As he enters the consulting room the doctor swivels round in her chair. She’s much younger than expected. Shoulder-length hair, crisp jacket, co-ordinated jewellery. Not the demeanour of someone who’s running twenty minutes late. No apology. She stands up and offers her hand.
‘Mr. Peterson? My name is Dr. Baranska, I’m the locum doctor standing in for Dr. Crofton.’ They sit. Dominic wonders if he should speak first. Her body language suggests he should.
‘Thank you for seeing me. I was due to see Dr. Crofton yesterday - he knows me very well - but my daughter was taken into hospital.’ The doctor momentarily glances at the computer screen then at Dominic. ‘But that’s not why I’ve come. I’ve been getting a lot of migraines recently.’
The doctor sits back in her chair, her back to the computer, and her hands in her lap. She looks at him intently. She listens as Dominic recounts the nausea, the flashing lights, and the throbbing temples. He pauses to draw breath then mentions the sleepless nights, the heaviness in his chest. A weight he feels that sometimes makes it difficult for him to breathe. He stops. He looks at the floor. The wastepaper basket under the desk is full. He looks up. There’s a grey-rimmed cup of tea on the desk. He looks at the doctor. Tiny pearl earrings. He wonders if they’re cultured or fake. She sits, smiling, but says nothing, so he continues. He shares his worries about his little girl, her asthma, her allergies, her infections, his concerns that the hospital doctors aren’t taking him seriously. He wonders if he can have some more codeine for his migraines. It’s the only medicine that seems to work.
The doctor waits until he’s finished.
‘Mr Peterson,’ she says, ‘do you mind if I do an examination? Check your eyes, your blood pressure, listen to your heart and so on?’
Dominic yields to the checks, then he is talking again before the doctor has had time to take her stethoscope out of her ears.
‘There’s something else that’s been worrying me, Doctor,’ he says. ‘Have you heard of Tatotsubo cardiomyopathy?’ He looks closely for a reaction. If anything there is a slightly raised eyebrow as her eyes flick upwards to the clock on the wall.
‘Broken heart syndrome?’ She inhales slowly. ‘Mr. Peterson, you’ve been through a lot recently’. Castors wheel across lino so that their knees are almost touching. She lowers her head to make eye contact with him. ‘It’s a really tough time for you at the moment but it’s going to get better. Trust me. You know, it’s quite common for patients to research their symptoms on the internet. There’s a lot of information out there but not all of it is helpful. I have your full medical record here in front of me and I have examined you thoroughly. I want to reassure you that there is no evidence that you have Tatotsubo cardiomyopathy.’ She propels her chair back and reaches over to the printer. ‘As for the codeine tablets I’m not sure they’re the best choice for you. Dependence can be a problem. And rebound headaches too, when you come off them. I can give you an alternative which will be much better.’
Dominic looks at the unlined face of the doctor sitting opposite him. She has youth on her side but not experience.
‘Now,’ she says, as she leans forward and hands him his prescription, ‘have you thought about seeing a counsellor?’ She hands him a booklet which is covered in butterflies and the title ‘Bereavement- Key Facts.’
He takes this as his cue and stands up. Not the outcome he’d hoped. He grasps the slip of paper. ‘I’ll give it some thought, doctor. Thanks for your time,’ he says, and leaves.
On his way out he stops by the front desk. The receptionist looks up and smiles.
‘Sharon, I’d like to book a follow-up appointment with Dr. Crofton, please,’ says Dominic. ‘The next available one, if possible. Oh, and can I borrow your pen a minute? I need to fill in a repeat prescription request for some more codeine.’
25
Bella
Bella feels better today. Brenda says she can go to the playroom. ‘There are lots of toys in here, Bella,’ she says. ‘You can play with whichever ones you want.’
Bella decides to explore. There’s a sand pit. A dolls’ house. A kitchen. Even a doctor’s set. She opens the lid of the doctor’s case. Empties it on the floor.
‘Can I give you a check-up, Brenda?’ she asks.
‘A check-up? Okay, sure.’
Bella taps on Brenda’s knees with a hammer. She tells her to open her mouth and say ‘Aah.’ She wraps the blood pressure machine round Brenda’s wrist and pumps it up, then sticks the dangly tubes in her ears and shakes her head.
