Emerald Oasis

By Chloe Gilholy

Joyce Patrick moves into Emerald Oasis Nursing Home. She is invited into the culture of the fairies and their political and royal scandals that take place in the garden. But all the enchantment doesn't solve the question that she's been asking for so long? What happened to her grandson?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chloe Gilholy
• Release date: Mar 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781386615729

Chloe Gilholy

Chloe Gilholy is a healthcare worker from Oxfordshire. She published her first poem when she was eight and she hasn't stopped since. 

Book preview

Prologue

Joyce Patrick saw her first fairy when she was five years old. She relatively young and had a golden dress up to her ankles. Her wings were so enormous for her frail little body that it seemed to weigh her down. Joyce couldn't remember the conversation very much, but she remembered swapping her falling tooth for a shiny coin. It made Joyce so happy that the cash was never spent. She never saw another fairy since.

Joyce craved another adventure. She had just returned from a coach tour around Devon's coast, but it wasn't long enough. She needed a holiday to get over the holiday.

Joyce and her husband, Oscar, used to travel the world. They'd ship the kids off to their grandparents, packed their suitcases and off they went. They dined at European coasts and hopped on many trains. On their 30th anniversary, they took the train to Belgium. When the train stopped at Lille, they bounced off the train holding hands, then jumped back on again just to say that they've been in France along the way.

Now a widowed grandmother, those days were long gone. She travelled to many places on her own, but it was never the same. She missed his oversized glasses, curly hair, and those putrid bright yellow ties.

Her golden retriever, Sonny, was put to sleep last month. The house had been lonely without him. She never thought she would think it, let alone say it, but she missed his howling cries in the middle of the night, his rotten egg-scented farts, and messy kisses.

Get over it! Her daughter Maxine used to say. He's just an ugly old dog.

Sonny was not ugly. He was the most playful creature that Joyce had ever met. Every morning Sonny used to jump on her bed at half-past five in the morning for his breakfast, then walk around the village at six.

Maxine was never into animals. She wouldn't let her own kids have any pets at her house. Joyce thought her daughter was a meanie: the kids would have loved them. Whitney once wrote to Father Christmas to say that she wanted a vet clinic for Christmas.

Waking up, knowing that she would no longer see Sonny's dopey face, floppy ears, and round black eyes were dreadful to bear. A harsh reminder that loss of unavoidable.

6:59AM

Cleo would ring soon. Dead on seven, he would call before he starts work at 7:30. Her son was a man of his word. The clock struck seven, the phone rang.

Hello, Love. Joyce knew who it was the moment it rang. For Cleo was the only person who would call her, that wasn't trying to pinch her pension pennies.

Hi, Mum. How are you doing? Have you had breakfast yet?

Not yet Joyce replied. I think I'll have some bread and butter.

Just bread and butter? Don't you want Marmalade or baked beans and bacon?

I would have toast if the toaster wasn't broken?

I'll have a look at it tonight. Are you sure it's plugged in?

Yes, it is, Joyce insisted.

Alright then, Cleo said. I'm not looking forward to today: I had no sleep last night.

Why not?

Kelly screaming the house down again.

What happened? Joyce asked.

Fell out of bed, Cleo responded. Nothing bad, just some grazes on the knees, but you know Kelly, she's such a drama queen. She sometimes puts herself on the floor and blames Todd: exactly how Maxine used to do it. Well, I better get going; see you later, Mum.

Bye, dear.

The conversation was short, but it made Joyce's day. She stayed by the phone called Maxine. She felt bad for talking to one, but not the other.

Hello! Maxine's voice was not as inviting.

Hello dear, Joyce knew that Maxine wouldn't be interested, but she just wanted to hear her daughter's voice.

What do you want?

I wanted to talk to you.

About what?

Anything? Joyce said. The weather for instance. Work? Or the kids?

Weather's crap as usual. I don't work and the kids are at school.

They must have finished school by now?

Well, they gotta take the bus to college and Whitney's living with her other granny so I don't see her no more.

And what about your lad...oh what was his name again?

Don't talk about him, Maxine yelled.

Sorry... Joyce pressed the phone harder against her ear. I didn’t quite hear what you said.

HE'S AT UNIVERSITY.

