The Legacy by Caroline Bond (e book reader for pc .TXT) 📕

meticulously planned and well-executed ends she’d had the privilege of being involved with. There could be no regret about that. No, it was more personal. As she sat outside one of the pavement cafés, wrapped up against the cold in her pure-wool coat, her neck swathed in the luxury of a cashmere scarf – items she’d treated herself to, in anticipation of the money Jonathan had so kindly, and so unexpectedly, left to her – she realised what she was feeling was grief.

It was an emotion she had little personal experience of. She had, of course, witnessed plenty of it – it was unavoidable in her line of work – but she rarely felt the deaths of her charges personally. Indeed, her emotions at the end of each placement or stint in a home were normally positive: a quiet sense of pride in a job well done, the satisfaction of knowing she had made a difference. But there was no denying that her low mood and heightened emotions after leaving the Coulter household were the result of the sorrow she was feeling at the loss of a friend.

Friendship.

It was not a common component in her life.

As she raised a glass of red wine to Jonathan on the last night of her holiday, Lisa made a pact to protect herself better in the future. Her job was a delicate balance: caring without getting too involved, having compassion whilst never losing clarity, helping without interfering. With Jonathan, she had let that balance tilt.

Because?

As she sipped her wine, she thought about why her time with Jonathan had been so affecting. It was because he had been a different kind of client. He had had intelligence and humour, and charm. And also, more importantly, he had recognised some of those qualities in her. That was unusual. As a carer, Lisa was normally invisible. A hired help – relied on, and sometimes appreciated, but rarely recognised as a person in her own right. Jonathan had ‘seen’ Lisa from the very first meeting. He’d been combative, provocative and testing. And she’d risen to his challenge, enjoying the push and shove of their conversation that day. By the end of the hour, she’d known he was going to offer her the job.

What she hadn’t known was that it was going to be a very special seven months for both of them.

Jonathan had not been an easy person to work for, but he had been interesting and interested. That they’d forged a true friendship, despite the ignominies of his illness, had been truly remarkable. Often the people Lisa cared for could only get through the indignities of their failing bodies by absenting themselves. When they had to be washed or forced to exercise, or spoonfed their medicines like children, their eyes would go blank and she would know they were mentally removing themselves. They would stare at a point beyond her head and cease talking for the duration of the intervention. At such times she, their carer, and they, her patient, would both collude in pretending that none of it was happening – which meant that for long periods of time it was as if Lisa herself didn’t really exist, and that the work she did didn’t matter.

Jonathan had been different. He’d been clear-sighted and coolly direct about his needs and his infirmities. She’d discovered this very early on, when he’d bitten her head off whenever she resorted to any indirect or imprecise language. He couldn’t bear any coyness. ‘I’m not one of your old ladies, Lisa. Do me the courtesy of treating me like an adult, please, or this is going to end in tears… and they won’t be mine.’

After only a very short period of time, that directness between them had segued into banter and gallows humour. He’d pushed her, and she’d responded in kind, and before long they’d discovered a shared willingness to call a spade a shovel. There’d been a joy and a release in that for both of them. Very little was off-limits. It had made caring for Jonathan a pleasure for her, and less of an indignity for him – or at least she hoped it had.

He waited three weeks into her employment before bringing up the subject of death. He started, as was usual, by asking about other people’s passing; but unlike many of the people she’d cared for, Jonathan hadn’t been fishing for reassuring anecdotes about ‘good ends’, he’d wanted the truth, and the detail. And so she’d given it to him, to the best of her ability. Not totally unvarnished – that would have been too cruel – but as honestly as she could.

That had been the first time he’d taken hold of her hand, as if comforting Lisa as much as himself, as she spoke.

There had followed a quiet couple of days, which worried her, but then when she went back in one morning Jonathan seemed much better, excited almost. No, not almost, he had been genuinely buzzing. He was conspiratorial, promising he would ‘tell her everything’ when Megan had gone to work. The minute the front door banged shut, he shouted for her. On entering the room, he asked her to shut the door. She obliged – wondering what was coming.

She instinctively started tidying around his room, much to his annoyance. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Lisa, leave it. I want to talk to you.’

She hadn’t complied. It was best not to let Jonathan have everything he wanted immediately. With the clothes folded and his next lot of meds lined up ready, she came and sat in the chair opposite him. In the weak sunlight he looked both profoundly unwell and, at the same time, very alive.

‘What?’

‘Oh, it’s like that now, is it? I remember the days when you were all meek and mild. Familiarity obviously does breed contempt!’

She said nothing, letting him have his moment. That’s when he had told her about his ‘grand plan’. It was all very impressive. Meticulous. Convoluted. Very Jonathan. His pride when