The old Victorian hotel overlooked beautifully tended gardens. In its new life as a care home, people in scrubs walked among the shrubbery as they guided their charges along the walkways. It was a slow process but the carers showed only unwavering patience.

I wish I had their patience.

Gentle wind rustled through the leaves of the trees as sunlight poured down from above. After a week of rain, which had seemingly matched my sour mood, the weather had finally turned. Coats had been cast aside as the temperatures increased by over ten degrees in a matter of days.

Lifting my hand to shield my face, I squinted in the bright afternoon light. My head throbbed with the remnants of my hangover. Bloody vodka. Clearly, my thirty year old body could not cope with alcohol the way my eighteen year old self had.

Not that I needed the hangover to remind me of that night. The memories were all firmly imprinted in my mind, no matter how much I wanted to forget. No matter how much I tried to bury them.

I was already dreading Monday morning. The less time I spent around Richie the better. What had I even been thinking?

I hadn't.

I supposed that was the problem. I hadn't been thinking at all about the consequences. I could try and blame it on the alcohol but deep inside I had wanted to do it. The terrible part of me wasn't sure that it was because it had been Richie. Or would I have still attempted it with a stranger? Would it have just taken someone to show me just the slightest bit of attention for me to make a move?

Maybe.  All I knew for certain was that I would consider anything if only to try and fill the horrible emptiness within me.

I breathed in deeply. As I stood on the top step of the small patio, floral scents tickled my nose, the knot within my stomach loosened. The air was filled with only calm murmuring of quiet conversation. It was peaceful.

This was a good choice. Probably the first good choice in months and it hadn't even been mine. Thank you, Tanya.

After Mum had been relocated to her final home, they had prohibited any visitors for the first weeks while she settled in. It had been like torture. I had probably suffered from the separation more than Mum had. Did she even notice I gone? There was a selfish side of me – the one that wanted to be needed - that hoped she did. I hoped she missed me much as I missed her.

God, I'm so fucking selfish.

I shook my head. Tugging down the hem of my skirt, I hesitated on the stairs. But, with one last tug on the sleeves of my cardigan, I made my way towards her.

She looked the same. Almost. The hair was different. It had been pulled back into a simple plait – a style she had never worn before. With her eyes closed, and head tilted back so she could face the sun, she looked so much younger than her age. A few wispy strands of grey hair had broken free, swaying in the light breeze.

I swallowed. She didn't belong here. It was unfair. Alzheimer's was a disease I had always associated with the elderly but the first symptoms had started early. If I think back on it, the signs were there earlier than either of us had known. Or at least we hadn't wanted to know. Ignorance was bliss.

Unable to stop myself, my hand reached out and tucked the flyaway strands behind her ear. As soon as my fingertips made contact, I froze. My hands still on her hair, as her eyes fluttered open and I found myself at the centre of her attention.

I swallowed, a brief flare of panic taking hold as I wondered which Evelyn I would get today. There were so many versions of her now all centred on her volatile emotions. Panic. Confusion. Anger. Or would I be lucky and get one of those rare occasions where I got a glimpse of the Evelyn I knew.

She blinked, little creases forming at the corners of her eyes as she focused on my face.

Confused Evelyn. Forgetful Evelyn. It had to be. The version of my Mum that had absolutely no idea that had absolutely no idea she even had children.

Her expression slowly changed. It was with much surprise that a wide grin spread over her face, delight shining

"Rosie," she breathed, her frail hand coming up to cup my cheek. "You're so grown up."

My shoulders relaxed a touch. Hope flared. Could it really be her? She sounded like my mum but I had had my hope dashed far too many times.

"Mum," I murmured in response, unable to stop myself, my hand coming to rest over hers.

It was like a light had been lit within her. It was like time had been turned back and I was speaking to the Mum from a decade ago. Her eyes had that familiar sparkle. The one which had dimmed as time and disease took its course.

"Oh." Her fingers flexed against my cheek, her shoulders slumping.

My fingers tightened around hers. "What?"

