Human Remains

the emphasis on the second syllable that is quite different from the way everyone else says it. Freed Land. The only reason I don’t correct her is that she possibly uses the same pronunciation in addressing my mother. The thought of this, and of course my mother’s inability to express her indignation, gives me some amusement.
    ‘Yes, speaking,’ I said, feigning ignorance.
    ‘Mr Freed Land, it is Matron here. From the Larches.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said again.
    ‘Your mother is quite well, there’s no need to worry.’
    ‘Oh, good,’ I said.
    ‘However she does miss you terribly.’
    I doubt that very much
, I thought. ‘Really? Are you sure she even realises where she is?’
    ‘On occasion she does. She has lucid moments. And in those moments she seems to feel the loss of you most acutely. You haven’t been to see her in such a very long time, Mr Freed Land.’
    ‘I’ve been very busy,’ I said. ‘Work has been hectic.’
    ‘And at the weekends?’
    ‘Look, I’ll try to get up there on Sunday, alright? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend to.’
    ‘Of course, of course. We will see you then.’
    Damn the woman, ruining a perfectly interesting evening with her twaddle. What is the point of going to see my mother, anyway? The chances of her having a ‘lucid’ moment in the half-hour I happen to be there are so remote as to be negligible. And if she were lucid, the idea of it is almost too horrible to contemplate; after all this time, what would we even say to each other? Nevertheless, I will think about going on Sunday, if only to stop that dreadful woman phoning me for a while.
    She calls less frequently now than she did. Last year, when my mother had the stroke that took away her ability to function as an adult human being, the nursing home was only too happy to accept her. It didn’t take me long to find a loophole in the government’s policy for critical illness care that meant her fees were fully funded. They didn’t seem quite so happy about it then, though I’ve no idea why – after all, they get their payment just the same, and more reliably too, I would have thought, since that particular income flow will never run dry. I have the feeling that they want me to stay in touch so they can squeeze more money out of me, money for things that the funding doesn’t quite stretch to. But what good would it do, to have a flat-screen television in her room, when there’s a perfectly good set in the day room she can watch if she’s so inclined? Why does she need shoes, when she’s never going to set foot outside the door?
    I tried to explain all this once, but the Matron’s tone became decidedly brisk. After that particular conversation – which concluded with her saying something about me visiting my mother once in a while in a sarcastic tone which I could quite have done without – I started to leave the phone to ring when I saw the number for the home on the caller display. Before too long she didn’t even bother to leave a message.
    I’m perfectly willing to visit my mother. In fact, it’s something I look forward to on occasion – a nice trip out on a sunny weekend, buying her some chocolate on the way and then eating it in her room because, after all, she can’t eat it herself, can she? – but I absolutely refuse to be told by some dried-up matron when I should do so.
    As I refuse to be told by anybody what I should do.
    In any case, I have plans for this weekend and I expect to be particularly busy. So many of my research projects are about to come to fruition – glorious transformations, not to be missed.
     

Briarstone Chronicle
     
    Aug
ust
Death of Pianist ‘Tragic Waste’
     
    The body of former concert pianist Noel Gardiner was discovered at the Catswood home he shared with his partner, vocalist Larry Scott, last Sunday. It is believed the body of Mr Gardiner had lain undiscovered for ‘some time’, according to police sources.
    Mr Scott’s death from a heart attack at the age of 59 was reported by the
Chronicle
in May. Friends said yesterday that Mr Gardiner had become very withdrawn following the bereavement.
    ‘We tried to get him out and about,’ said a friend, who did not wish to be named. ‘But he missed Larry dreadfully. They were always together.’
    Noel Gardiner was a talented musician who had performed with orchestras around the world. Tributes poured in following the announcement of his death and several bouquets have been laid outside