Time to Let Go (15 page)

“Don’t be ridiculous. Assaulting a police officer because I am pointing out
some errors of judgement?” he shouted even louder. “What has become of this country, can you tell me that?”

“I am telling you to stay calm,” the officer repeated calmly while other police officers started to watch the scene unfolding more closely.

Walter’s rage took complete hold and he kicked his car tyres and slammed his fist on the bonnet. “Bugger calm down!”

“Mr Korhonen,
please restrain yourself!” the officer warned him, but Walter had had enough and let out an angry scream. “For heaven’s sake!”

The policeman opened his book and started to write.

“Mr. Korhonen, I am warning you for the last time.”

“What are you going to do? Arrest me for speaking my mind? I have blown in your stupid breathalyser, I listened to your patronising speech and you want more? What is wrong with you?”

“That’s it, Mr Korhonen. No way am I going to let you carry on like this. You have been driving recklessly and dangerously. I will book you for that and confiscate your licence. You can come to the police station tomorrow and pay the fine. You will leave the car parked here and make your way home by other means. You are lucky that I am not booking you for disorderly conduct and resistance to an officer of the law.”

Walter stood motionless for a second as the news hit him, then the rage welled up again.

“I hope you feel proud of yourself!” Walter hissed at the man. “Arresting a law abiding citizen because of his age and in the meantime you let young drunkards terrorise the roads. Well done.”

There was more writing into the notebook but no reply. A different officer took over from here. “I advise you to be very quiet now,” the
policeman said, taking the car keys from Walter’s hand. He got into Walter’s car and parked it properly in a small layby.

Walter refused the offer of a lift home and decided to walk. His rage gradually gave way to embarrassment. Why had he let himself go in that way, when he knew that such a tactic never went down well with policemen? There was no arguing with them ever. He should have just sucked up to them and
he would have been home by now: with his licence, his car and his dignity.

The thought of having to explain the missing car to Hanna in the morning was anything but pleasant.

Fortunately, when he finally got back home the two women had both already retreated to their rooms for the night. After a few chapters of the Civil War book he called it a night as well and went to bed.

The next morning the alarm went off, again
late and halfway through the headlines. It was not like Walter to have forgotten to fix the old radio. He had meant to do that yesterday. What was happening to him? Without disturbing his wife he got up and went to the bathroom.

He had slept poorly, reliving the anger from the encounter with the police, and the shame of it.

Sunday was the one day a week he let Biddy sleep until she woke up by naturally. In her life before Alzheimer’s disease she had always enjoyed a slightly altered routine and he saw no reason why he should not keep that regular irregularity. Hanna was already awake, or at least he could hear her music.

After lengthy consideration he decided to ring his son Henrik before everyone
else got up, so nobody could hear all the humiliating details of last night. Henrik’s discretion and confidentiality were reliable enough and, being used to shift work at the hotels, he was available for calls at all times.

“I am sure this is no big thing,” Henrik assured him calmly once he heard the story. “I am actually not too far from you at the moment. I was half thinking of coming to see you anyway while Hanna is still there. I’ll get in the car now and I will see you in about an hour.  I can come to the police station with you and explain that you are under stress because of mother and that you are very sorry, blah
blah blah. Trust me; we can sort this out before lunch time.”

“Thank you
,” said a very relieved Walter.

His son had such an air of authority about him, Walter felt surprisingly comforted by it. Now all
he had to do was to make sure Hanna did not see him coming back in the car that was supposedly parked inside the garage. Or, he could just tell them that he had been drinking yesterday and responsibly left the car near the pub. But he was a bad liar and Hanna might offer to drop him off where he allegedly had left it. He wished Henrik was here already to take care of it.

“How was your evening out?” Hanna asked when she came down for breakfast. She put the kettle on and started putting out plates for the family.

“Fine. Just fine,” Walter replied. He backed into the corner to get out of her way. “Would you like some toast?” he offered, with excessive sincerity.

“No thanks, I’ll stick
to my cereal,” Hanna replied, starting to take things out of the fridge and put them onto the table.

“Of course
, how silly of me.”

“Where did you go last night?” Hanna asked without looking up from her business.

“A sports pub in the centre, I can’t remember the name. I watched an old game that was quite controversial at the time. It was fun.”

