Page 59 of Embracing Us

“Possibly, but I think he may want you thrown in as an added extra.” Her face contorts in displeasure before returning to her usual soft look. “He fancied you,” I add.

“What are you talking about?” she mutters. “He was being polite.” Jackson crawls across the floor after his mother. Every so often, his tiny hand reaches out and tries to grab her heel.

“Yes, to get in your knickers. He practically stood here and told me you were hot.”

“And do you agree with him?” she says, her voice silky. “Do you find me hot?”

“You’re a fucking furnace.”

“What’s the problem then?” she asks, her lips quipping into a cheeky smile. She takes a step forward as our son reaches for her foot. He misses, then moves to chase her again. She wanders over to where I stand and wraps her arms around my waist, then looks up at me with her big brown eyes. “Were you jealous, Mr Gordon?” She giggles, then snuggles her face against my chest, kissing me gently through my t-shirt. “Am I dealing with a green-eyed monster this morning?”

“I don’t like other men ogling my wife. Only I’m allowed to look at you as if I want to bend you over the table.” She laughs out loud this time. “Call me possessive.”

“You’re the only man allowed to bend me over a table,” she agrees. “But I think we should both take it as a compliment if he found me attractive. It says a lot for my fitness regime and for your taste in women.” I drop a kiss onto her forehead. “I love you. No other man will ever appeal to me. You are the man I’m meant to be with. You and only you.”

*

With the month of April comes Jackson’s first birthday. Linda and I spend the day at the beach enjoying the spring sunshine. She has prepared a full-on spread of picnic goodies for us to enjoy. Jackson munches happily on a wedge of crusty bread as he sits in the sand, throwing handfuls of it around with his free hand.

“Look,” Linda says, pointing in the direction of the walkway down onto the beach. “They’re here.” Two women walk towards us, arm in arm. They slowly make their way along the wooden planks before stepping down onto the beach. I watch as Crystal stops, crouches down and removes my mother’s shoes. She stands, retakes her arm and guides her towards us.

I jump to my feet and take off across the open space in their direction, grinding to a halt when I’m faced with the ladies in front of me. In recent weeks, I’ve found myself referring to Susan as my mother. It hasn’t been a deliberate change, but one that feels right. It is quite possible to have two mothers, the one that raised you and the one who created you. I consider myself lucky that I’ve had a combination of both.

My mother stands before me dressed in a plain white blouse and jeans. Her bare feet sink into the sand which spills over her toes. Wide eyes survey my face, and she smiles. “Hello, Max,” she says, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. Relief washes over me, my fear that she would have forgotten me already placated for a moment. It turned out that the form of dementia that she has progressed rapidly, which is often the case in people who are diagnosed young.

“Hello,” I reply, stepping forward and taking her hands in mine. “Are you happy to be back in Spain?” She nods, but the look in her eyes tells me she didn’t understand my question.

“Crystal says I’m getting a new house,” she says.

“That’s right, in England. We are all going back home next week. You are moving into a big house with lots of friends.” Crystal glances at me, tears forming in her eyes and running down her cheeks. “Do you want to see Jackson?”

“Who?” my mother asks, confused.

“Baby Jackson,” Crystal says, firmly. “You remember, the baby boy with green eyes.”

“Oh yes,” she replies with a chuckle. “My memory isn’t what it once was.” My heart sinks at the statement, one that has never been so true. The three of us wander over to where Linda is sitting with our son. I help my mother sit down on the waiting blanket, and my wife takes over the conversation so I can speak with Crystal.

“Are you all right?” I ask her. She flashes me a sad smile and shrugs.

“There has been a swift reduction in her memory in recent weeks. We’ve had an amazing trip, but it is definitely time to come home. You have no idea how much I miss her already.” I open my arms wide, and Crystal moves into them. I embrace her, offering the little support I can.

“Thank you for being an amazing friend to my mother,” I tell her. “She has been so lucky to have you.”

“I was only repaying what she did for me all those years ago when I landed here lost and confused. Susan has given me companionship and hope for over a decade. This is a small thing I could do to make her life better in the remaining time she has. It has given me a lot of joy and wonderful memories.”

“Well, I still thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything. The coming months and years will be difficult. It gives both Linda and I some peace that the time since her diagnosis has not all been bad.” Crystal touches my arm, her empathy clear.

“When do you all leave?” she asks.

“Thursday,” I tell her. “The final arrangements for the care home have been made. We will land and be able to take her straight there. I was advised moving her more than necessary was not wise. It would be best to get her into a routine as soon as possible.”

“Is she far from where you live?”

I shake my head.

“Ten minutes’ drive. It’s perfect really. And the facility specialises in patients with dementia. I don’t think we could have found a better solution. The hotel is sold, and funds have cleared to pay for the best care we can. Linda, Jackson and I will return to London to live, whilst being able to visit my mother.”

“Mother,” Crystal repeats back to me. “She would be so proud to hear you say that. You, Maxy, are a credit to everyone who helped raise you. I know all your parents will be delighted by the man you’ve become.”

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