Golden Hour by William Nicholson Page A

are!”
    â€œI thought I’d best come round,” she says.
    She speaks slowly and ponderously, as if this is an official matter. Liz takes her into the kitchen and puts on the kettle for tea. Bridget sits down at the kitchen table, folding her hands in her cumbersome lap. She wears tracksuit trousers and a fawn-colored woolen cardigan with a zip.
    â€œWhat on earth happened, Bridget?” says Liz.
    She intends to put the question in a neutral tone, but somehow her actual feelings come through. Bridget senses the accusation.
    â€œI did as I was asked,” says Bridget, her broad fleshy features setting into a stubborn scowl. “Your mum, she can be a devil.”
    â€œYou know I found her on the floor? God knows how long she’d been there. She says you walked out on her.”
    â€œShe told me she’d put herself to bed. You go away, she told me.”
    Bridget has gone a little pink and is breathing faster.
    â€œShe told you she’d put herself to bed?”
    â€œI do my best,” says Bridget. “I like to give good service. She asked me to go and I went.”
    â€œBut Bridget, you know she needs help going to bed.”
    â€œI know it, of course I know it. Time to come to bed, Mrs. D, I told her. But she won’t do it. You go away, she says to me. No please or thank you, like I’m a dog to be shooed out of the house. And then I was an hour past my time, and I’ve got a life too, not that you’d know it. Come to bed, Mrs. D, I told her. Go away, she says. What am I to do? I can’t pick her up with my own arms and carry her to bed like a baby. She’s got a will, that mum of yours, oh she’s got a will. I can’t make her do something if she don’t want to do it. I didn’t like leaving her there in the garden, it was dark by the time I left, but what was I to do? Stay there all night? You know I take my responsibilities serious, Liz, you know I do. But your mum, she’s got a deal of spirit, don’t get me wrong, but oh, she’s got a will.”
    â€œShe refused to let you put her to bed?”
    â€œAgain and again and again.”
    Liz feels gripped by a helpless rage. After all the efforts she’s made to find a carer, after the false starts and the wrong choices, she had thought that at last it was working. Bridget might not be the most lively of companions, but she is conscientious and reliable. And now it’s all going wrong.
    â€œDo you know why she didn’t want you to put her to bed?”
    â€œShe gets a devil in her, is all I can say. She’s like a naughty child, that’s what she’s like. She won’t be told. But she speaks her mind all right. I’m not going to speak to her disrespectful, but she can treat me like dirt.”
    â€œOh, she is a menace!”
    Liz speaks both to herself in her dismay and to Bridget, signaling that the accusation of neglect is withdrawn. Bridget lifts her head higher and speaks in almost official tones. She has clearly prepared these words.
    â€œI’ve been and spoke to my sister Janet in Hove, Janet always did have the sense in the family. Janet says I’m not to put up with it. Janet says if that’s how I’m to be treated, then I’d best take Mrs. D at her word and see myself off. If I’m not giving satisfaction, then there it is. There’s only so much a person can do.”
    â€œOf course there is,” says Liz, wanting only to appease.
    â€œAnd she won’t take her medication sometimes. Takes it and drops it on the floor. The other day I made her a shepherd’s pie, lovely it was, fresh out of the freezer, and she never touched it. Well, it’s a waste, isn’t it? And of course it’s a worry. Won’t take her medication, won’t eat her food, won’t go to bed. It’s not right, not at her age.”
    â€œI’ll talk to her, Bridget. I’ll sort it out.”
    â€œIf I’m