Now and Then

by Mary O'Sullivan

  Her legs began to tremble. The room blurred as tears welled. Her body was telling her she was too old, too tired, to answer her own questions, to cope with her newfound doubts, to help Ben again. It had all been for nothing, the blind eye she had turned to her husband’s affairs as she sat by Ben’s bed in the hospital, the things they had sacrificed as a family to pay the exorbitant cost of the private treatment in the Booly Clinic, the carefully guarded secret. Now, she was under a compliment to Piper’s very wealthy brother. She had gladly swallowed her pride for the sake of getting Ben a job. A new start. And this was her thanks. She started. Where had that vile thought come from? She had never looked after Ben for thanks. She did it because she loved him. Because he deserved success as much as Hugh. To see him get on with his life was all the thanks she needed.

  The door opened and the whippersnapper nurse came in. Della had not realised the tears had tracked down her face until she saw the girl’s expression soften.

  “Don’t be upset, Mrs Parrish. Ben is resting comfortably. He won’t have visitors for a while though.”

  “I’m not a visitor. I’m his mother.”

  “I know. But he needs rest now.”

  “I won’t disturb him. I just want to see for myself that he’s alright.”

  The nurse shuffled from one foot to the other. She cleared her throat. She was obviously uncomfortable for some reason. Had they somehow injured Ben and were trying to cover up?

  “Is there a problem with me seeing my son?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Parrish. I think it would be better if you waited a while. Take some time to have lunch and maybe a walk in the fresh air. Ring later.”

  Della stood, hoping the shake in her legs was not noticeable.

  “I want to see my son.”

  The nurse shook her head.

  “I’m afraid you can’t. Ben has said the only person he wants to see is his wife. We have to put his wishes first, Mrs Parrish.”

  Della stood there, willing herself not to cry. What else had she ever done except put Ben’s wishes first? Leah, she didn’t even know him, yet it was his wife he wanted. Nothing she could do now short of barging into Intensive Care. She nodded to the nurse.

  “I’ll be on my way. Thank you.”

  The girl laid her hand on Della’s arm.

  “I am sorry, Mrs Parrish. Ben has been through a lot. He’ll come round.”

  Della lifted her chin, gave a tight smile, and left the room with whatever dignity she could muster. It felt like that was all she had left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I must have been dreaming of my mother because when I woke in the morning, her words were echoing in my ears.

  “You don’t have to fight the world single-handed, Leah,” she would always say. “Allow Lady Luck the space to help you.”

  She would have been wrong this time. A single-handed battle was my only option. I felt totally alone. Even more so as I remembered the message I saw on Ben’s phone last night. The fact that Hugh knew something Ben had obviously been keeping from me made it even more humiliating. Della would know of course. In fact, she had probably ordered him to keep whatever it was secret from his wife.

  The children were awake. I could hear Rob reading the twins a story. Anna was interrupting him every few sentences with questions. As I listened, I knew no matter what was wrong in my life, I had been blessed with my children. Our children. I jumped out of bed and threw on my dressing gown. I needed to see them. To put my arms around them and let them know how loved they were.

  The three of them were in Anna’s bed, she and Josh snuggled underneath the duvet, and Rob sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, facing them. They were so wrapped up in the story that they did not see me standing at the door. I soaked in the sight of Anna’s head of blonde curls right next to Josh’s dark hair. Side by side. And they always would be. They would grow up but never grow apart. I watched them mirror each other’s expressions. Yes, Anna was more vocal, but Josh had the quiet strength to temper her impulsiveness. Two halves of a whole.

  I marvelled, as I always did, at how beautiful our eldest son was. There was a depth to Rob’s brown eyes, a translucence to his pale skin, an other-worldliness about him. And yet he was grounded in reality. He observed quietly. Everyone and everything. Just as I was now observing him. He knew I needed a lie-in this morning, so he had taken it on himself to entertain the twins. I felt a twinge of guilt. He was only five. He should not be burdened by that sense of responsibility. There were times when Rob was wise beyond his years and times when he was just a frightened little boy. Like two nights ago when he heard Ben and me arguing. I pushed those memories away. They had no place here with me and my children.