‘Dear, dear,’ she says. ‘You need some sweeties to make you better.’
She looks in the kitchen. In the cupboards. On the shelf. In the jars. No sweeties. She’ll just have to pretend.
‘Which ones would you like?’ she says, holding out the tin. ‘Dolly mixtures or Smarties?’
‘Mm, thank you, Bella. I’ll have a Smartie.’
‘You can have a pink one with some fizzy pop. Only one, though. We need to save the rest for later.’
She looks around. The dolls’ house has a lot of furniture in a jumble. There’s a funny little toilet with a lid, which she puts in the bathroom. The washing machine and the buckets go downstairs. She stuffs little squares in the washing machine and tuts.
‘Dear, dear,’ she says to the doll, ‘only naughty girls wet beds.’
She picks up the bedroom set. ‘Now look what you made me do.’ She unpicks the tangle of furniture. ‘The little girl can go in this bed. And the daddy in this one. Ssh, Ssh, daddy, don’t cry. Daddies don’t cry. Let’s go to the park. That will make you feel better.’
There’s the sound of a bell and Brenda stands up. ‘Lunch is ready, Bella. Are you hungry?’
Bella isn’t hungry.
When they get back to her room her Daddy is there.
He opens his arms and gives her a big hug.
‘Good news, darling,’ he says. ‘You can come home.’
Bella doesn’t want to go home. She likes it in hospital.
26
Ruth
May 2005
‘Help yourself to coffee,’ says Dominic, his arms encircling an overflowing laundry basket. ‘I’ll be in the utility room.’
Something has irked him. She’s barely been in his house two minutes and he seems offhand. Distracted. Gruff.
She adjusts her eyes to the shaded gloom of the basement kitchen and places a cooler bag and wicker hamper on the granite worktop.
‘Hello, you,’ Ruth says to Bella, who is kneeling by the sofa, brushing the mane of a plastic pony.
Bella looks up, scowling. ‘What you doing?’
‘I thought we could go out today. Would you like that? Maybe have a picnic. Depends what Daddy says.’
‘Don’t want to.’
Knots of intransigence seem to bind Dominic and Bella this morning. Ruth wants to comb them out, free the tangles.
As she fills the kettle, a mobile phone vibrates on the kitchen worktop. She can’t resist a look. Mike’s name flashes on the screen.
LP shares up 9%! Suggest another 500. Call me
Whatever that means it’s none of her business. She selects a mug from the dresser and scans the cupboards for instant powder. Lifting a jar of Arabica granules from the shelf, several packets of pills fall onto the counter: sumatriptan, penicillin, paracetamol and codeine. Intuitively she runs the diagnoses through her head. Migraine treatment. Preventative antibiotics. A reflex action and she admonishes herself for it.
‘Right that’s the last lot in,’ says Dominic, entering the kitchen. He hesitates when he sees Ruth fingering the packets, his eyebrows angled for an inquisition.
‘Sorry, I accidentally knocked these off the shelf.’
Dominic reaches over to the hand sanitiser by the sink and says nothing.
She goes over to the sofa and sinks into the squashy
cushions. Dominic continues his tasks unabashed, looking under the sink, sliding drawers, banging cupboard doors. She pretends not to notice, picking up a magazine and feigning interest in a fashion article. The distracting sequence of noises in the background seem to get more insistent the more she ignores them.
‘I’m going upstairs,’ says Dominic, ‘to sort out some sheets for Bella’s bedroom.’ He paces towards Bella, who shrinks into the shadow of Ruth’s legs. ‘Because Isabella has been a naughty girl today, hasn’t she?’
Ruth feels the imprint of Bella’s shoulder against her knee.
‘I’ll be back down in a minute,’ he says, then he disappears.
She looks at the red rims of the little girl’s eyes. Her lower eyelashes are matted. She looks like she’s been crying. The corner of her mouth is pinpricked with tiny ulcers. She’s wearing a faded T shirt with a picture of a blue kitten and a grey pair of knickers. Her toes, dotted with tiny chilblains, have a purplish pink tinge to them and when Ruth places her hand on top of Bella’s it feels milk-bottle cool. They sit in companionable calm for a while, Ruth listening to Bella’s conversation with her toys.
