Feels Like Home (10 page)

An overpowering smell of antiseptic assaulted Jo's nostrils as she took in the room that her mother called home. A single bed covered with a mauve quilted bedspread — not a choice she would normally associate with her mother — took up one wall. Under the window sat the mahogany dressing table from Katherine's bedroom at home. Nanna's hairbrush and silver comb took pride of place under the oval mirror just as they always had. The tapestry-covered footstool sat beside the bed. All the other furniture in the room was unfamiliar: a cheap-looking set of pine drawers and a large grey recliner. In the recliner slumped a tiny twig of a woman. She wore a faded pink woollen cardigan, worn at the elbows, atop a drab grey dress. A pair of grubby beige slippers completed the outfit. The woman didn't appear to notice their presence. Her head was tilted forward, her attention focused on her upturned palms, so Jo couldn't see her face properly. A faint muttering sound came from her lips but the nonsensical utterance did not seem intended for anyone but herself. There had to be some mistake. This shell of a woman couldn't possibly be her mother. For starters she looked years older than Katherine, but more importantly those were not her mother's clothes. There was no way she would be caught dead in such an unfashionable outfit. Style was pretty much Katherine's middle name. Jo looked at Carol, ‘I think there's been some sort of error,' she said, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. ‘This is not my mother.'

Carol's eyes radiated sympathy. ‘I'm sure her appearance has changed since you last saw her. We do our best to make sure the residents are adequately nourished but many of our dementia patients experience appetite changes. Some may eat excessively and some, like your mum, eat very little. She's probably lost a bit of weight since you saw her last.'

‘But her hair's grey. My mother doesn't have grey hair. And her clothes. Those are most definitely not her clothes.'

Carol nodded. ‘We have a hairdresser who visits here, who will cut and colour the residents' hair, but Katherine refuses to go. It's distressing for her, so we don't force the issue. As far as her wardrobe is concerned that's a matter of practicality. With no family visiting regularly we purchase her clothes for her. They're chosen for durability, not fashion.'

‘But she must have arrived with her own clothes. My father would have made sure she had her own things.'

‘I'm sure she did, but that was a while ago now. Clothes wear out easily here. They're washed and dried in industrial machines. Unfortunately we can't specially launder clothes. You're welcome to take a look at what's in her wardrobe to see what she has. If you wish to purchase new clothes at any time, I'll personally ensure they get to her.'

A sick feeling settled in Jo's chest. This was her fault. Katherine looked like a pathetic little old lady because she hadn't cared enough to think about where her mother's clothes came from. Other patients probably had good daughters. Ones that came and took care of their parent's grooming and made sure they were eating properly. Not her poor mother. Katherine had raised a daughter who was selfish. One who'd been off living the high life, thinking that so long as the nursing-home bills were paid and she checked in via email every now and then, her job was done. She had no idea what the reality of her mother's life was. Jo made a silent vow that from now on things would be different.

Carol addressed the woman. ‘Hello there, Katie. Look who I've brought to see you.'

Katie?
Katherine Morgan despised nicknames. She made it clear to all and sundry that her name was Katherine. Not Kathy or Kath, and most certainly not Katie. Dear god, what was going on here?

The woman looked up. ‘Is it tea time already?' The voice was weak and raspy but there was no doubting the identity of the speaker.

‘Mum,' Jo whispered, the rarely used title slipping out unintentionally. ‘Oh Katherine, it's me, Johanna.'

Katherine looked up and her lips stretched into a wide smile, one Jo was not accustomed to seeing. ‘What a coincidence. I have a little girl named Johanna.'

‘Katie, this
is
your Johanna, all grown up. She's come all the way from America to visit you.' Carol's voice had an unnatural singsong quality to it, as if she was addressing a toddler. No wonder Katherine chose to ignore her.

Instead the slight but cheerful woman who was apparently her mother turned to Jo. ‘Are you here for a visit? I love visitors.'

Jo nodded, not trusting herself to speak just yet.

‘Sit yourself down then and tell me something worth knowing.'

Jo's spirits lifted slightly. Katherine was still in there somewhere.

