And there it was, the answer I had been hoping for. Ben had been driven out into the violent night by disappointment and anger. He had run towards the turbulent sea to have his fears washed away. And in the cave he had faced his fears and chosen to live.
I stood and hugged the two strangers. Odd that I now felt closer to them than to anyone else. Vera walked me to the door. As I was about to leave she took my hand.
“Try to get some rest. Think of your baby.”
I thought about what she had said all the way home. About the baby. By the time I reached Cowslip Cottage I realised I still had a lot more thinking to do before I reached any decision.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Tuesday 30th November 2010
It felt strange not to be going to work on Tuesday morning. While I knew Mags and Tina would look after Leah’s Salon, I was uneasy about not being there. I had never seen myself as controlling, but my degree of discomfort about letting go the reins of the salon gave me pause for thought. I rang them, thanking them both and reminding them to make sure they left the used towels there for me to collect later. If they used any. From what I remembered of the appointment book, they would have ample time for putting their feet up.
Life in Cowslip Cottage seemed to be quickly falling into a pattern. I looked after the children in the morning, while Della visited Ben in the hospital. Then we would switch roles in the afternoon. Even though it was only days, it felt like we had been working this rota for a long time. I had spoken to the sister in charge of his unit this morning and she said Ben was making very good progress. I would have to ask later exactly what that meant.
The children had had breakfast, were washed and dressed, and were playing in the kitchen. Anna was occupied with colouring book and crayons, Josh with his blocks, and Rob with his wildlife sticker book. I stood at the kitchen door, watching them, thinking how touching their innocence, how brave they were being about their Daddy’s accident, and how much I loved them.
I knew then it was time. Time to make sure. To confirm what I already knew instinctively. In the bathroom I unwrapped the digital pregnancy testing kit I had bought three weeks ago. The one I was now sure Della had seen. I closed my eyes as I waited for the result to show, wishing with all my heart that things could be different, that Ben was there to share this moment. That it could be a celebration. I opened my eyes. The result was positive.
Instinct led me to cradle the child I was carrying. I quickly dropped my hand to my side. It was not a Rob or Josh or Anna. It was an eight-week embryo. It was a mistake. The result of a passionate reconciliation after an equally passionate argument. Also the result of my carelessness about taking the contraceptive pill. My fault. Ben’s fault. I should not be blaming the embryo. But how could I not? We were struggling to survive now. How could we cope with another mouth to feed, more clothes, shoes, more work, less space? It was obvious that Ben’s mental state was as fragile as his physical health. He was going to need a lot of help to recover his confidence. To be Ben again. How could he look after a baby as well as the other children? He would not be able to cope or recover.
I regretted now telling the Sanquests about the pregnancy. Speaking aloud about it had betrayed my secret. And that in turn narrowed my options. Despite not wanting to, my hand crept to my belly again and curved protectively over where our fourth child lay, tiny heart beating. I had been so sure. So certain that this, this mistake, should never become part of our family. Maybe that was why I hadn’t yet told Ben. Not maybe. It was. I knew that Ben could not cope with the added responsibility of another child, even before he did something as irrational as daring the tide to sweep him away. I was not putting the onus just on Ben. I absolutely could not see how, in our present circumstances, which were getting worse instead of better, we could financially support and care for a new baby. Or two, if I was carrying twins again.
As I had not seen my GP or booked a scan . . . or made an appointment with an abortion clinic, the only proof of the embryo’s existence was the positive pregnancy test which I now held in my hand. And the fact I had told the Sanquests.
My legs began to shake. This was the first time I had allowed myself to seriously examine the abortion thought. Ever since I first suspected that I might be pregnant, I had gone between denial and rejection of the growing baby. I had even hoped that I would have an early miscarriage, prayed that I was wrong and not pregnant at all. I glared at the positive test. Proof that my fears were being realised. And yet, treacherous tears spilled onto the kit. I moved to throw it in the bin, but then was struck by the thought that it might be all I would ever have of this baby. I decided then to keep it for as long as the result was showing. I laid it carefully on the top shelf of the cabinet and locked it away.
Back in the kitchen, I stood at the door, watching our children play. I thought of my mother. How she had battled single-handedly to raise me. To love me and make me feel secure. I wondered if she had considered having an abortion. She must have. Especially since the ethos of the time made her a social outcast for being pregnant and unmarried. This baby would be her grandchild. She would have loved it with the same passion she had loved Rob and the twins for the short time she had known them. And, to be fair, the same could be said of Della. She was a warm and loving grandmother. It, this inch-long collection of cells, had the potential to be child, grandchild, sibling. After next week, it would shed its embryo status and become a foetus. A baby. Our baby. The decision was too big for me to make alone.
Josh’s trademark piercing cry made me almost jump out of my skin. I had seen a flash of Anna’s hand as she had suddenly looked up from her colouring book and swiped at the tower of blocks Josh had painstakingly built. In an instant she was back colouring her picture again, a smile of satisfaction playing on her mouth. She was, I thought, a little minx, and Josh needed to toughen up. Rob got up from the table, looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, and walked away towards his bedroom. His actions had the hallmark of a well-practised escape plan for my eldest son.