‘They look pretty,’ says Ruth, picking up one of the ponies.
‘This one is Twinkle,’ says Bella, holding up a purple piece of plastic, ‘and yours is Marigold.’
‘Marigold has shiny hair, just like you, Bella. Can I brush it?’ Ruth lifts up a toy brush, but then spots a pack of playing cards. ‘Ooh, great, my favourite,’ she says, reaching over to the stack of assorted jungle animals. ‘Do you know how to play Snap, Bella? I can show you. It’s great fun.’ She slides off the sofa and on to her knees, and begins to shuffle cards. Bella watches with interest.
There’s a movement at the periphery of Ruth’s vision.
‘You two having fun?’ says a brittle voice. Dominic, in loose fitting T shirt and jeans, is standing barefoot next to them. In one hand he clutches some clothes, which he has draped over his opposite arm. ‘If we’re going out later you better get dressed, Bella.’
Ruth stands up and takes the clothes out of Dominic’s hands. ‘Bella, why don’t you show me where your bedroom is? I can help you, while Daddy has a cup of coffee.’
She widens her eyes at Dominic. He reciprocates with a weak smile.
‘Good idea,’ he says, then hesitates. ‘Ruth, before you go upstairs could you do me a favour?’ He lifts up a wad of papers, which have spewed over the kitchen table. ‘I’ve got so many forms to fill in, now that the probate for Madeleine has come through. You wouldn’t mind witnessing my signature on this one, would you?’
‘Sure.’
‘This one’s to close her e mail account. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it’s been to wade through all this bloody red tape.’
He scrawls his signature on the paper and Ruth adds hers underneath.
‘By the way,’ says Ruth, ‘I think you had a missed call on your phone while you were upstairs. See you in a minute.’ She bundles the clothes under one arm. ‘Come on, Bella, time to get dressed.’
Bella’s bedroom is a confection of ice cream colours. Yellow and pink dots sprinkle the pleats of her curtains, complementing the minty green walls. Ruth perches on Bella’s duvet and lays out Bella’s clothes: a yellow T shirt with appliqued hearts and stripy cropped leggings.
‘These are pretty,’ says Ruth. ‘I guess you’re a big girl now, you don’t need me to help you. Can I look at one of your books while you get dressed?’
Bella stands, watching her, and bites her lip.
‘Do you know my mummy?’
It’s question which disarms Ruth for a second.
‘She died-ed.’
‘I never met your mummy, Bella, but I know she was a special lady.’
Ruth reaches down to the side of the bed to pull up a book but instead hooks the tail of a soft toy. ‘Oh, Roo,’ she says. ‘I remember meeting you.’ She pulls the toy kangaroo into her lap and smooths its fur.
‘No,’ says Bella. She snatches it off Ruth, her face a twist of anguish. ‘You’ll hurt his leg!’
Ruth retracts her hand. ‘Oh, poor Roo, what’s the matter with his leg?’
‘Daddy shut the door on him.’
‘Oh dear.’ Ruth gets off the bed and kneels on the floor so that her face is level with Bella’s. ‘I can have a look at him, if you want. Try to make him better. I’m sure it was an accident.’
Cautiously Bella loosens her grip on the animal and casts her eyes downward, as it slides through her fingers. As Ruth leans closer a familiar smell irritates her nostrils. Ammonia. Dried urine. The smell of care homes. She takes Bella by the hand.
‘Let’s have a little wash before you get dressed,’ she says, ‘then I can tell you all about kangaroos.’ They walk across the landing to the bathroom. ‘D’you know, I’ve seen a real kangaroo, Bella. They live in Australia.’
‘Uncle David lives in Stralia.’
‘Oh, that’s nice.’
‘He gave me Roo when lots of people came to the house.’
Ruth inserts a plug in the basin, turns on the tap and whisks her hand in the water until it heats up.
‘Australia is a really faraway place.’
‘Is it farer away than heaven?’
‘Mm, I think heaven is a bit further.’ She swishes her hand in the soapy water. ‘Right,’ she says. ‘All ready.’ She plunges a face-cloth under the warm water then wrings it out, as Bella stands patiently, her face upturned towards her.
