Chapter 10
Nella asked to leave Mother’s care.
I assumed she was exhausted.
Wrong.
“She doesn’t need only me.”
Interesting.
For months, Davina had gradually pushed other attendants away.
Too noisy.
Too inexperienced.
Mother prefers Nella.
All plausible.
It left one young maid carrying nearly everything.
Nella had become indispensable by design.
Not hers.
Davina’s.
If Nella ever challenged her, she could threaten schedule, position, access.
Concentrated dependency.
I had seen similar structures in business.
Never noticed inside caregiving.
“What do you want?”
“A second caregiver.”
Reasonable.
“And two afternoons off.”
Even more reasonable.
“Done.”
She looked suspicious.
“What?”
“That was easy.”
I almost smiled.
“Should I argue?”
“No.”
Good.
We hired Mara Jenkins, fifty-two, former estate housekeeper who already knew Mother.
Elspeth hated her for three days.
Then forgot why.
Mara found this hilarious.
Nella got her afternoons.
One day I saw her leaving in ordinary clothes.
I almost did not recognize her without the lace headband.
That realization embarrassed me.
Uniforms simplify people in your mind.
She had a life.
Friends.
A younger brother in college.
A fondness for terrible mystery novels.
None of that had mattered to me until she became central to my family crisis.
I changed that habit consciously.
Not by becoming intrusive.
By remembering staff were people before emergencies made them visible.
Mother improved with regular meals and less tension.
Her memory lapses remained.
Important.
Davina had exploited them.
She did not cause them.
No miracle cure followed truth.
Some days Mother knew the year.
Some days she asked when Father would return from dinner.
The first time after everything, I nearly corrected her sharply.
Nella stopped me with a look.
Instead I said:
“He isn’t coming tonight.”
Mother nodded.
“Busy?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
May you like
Then she ate soup.
Dignity sometimes means answering the person in front of you, not forcing them to stand in the same reality you occupy every minute.
