‘Otherwise …?’
‘I’m afraid she might leave me and move back in here for good. And that’s the other thing. She told me she wants to go and see Dr Jamieson at the hospital about her memory problems.’ David kepthis voice low, glancing the door, feeling bad for sharing their private conversation.
‘She did?’ Gayle said in surprise. ‘I thought she didn’t want her memories back.’
‘Yeah, me too. But something’s changed.’ David stared at Gayle, and fell silent. Did he really expect that Gayle could help him with any of this?
Gayle leaned forward, elbows on the table. ‘It seems to me that all this has come to the fore since you moved into the boathouse.’
David sat back in his chair, nodding his head and wondering if maybe it had nothing to do with Robyn’s London trips at all. ‘Yes, yes. I do keep coming back to that.’
‘The boathouse,’ they both said in unison.
‘But why? She says it isn’t me. She was happy to move in together. She says she loves the boathouse and where it is. So, I really do not get it.’ He stared at Gayle, waiting for some words of wisdom – even if they came from one of her numerous self-help books on the bookshelves in what had once been her father’s study but was now a room to relax in, with easy chairs, scented candles, soft lighting, and bookshelves filled with Gayle’s library of self-help books. The stereo playing whale calls was thankfully switched off.
Gayle sat back in her chair with a pensive look.
‘She’s not happy because your house doesn’t feel like her home.’
Gayle and David exchanged a glance before turning in their seats to look at Doris, who had suddenly joined the conversation from where she was sitting at the end of the table, eating a bowl of cereal.
David said, ‘Pardon me?’ He was aware that Doris’s dementia was not improving, but the last he’d heard she was on a drug trial. Of course, there was no cure, but it seemed to have slowed her decline quite remarkably.
‘Look at what she did with this place.’
David sighed. ‘She really hasn’t got time to go redecorating the boathouse. Besides, she said she likes it just the way it is.’ David wondered if she was just being kind so as not to hurt his feelings.
Gayle regarded her mother thoughtfully. ‘I think you’re on to something.’
‘But she hasn’t got time to redecorate,’ David said again. ‘She’s got the shop, and clients in London. And then The Lake House …’
‘No, I’m not talking about redecorating,’ said Gayle. ‘Mum just said your place doesn’t feel like her home. What do you think will make her feel more settled?’
At that moment they were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and a familiar noise. They all knew what was coming – Olive bounded into the kitchen.
‘Hello, girl!’ David exclaimed, giving her a fuss. ‘Well, don’t you brighten up a room.’
‘That’s dogs for you,’ commented Nick, walking into the kitchen, checking his smart watch, and looking quite red in the face. ‘When they’re not spreading muddy paws around your kitchen, chewing your furniture legs, or stealing food from the table.’
Olive’s snout appeared up on the table.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Olive.’
Gayle said, ‘Don’t worry about it. Good run?’
‘Oh, yeah. Hi, David. How’s things?’
David was busy giving Olive a stroke, grinning at the silly dog, when he suddenly had an epiphany. ‘Things are fantastic!’
‘Great. Where’s Robyn?’
‘She’ll be down for breakfast soon,’ commented Gayle, eyeing David.
‘Wonderful. I’d love to catch up with her. It’s been a while. Well, I’m going to hit the shower.’
Nick jogged out of the room.
Gayle turned to look at David. ‘You’ve thought of something, haven’t you? Something to make her feel more at home, more settled.’