‘This is the way we wash our face, wash our face, wash our face,’ sings Ruth, as she wipes Bella’s nose and cheeks. ‘Do you know this song, Bella?’ As Ruth continues to sing, Bella screws up her nose and twists away, as the flannel moves over her face.
‘Right,’ says Ruth, after she has patted Bella’s face dry. ‘Arms up.’
Bella obliges by raising up her arms, as Ruth pulls her T shirt over her head. She sponges Bella down, back and front, then wraps her in a towel.
‘Good girl,’ says Ruth crouching down beside her. ‘Teeth next, then you can get dressed.’
Ruth takes in Bella’s unflinching stare.
‘Ruth?’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you Daddy’s friend?’
Ruth smiles. ‘Yes. But I can be your friend too. Would you like that?’
Bella takes a moment to consider the question, her eyes unblinking.
‘Yes. Can we play Snap when I’ve got dressed?’
27
Dominic
Dominic looks at the car dashboard. Twenty five degrees. They nudge along the poplar-flanked gravel road into Windridge car park. He flicks on the air conditioning. A slice of cool air ruffles the hair on his forearms.
‘The first warm day in ages and the masses come out in their droves.’
Ahead of them a line of cars alternate between making abrupt stops, then skittering forward, like lizards seeking shade in a desert. He counts the roofs. There’s at least twelve cars in front of them in the queue.
Ruth drums her fingers on the armrest. ‘I’d forgotten it’s a Bank Holiday weekend.’
‘Sod it. Well, we’ve come this far, may as well stick with it. Besides, I’m starving.’ His frustration is metered out by the gnawing sensation in his gut. The morning had not started well. Just after six o’clock he had woken with a start when he detected a tugging at the edge of his dreams. He opened his eyes to find Bella’s face inches from his, her pupils like smudged charcoal. She pulled at his T shirt and told him she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t tell him she had wet her bed for the third night in a row. He discovered that later. This was becoming a tedious habit and he chastised her for it. He looks at her now in the driver’s mirror. She’s nodded off to sleep in the heat. Her mouth is half open, exposing her gappy teeth. From time to time she gives little gasps.
There’s a short tap o
n the horn, from the car behind. He switches his concentration to the windscreen and can see that a large gap has opened up between his car and the one in front.
‘Okay, okay, keep your shirt on,’ he says out loud, venting his frustration.
After a protracted delay they pull into the car park.
He pulls down his window visor and checks his appearance in the mirror. Not bad, considering he’s had very little sleep. Moistening the tips of his fingers with his tongue, he slicks back some stray hairs behind his ears. He gets out of the car, stretching his arms into a stiff arc above his head, then places his hands on his hips and arches his back. Far-away voices are dulled by a thick curtain of warm air, which feels over-blown with pollen. There’s no hint of a breeze. Dominic tries to remember if he’s packed some anti-histamines. He turns to open the back door of the car for ventilation and Bella stirs in her seat. A line of drool has dried in a silvery line down her T shirt. She blinks several times.
‘I’m thirsty,’ she says, unclipping her seat belt and clambering over the booster cushion.
‘Stay there, Bella, just a second, while Daddy unloads the car,’ says Dominic. ‘Then we can go for our picnic.’
Ruth swings her legs out of the front seat and stands up. She tugs the creases out of her trousers and straightens her top, then picks up a rolled tartan rug, which she slings over her shoulder.
‘Follow me, Bella,’ says Dominic, weighed down by a cool bag and hamper. Ruth takes her hand, as they make their way towards the picnic area by the lake. The long grass whips against his ankles. The dry heat edges into his nostrils and the back of his throat. He stops to switch loads round when his right arm starts to ache and his fingers blanch from the pressure of the handles. He scans the perimeter of the park. Family groups bunch up on benches, their paraphernalia spilling onto groundsheets and rugs. A dog is shooed away, as he tries to invade a picnic. A gaggle of teenagers playing Frisbee, others enjoying makeshift rounders, using plastic bottles for stumps. There are no tables free, so they lay down their rug on a flat patch of ground, in the shade of a tree.
Love Until It Hurts Page 13