"It's getting bad, isn't it?" She asked, her eyes flitting past me to take in the surroundings. Unable to voice it, I just nodded my head. "Oh, sweetheart."

Her thin, frail arms wrapped around me. I hugged her back tightly, drawing in a ragged breath. I missed this. I missed her hugs.

"I'm sorry." I murmured into her shoulder, taking the comfort however fleeting.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?" My mum asked, as she pulled back.

Staring into her eyes and seeing recognition in her eyes was almost my undoing. It had been too long since I had seen this part of her. Though there were dozens of questions I had wanted to ask my mum, had been desperate to know the answers to, I could not put a voice to them. Not when these moments were so few and far between. They were precious.

"I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you anymore." I apologised softly, startling slightly when her cool hands brushed tears from my face. "You almost got hurt and, as much as I wanted to keep my promise, I couldn't let that happen."

"Oh, Rosie." She repeated, her hands carding through my hair. "You did the right thing. I never wanted this for you. You are my baby. I was supposed to be the one protecting you."

"You tried."

Her hands cupped my cheeks. "Did you tell your Dad? And Diane?"

I nodded mutely, "I had to. I had no other choice."

"My stubborn girl. Always trying to be independent." She murmured before patting the seat beside her. Clearly she didn't remember all of the promises she had me make. "How -." She paused, a furrow between her brows as she tried to find the right words. "How long has it been?"

I slipped into the seat beside her, my hands resting on my knees. I exhaled slowly, my breath shuddering past my lips. There was no way I could meet her stare as I spoke. Instead, my attention focused intensely on a bee as it landed on a flower. In that moment, the bee was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen in my life

"It's been almost ten years since your diagnosis."

She swallowed loudly. "How long -?"

My heart clenched. She didn't had to say the words. I could feel them as if they had been shouted out loud. How long did she had left?

"I don't know." I whispered, hoping my words would be carried on the breeze. A cool trail swept down my cheek.

Her hand came to rest over mine. Her fingers squeezed my gently, as if to give me comfort. It was bittersweet. I was both happy to have her back and sad that this would only be temporary. There was no cure for this disease. There was no way to reverse the fortunes we had been dealt.

She was my best friend. She was my only friend.

"I don't want to lose you." I murmured quietly, aware of her carer hovering just a few feet away.

The young girl had turned away, attempting to give us a modicum of privacy. The small gesture meant the world when my heart was getting torn to pieces.

"You'll always have me." Evelyn replied softly.

But I won't.

I wanted to say the words aloud but I couldn't. They were a confession I couldn't speak aloud. Somehow, saying them to her now would make them true. And I wasn't ready to face it.

Desperation had me clawing for something, anything else to say.

"So, have you found yourself a boyfriend – or girlfriend – yet?"

I gasped, my head shaking in protest. "Mum!"

"I think you're protesting a little too much there."

"I don't –." I shook my head. "I don't have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend for that matter. I just -. I haven't had time -. Look, can we not talk about this? I want to enjoy this time we have not talk about the state of my love life. Or distinct lack thereof."

Evelyn smiled, her hand coming up to play with my hair. "I want to know what's going on with your life. You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

Unbidden, my mind drifted back to the box. The box hidden in the boot of my car. The box I couldn't talk to anyone else about. The smile on her face in that photo. There were other things that made her happy.

"Are you sure about that?" I whispered, fighting the urge to turn away.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her it was nothing. To sweep it all under the run once more. But, the knowledge that there was an entire side of Mum I didn't know? I couldn't keep silent.

"I know about your affair."

My Mum's hand drifted away. Her face turned away from mine, her back ramrod straight. She sniffed dismissively, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"You don't know what you're talking about." She replied stiffly, her sharp tone cutting into the empty air between us. Her lips pressed into a straight line as she glared at the rose bush opposite.

My eyes closed briefly. I could let it slide. It would be so easy to let it slide and go back to the happy nostalgia of the moments before. We could enjoy the fleeting time we had together.

"I know." The words spilled out before I could stop them. "I found the box, Mum. I know."

***

So, how do you think Evelyn will react?

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, don't for get to drop a comment or a like.