Palest, lemony yellow jonquil, and delicate sapphire beads of muscari, set against a drift of gypsophila, remembered Brenda. The lacy tendrils weightlessly giving height and volume, trembling in the slightest breeze. At the forefront, of course, lily of the valley, April’s favourite flower. She could almost smell its unmistakable light, floral scent.
Brenda lingered on the clear image. Of all the wedding bouquets she’d ever created in her career, this was the finest. Only the very best was good enough for her treasured daughter, a spring baby, soon to be a spring bride.
Her creation was deceptively simple and informal, keeping the invisible wire framework to a minimum. She’d woven in the satiny ribbons of lily of the valley leaves too, the soft, glossy green grounding the centre of the arrangement.
Brenda relived the feeling of teasing the fronds this way and that, stroking the tiny, nodding bells and shiny leaves of the lily, untangling the cloud of gypsophila, and then stepping back from her workbench. Perfect!

‘Hello, Miss Douglas, and how are you today?’ asked the nurse as he passed Jenny her stick-on name badge. ‘Shall I put your brolly over here?’
‘Oh, erm, yes, thank you,’ Jenny stammered, donning the proffered name badge. ‘Just a spring shower…wasn’t expecting….’ She folded the umbrella; a shower of drops cascaded over the carpet.
‘We don’t usually see you mid-week, do we?’ the nurse continued. ‘Sorry, I’m fairly new here. They were taking on new staff after the pandemic, so I don’t think we’ve met before.’
‘Erm, yes, I mean, no. Erm, I usually just visit at weekends,’ taking in the nurse’s name tag. ‘Erm, Carter. But it’s half term week, so_’
‘Oh, I see, you’re a teacher,’ Carter smiled.
‘Oh, er, no, just a teaching assistant, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, don’t say it like that. TAs do a very important job.’
‘Er, well yes. So anyway … I’ve come to visit my mum?’ Why did she always feel like this when she came to her mother’s care home? Like a nervous, resentful teenager. She was twenty-six, for God’s sake!
‘Ah, yes, she’s in the lounge. I’ll walk down with you.’ Jenny trotted behind Carter as he led the way, his shoes squeaking on the tiled flooring as they left the carpeted public area. The further they walked from the reception desk, the more it felt just like school, the smell and sounds of lunch being prepared somewhere nearby; the hint of floor polish overlaid with just a tang of disinfectant, catching the back of her throat. The floors were smooth and safe for shuffling feet, but the grab rails along the walls would be at just the right height for small children to bang their heads. She shuddered at the thought.

Figures were dotted about the lounge; ‘guests’, care workers and nurses. The chairs in here were certainly more comfortable than those at school, and the space felt more relaxed, homely even, after the clinical corridors. Rain pattered gently against the windows, underscoring the hubbub of conversation.
‘There’s your mum, look, by the window. Mrs Douglas, you’ve got a visitor. Look, here’s your daughter.’ Brenda turned a blank face towards them and blinked vaguely.
‘Who’s that, I can’t quite see. April, is that you?’ She screwed up her eyes and peered towards them vaguely, ‘how lovely.’ Carter’s mouth opened in surprise, ready to speak.
‘No, mum, it’s not April. It’s me, Jenny,’ she pounced in quickly.
‘Not April? But I thought you said… my daughter?’ her voice quavered.
‘But this is your daughter, Mrs Douglas.’ Carter turned a questioning glance towards Jenny, who was gazing at her feet. ‘It’s Jenny, look. She’s come to visit.’
Jenny swallowed. ‘It’s okay, Carter, it sometimes takes a while but we’ll be fine now, thank you.’
‘Well, if you’re sure? I’ll leave you to it then. If you need me I’ll be around at the front reception desk.’ Then, still looking puzzled, he raised his voice again, ‘I’ll leave you to it then, Mrs Douglas. See you at lunchtime.’

Jenny perched awkwardly on the front of her chair. Her mother had already lost interest in the visitor and returned her gaze to the view of the gardens outside the window. She was muttering to herself. ‘They’ll need to sweep up those magnolia petals…slippery…someone could fall….’ Jenny sighed in frustration and decided just to let her mother wander for a bit while she tried to calm her ragged nerves. The embarrassment in front of Carter had shaken what little confidence she’d had.

Picking at the skin around her fingers – they were sore and red, a bad habit from childhood – she caught herself sighing again. She seemed to sigh a lot nowadays, especially during these visits. Wasn’t this supposed to get easier, not harder? When she was young she’d felt as though she were viewing her family and friends, the whole world in fact, from behind a murky window. Any interaction with her parents left her feeling off balance, and the simple reason was her older sister, April. April had always been the favourite; the longed-for, long-awaited first child. When Jenny came along four years later, their little family was already complete. April was their life; their beautiful blue-eyed, blonde-haired daughter, full of life and mischief. They were bemused by their second child; a little dark-haired, swarthy-complexioned changeling, wondering why she was still around when she was neither needed nor invited. April never seemed to realise how jealous Jenny was. She’d been a great big sister, including Jenny in her games, trying to style her wayward dark curls, reading to her. In fact, none of her family were cruel or hostile to her, just … forgetful. Her parents’ world revolved around April, and Jenny barely registered on their radar.

