Emma called me yesterday evening to suggest that we buy mum an identity bracelet and have it engraved with her name, telephone number and address. It would have to be the kind that she couldn't take off herself, Emma said.

I acknowledged that the idea was worth considering, though I can just imagine my mother's reaction to having this permanently attached to her.

I took the opportunity to get Emma's side of the story of mum's disappearance this week. Emma was waiting at the bus stops at the mall when she saw mum. She thought this was odd, because mum and dad don't go to that end of the mall. It is rather large and they only visit the supermarket which is on the near side. Emma says that she asked mum what she was doing, where dad was, and so on, and that mum simply didn't know, but was clearly quite happy to be out on her own. Emma suggested mum catch the bus home with her - at which mum got a bit nervous because she didn't have any money with her. Emma smoothed over that little issue. Apparently, though mum has not travelled on the bus for years now, she remembered where to get off.

At the house dad came out and asked mum where she'd been, and told he'd been worried about her. Emma says mum put her hands on her hips and blasted dad for...something. He shrank back into his shell, and Emma said goodbye.

Emma is not that much younger than mum and dad - though she is much more compos mentis. Her husband died several years ago and she has continued to live in the house next door on her own. The four of them used to do quite a lot together, and after Ray died, Emma and mum continued to go to aquarobics, the movies, coffee with 'the ladies'. It must have been rather disappointing for Emma to slowly lose mum as a friend. Incrementally, mum withdrew, refusing an invitation here, wanting to come home early there, forgetting arrangements they made together, forgetting Emma's name, and finally, treating her sometimes like a stranger.

It is fortunate that on this last occasion mum recognised her as a friend.