all: How will you get on with Jonathan?

How will you cope with his resentment at having to rely on someone like you? How will you respond to his black humour? His moods? His challenging views, on a wide range of topics. His impatience? His refusal to take advice? His need to control what is happening to him? Jonathan was not a passive old person, grateful for the help, happy to chat on mindlessly, accepting of his lot.

Lisa was looking at her, waiting. She had her own questions about ‘the patient’.

Megan described Jonathan’s symptoms, detailing the hard facts clearly and succinctly. She described the rampant progress of the disease in recent months and the increasing degree of his physical impairment, using the familiar terms common to all motor neurone sufferers. She went into the level of assistance required. Jonathan’s medication. Sleep patterns. Exercise routine. She was very informative.

None of it really described Jonathan. The man who, as she spoke, was sitting in his study, waiting to be introduced to this next indignity. Megan contemplated forewarning Lisa about his resistance to being helped, his stubbornness, but bottled it. ‘Perhaps it would be best if you met Jonathan in person.’ Throwing her in at the deep end – it was mean, but it was as good a test as any.

Lisa nodded, unfazed, and stood up.

She was keen.

She was going to need to be.

Forty minutes passed, and still Lisa did not re-emerge from the study. Megan filled the time with small, mindless tasks and repeated trips across the hall, which yielded no clues as to how their conversation was going. She was staring into the fridge, thinking about what to put together for lunch, when Lisa surprised her by appearing in the doorway and announcing, ‘We’re all done.’

Megan felt flustered and stumbled over her words. ‘Good. Fine. I’ll show you out then.’ Listening to herself struggling to string together a coherent sentence, she felt a slight bristle of resentment. Surely it was down to her to decide when the interview was at a close. She still hadn’t asked Lisa about her habit of not staying in any job or location for very long – but the opportunity had gone. At the front door Megan said she would be in touch with the agency after she and Jonathan had had time to reflect on the other applicants.

Lisa smiled, said, ‘Fine’ and set off up the drive with a spring in her step.

It was a short reflection.

Jonathan was adamant that Lisa was the best candidate they’d seen. Her limited qualifications didn’t seem to trouble him, which surprised Megan. With every other applicant he’d been unbelievably picky.

‘She doesn’t have any direct experience of MND.’ Megan was surprised at herself for raising it. She was the one who was desperate for them to appoint somebody.

Jonathan waved Megan’s concerns away, saying, ‘I don’t know, Meg. There was just something about her I liked.’

Relieved that he was finally accepting having someone else around to help, Megan phoned the agency that afternoon to secure Lisa’s services.

She started work the following week, and their lives were never the same again.

Because Lisa proved to be exactly what they needed. Competent, unobtrusive, helpful. Megan was able to go off to work without worrying – at least not as much as before. And when she got home, it was to a clean, orderly house, sometimes with a meal prepared, and to a Jonathan who was less agitated and resentful, and far more alert than he had been for months.

As the weeks went by, and Lisa took over a lot of the physical work and some of the mental strain, life stabilised. And although Jonathan’s symptoms continued their destructive march through his body, his mood definitely improved, so much so that Megan was able to carve out thin slivers of time for herself. Lisa was forever encouraging her to have a bath or go for a run, or to go out for a drink with a friend. These little gasps of freedom, after holding her breath for such a sustained period, were good for Megan. Very quickly she grew to rely on Lisa, trusting her with some of the administration of Jonathan’s illness – of which there was a lot – with his prescriptions and his physical therapy.

It was a huge relief to share the load with someone. His family was very little help. Liv called regularly for updates, to offer advice, suggest alternative approaches and question what the doctors had said, and she did come to visit as often as work and family would allow, but her involvement was not without its tensions. Every call and visit made Megan feel