She glanced across at her mum. ‘Need to order… from the nurseryman…’ drifting away again. Jenny couldn’t suppress another sigh. She was only here out of a sense of duty, and that fact gave her a confused feeling of guilt. Why? She gave herself a mental shake. It was time to face the fact that her mother’s condition was not going to improve – just look at her now, happily talking to herself. The recognition Jenny had always craved was never going to happen, and this realisation made her feel strangely rudderless. Her youthful plans and ambitions had been stifled for years; she’d never felt able to focus on them fully until she’d received some form of validation as a daughter. Well, it wasn’t going to happen, was it? Maybe it was time to finally accept that fact, to stop being a spectator and revisit those dreams.

Outside the rainy window, trees were in bud and daffodils pushed through the frost-rimed ground that lined the pathways. A blur of forsythia against a far wall, smudgy swathes of purple and yellow crocuses, dotted here and there with single white blooms, the rain creating a watercolour sketch of the view. Everywhere was new growth. Jenny allowed her thoughts to drift, making plans.

Brenda reached out, perplexed that the bouquet hadn’t been delivered. Her fingers touched dried, broken stems. The fragile, once-white bells crumbled beneath her touch. Tiny, browned stars of gypsophila showered the table and drifted to the ground. She tried to brush away the fragments; her fingertip caught a sharp wire with a sudden shock of pain. Now the drop of red was the only colour she saw. Suddenly she was present in that moment, remembering the instant that her whole world shattered.

‘April, oh no, April!’
A heart-torn cry. Jenny tried to catch her hand. ‘Mum, I’m here. What is it, what’s wrong?’
‘No, who are you? Let me go. I need April.’ As her eyes brimmed over, one of the carers hurried across to calm her. Jenny stood to one side, arms dangling uselessly at her sides, powerless to help. A nurse arrived and began routine checks. As they clucked and fussed, Jenny retreated a few more steps. She looked back from the doorway, across to the scene on the other side of the lounge; awkward, uncomfortable and unneeded. Finally, shaking her head defeatedly, she turned, shoulders slumped and began to walk slowly back towards the front door, lost in her thoughts.

‘Miss Douglas, oh, I’m glad I managed to catch you before you left. Did you have a good visit?’
‘Oh, Carter, hi. Erm, well, you saw for yourself that she finally doesn’t recognise me anymore. It’s been coming for a few weeks,’
‘That must be so hard for you. She said the name “April”. Is that someone close to her?’ Jenny drew a deep breath.
‘April is my sister…was my sister, I should say,’ she corrected herself. ‘My older sister. My parents had just the two of us children, but April was their favourite.’
‘You said she was your sister. Are the two of you estranged, or…?’
‘April died, Carter. Just four days before her wedding, along with her fiancé. And their lovely four-year-old daughter. My niece.’ Carter’s eyes widened; he gasped.
‘My God, that’s dreadful. How awful for you and your parents.’
‘It was five years ago. A car accident’ she blinked a few times before continuing. ‘My father had already died a few years before, so it was just me and mum left at home. She was a florist, and she made this beautiful wedding bouquet for April. After April died, she wouldn’t let me throw it away. She used to spend all day stroking the petals, just watching it wither and die. She just faded along with it. Her mental health just deteriorated and all she ever really wanted was April. Oh well,’ Jenny gulped.
‘We hear some sad stories … you can imagine, but that’s quite tragic. So sad. Anyway,’ said Carter awkwardly changing the subject, ‘do you have plans for the rest of your week off?’
‘Oh, I have big plans to make, starting right now. The sooner the better. I’m afraid I won’t be visiting as much in the future – doesn’t seem much point really. I’ve decided to enrol on a teaching qualification course, something I’ve always dreamed of doing. Should’ve done it a long time ago. It will mean moving away and then finding a new job, of course, but that’s a good thing too. It’s time for me to move on with my life.’
‘Well, that sounds positive,’ smiled Carter, as he handed Jenny her umbrella. ‘Good luck!’
‘Thank you, Carter.’

Stepping out of the front door, holding her furled brolly, the rain clouds had passed, and the new brightness made even the austere building behind her seem more warm and forgiving. Jenny stood for a moment inhaling the fresh smell of grass, and of earth beginning to warm. Yes indeed, time for a new start, she thought to herself, straightening her shoulders and striding purposefully towards her car.