Page 11 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

‘What’s the message?’ I breathed the words and gritted my teeth. A message from my dead mother. It must be something serious.

‘The art is in you, Heather. It didn’t take to me as it did with Ruth. That was why she reinvented herself in her forties, and our family emigrated to New Zealand. Talk to her. She can mentor you in how to develop your gift.’

What is she talking about? ‘Mentor me with what gift, Mum?’

It was too late. She was gone, like a bulb switching off. Grief stabbed me anew as I processed her message that her ghost might never return.

A frown creased my forehead as I wracked my mind, trying to figure out her meaning. Something about art. What kind of art? Surely, my mother hadn’t returned from the dead to suggest I take up watercolours?

No, I’d never been good at anything like that. I could do a bit of handiwork, like putting up shelves, but I didn’t have the patience or aptitude for detailed artwork. What could she have meant?

She said Aunt Ruth would know. A pang of guilt hit me. I hadn’t called Aunt Ruth after Mum’s ghost mentioned her name last time. It had slipped my post-op fogged mind.

I would phone, but later. England was eleven hours behind, and it was still too early in the morning there. I didn’t want to wake her.

***

IT WAS LATE. I’D SLEPT most of the afternoon, and then Rachel came over with pizza, chocolate and wine. She’d gone home an hour before, but now it was almost midnight, I still didn’t want to go to bed. I switched on the light by the door, took a book off the shelf and sat in my armchair. I’d read the book before, but I didn’t care. I read the same paragraph over and over, but I couldn’t focus on the words.

My landline rang. I moved to pick it up before it went to answerphone. It might be one of those scam credit card calls telling me I’d bought a pile of stuff in America. A few more of those and I would pull out the phone cable altogether. I’d have gotten rid of the wretched thing if it wasn’t for Aunt Ruth. She hated cell phones, and video calls were completely beyond her.

The number was a UK number, but unfamiliar. I answered anyway. ‘Heather Nicholls here.’

‘Mrs Nicholls. Sorry for calling you at what must be a late hour for you,’ the caller said by way of introduction. ‘I’m a registered nurse at Kingston Hospital in Surrey in England.’

My breath caught in my throat. ‘Yes?’ I croaked. Light-headed, I sat in the armchair again.

‘I’m sorry to say that your Aunt Ruth has been in a serious accident. She asked me to let you know. She said you are her closest remaining relative.’

‘Shit!’ I raised one hand to my mouth as if to stifle a cry of horror.

‘Sorry to call you with bad news.’

‘No. Thank you for calling. Yes, I am her niece. What happened? How badly is she hurt?’

‘She slipped down a bank when out walking this morning. Unfortunately, she fell onto a stone wall and suffered severe back injuries. She is in a stable condition, but we are still assessing the extent of the damage.’

I gasped. Aunt Ruth! How terrible. I struggled to take in what the nurse had told me. ‘Is she—is she going to survive?’

‘As I said, her condition is stable. Her injuries are not life-threatening, but she will need a lot of physical therapy to recover. I don’t want to alarm you, but it’s possible she may not walk again.’

‘Oh no!’ I slumped forward in my seat, my head in my hands, the phone clutched so tight my knuckles whitened.

‘It’s too early to be sure. She insisted I tell you the worst possible outcome so you are prepared for that eventuality.’

My head spun, trying to process everything.

‘Mrs Nicholls, from what your aunt has said, she has no relatives in the UK. Is that your understanding?’

I struggled to speak. ‘Yes, that’s right. Our family was small, and I’m the only one remaining apart from her.’

The nurse continued. ‘Your aunt will be in hospital for a few weeks before she can return home, but she will most likely require help there. We will conduct assessments at a later time to determine what is needed.’

‘Yes. Of course.’ The knot in my stomach tightened. This day was too much. First Terry, then my mother’s ghost turning up with a vague message, and now this...

‘Our medical team will keep you updated. I’m sure your aunt will want to speak with you when she can. We sedated her because of her degree of pain and to let her rest.’

‘Thank you for calling to let me know.’

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