Lola's Secret by Monica McInerney

this. You know how much I love you, we all love you, but you’re eighty-four. You’ve had a busy, active life—”
    “But I’m too old now and it’s time to have me put down? Perhaps Matthew could do it. Family rates and all that.”
    He seemed relieved to laugh. “Lola, please. I’m sorry to have just blurted it out, but is there something you’re not telling me?”
    “There are a hundred things I haven’t told you. A million, probably. You’re my son. The last thing you need to know is the contents of your mother’s brain.”
    “Is it getting too much for you here, is that it? Too many people around? Having to move rooms now and again? Look, I know you know your own mind better than anyone, but would you be happier if you were in your own place, a room that could be yours permanently, with all the support around you that you could possibly need?”
    “What are you talking about, Jim?”
    He reached down beside him. She had thought he was carrying a newspaper. It was a bundle of brochures for local old folks’ homes. “We’re not rushing you into anything, I promise. But, Lola, perhaps some time in the future, it’s something you might want to think about.”
    She kept her temper with great difficulty. She wanted to stand up, push the now dry-tasting mushroom omelette onto the floor, call her son a traitor, and then go and hunt down his fool of a wife and … What? Lock her in the “storeroom?” Instead, she dug her nails into her palms, slowly counted to five, and kept her voice even. “How wonderful. How thoughtful of you both. And where are you putting me? Should I start packing now?”
    “We’re not ‘putting’ you anywhere. And of course we don’t have a date in mind. I’ve made a mess of this, haven’t I? Lola, look, I wanted to wait until after Christmas to bring this up with you, but there’s something I need to tell you.”
    Lola knew then what he was going to say. “You and Geraldine are leaving, aren’t you? Or you want to.”
    He looked shocked and then instantly relieved. “Have you heard us talking about it?”
    “No.” But suddenly many things made sense. The lack of repairs recently, for example. Their decision not to host Christmas parties in the function room this year …
    “We’re ready to move on, Lola. We stayed here after Anna’s—” He stopped. Jim could still barely say his daughter’s name. “But it’s not got any easier for Geraldine, no matter how much time passes.”
    Lola felt a momentary bond with her daughter-in-law.
    Jim kept talking. “At first she wanted to stay here because there were so many good memories of Anna. It felt right to be here where she spent her final days, to be close to her grave … It helped us both, I know. But in the past six months, Lola, something has felt different. For Geraldine more than me. It’s making her sadder. She thinks of Anna every day—”
    “That will happen wherever she is.”
    “But she needs a new start. New surroundings. We’re going to look for a new business to run when we’re on our driving holiday around the state. In the Riverland maybe. Or perhaps the Adelaide Hills. We don’t know exactly where yet. As close to Clare as possible, but enough distance to make it feel new.”
    “Have you told the girls?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Need to work out what to do with the old bat first?”
    “Mum, please.”
    He only called her Mum occasionally. At times like this when he was upset.
    Lola sat upright. “Let’s be as clear as we can about everything, Jim, shall we? Geraldine isn’t inviting me to come and live with you in your new motel, is she?”
    “Of course you’d be welcome. You’re my mother.”
    “Jim, tell me the truth. Would she prefer it to be just you and her?”
    A nod. Then another flurry of words. “We’re thinking about just a small B&B. Perhaps not even a restaurant, just a breakfast room. We’re not getting any younger either. We’d like to slow down a little. Find a new