‘I'll leave you to it,' Carol said, as Jo followed instructions and sat on the end of her mother's bed. ‘If you need anything you can ask one of the carers at the station just inside the wing entrance. You can get the code to get out from there too.'

‘Thank you,' Jo said. Carol closed the door behind her, leaving her alone with the stranger that her mother had become.

‘Well,' Katherine demanded, ‘what's your news? What brings you here?'

‘I'm back home for Stephanie Fielding's wedding. I'm to be her bridesmaid.'

Katherine's face became animated at the mention of Steph's name. Maybe she was starting to realise who Jo was. She screwed up her nose in distaste. ‘Pah. Don't talk to me about weddings. Silly girl. What's she thinking, throwing her life away like that? Tell me she's not hitching her wagon to some farmer?'

Jo felt her cheeks burning. ‘Yes, both she and her fiancé are farmers. They plan to raise crops and run some sheep. They have a beautiful property, right near Kallara. I'm sure they'll both be very happy there.'

Katherine shook her head. ‘Thank god my girl had more sense than that. She got away from this hellhole. Went off to finish her degree in America. She's a smart one, my Johanna.'

A lump formed in Jo's throat and she found herself unable to speak. The pride in her mother's voice was unmistakable. Her whole life she'd hungered for Katherine's love and approval. This was as close as she'd come.

Katherine went on, seemingly oblivious to the effect of her words. ‘I was a bit worried for a while there. When she was a teenager she took up with a local lad. Nice enough boy, but no ambition, you know what I mean?'

Fortunately Katherine seemed to think the question was rhetorical and Jo was spared the pain of answering.

‘He was destined to be a farmer. It was in his blood. I didn't want my girl making the same mistake I did.'

‘What mistake was that?' Jo's tone was harsh but Katherine didn't seem to notice. She'd warmed to this topic and was eager to go on.

‘Being stuck in a backwater with a man who thought passing comment on the weather was an in-depth conversation.'

Heat flooded Jo's cheeks at this stinging assessment of her beloved Dad. ‘Surely it wasn't all bad?'

Katherine rolled her eyes. ‘It was the pits.'

Anger knotted Jo's stomach. How could she have doubted that this woman was her mother? Her memory might have faded but her bitterness was as sharp as ever. ‘What made you stay? If it was as bad as you say surely you could have left?'

Katherine's pale hand moved to her throat and she fingered the small gold cross that hung there. ‘It was my penance,' she said. ‘I'd already committed one cardinal sin. I couldn't risk another stain on my soul.'

Sin? What sin? Had her mother murdered someone or had a secret affair? The thought was both thrilling and horrifying in equal parts. Before Jo could press her further on the issue, Katherine returned to her thoughts on Jo's relationship with Ryan.

‘At least my Johanna had the sense to make a life for herself.' Katherine lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘And I played my part in making sure she didn't repeat my mistakes.'

What did she mean? Had Katherine done something to drive Ryan away? ‘Really?' Jo worked hard to keep her voice casual. ‘How did you do that?'

Katherine shrugged. ‘It wasn't too hard. Men are all the same, you know. Full of ego. Once Johanna left for the States I just planted a few seeds of doubt in the boy's mind. That's all it took to convince him she was never coming back, that she didn't love him enough to return. Foolish boy went and sought solace in the arms of the first girl that made eyes at him. The fact that the girl got pregnant, well…' Katherine looked up at her with a satisfied smile, ‘…that was just the icing on the cake.'

CHAPTER

9

‘Dad, you're not listening.'

Ryan put his empty coffee cup on the sink and turned to face his daughter. ‘Sorry pumpkin.'

Ella rocked back on the kitchen chair and screwed up her nose. ‘I told you not to call me that. I'm not a pumpkin.'

‘I know sweetheart, it's just a nickname.'

‘It's a baby name and I'm not a baby anymore. Anyway can I?'