The phone trembled in her hands. Okay! I'm not deaf! There's no need to shout.

Well stop asking stupid questions.

Joyce could picture her daughter on the sofa in a thick white dressing gown munching salty crisps and drinking sugary drinks. How she wasn't the size of an elephant, Joyce did not know. Why would Maxine need to work? Her husband was the loaded businessman Koga Decrovid. Her son-in-law worked at the same place as Cleo.

I guess your husband will be getting ready for work.

He's already there: he pretty much lives there.

Hang on, you said Whitney was with him.

No, I never, I said she was at her nan's. You deaf or what? Well, I don’t know what they're doing, Maxine moaned. Anyway, it hasn't got anything to do with you.

When will you come round again?

When I can afford it!

I'm sure your husband gives you money for food and rent?

Still isn’t enough to live on. It's all right for you: you get it all for free!

It's not all for free. I had to work for it.

Anyway, I'm off. I'm going to bed.

Why don't you look for a job? Joyce suggested. You'll be able to afford nice things.

And be somebody's slave? Maxine laughed. No way, I'm staying as I am. I work for the Government being on the dole anyway.

What do you mean by that?

I'm a statistic, Maxine claimed. I don't have to do sod all. I can blag it. £20,000 a year till Whitney's 18.

Hang on, Joyce said. I thought you said that you couldn't afford stuff. £20,000 a year sounds like a lot of money.

Things are expensive now. Payments go down. Inflation goes up. Everything's gone up in price now.

Giving up smoking and drinking might help.

Oh, shut up.

I haven't heard from you in a while and all you can say is shut up?

I'm not well, Maxine sobbed. You don't understand what's it's like to have depression.

You will come and see me, won't you? Joyce begged. She knew what it was like to have depression. She was diagnosed after Oscar’s death. I've been lonely.

Well go and bother Cleo.

He's rang me already, Joyce said. He's on his way to work.

Well clear off! Maxine slammed the phone down. Joyce wondered what went wrong. Every time she mentioned the kids, she acted funny and got defensive.

There was something that her daughter wouldn't tell her. Was her grandson dead? Did he even exist? She couldn't recall the last time she saw Maxine's eldest child. She bumped into Whitney on the way to school several times, but she never mentioned her brother.

Joyce went upstairs to grab her cup from her room. On her way downstairs she missed the second step. Her hand slipped from the bar and she crashed into the bottom step. The table with her telephone snapped in two as the phone slammed in her face.

Pain spread all over her body, and then numbness. She opened her eyes to a distant blur of green and brown hues, and then darkness. The last thing she saw in her home was a fairy ornament smashed to pieces.

Joyce couldn't understand how a simple trip from the stairs could warp her into darkness, surfed up into the warm sand. The darkness died away to reveal a seaside location that Joyce had held close to her heart for decades.

Blackpool: a lovely place.

Joyce could see clear seas and skies as she walked towards the northern pier. A tall woman with long black hair and a floating dress caught her eye. The wind moved the waves her skirt around her as she ran towards Joyce with open arms. The woman wasn't speaking, but her footprints became implanted on the sand as she ran.

Just as the woman was about to open her mouth, Joyce had been transported once again to what felt like another dimension. She wished that she had never woken up. She was trapped in plain walls and metal bars. She wasn't in prison, but she felt contained. A group of people were whispering outside her room.

It had been decided that she can't go home anymore. She just wanted to go home where she was used to. She wouldn't have minded a nursing home if it meant being away from here.

The hospital was overcrowded, the food was terrible, and the beloved cups of tea were slaughtered. She had climbed out of bed many times but was ordered to go back in and rest. She had lost track of time.

She tossed and turned about in the morning, hoping someone would pick her up and take her away. She was there for a reason, but Joyce didn't feel sick anymore. I can't stand it anymore," she said, grabbing her belongings and walking out of her little room.

Mrs Patrick, you're in no fit state to go home, some stranger said. Come on, let's go back.

She was fed up with strangers telling her that she had to stay here until space at a home was available. Joyce had space, she might struggle with the stairs, but she could still sleep on the sofa at home. She even thought about installing Oscar's old stairlift again. Too dangerous, they always said. As far as she was concerned it was a load of rubbish.

