Tea is drunk swiftly and she tells me she has to go. "Will you be at the hospital?"
She nods and I let her go, I note that she didn't touch her toast or anything else for breakfast. I sigh and clear the table. I wash and dress quickly then head out. At the hospital I make the rounds. I thought after last night she would be more visible but she isn't. I don't know what I expected to happen.
Grief is a process, Lord knows I have said that to patients on many occasions. There is no magic wand I can wave to make her better. The day passes and eventually it is time for me to come home. I sling my jacket over a chair and pour myself a whisky. I'm just about to take a sip when there is knock at my door. I have an inkling of who is out there. I open the door and see her. She opens her mouth as to speak but then shuts it. I look at her and I see she is holding a suitcase.
This is it, she is leaving and it doesn't really come as a surprise more of a disappointment. Besides her grandson she has no more ties here. I remember the power struggle between her and Cora and how she left for France. I don't want her to leave but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and I can't tell her. She draws breath and whispers, "Can I come in?"
I nod furiously, I will do anything to get her to stay, and move out of the way so she can come in. She stands by the table, her suitcase still in hand. "I can't stand Crawley House. If I leave it as it is all I can see is Matthew. If I change it...it seems wrong."
I think about what she is saying and I find truth in it. She would either be living in a mausoleum or be accused of forgetting her son. Once again I find myself angry at the social conformities that are actually constraints. I nearly miss it when she starts speaking again, "I know I was rude to you, I want to tell you that I didn't know what you were asking that day, but that's a lie. I knew what you were asking I was just a coward to say yes."
My tongue is suddenly loose, "And now?"
She emits a tiny sob, "I want so many things, H.G. Wells's time machine would be a good start."
"You read that book?" I ask not knowing what else to say.
She nods and I finally take a sip of whisky reaching out with my other hand to take her suitcase. Our hands touch and she looks at me. I can see in her eyes a mixture of want, regret and sorrow. "Oh Isobel" I whisper, her head bows and I can see a tear fall onto my rug. The suitcase is put down and I use a foot to move it away and I put my tumbler down so I can hold her properly. She doesn't cry for very long before she stills. When she's done I push up her chin to look at her. "Come on lass let's get you sorted." Together we make up the spare bed. "Can we start over?" she asks quietly.
I stare at the bed, "did I miss a corner?"
She emits a chuckle, "No I meant…" she waves a hand between us and suddenly I understand.
It is in this moment that I could truly destroy her but I could never do that. "I would like that" is my answer.
There is some awkwardness, I've never shared a home before. Stupidly I thought it would be the same as when we are working. We mesh well in the hospital, we both have our desks and other communal spaces. We never seem to impede one another Label me an idiot but I thought it would be same here, oh the things you learn Richard.
It's a relief to be in my own bed and I'm glad that Isobel is just down the hall in the other room. Sleep finds me quickly. Once again I am awoken roughly, at first I don't know why, then I hear it. I fling the covers the aside and race to her room.