‘A Long Goodbye’
Can you outrun a slow death sentence?
Emma, married with
no kids, lives, breathes and manages Orchard Care Home; a position her husband,
Michael, used to hold in the good old days. But now he’s soared up the company
hierarchy she sees so much less of him.
Simon, a successful
accountant, has a big problem. The biggest of them all. He checks himself into
Orchard whilst still relatively healthy, the youngest resident by decades. He’s
confident he cut all ties with the outside world and is untraceable, but
determined ex-partners have their ways...
The attraction
between carer and resident is instant, but ultimately destined for catastrophe.
Alzheimer’s takes no prisoners and Early Onset, it’s most tragic form, is the
cruellest of all.
How can Michael be
jealous of this man and his time-bomb? Why does he see Simon as such a threat,
driving him to behaviour that will end in disaster?
Simon understands
less and less, but knows he has to try and run away from time - to somehow beat
the ceaseless clock.
A powerful new novel
by Anthony Le Moignan that will make you laugh and cry.
Excerpt
Unsurprisingly, the meal had been a
fairly quiet affair. To Emma’s great relief, Simon had not pursued his intimate
line of questioning any further - she suspected he might have forgotten what he’d
asked Michael. It was the first time in her experience that a reasonable amount
of Champagne had not encouraged people to talk more.
Michael had been staggered by Simon on
many fronts. What was a guy like him doing in a residential home? Sure,
eventually he’d obviously need one, but his social behaviour suggested that was
a while down the road yet. And boy, was he right to be furious with Emma for
gallivanting off to Manchester – that wouldn’t be happening again anytime soon.
He’d watched Emma carefully throughout
the meal to see if there was any exchange of glances with Simon that would
suggest they were already up to something. The man was constantly staring at
her, but she didn’t seem to be looking his way. Then he thought about Penny and
winced – taking the moral high ground was very much more difficult now than a
couple of weeks ago. He was also furious with Simon for drinking his pint.
There was something despicable about that sort of behaviour. However pathetic
it sounded, Michael felt he’d lost a little bit of his mojo during that
incident. Men didn’t drink other men’s pints. They just didn’t.
And as if the evening wasn’t weird
enough already, Michael had become aware of Julie making eyes at him. At first,
he thought he must be mistaken, but twice he’d felt her foot rubbing his shin.
If there were any doubts left, they were well and truly extinguished when he
went to the gents.
Julie was there as he came out, faking
surprise at bumping into him. She pushed up against him, her chin on his
shoulder, whispering her gratitude for the flowers. It jogged his memory, and
he was starting to apologise when she’d put a finger on his lips and told him
to save it for another time, and preferably one night soon.
As he stared at her, utterly lost for
words, she told him how nice he smelt and then sauntered off to the ladies.
More tragic than anything, he’d found himself watching her bottom as she walked
off.
Michael sighed, shook his head and
seriously contemplated punching himself in the groin.
*
Simon was feeling a little tipsy. Drink
had often caused him to forget things, and this was one of those occasions. He
remembered the waitress, and of course he remembered Emma, but the other young
girl and the guy who looked a little bit like him were puzzling. He was
enjoying the warmth of the late sun and the ambience of the busy pub, but he
couldn’t remember how he’d got here.
Strangely, this didn’t worry him. He’d
decided not to say anything and just listen to the others, but they weren’t
saying much either. As he studied the faces, it occurred to him that the young
girl must be with the other guy. She was looking at him, and unless he was
mistaken, there was passion and desire written in her eyes and over her pretty
face.
He looked at Emma a few times simply
because it was a pleasure and a delight. If the other two were a couple, it
would make sense that he and Emma were as well, but he knew this wasn’t the case.
She seemed to be staring into the horizon, and he was unable to make eye
contact with her.
It gave him an opportunity to study her
features – he found her stunningly beautiful. He desperately wanted to kiss
her. Surely he’d done that before?
*
The waitress approached the table. ‘Guys,
there’s a taxi for Mr Carter.’
‘Oh, that’s me, excellent.
Are we all ready to go?’
‘That’s just for us, Simon.’
Julie stood up and put a hand on his arm.
‘Really? Are you sure? What about Emma?’
‘Michael and Emma are going
back a bit later.’
‘Oh, that’s a pity. Would
you both like to come with us?’ Emma smiled and was about to accept the offer,
but Michael got there before her.
‘No, we’ll stay on until
our own taxi arrives, thank you very much. Is that a problem for you, Simon?’
‘Yes, it is, really. I
wanted to go back with Emma. Would you like to come back with us, Emma?’
Michael swiftly stood up
with his fists pressed on the table. ‘Well of all the ...’
This time, Emma was able to interrupt
her husband.
‘That’s very sweet of you,
but Michael and I should wait for our taxi. I’ll see you tomorrow back at
Orchard, okay Simon?’ She smiled at him, not attempting to hide her reddening
face.
‘Bye-bye, Julie, take good
care of Simon. Michael, let’s go inside, it’s getting chilly now.’
Michael moved towards her,
and she grabbed his arm, dragging him into the pub.
*
Michael had finally managed to buy and
drink a pint of his own by the time Emma came back from the ladies. Some of his
mojo had returned, along with a nice little buzz.
‘I don’t fucking believe
that guy – I should have punched his lights out. And he orders two bottles of
Dom, and I get to pay for that and the whole damn meal, the
bloody con merchant. Is he one of these guys we’re going to have trouble
getting residential fees from? Have you done financial due diligence on him,
Em?’
Emma could no longer contain herself,
buoyed by the alcohol and her heartache.
‘You fool. You stupid fool.
Is it really that long since you were a carer that you’ve forgotten all the
signs of Simon’s illness? Can’t
you tell he didn’t have a clue where he was or what he was doing?’
‘Oh really? So what about when he grabs
my drink off the tray, knowing it’s mine and drinking it in front of me.
Then he asks why I don’t see you more often, the cheeky sod. I should have
given him a slap. That Champagne came to two hundred and seventy quid, for fuck’s
sake! Perhaps you told him I’m wealthy so I can afford it, eh?’
Emma couldn’t remember ever feeling so
angry.
‘You’re so wrong on every
level. No, he didn’t know it was your drink. As he walked up to us his
expression changed. I know him well enough to realise something snapped in his
mind.’
‘I bet you do.’
Emma stood up, and her
chair clattered to the floor.
‘How dare you, you bastard.
Dream on about giving him a slap or punching his lights out – you’d have been
on the floor before you’d raised an arm. And no, you’re not wealthy,
Michael – not compared to Simon. He’s a multi-millionaire, you idiot. If you’d
looked in his file, you’d see his financial situation and how open he is about
it. You’ll get your lousy money back. Couldn’t you see how totally confused he
was before he left? Damn you, Michael. Damn you to hell!’
The pub had gone eerily
quiet as Emma stormed out of the door, slamming it shut behind her. Michael
jumped up out of his seat and ran after her, but two rather large local men
stood in front of him by the door and politely asked him to calm down and
return to his seat. They suggested he have another drink and leave the lady
alone.
As Michael was arguing, one
of the men’s companions went outside to find Emma. She was leaning against a
table, sobbing. The woman put an arm around her.
‘It’s alright love, it’s
okay. Are you far from here? Can we give you a lift?’
Between sniffles, Emma told
her they had a taxi arriving soon. As they were talking, the cab pulled into
the car park, and the woman helped Emma into it.
Back in the pub again,
Michael was still arguing with the men – the woman spoke to one of them, and
they all sat back down at their table.
Michael was just in time to see the taxi’s
tail lights disappear down the road.
Links
www.anthonylemoignan.com
(this goes live on the 10th May)
Author Bio
It was both a shock and a delight when Anthony Le Moignan received The English Prize at end-of-term assembly. He was 11 and in the 6th form, his final year at Prep.
The celebrations carried on for years – five in fact, at which point he was expelled from senior school (‘asked to leave’ was the official jargon). However, a lifelong lesson was learnt (even if an avoidance of alliteration wasn’t) – he was clearly unemployable.
So through a series of almost absurd luck which he cannot begin to over-emphasise, he seems to have successfully ploughed himself to this current moment in time.
He won’t excuse his love of Cambridge. Having travelled around the world playing croquet for a couple of decades, this little city is just about his favourite place on the planet. He’s not entirely sure why, but he seems to love being surrounded by people far brighter than himself, and buildings older than God (welllll, sort of…).
So, a lot of his novels are going to be set in or around Cambridge and London, all of which he hopes will be glanced at in the fullness of time. For now, he’d like to mention that all of the characters in his books, every single one of them, human and otherwise, are based on actual persons; fragments maybe, but they all truly exist. Quite how any author can claim otherwise is a complete mystery to him.
