Love Life

by Nancy Peach

  She sat, keeping a tight hold of Mary’s hand and watching her face closely.

  “You’re doing brilliantly. Nice short breath in… And lovely, long, slow breath out… Good.”

  They sat for five minutes in a silence broken only by the rattling breaths and the occasional word of encouragement from Tess until she was reassured that Mary’s panic was subsiding. She was aware of Edward’s gaze from the far corner of the room but did not look back at him, keeping her focus on Mary.

  “You’re doing really well. You’re going to be fine. We just need to concentrate on that breathing, nothing else. Yes, that’s great. Well done.”

  Mary squeezed Tess’s hand and opened her eyes.

  “You see now, does it feel a bit easier? Don’t worry, you’re doing great. