Another Whole Business with Louise

Once again, I’ve had nothing but grief and more grief, more grief again, and then yet more grief, and then even more grief – like a big bowl of grief chicken soup, with grief noodles

Michael, my lovely nephew, had arranged for Louise (his wife – and a one-hundred-per-cent cow) to bring their gorgeous little daughter Joanna (aged 6) round to the Home for me to babysit on Wednesday afternoon. I could tell as soon as she turned up that Louise hadn’t wanted to bring her but there was nothing she could do once Michael had arranged it

Anyway, the whole afternoon went very well, and at 6.30pm, on the dot, Louise arrived to pick her little daughter up to take her back home. Have you had a lovely time? She asked.

So then Joanna told her mother all the lovely things we’d done. I must say, I’d really spoiled her but then that’s what great-aunts are for! First we watched a new DVD from the library, a self-help one called Making A Living Will, which is useful no matter what age you are. Then we played kalooki together like we always do, though Joanna got a bit upset because she lost six months’ pocket money (which came to £16.75) - I play a-pound-a-hundred and Joanna doesn’t really understand about kings, queens and jacks. And then we had a lovely tea (I’d asked Margaret to set an extra place for her): celery soup (not grief soup!), and bread, and butter, and black coffee for dessert, a real spread.

Oh that sounds lovely! said Louise, and for once I thought we were going to say Goodbye without having words, when Joanna, who’s always putting her foot in it, said something about phoning Social Services.

Well that let the cat out of the bag. What do you mean, Social Services? Said Louise, in a funny voice, like she’d heard someone say an alien had landed from Mars! So I explained that once Louise had finished dropping Joanna off, I’d noticed one of Joanna’s pigtails had lost its knot and that she had a scar on her knee and that her hands were filthy with pen marks. So, just to be on the safe side, I’d made a quick call to Social Services and reported that maybe – and it was only ever ‘maybe’ - Joanna was suffering from neglect, end of story. Just as a precaution.

Well! I wish you could have heard Louise’s reaction. None of the ladies in the Home had ever heard the like! How-dare-you this, and I’ve-never-been-so that, and my-heart-is-well-and-truly-broken; until eventually I said, Listen, Louise, I might have been right, I might have been wrong, I just didn’t want it on my conscience in the future if I’d done nothing. Apart from anything else, I didn’t fancy getting a mini-cab there and back to the Inquiry.

And then I said, and another thing, changing the subject, you need to lose some weight, darling. Why not try just having fruit for lunch?

Well, even that tip for her own good didn’t calm Louise down. So once again, she left the Home on bad terms with me - and all because I happen to care about her own daughter more than she does (though she owes me £16.75)!