  As I walked across the room to them, the treacherous idea crossed my mind that maybe Ben no longer had a place here either. The thought shocked me. Racked me with guilt. But then I remembered his irrational behaviour, running out into the storm in the pitch dark, putting his life at risk. Would it even be safe to allow him near the children?

  Rob saw me first. He turned his dark, serious gaze on me.

  “Mom! How is Dad this morning? When will he be home?”

  “I made pictures for Dad,” Anna said.

  “Me too,” Josh said.

  “I made him a card,” Rob added.

  And then I was hit by how devastated I had been when I thought Ben might not survive the hypothermia. How bleak and empty a life without him had seemed then. I looked at the three anxious little faces turned towards me and knew one thing for certain. Ben Parrish might not love me. Perhaps he never did. But there was no doubt in my mind that he loved the children. And they, with all their hearts and childish drawings, loved their daddy.

  “Tell you what, guys. We’ll have a cuddle. Then we’ll have breakfast and after that we’ll ring the hospital to find out how Daddy is doing. How’s that for a plan?”

  Anna and Josh raised their tiny hands for high fives and Rob nodded his approval. Then we cuddled in together. All of us. Me and these precious little people Ben and I had created.

  Rob cleared off the table after breakfast. He methodically scraped the residue off the cereal bowls into the scrap food bin, rinsed them under the cold tap and then put them in the dishwasher. When I squinted my eyes and held my head to one side, I could picture him as an adult. Caring, responsible. Maybe as a husband. A father. Maybe not.

  “What you do, Mom?” Anna asked, mimicking my half-closed eyes and tilted head.

  “Thinking about when you are all grown up,” I said. “Are we ready to ring the hospital now?”

  There was a chorus of yeses. I picked up my phone but, before I could key in the hospital number, the doorbell rang. I frowned. Mags was not due to call until afternoon so I had no idea who it could be. Anna was already as far as the door, Josh trotting behind her. Before I had even got up from my chair, I heard her squeal in excitement. She was talking to someone through the letterbox. That someone could only be Della. No one else caused Anna to squeal at such a high pitch. Even Rob showed signs of excitement as he preceded me out to the hall door.

  So, Della had deigned to visit Cowslip Cottage.

  “How are you?” I asked as I opened the door to her.

  The children swamped their grandmother, not giving her time to answer. She was, as always, perfectly groomed but her face was pale and her eyes red-rimmed. Della had been crying.

  I stood there, paralysed with fear.

  “Have you been to the hospital this morning, Della? How is Ben?”

  She looked at me and shook her head.

  “What does that mean? Is he worse? Has he had another attack?”

  I realised that my voice was shrill and I was frightening the children. Della obviously couldn’t or wouldn’t answer me. I rushed into the kitchen and phoned the hospital, knowing this is what I should have done as soon as I had woken.

  “Leah Parrish,” I said, when I had been connected to Intensive Care. “I’m enquiring about my husban
d, Ben.”

  “Could you hold on, please, Leah? Doctor Nyhan wants to talk to you.”

  As I waited, I began to shake. There had to be bad news. Why else would the doctor want to talk to me? And why else would Della arrive to our door looking like death warmed up? Death. It seemed to be lurking everywhere. In the ghosts of the poorhouse, in the violence of the storm, in the power of the ocean, in the ice-cold touch of Ben’s skin and the erratic pumping of his heart. The hospital should have called me. I would have –

  “Leah? Sorry for keeping you waiting. Kate Nyhan here. I believe you left a message at the desk that any discussions of your husband’s medical condition were to be only with you. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” I said, more sharply than I intended. I just wanted her to get on with telling me the bad news.