With Josh still crying, Anna still smiling, I sat down at the table with them to talk to them in two-year-old terms about sharing and bullying and looking out for each other. All the while I spoke, with the twins nodding sincerely and pretending they would never again fight, I was conscious of the fact that I could no longer keep my pregnancy a secret from Ben.
We had made this embryo/mistake/baby together. Together we would have to decide its fate. But not yet.
It was midday when Della got to the hospital. She’d had a lot of organising to do this morning. And then there had been the call from Hugh, telling her what she must not do. Warning her. He got more like his father every day.
She had to circle around the car park several times before getting a parking space. Annoying because she needed all the time she could get to explain things to Ben. To ease him past his stubborn, self-destructive streak that she had thought gone forever. When she finally reached the first floor, she took a moment to stand and breathe slowly. To calm herself. To reassure herself that she had everything under control. Satisfied, she walked down the corridor, tapped on the door of Room 5 and went in.
Ben was sitting on a chair by the window, his back to the door. He did not turn when she came in. She tiptoed across the room.
“No need to creep, Mom. I heard you walking up the corridor. You make a very distinctive sound with your high heels.”
He still had not turned to look at her. She pulled the other chair over and sat beside him. He looked gaunt.
“Are you eating, Ben? I know hospital food isn’t the greatest. I can bring you in whatever you want. What would you fancy?”
“The food is good here. I don’t know why people complain. I’m just not very hungry at the moment.”
“Well, I suppose they do their best, but there have to be shortcomings when you consider the number of patients they are trying to care for.”
“They saved my life, Mom. I’m very grateful to them and I don’t give a shit about
the food.”
Della sat back. She read his mood as belligerent. He would be downright angry if he had the strength.
“Have you seen a doctor yet today?” she asked. “How are you feeling?”
“How do you think I feel? I’ve had a heart attack. And no, I haven’t seen any doctor yet.”
“Oh! That’s not satisfactory. I’ll have a word with them.”
“No, thank you. No need.”
“But there’s every need, Ben. You must have specialised care now so that you can recover your full health. Mentally and physically. You won’t get that here. I’ve been in contact with the Booly –”
Ben made such a sudden move that Della started. He was on his feet, towering over her, the veins on his neck standing out, his eyes sparking anger.
“Don’t say you’ve been in contact with the Booly Clinic! Tell me I’m wrong. Please tell me you have more respect for me than that!”
For the first time ever, Della was frightened of him. Since his early teens, he had turned his anger in on himself. It was apparent that the anger was so intense now he could no longer contain it. He was ready to lash out. Proof that she was definitely planning the right course of action for him.
“Yes, Ben. That’s exactly what I did. The Booly Clinic set you back on your feet before, and it will do so again. Professor Giles has retired but his son is there now. I know that’s where you’ll get the peace and privacy to get well. Don’t worry about the expense. Your insurance will cover it. I checked with them. If there’s a shortfall, I’ll pick it up.”
Just as suddenly as he had jumped up, Ben sat. Sank back onto his chair, shoulders drooped, head in hands. He had gone in a flash from demented to defeated. Della was instantly planning to bring the date of his transfer to the Booly Clinic forward.
“You’re quite entitled to sign yourself out of here, Ben. I’ll organise an ambulance for the transfer. It will only be about a two-hour journey and I’ll travel with you. Just you leave it to me.”
He raised his head. His eyes shone black in the pale face. He was drawn, like he had aged since she had come into the room. His voice was soft when he spoke. His words were not.
“Because I know you believe you’re helping me, I won’t have you removed from my room. But you’ve got to understand, you have no right to interfere in my medical care. Try that again and I’ll remove you, not just from this room, but entirely from my life.”
Della stared at him. She would have said she was gobsmacked if only she could bring herself to use that type of language. Images of Ben flashed before her. As a small child, coming to her when his father had been impatient with him, taking her hand for comfort, smiling his slow, angelic smile. As a teenager, crying in her arms when his sadness broke through the defences he had built up. As a man, sharing his triumphs and tragedies, relying on her. Respecting her. Until now.
“Are you saying I’m interfering? I’ve always done what was right for you.”
“What’s right for me now, is for you to allow me make my own decisions. About my health and my future.”
Della could not help but give a little smile. Her boy was starting to grow up. To go through the teenage defiance he had skipped during his traumatic teenage years. He would get over this tantrum and then she could sort everything out. She stood up.
“I’m going out to Cowslip Cottage now. I’ll be minding the children so that Leah can come to see you.”
His head was bowed again. She wasn’t sure whether he was awake or asleep. She put her hand on his shoulder. When there was no reaction, she walked out of the room and gently closed the door.
Then she went to the duty desk to complain that her son had not yet been seen by a doctor.
“It’s most disturbing,” she told the junior doctor she had managed to collar. “My son came from Intensive Care and now he’s just left here unattended. Don’t give me any excuses about under-staffing and under-funding. This is just plain bad practice.”