‘Um…' Ryan realised he had no idea what she was asking. Despite his best intentions he hadn't been able to concentrate properly on anything — not even his daughter — since yesterday's fiasco with Joey. He'd been utterly useless all day. First cocking up the client invoicing system, so that a job that should have taken ten minutes spilled over into an hour, then being late for school pick-up from the bus stop. Neither Ella nor the bus driver looked too chipper when he arrived five minutes after the official time. His profuse apologies were met with a gruff response from Bill, the normally cheerful driver. ‘I've got a schedule to keep, Ryan.'

And now he was ignoring his child. Ella, clearly frustrated by his lack of attention, had pushed back against the table so that the timber chair balanced on two legs. ‘Don't rock on the chair, Ella.'

She did as she was told but not before rolling her eyes and letting out a theatrical sigh. ‘Well?'

‘Well, what?'

‘Can I wear lipstick at Steph's wedding? The girls at school say all proper bridesmaids wear lipstick.'

Ryan shook his head. ‘You're not a bridesmaid, you're a flower girl and no, you're not wearing make-up.'

‘That's so unfair. I bet my mum would have let me.'

Ella's words squeezed his heart. He honestly didn't know what Carly would have done in this situation. ‘Look, lipstick is kind of a girl thing. It's not something I know much about. How about I talk to Gran and Steph and see what they think?'

Ella smiled, obviously confident that she had won this battle. ‘Okay.'

‘Now, I have a sick dog out in the clinic that I need to go have a look at. Do you want to help or are you going to go up to Gran's and get started on your homework?'

‘I'll go to Gran's,' she said.

Ryan raised his eyebrows at this unexpected answer. It wasn't like Ella to turn down an opportunity to help out in the clinic. Clearly the lipstick campaign was her first priority. No doubt Gran would be well and truly lobbied for the next half hour or so. He smiled. ‘Okay. Don't forget your school bag.'

With Ella safely despatched to the granny flat Ryan was free to let his mind wander back to the unfortunate events of yesterday. Could have been worse. Much worse.

At least he hadn't actually kissed her.

But the temptation to do so had been overwhelming. How the hell was he going to trust himself to be around her for the next couple of weeks?

He had to start using his head, not his heart — or other organs — to make decisions where Joey was concerned. Even if she was free to be with him, which she wasn't, she would be off home to New York in a few short weeks and he knew he didn't have the ticker for a casual fling. Not with her.

It wouldn't happen again. He wouldn't let it.

As he made his way from the house to the clinic at the end of the driveway he heard a car coming up the road. Hopefully it wasn't another client. He had all the work he could handle right now, although strictly speaking it was his own fault. The trickiest case he had at the moment was a stray labrador pup. A local kid had found her a few days back and brought her in, floppy and lethargic. It was a classic case of parvo. With no owner and no identification, he really should have euthanised her on the spot, but she'd looked at him with those big chocolate eyes and he couldn't bring himself to do it. To be honest he didn't think she'd make it through the first twenty-four hours, but the pup was a fighter and now, three days later, she was starting to look like she might make a full recovery.

The cattle grid clunked as the car turned into his driveway. It was a Jeep, and not one he recognised. Oh bloody hell, it couldn't be…

Jo pulled the car up in front of the clinic. Ryan happened to be standing right there, so there was no backing out. Katherine's words had plagued her all the way back from Bellington. She hadn't managed to get any more detail about exactly what her mother had said, or done, to convince Ryan that taking up with Carly was a good idea. Katherine's mind had wandered from the subject and there was no coaxing her back.

Suddenly everything Jo thought she knew about their break-up was turned on its head. Maybe she'd been wrong all this time and Ryan's betrayal wasn't as inexplicable as she'd thought. She'd found herself driving into Ryan's driveway before she'd had a chance to think about whether seeing him was a good idea or not. Sensible or otherwise, she had to know what had happened after she'd left Linden Gully.

Ryan stood at the clinic's entrance, his arms folded across his chest. Evidently he wasn't thrilled to see her, but that was bad luck, because she wasn't going anywhere until she had some answers.

‘Hi Johanna. What can I do for you?' The words were pleasant enough but they contained no warmth.

No point in beating around the bush then. She sucked in a breath and got straight to the point of the visit. ‘We need to talk.'