  “Well, I’d like to assure you, that I consult only with the patient. I speak to the next of kin, in this case, you, if I have the patient’s permission. I have not given medical information to anyone else, either on the phone or in person. Nor would I ever do that.”

  “Oh, I see. I’m sorry – I –”

  “Now, about your husband. He has improved enough physically to be moved to a general ward today.”

  “That sounds like very good news.”

  “Yes, he’s recovering physically more quickly than we had anticipated. We have further tests to do before we can say anything definitive about long-term effects. But the trend is positive so far.”

  And then I heard it. The hint. The twice-repeated clue. Physically. Ben, because he was young and fit, was recovering well. Physically.

  “Thank you, Doctor Nyhan. Goodbye.”

  On that note I cut the call. If I didn’t ask the question, I wouldn’t have to hear the answer.

  I wondered, as I watched the children bring Della into the kitchen, what was behind her white-faced, red-eyed appearance. It could be age finally catching up with her. Even a much younger person would be jet-lagged after criss-crossing the Atlantic under such tragic circumstances. Maybe she had approached Doctor Nyhan in her arrogant way and demanded information about Ben’s condition. She would have been told, politely, to keep her nose out. Or it could be the weight of the secrets she was hiding from me. The things, according to Hugh, that I ‘had a right to know’. It was so tempting to ask her now. To demand an explanation. But that would give her the satisfaction of refusing to tell me. Besides the message was on Ben’s phone so it was up to him to explain. The children were gathered around their grandmother, looking for her attention.

  “Guys, Della is very tired now. We must let her have a rest. You can watch your morning programme while I make coffee for her. Is that alright?”

  I drew out a chair for Della and, without saying a word, she sat. Not one sarcastic comment. Not even a look down her nose at me. The children hugged her and then ran off to the lounge. I put on the kettle, then sat opposite my mother-in-law.

  “You look tired, Della. How is your hotel?”

  “It’s good, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here. You know that.”

  She nodded. A weary little bob of her head.

  “Dr Nyhan has just told me that Ben is doing so well he will be moved from Intensive Care today. That’s good news, isn’t it?”

  The kettle boiled so I went about making coffee, but not before I saw tears well in Della’s eyes.

  I was having difficulty adjusting to the idea of her showing any sign of vulnerability.

  “You haven’t told me if you’ve seen Ben today,” I said. “Were you at the hospital?”

  My back was turned to her as I got out mugs, milk and sugar.

  “He won’t allow me to see him.”

  Della had spoken so quietly I wasn’t sure I had heard properly. I turned to face her. She looked old. Weary. Beaten down by sadness.

  “What do you mean, Della? Surely he wants to see you, of all people.”

  She shook her head and then bowed it, as if ashamed of admitting her rejection by her son. Why? If there was anyone in the world Ben was close to, it was his mother. He idolised her. It was only a few days ago they were both hatching a plot to move our whole family over to America. Or at least I assumed it was the whole family. I still wasn’t sure where I fitted into their great American dream. And now, when he needed all the support he could get, why would he be pushing her away?

  “He told the staff not to let me in.”

  How cruel! I imagined one of my children refusing to see me under the same circumstances. How utterly heart-breaking that rejection would be. I reached across and took her hand. It was cold to the touch and shaking. It seemed Ben was adept at spreading the hurt around.

  “He can’t mean it, Della. He’s been through so much and been so medicated, he doesn’t realise what he is saying.”

  “Yes, he does. He wants to talk to you. That’s why I came out here now. I’ll mind the children while you go to see him. At least I can be useful that way.”

  She clung onto my hand. And I to hers. It was a fragile moment of mutual respect in a relationship which had been fraught with disrespect. I wanted to ask her about the text Hugh had sent. About the truth Ben was withholding. About Ben as a child. About the American job. But I felt words would break the tentative bond.

  Then Della started to speak.

