Babies and old people have such specific smells Becky thought. Mostly talc and milk… They also had silky soft skin and needed help with eating, bathing and staying warm. Becky smiled as she stroked Janet’s hand absently, whose skin was so thin and soft like the sheerest silk with a pattern of blue lines.
Becky helped Janet totter to the bathroom, whilst reminding her of her name. Janet felt the floor tilt and shift under her feet as if a slithering snake intent on escape. She caught a glimpse in the bathroom cabinet mirror of an old wrinkly woman with white wiry hair in a peach dressing gown. She wouldn’t be seen dead in peach, green was her colour.
Janet smelt sweat and urine. She wrinkled her nose and then sniffed loudly. Was it her? She asked kind young Becky for some perfume as Becky cleaned her up. Janet’s mum had always smelt of cooking smells. She was sure she could smell her and tears threatened to overspill. Like the constant murmuration of birds, her present took flight and memories started flitting.
Janet wanted her mum. Young Becky sat her in an armchair and changed the sheets on the bed and smoothed the new yellow coverlet.
‘Would you like some breakfast Janet? Let me go and get something for you and I will ask one of the other carers if she has any perfume as I don’t wear any.’ Off Becky went, whistling.
Janet crept back into the bed wishing her mother was tucking her in and smelling of fresh bread and chicken and leek pie. As she drifted off to sleep again, she thought a young woman had entered the room and smoothed out the covers over her.
She smiled. She smelt like mum.
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