The bay was full of people coming and going, some even dying. She never felt so alone. No home. No husband. No dog. A son always busy and a daughter that never cared. There was simply not enough staff for all the patients. 40 patients in her ward: 4 staff to look after them. Good days there would be lots more people. At weekends, there was only about 3.

Sweat poured down her face just by lying in bed. She could only imagine what it was like for the staff running about in sweat-drenched uniforms all day. Joyce believed that working 12-hour shifts should be a crime and can't imagine anyone wanting it by free will.

Mrs Patrick, there's somebody here to see you.

The nurse brought in a tall woman in tight black clothes holding a clipboard. She looked like someone with a lot of authority. She looked intimidating until she smiled, the way her mother used to.

Hello, Mrs Patrick. I'm Anne Chaser: deputy manager of Emerald Oasis.

Oh, that sounds nice, Joyce said. Is it a hotel?

Yes, you could say that. It's a nursing home that opened five years ago.

And you've come to take me there?

When we have a place available, Anne replied. Your son had a look around last week and liked it there. I've come to do your assessment.

I can't wait to get out of here, Joyce whispered. I mean the staff are lovely, but they work like slaves. It's horrible to see. I don't like the routine here.

You won't have to worry, other than set meals, there's no routine. You're free to do whatever you like.

Joyce enjoyed the conversation. For the first time since Sonny died, she felt hopeful for her future. Anything to get out of the godforsaken hospital.

PATIENT ASSESSMENT

Full Name: Joyce Kathleen Patrick

Date of Birth: 13th May 1937 Age: 80

Next of Kin 1: Cleo Patrick (Son)

Next of Kin 2: Maxine Decrovid (Daughter)

Date of assessment: 29th January 2017

Name of Assessor: Anne Chaser (Deputy Manager)

Address of Patient: 7 Cup-And-Saucer Street, Uddington-Crown, FY9 8OB

ABOUT THE PATIENT

Joyce Patrick is an 80-year-old lady currently in Uddington-Crown Hospital after falling down the stairs in her home. She lives alone in a two-story house in the village of Uddington-Crown.

She has had a history of falls, having ten in the last six months. Joyce is widowed and has a son and a daughter and five grandchildren. She had a dog named Sonny who has recently passed away. She is remarkably close to her son. She dislikes being in a hospital and wants to get out as soon as possible. Following her history of falls and how big the house is, it has been decided in her best interests that her house is no longer suitable for her.

MOBILITY

Joyce is fully mobile and does not use any walking aids at this current time. Joyce has a walking frame but refuses to use it. She understands the risks of falling and has chosen not to use them.

PERSONAL CARE

Joyce can do her own personal care and able to choose her own clothes. Joyce is fully continent and can take herself to the toilet without assistance. She says she will ask for help when needed.

GENERAL HEALTH

Joyce has a normal diet. She suffered injuries to her head and legs following a recent fall to deteriorate rather quickly in time. Now she is in good physical health.

OTHER ASSISTANCE NEEDED

Joyce may need encouragement to take part in activities and may need assurance at times. She has recently lost her dog, so may at times appear depressed mourning over him. During the assessment, she said quite often that she felt lonely.

Would a placement be suitable? Yes

The reason for admission: Current home no longer suitable.

Level of Care: Residential

Chapter One: The Fairies in The Garden

Today was the day. Joyce did her best to do everything she was told by the hospital to ensure a speedy recovery. She wasn't allowed to go home, she couldn't remember why, but she remembered the staff trying to tell her so often. Either way, she was glad to be leaving.

Her mood instantly lifted when Cleo walked into her room. She lifted her suitcases and stormed off.

I'm free, she squealed.

Hey! Cleo said. Calm down, you don't want to fall again.

Joyce tiptoed back to Cleo. No. I don't want to fall. Now tell me where this Emerald Oasis then?

Not far, Cleo said. I'm going to drive you there.

Sorry for being such a nuisance, I'm just so glad to get out of here. There's nothing to do here other than sitting there and rot.

Joyce stretched her lips as if she were going on holiday. She hopped into Cleo's lime mini before Cleo could get into the car.

You're really excited, Cleo said, he couldn't help but smile. I haven't seen you like this in a long time.

Like I said, I'm just so happy to be out.

Are you ready to go into your new home? He clung to the steering wheel for a few