  “Leah. There’s something I should tell you –”

  She suddenly stopped and withdrew her hand.

  “Yes?” I prompted.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  It was over. That moment of mutual respect. That moment which could have changed our relationship forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I rang Mags Hoey before I left the cottage. Just to let her know there would be no need for her to give up her Sunday to look after my little brood, as my mother-in-law would be babysitting today.

  “That’s fine, Leah,” she said. “How about you call to me on your way back from the hospital. We can have a coffee and maybe a chat about the salon if you’re up to it.”

  I agreed. I would have to face the salon situation sooner or later. Sooner was probably better.

  Today, with Della looking after the children, was as good a time as any.

  “Great, Mags. I’ll give you a ring when I’m leaving the hospital. See you later.”

  “Tell Ben I was asking for him, won’t you?”

  I told her I would, but at that stage I had no idea if Ben would be interested in anything I had to say.

  The Sunday visitors were out in force so it was difficult to get a parking space. I finally found one at the very back of the car park. That suited me because the nearer I got to the hospital, the more reluctant I was to go in there. I walked slowly away from the car, stopped every few steps, but yet the entry doors loomed. I wasn’t sure what I was so afraid of. It could be that I knew Doctor Nyhan was not telling me the full story about Ben’s condition. I had not allowed her to. Or it could be that I feared what Ben had to say to me. Or maybe my biggest dread was what I had to say to Ben.

  I stopped at Reception to enquire. Just as well I did as I was told Ben was now in St Joseph’s Ward on the first floor. So much for having a private chat with him. The ward would be lined with closely packed rows of beds, every word spoken within hearing range of the other patients. The lift up was crowded, everyone trying to avoid eye contact. It emptied onto the first floor, people scurrying off in different directions. I had to follow signposts to find St Joseph’s. It turned out to be in the Coronary Care Unit. It was a four-bedded ward and nothing as bleak as I had anticipated.

  Ben was in a corner bed near the window, giving him a view out over the town. He was sleeping. A more natural-looking sleep now that he no longer had the battery of monitors he had in Intensive Care. I put the clean pyjamas and shaving gear I had brought for him into his bedside locker. The children’s drawings I put on top.

  The elderly man in the adjacent bed nodded and smiled.

  “He’s asle
ep since they brought him in,” he said. “I see he has a little fan club. His children, is it?”

  I nodded and smiled back at him but silently cursed. I had intended pulling the curtain around the bed for privacy but that would seem churlish now. Besides, I knew instinctively this man was adept at finding out whatever he wanted to know.

  “He’s very young to have heart trouble, isn’t he? I’m assuming you’re his wife. Is that right?”

  “Yes, Leah Parrish,” I said, offering him my hand.

  He manoeuvred himself across the bed to get closer to me. As he did so, the door opened and a smartly dressed, white-haired woman walked in. He dropped my hand as if it had burned him.

  “My wife,” he said, throwing back his bedspread and grabbing his dressing gown from the end of the bed. “We’ll be going for a walk as far as the café. You can’t say a word in here, you know. Someone’s always poking their nose in.”

  “Really?” I said and managed not to laugh.

  His wife offered him her cheek for a kiss. They smiled at each other before walking off arm in arm.

  The three remaining patients were sleeping soundly. Including my husband. I regretted not bringing my book with me. Though with so many ifs and buts tumbling around in my head it would be difficult to concentrate on a novel. Instead, I took the time to watch Ben as he slept. He seemed restless, his eyes moving behind his closed lids. As if he sensed danger.

  His eyes opened. He looked at me. I said nothing. I barely breathed, afraid that he would turn away from me again. He reached his hand towards me. I laced my fingers through his. His skin felt warm. He was alert. Alive.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

  I felt tears well up. This apology told me, without doubt, that Ben’s foray onto the storm-swept strand had not been an accident. He had deliberately put his life at risk. This life we had carved out for ourselves in Paircmoor. For us and the children.