The young doctor had waited patiently until Della stopped talking, then he calmly told her that he would be unable to discuss Ben’s treatment with her.
“If you need to know anything, I suggest you ask your son.”
Della turned and almost knocked sparks from the floor tiles as she walked towards the lifts. She vowed to herself that she would get Ben out of this hospital, out of Paircmoor, and out of the life-threatening depression only she seemed to see. If not the Booly Clinic, then somewhere else Ben would accept.
By the time the lift arrived to the ground floor, all the outline of the alternative plan she must now set in place for Ben and for his future had begun to form. A far superior plan to a few months’ stay in the psychiatric wing of the Booly Clinic. A plan with which, she knew in her heart, he would agree.
I had turned on the television for the twins, to keep them occupied while I got ready for my trip to the hospital. Rob was in his room with his computer. He would spend all day long on it if he was allowed.
Della was late. It was already past two o’clock and she had been due in Cowslip Cottage at one. When my phone rang, I was certain it would be her to say she was on the way. I glanced at the screen on my phone but didn’t recognise the number. The caller obviously wasn’t on my contact list. Nor was it the hospital. I hesitated about answering. I had to work hard to get these few minutes to myself to put on make-up. Something I had not had a chance to do for the past few days. It was an overseas call. It could be one of the scams promising me a fortune if I gave them my bank details. Maybe I should and let them scrabble around there looking for non-existent wealth.
The phone stopped ringing just as it dawned on me that the number looked familiar. I had definitely seen it before. Curious, I wondered what the charge would be if I rang back. I was about to look up the international code when the ringing began again. I answered straight away.
“Hello. Leah Parrish here. Sorry I missed a call from you earlier.”
“Hi, Leah. How are you?”
So, the international code was the US, the area code San Francisco. Just as well I had not rung back. That call would have eaten up my credit. I was taken aback that Hugh Parrish was in the least bothered about my welfare. He probably was trying to find out if Ben had told me whatever it was his message said I had a right to know. I couldn’t ask him now without admitting I had read his private text to Ben.
“I’m fine, Hugh, thank you. I’m assuming Della is keeping you informed about Ben’s progress.”
“She is. Her version of it anyway. I want to know what you think. How he really is.”
“I’m not sure how much Della has told you, but Ben has responded well to the hypothermia treatment and so far it appears he has escaped any permanent damage as a result of . . . of what happened.”
“And the heart attack?”
“It was mild. He was lucky to be in hospital when it happened so he had immediate treatment. His doctors say they are very pleased with his rate of recovery. It’s only been a few days and it looks like he may be home soon.”
“Hmmm.”
Not sure how to respond, I said nothing. Neither did Hugh. The silence seemed as long as the physical distance between us.
Eventually he spoke.
“Has Mum said anything to you about her plans?”
“What plans? I think you know, Hugh, she would not be discussing her schedule with me. I’m not having a go. It’s just fact. Having said that, I would have been lost without her the past few days. She’s been marvellous with the children. They adore her, and she them.”
“Yes, that’s Della for you. She knows how to make herself indispensable. The trouble is, she sometimes doesn’t know when to pull back. Especially with Ben.”
He stopped talking, as if to let me absorb his critical remark about his mother. Of course her manipulation of Ben wasn’t news to me, but the fact that Hugh had mentioned it made me think there was a lot afoot that I did not yet know.
“Is this about the potential job for Ben in Cali
fornia with your brother-in-law? Is Della thinking of kidnapping Ben from the hospital?”
I had tried to put a light note in my voice. An implied ha-ha. It didn’t work. I was trapped in a net of Parrish family half-truths and lies and I was struggling. What in the hell was Della up to? Why was Hugh suddenly concerned enough to ring me?
“I’ve been trying to contact Ben. Does he have his phone with him in hospital?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t want to use it.”
“I thought as much. Look, Leah, I’m on my way home. I’m at San Francisco airport as we speak. I want to see my brother and I need to see you too. Try to get Ben to talk. About when we were young.”
“You mean about the Swiss Army knife you gave him for his sixteenth birthday?”
I heard his intake of breath from across the North Atlantic.
“So, you know,” he said. “You have no idea how much I’ve regretted that present ever since.”
I could just imagine. Successful student Hugh, gifting sad little brother Ben the weapon to cut his wrist. A tough burden to carry.
“Not your fault, Hugh. Not anybody’s fault. Then or now.”
I heard my own words echo in my ears. I had just admitted that Ben careening down a cliff path into the waiting arms of a vicious tide had been as much a suicide attempt as him hacking his wrist. I sat on the side of the bed. The huge sleigh bed we had brought with us from Dublin. The bed we had shared together for over six years, where we had created our twins. And the embryo. Now it was as if I had slept with a stranger for all those years. I probably would have cried had not the sound of Hugh’s voice brought me back to the here and now.
“I know logically it wasn’t my fault, Leah. I just have to learn to believe it. Thank you for saying it, anyway.”
There was a sudden onslaught as Josh ran in the door, chased by Anna.
“Anna say a curse at me,” Josh said.
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