Judy Garland's Picking it Up

‘Hello Mum, how are you today?’ I lean in to distinguish her words.

‘Well I’ve been busy.’

‘Oh, yeah. What’ve you been up to?’

‘Teaching Judy Garland to tap dance.’

‘She any good?’

‘Well, she’s picking it up, but she’s not very good. Unlike you.’

Her knuckle shines as she points her index finger at me. I stroke her cheek, it is so soft. Barely a line. Just soap and water - always. Her eyes close. She grimaces as I squeeze her hand.

‘You taught me everything I know.’

She digs her nail in and glares at me. Looks away. She glares again and pushes me away.

An odour of stale cheese permeates the air. I look under her sheet. That’s not her nightie! Her shin dressing’s wet. I go to the door to find a carer. Nobody around, except Bill. Bill’s wandering. Slipper-less. His jogging bottoms soaked at the front. He’s coming towards me. No Bill, go away. I go back in Mum’s room and close the door behind me.

Mum’s asleep. A click at the door shows me the handle moving from forty-five to ninety degrees. It opens. No Bill, just go away! I get up and link his arm and walk him down the corridor. I sniff. Fish! I see a carer. I say Bill was in Mum’s room. They say “it happens”. I say that Mum’s dressing needs changing. Told that that they’ll ring the district nurse, but it was the weekend, so couldn’t promise anything.

I return to Mum. I look towards her telly – Mickey Rooney comes on. Mum wakes up. She reaches for my hand and pulls me towards her. She nods towards the telly.

She whispers ‘Irritating prick!’

Mum throws her head back and belly laughs. I see her gapped teeth, shadowed towards the gum-line. I smile back. She reaches for my face. She scratches it, then glares at me.

I tell her I’m going now and I’ll turn her telly off. We both look over, Judy Garland comes back on.

Mum gestures towards the screen, she mouth’s ‘Useless!’

‘You need to give her a few more tips.’

I hunt for the remote control. It’s nowhere to be seen. I switch the telly off at the wall. I go and find a carer to let them know I’m going and say that Mum’s remote is missing. Told that “that keeps happening, it’ll turn up”. I’m handed a letter. It tells me Mum’s fees are going up from £4,500 to £5,000 per month.

*

I arrive home and ring round a few care homes. Monthly costs are anything from £6,000 to £8,000. I open my computer, log on to Mum’s bank. I update the standing order for the home to £5,000 per month.