Chapter 17

Dr Jarman pulled up the chair from the other side of the bed and sat down, carefully adjusting the crease in his trousers.

"I expect you must be feeling pretty disorientated, Mrs Thompson, but I'm sure you'll understand once I've explained the situation. You see," he leaned forward in the chair with his hands clasped in front of him, "for some years now you have been suffering from Alzheimer's disease."

Tilly stared at him in astonishment and disbelief.

"And for the last six years we have been treating you here at Green Gables."

Tilly shook her head.

"I haven't time for all this nonsense. I want to find out what's happened to my husband."

The doctor held up his hand. "Please, just bear with me a moment. Your husband is perfectly safe. He is, in fact, here in this very building and I shall take you through to see him presently. But I must explain a few things first."

Tilly had begun to shake her head again when the young woman in the ridiculous fancy-dress came back in with a tray. The need for a proper cup of tea overrode all her other feelings and she reached for the cup, sniffing it suspiciously before taking a sip. It was all right. A little heavy on the milk and slightly stewed, but sugar-free.

"I'll tell you what would be nice, Gilly," the doctor said, taking a sip of his own tea and grimacing slightly. Could you make a fresh one? In a pot, not the urn? And bring it through with a jug of milk? Thank you."

He turned back to Tilly, confident that the girl would do as she was told.

"Now," he said, "let me explain."

He paused, his fingers steepled in front of him, looking over them at Tilly.

"What year is it, Mrs Thompson?"

Tilly looked at him in surprise. It was 1997, wasn't it? She stopped to think. Their fiftieth wedding anniversary was in 1995 and that was surely no more than two years ago.

"1997?" she ventured, less sure than she would like to be,

"The date today," Dr Jarman consulted his watch, "is the seventh of April 2004." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "You were diagnosed with Alzheimer's six years ago and you were taken on as an outpatient here at Green Gables. Green Gables is a nursing home, but it has a specialist unit treating and researching Alzheimer's."

Tilly gave him a jaundiced look, but continued sipping her tea. She didn't believe a word of this.

"Your doctor thought you should have been taken in as a full-time patient two years ago, but your husband wouldn't hear of it. He insisted on looking after you at home, even though he was becoming increasingly frail himself."

Tilly couldn't quite take all this in. She couldn't imagine Johnny being frail. She looked away from Dr Jarman and shifted her position on the bed. From her new perspective she could see her own reflection in the dressing tale mirror and she started with surprise. Her hair had gone white overnight!

For the first time she began to believe that the doctor may be telling her the truth. She continued to stare at her reflection in horror while Dr Jarman went on, "Then, six months ago Mr Thompson had a stroke."

"What!" The hand that was holding her tea began to shake and she carefully put the cup back on the tray. It clattered as it settled on the saucer.

"Is he? Is he ..." she began, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

"He is recovering slowly. He has lost significant function on his right side and his speech is affected a little. But he could make a complete recovery with the right encouragement?"

"Take me to him right now!" Tilly put the tray to one side and started to get off the bed. Dr Jarman held his hands up.

"Wait. Wait a minute."

She ignored him and began looking round for a pair of shoes. Surely they had left her some shoes?

The nurse, or whatever she was, Gilly, came back in the room with a new tray.

There they were, at the other side of the bed, almost hidden underneath - a pair of black brogues. She winced as she put them on. They were going to be horribly uncomfortable. She had worn hand-made shoes for the best part of fifty years - no, change that - if the doctor was telling the truth, the best part of sixty years. Oh, God. She was having such trouble understanding all this.

"Come on, Mrs Thompson," the doctor took her by the arm. "I'll take you to him now. Gilly, could you follow us and bring the tray."

Together they went out of the door and into a long passageway. The 1940s theme prevailed here, too. The walls were painted institution green and there were photographs of the old King and Queen and of Winston Churchill, cigar in his mouth, giving the victory sign.

On the way to the door at the end of the passageway, they passed several other rooms. One of the doors was open and Tilly saw a very old man sitting up in a bed very similar to the one she had just left, staring vacantly ahead. She shivered and followed the doctor to the end of the passage, where he took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

"We were locked in!"

"We had to isolate you from the other patients," the doctor said. "You'll understand why later."

Tilly pressed her lips together. She could think of lots of good reasons why it was not a good idea to lock people in; if there were a fire, for instance. But she held her peace. Right now, all she cared about was seeing Johnny.

****

At the other side of the door was a passage decorated in a more modern style - white walls with pleasant prints by famous artists. The odd glimpse she caught through open doors showed comfortably-furnished rooms. She was back in the real world.

"We're in the main part of the nursing home, now," Dr Jarman said over his shoulder. The hospital wing is along the next passage. And he turned to the right, into a broad, glass-lined corridor with swinging doors at the end.

They passed a series of doors with notices bearing doctors' names - one of them being DR P JARMAN - passing signs saying, 'X-RAY UNIT' and 'PHYSIOTHERAPY', and finally into another passage with conventional hospital numbered doors.

"Here we are," said the doctor, stopping outside door number six.