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

that you might think some of our residents come in here with these brain diseases, but they very much still have a mind of their own.’

‘I know,’ Chloe says.

‘If your grandmother wants to go for a wander down the garden, there’s not much we can do to stop her.’

Miriam laughs a little, and Chloe joins her because it feels right, letting the air back into the office, reminding themselves that Nan is a person before a patient. Chloe is back then inside Maureen and Patrick’s house; that light, excited feeling she’d felt when she was there returns to her.

‘I know, it’s just . . .’

Miriam looks across the desk at her.

‘Well, it’s just I have this opportunity – with work. It might take me away for a while and, I won’t be able to relax if—’

‘Chloe, this was a one-off, it won’t happen again. I can assure you of that. Of course you must take this opportunity, and you’re only on the end of the phone, aren’t you?’

‘I guess,’ she says, letting Miriam convince her.

The matron leans across the desk.

‘You must take this opportunity, you can’t put your life on hold. We’ll take care of your grandmother. That’s our job.’

Chloe nods, torn between the image of Nan in her bed and the house in Low Drove.

‘I’d better get back to her,’ she says.

Miriam nods. ‘Of course.’

But something has changed when she gets up and leaves her office. Despite the shock of Nan’s fall, it feels like something invisible has shifted. As if there was a reason this all happened – to grant her permission to go to Low Drove.

When Chloe gets back to Nan’s room she’s still sleeping. Chloe settles down in the chair beside her, sipping her tea as she watches her. She enjoys listening to the steady whistle of her breathing. She thinks of the evenings they’d sat in her living room, watching Corrie together, when it always felt enough just to be beside her. It’s difficult to pinpoint now when she had begun to need something more. It always is.

Nan sleeps on and off for a couple of hours. When she sighs or her eyes flicker open for a second, Chloe reaches for her hand and she goes back to sleep. By six o’clock the scent of dinner creeps under the door. There’s a knock and a care assistant – Sam – appears, offering them both a plate of mince and potato with some watery cabbage. Chloe takes two plates and puts them on the side. Nan stirs and Chloe helps her sit up so she can eat. She straightens her nightie, tying the ribbons across her bony collarbones so she doesn’t feel a draught.

‘Here you are, Nan,’ she says, offering her a small forkful of mince and mash.

She takes tiny mouthfuls.

‘Good, well done.’

Nan smiles every now and then, each portion Chloe persuades her to eat adding more colour to her cheeks.

‘I remember you doing this for me,’ Chloe says.

‘Do you?’ Nan takes another mouthful, swallows it. ‘When was that then?’

‘When I was a little girl.’

Nan watches Chloe over the next fork she puts into her mouth. She eats silently for a few moments.

‘Did you know Stella?’ she says, her blue eyes watery.

Chloe lifts another fork to Nan’s mouth, but she takes her time to swallow, as if the memory of Stella sticks in her throat.

‘Yes,’ Chloe says finally, ‘I knew Stella.’

Nan’s eyes sparkle, but no longer with tears. She’s away somewhere else then, taking forkfuls of mashed potato, but not here, not in this room.

‘Here, try a little cabbage,’ Chloe says.

Nan eats it, smiling to herself.

‘She was a lovely little girl, wasn’t she?’ Nan says after a while.

Chloe nods.

‘A shock of blonde curls, do you remember?’

Chloe thinks of the photograph that she keeps in her pocket, her favourite picture of the two of them.

‘I do,’ she says.

Silently, Nan reaches gently for a tendril of Chloe’s black hair and winds it around her fingers into a question mark, then stares at her granddaughter.

‘Here, Nan, finish this last bit.’

After a moment, Nan opens her mouth obediently. She’ll do anything for a few minutes back with Stella. How many people wouldn’t give anything for that time again? Chloe could do something, she could add colour to Nan’s memory.

‘Stella adored you, followed you everywhere,’ Chloe tells her. She waits for her eyes to light up.

Nan laughs. Chloe feels calm return to her. She wipes a little gravy from Nan’s chin with a tissue.

‘She did, didn’t she? I used to call her my little shadow, do you remember that?’

‘I do,’ Chloe says, smiling.

She goes to give Nan more, but she shakes her head.

‘You’ve done really well, almost all of that.’ She shows her the near-empty plate. ‘You must be getting better.’

Chloe goes to stand up and Nan grabs her arm, softly, but urgently.

‘You’ve been ever so good to me, Chloe, not just today, but . . . before I came here, I mean.’

‘Don’t be silly, Nan.’

‘I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘Well, it’s just us now, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Nan says. ‘I suppose it is . . .’

Chloe doesn’t know why this feels like goodbye. She thinks of that weekend bag on her bed. She remembers the words of the matron, reminding her that she’s got to take this opportunity, that she can’t put her life on hold. But Nan is her life. She turns away from her. She knows what she needs to do.

‘Chloe?’

‘Yes, Nan.’

‘Did you ever find that little girl?’

She stops for a second, those incisive moments that cut through the fog still catching her by surprise.

‘I’m not sure.’

‘I’ve been thinking of those poor parents and, well, I know what it’s like to lose a child. You will help them, won’t you?’ She reaches for Chloe’s hand, and she stares at her, for a second, straight in the eye.

‘I’ll do everything I can, Nan.’

‘Good,’ she says, as Chloe removes one of the pillows propped behind her and helps her settle back down under the covers. ‘Good.’

She’s asleep again a few moments later, exhausted from the exertion