“Are you sure?” Hanna asked. “You don’t sound very happy.”

“Yes, I am sure,” he said, backing physically and psychologically more into the corner. “I am just tired.”

She looked quickly at him with raised eyebrows and then sat down at the table, mixing yoghurt, fruit and cereal in a bowl. 

“I better go upstairs and check that your mother is alright,” he said and quickly dashed out of the room, but he was back within a minute.

“Your mother is still
sound asleep. What did you do to tire her out?”

“I did nothing at
all, Dad. You saw what we did: we watched a film and then she fell asleep.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you? Yes, I am quite sure that is all I did. Doesn’t she usually sleep until you wake her up?”

“Not this long.”

“Go wake her up then. She didn’t stay up very late so you won’t do her any harm.”

Walter shot her an angry look and left the kitchen. He retreated into his reading chair in the living room with the Civil War book and left her to her own devices.

Biddy finally stirred and Walter ran upstairs to assist her in her morning routine. It was almost nine o’clock and this was late by his standards but most houses around them were still without lights.

The extra sleep had done little to help his wife and her sense of orienta
tion, and she had a dreadful morning. She headed for the shower then something around the sink took her attention, and she went back and forth until Walter man-handled her into the shower.

“Come on now, Biddy. The water is warm now, don’t waste it by messing about,” he insisted.

“But I need to…” she started.

“No, you need not,” he said abruptly. “Be nice now and get into the shower.”

Her body shrugged at the tone and obediently she went into the shower.

Afterwards she went to the sink and started to brush her teeth but then she suddenly put the brush down on top of the dirty laundry basket and stared out of the window. Walter rushed to grab the tooth brush.

“Biddy that is full of germs now,” he said with a sigh. He would have to clean the brush or buy a new one.

“Some days you are just like a loose ca
nnon,” he said under his breath

Hanna was still at the breakfast table browsing through yesterday’s paper when her parents came down.

“Please leave the butter on the table,” she told her mother who, instead of sitting down, began to put things away into the cupboard.

“Oh, you still need it, do you?”

“Yes Biddy. You might need it also for your own toast,” she added.

“I see,” Biddy said slowly and then she picked up the yoghurt and put it into the fridge.

Walter was going to take it off her but Hanna gestured him to leave it.

“Tell me about your family, Biddy. What are the names of your brothers?” she asked.

Now it was Walter’s turn to gesture at Hanna but she ignored his cut-throat gesture.

“She knows that kind of stuff,” she mouthed to her father and indeed, Biddy started to reel off the names of her family members.

“I am the youngest. Mark and Rosie are older but near my age,” Biddy told the two of them. “Thomas and John are a bit older than us.”

“How much older are they?” Hanna asked.

“Four and five years,” Biddy replied.

Walter just shook his head with disapproval but Hanna still ignored him.

“Five years is not that much,” she said.

“It is, too,” Biddy insisted.

“Who are your best friends from school?”

“Liz
and I. We had desks next to each other. Her father used to own the big furniture shop, but then they sold it and it became a supermarket.”

“Didn’t Mark go out with Liz at some point?” Walter asked her.

“No, but Martin did.”

“And who did Martin get married to?” he asked.

“Minnie,” Biddy said.

The doorbell interrupted their memory game.

“Surprise!” Henrik called out as he entered the kitchen.

“You!” exclaimed Biddy and clapped
her hands excitedly. “You! My God, it is you!”

She jumped up and ran into his arms, hugging him tight
ly. “You! You! You!”

“Yes. Biddy, it’s me!” Henrik said laughing. “Me! Me! Me!” and then he picked his mother up and swirled her
around.

He was wearing a suit and a tie and looked like he had just come from a business meeting. Tall and red haired he
looked like the archetypal Scandinavian.

“Having a young and handsome wife has done wonders to your physique,”
Hanna commented. “You clearly must be working out now, too. Your skin looks so fresh and healthy. Well done you!”

“Thanks.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Hanna asked her brother.

“I didn’t know until the last minute if I could make it,” he explained.

Biddy would not let go of her son and looked at him with warm and loving eyes.

“How long are you here for?” Hanna asked.

“I can only stay until this afternoon. I need to get back to Wales tonight; I have important meetings tomorrow all day long.”

“That’s a shame,” Hanna replied.

“Yes, it is.”

“How is Sunita?”

“She is great, thanks for asking. She is in Mauritius a
t the moment on a photo shoot: a place that, allegedly, once belonged to Princess Stephanie. Sunita sent some pictures by phone. Really nice from what I can tell.”

“Splendid,” Walter said half-heartedly.

“How are you mother?” Henrik asked Biddy.

“Mother, who are you calling mother?” Biddy replied laughing. “I’m not that old.”

“How are you anyway?” asked Henrik.

“Happy. Really happy,” she replied, lost for words and disorientated, but positively glowing.

“Hanna, why don’t you and your mother do some of your stretches? I need to speak to your brother about a few things in private. Would that be all right?”

“I am not sure we can get her to let him alone,” Hanna pointed out. “Look how she holds on to him.”

“Fine, I have another plan then. I left my car in town yesterday because I had a pint. Henrik and I are going to get it,” Walter suggested.

“I am not so sure about that - now that she has seen him. I think you better give her some serious time with him before taking him away again,” Hanna insisted.” I could always drop you off in town instead.”

“No, I think Henrik and I will just go. Once we are out of the door she will be fine,” Walter said and pulled on Henrik’s arm.

His son got up and broke free from Biddy’s embrace.

“No!” Biddy wailed, but the two men left regardless.

In the car father and son had a heated discussion, which had nothing to do with the impending negotiations with the police. As soon as the two of them had left the house Henrik began the same conversation that he had had with his father many times over the past few months.

“When are you going to get her into a home, Dad?”

“I have no intention of doing that to your mother. I made vows: for better and for worse, in sickness and in health. While I can still look after her, she will stay with me,” Walter replied passionately.

“That is great sentiment and I am
sure she would appreciate it: if only she could understand it. Or if it made any sense!” Henrik said sarcastically.

“She still understands a lot,” Walter shot back.

“That may well be correct now,” Henrik said. “What is she, early stage two? Moderate…middle stage...what do you call it?”

“I am not sure, but I guess what you said
is right,” Walter said hesitatingly.

“What do the doctors say? You must have regular check-ups!”

“Yes of course, but there have not been any changes lately: it is all perfectly under control.”

“And they don’t advise you to put her in a home, they don’t offer home care? Then they don’t seem very competent to me,” Henrik sneered.

“What is it to you anyway? You are never here,” Walter replied angrily. “If this is your way of telling me that you can’t help us anymore in the future because of some work commitments or other reasons, then that is fine with me. Please don’t worry about us. We can manage without your help if we have to. The little you can do from Wales is easily replaced but your mother will not be institutionalised.”

“You
have got to put her somewhere: she needs proper care,” Henrik implored.

“She needs her family and people who love her,” Walter replied. “She has proper care!”

“Dad, this is ridiculous. Look at yourself this morning. There were three of us at the table with her and none of us could get a full conversation out of her. She is gone. You are wasting your life with dressing up a doll and pretending that doll is your wife. Think of what you could do with that time. My God, you don’t know how much time you have got left yourself.”

“Henrik, be that as it may. I made that commitment to your mother and if the roles were reversed
, she would do the same for me or for any of you. We have been married for most of our lives. I can’t and won’t just put her away. If she was physically ill and needed medical attention then that would be a different matter but I can do everything that she needs doing. I am not going to run away from the responsibility and desert her. That is not the person I am. You know that.”

“Maybe you have the wrong ideas about these homes,” Henrik continued. “In these places there are trained personnel, nurses with specialised skills and
occupational therapists. I have researched a few on the Internet and they are not out of your financial league. You may have to make a few sacrifices but it would be the humane thing to do, and give her a better life than she has now,” Henrik insisted.

“Your mother has the life she wants. She chose to be with me and she would do so again and again.
As her husband, her life partner, her companion of over 50 years, of that I am certain. If she could make the decision herself that is what she would say,” Walter declared pompously.

“Do you really think that? Don’t you think she would want you to be happy and
make better use the time you have left? What you have done so far is fantastic and it was the best thing for her up to now, but you don’t see how far she has gone because you see her every day. I have not seen her for a few weeks...”