The Imposter, Anna Wharton [romantic story to read TXT] 📗

today. She can’t take it. Not today of all days.

Chloe reaches for her hand. ‘You do, Nan.’

‘No.’ She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know a Chloe. Nurse!’

Chloe sighs, she lets go of her hand, she steps back. What should she do? Go all the way back home? She makes for the door, and then when she gets there, she closes it. Not today. Not today of all days. She turns around.

‘Nan,’ she says. ‘Please, you do know me.’

She pleads with her. She can do this. She can make her remember. She’s so determined she doesn’t see the way the old woman flinches, how she huddles herself up to the wall.

‘Nurse!’ Nan cries.

‘No,’ Chloe snaps, going back to make sure the door is shut tight. ‘We don’t need a nurse, you know who I am. Don’t say you don’t.’

She walks back to the bed where Nan is cowering. She switches quickly to a calm voice and tries again: ‘You do know me, Nan, I’m Chloe.’

‘I don’t!’

‘Nan.’

‘Stop, I don’t. Nurse!’

‘Nan!’

‘Nurse!’

Nan reaches for a red button next to her bedside table. She presses it furiously, over and over, as Chloe tries to stop her. The two women grapple, Nan trying to hit the button, Chloe fighting against her. She grabs her wrist, too hard. Nan cries out.

‘We don’t need a nurse,’ Chloe says through her teeth. ‘We don’t need anybody.’

The next thing she knows, the door flies open. The matron appears in the doorway, her eyes wide.

‘What on earth is going on?’ the matron asks.

Chloe looks from the matron to Nan, seeing for the first time the scene as she does. Nan is trembling against the wall, her arms covering her face. Chloe’s hand flies up to her mouth, as Miriam crosses the room and Nan clings to her like a frightened child.

‘I . . . I’m sorry,’ Chloe says, backing towards the door, watching as the matron sits down beside Nan and puts an arm around her. She sees her notice Nan’s wrist, now pinky purple, the colour already setting in her skin.

Nan is crying now, telling the matron over and over, ‘I don’t know anyone called Chloe.’

The matron speaks gently to her. ‘OK, Grace,’ she says. ‘It’s OK. This is your granddaughter, she’s come to see you.’

Nan is crying. Chloe knows it is her who has made her cry. Another care assistant, Gemma, rushes into the room.

‘I heard the alarm,’ Gemma says, breathless, assessing the scene.

Chloe looks between the three women. What has she done?

‘I didn’t . . . I just . . . I just wanted to see her,’ Chloe says.

The matron gives a nod to the care assistant who replaces her next to Nan, then Miriam leads Chloe out of the room gently.

‘Come with me, Chloe,’ Miriam says. ‘Why don’t you have a cup of tea in my office while Gemma takes care of your grandmother?’

Chloe nods. She looks back at Nan but she’s crying, her knuckles white where she’s gripping the nurse’s hand. Chloe knows then she’s lost her. Today to Gemma, tomorrow to whoever else she happens to trust more than her. It’s over.

She follows the matron out of the room, a cavity in her chest where her heart should be. The disease has won. It’s over.

EIGHTEEN

‘Oh God, Chloe, are you OK?’

Chloe peers around the door frame, daylight streaming through the three-inch gap. She squints.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. How did you—’

‘I’ve been calling and calling.’

‘My phone’s been off. I lost my charger.’

‘What’s wrong?’

Chloe reaches for her stomach.

‘Oh, you know, twenty-four-hour bug, something like that. I’d invite you in but . . . germs.’ She shrugs. ‘Should have a red cross painted on my door!’

Hollie laughs a little, more to be polite, but Chloe can see she’s worried. ‘You sure you’re all right? You don’t seem yourself.’

‘I’m fine, honest. Just haven’t had any fresh air in twenty-four hours, it’s making me feel a bit . . . woozy.’

‘It might make you feel better?’

Hollie tries to peer around the door. Chloe lifts her arm towards the top of the frame, the sleeve of her dressing gown hiding much of the hallway, but she still sees it, Hollie’s eyes roaming the gaps: the busy, patterned carpet, the hall table, Nan’s shoes by the front door.

‘Do you need anything from the shops?’ Hollie turns to point as if to remind Chloe where they are. ‘I could go grab you some supplies. Honestly, it’s no bother.’

Chloe sighs. Hollie isn’t going to leave.

‘Give me two minutes to pull some clothes on and I’ll come out with you. You’re right, I need the fresh air.’

Hollie goes to lift one foot inside, but Chloe pushes the door just a little. ‘Two mins,’ she says, closing the door shut.

When Chloe reappears, Hollie is sitting on the low wall at the front of Nan’s garden. She’s looking up at the house. ‘Nice little places these. Me and Phil looked at one round the corner from here.’

‘Did you?’ They start walking. ‘Hey, how did you know which one was Nan’s?’

‘I came over that time just after you moved in, don’t you remember? But Nan was ill, so we went to the coffee shop instead. Shall we see if it’s open today? You could have some dried toast or something?’

Chloe looks like she might be sick and Hollie looks concerned.

‘What do you think it is? Something you ate?’

Chloe shrugs. ‘Best not to get too close, though.’

They walk in silence for a while, Hollie glancing this way and that up and down the road.

‘It’s a nice road, I remember thinking that last time. Quiet.’

‘Nan’s lived here since they were built.’

Hollie looks surprised to hear this.

‘Surely she must know everyone round here? Or rather they must know her – know her family, I mean.’

‘Here we are,’ Chloe says as they arrive at the coffee shop. Actually, it is more of a greasy spoon and if Chloe really had been ill, the chip fat odour alone would have been enough to turn her stomach.

Suleyman brings over two laminated menus, putting them down on the table, and Chloe studies the black hairs on the back of his hands.

‘How’s your nan, feeling better?’