Page 58 of Sinful Promises

“Your mother had a panic attack. That’s all. It’s not uncommon for patients who know they are near the end.” She touched my shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry. She’s in the best of care, and her pain is being managed as best as possible. That’s all you can ask.”

I blinked at her, unsure of the appropriate response. She nodded at me as if expecting as much, and I said, “Is there anything I should be doing?”

She heaved a sigh. “Well, if you haven’t already, you might want to organize her funeral.” The nurse silently drifted away.

For the first time today, genuine tears flooded my eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Later, after I’d freshened up in the bathroom and returned to the nurses’ station, I saw the nurse that I’d first met at reception again. She made a suggestion that I get Mother some fresh clothes and maybe something from home that would give her a sense of comfort. I had no idea what that would be, but not only would it be a good distraction, it would also be a chance to see where Mother lived.

I was able to talk to Mother a little while later, and when I told her what I was going to do, she smiled at me like I was an angel and asked me to bring her some fresh underwear.

I nodded. It was the least I could do.

Besides organize her funeral, I guess.

Mother asked me to get her bag for her from the bedside table, and from it she plucked out her key. When she handed it over, she clutched my hand, pulling me toward her. “I love you, Daisy. I’ve always loved you.”

My heart was like a brick, heavy and solid and devoid of emotion as she looked into my eyes, her mouth ajar, waiting for my response.

She wanted me to say I loved her, but I couldn’t do it.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Love was not something I believed in. And after that mess with Roman, I had no intention of ever saying it again. Nor did I have any intention of discussing it with Mother.

After an awkward pause, she lowered her eyes and released my hand. “My address is Ethel Street, Sanctuary Point. Speak to Agnes. She’ll show you where I live.”

I said goodbye with a promise to return tomorrow.

Once again, the taxi ride across Sydney was timed to be in the middle of peak traffic. It took an hour just to get out of Sydney. It took a further ninety minutes to get to Mother’s mobile home park at Sanctuary Point on the south coast. The sun had nearly set, casting a weird sepia color over the foliage.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I entered the door to reception and was greeted by a homely couple who could give Ma and Pa Kettle a run for their money. They were sympathetic and welcoming, and thankfully, Agnes was not very chatty as she walked me to Mother’s caravan. Maybe she’d lived through many of her guests dying and didn’t want all the depressing details.

She paused outside a trailer that was about half the size of the Vacation Dreamz bus that’d been my home for nearly three years.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Agnes said. “I’ll be at reception if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

I opened the door and hefted my suitcase inside. It was dark and dingy and smelled like wet socks, and I fought an almighty urge to run away and never return. I searched the wall for a light switch, and when it flashed on, I felt like I’d stepped back in time.

The trailer was exactly as I remembered it. A little more weathered, a little grubbier, and definitely more cluttered, yet still the same.

I turned toward the room that had been my bedroom. The curtains were different, changed from a pink floral to sunflower yellow. A plain blue sheet covered the tiny bed, and on top of that was a mountain of clothes. It was impossible to tell if it was washing or clothes that Mother had just neglected to put away.

The drapes were open, allowing me to view a woman and two children as they held hands and walked toward the shower block. Just the thought of showering over there had me striding toward my suitcase, clutching the handle, and lugging it back outside.

No fucking way I was spending even one night in Mother’s trailer.

I raced up the street like there was a demon behind me. At reception, I left my case outside and at the counter, I tapped the bell.

Pa Kettle appeared, wiping his lips with a napkin.

“Hi. Sorry to be a pain, but can you direct me to the nearest hotel?”

“Oh sure. Southern Beach Motor Inn is just up the road.” He waved his arm in the direction I should head.

---