The Last Time I Saw Him

by Jane Scoggins

How easy it is for the years slip by. One minute you are twenty and next you are forty. Linda got out the car and glanced as she always did at the old brick chimney stack rising tall and singular against the sky and hurried towards the entrance of St Lukes.

Joan was waiting for her in her small purpose-built flat that was always too hot. In recent weeks it had an added smell of Linda knew not what but thought it was supposed to represent the floral aroma of lavender. The smell emanated from one of those plug-in air fresheners. Linda imagined that the gadget had been bought by one of the daily carers in order to mask some underlying odour from Joan that could not be removed sufficiently with soap and water.

Auntie Joan was old and it was expected that she might by now be suffering from a few old age ailments and possibly that included a bit of incontinence. Auntie Joan had always been so well turned out, clean, spruce and smelling of soap. Ashes of Roses had always been her favourite since Linda was a little girl. Since she had been in St Luke’s sheltered accommodation she had gone a bit downhill and this was upsetting to Linda, who preferred to think of Joan in her younger days.

Joan had stepped in to help care for Linda and her brother David when her mum had been diagnosed with MS. They had started by going round after school to have their tea with Auntie Joan and Uncle Ted, and when Mum deteriorated further Linda had had to help out a lot at home. Joan had been a brick and Linda could not imagine how she would have coped without her, especially when her Dad moved out. In the end, he had not been able to cope with the sight of his wife deteriorating in front of his eyes and feeling helpless to do anything about it. Mum said she understood. She knew he loved her and that he couldn’t cope with the stress. Linda thought she was too forgiving and that her Dad was a weak man. Linda a teenager by then rebelled in more ways than one. Worse was to follow when her mum died and all that led up to her death still played on Linda’s mind. She had not seen her father since the funeral. Linda was certain he had stayed away out of guilt for leaving them, and maybe because he had found another woman to take mum’s place Linda had decided not to give in to forgiveness for many years, but as time passed she thought more about him. David had emigrated. Sad that a once happy family could be so lost to each other.

The brick chimney at St Luke’s symbolised the last trace of Rochford Hospital before it was pulled down making way for new housing, including St Luke’s. Rochford Hospital was where she and her brother had been born, where her mum had come to outpatients and where she herself had been an inpatient after her breakdown It had also been the place where…

‘All done and dusted Mrs Bateman, see you on Wednesday ‘the carer’s cheery voice was saying as she was leaving Joan’s flat.’

‘Hello Linda, your auntie has just told me you are on your way so that is timed just right. Goodbye’

Joan Bateman smiled at Linda from her armchair as she walked in. She studied her face as she reached up her cheek to be kissed.

Linda felt in her handbag and brought out an envelope

and silently raised her eyes to meet Joan’s.

‘You’ve heard something then?’ said Joan quietly.

‘Yes, this mornings post,’

Joan patted the stool beside her and without taking off her coat Linda sat down. They both looked at the white envelope with the red logo.

Joan waited with the patience of years and wisdom and knew there was no hurry to know what words lay on the sheet of paper.

‘They have found him, Auntie Joan’.

The simple statement held twenty years of memories, and time stood still for them both.

‘The last time I saw him was here, isn’t it ironical?

Joan said nothing, but put out her hand and held Linda’s’.

He wants to see me. I don’t know how I feel. I am excited and afraid at the same time.

Why not bring him here and we can talk to him together, this is after all the place he was born.

I still have the blue blanket and his name tag.

Will he forgive me for having him adopted though?

When he hears your story and meets you he cannot fail to forgive you

You did nothing wrong and twenty years ago you were young, a different person, you did right by him. Time has healed us all and. you have put the past behind you.

‘Put the kettle on and let's talk. Maybe it is time now to start putting this family back together, its what your mum would have wanted.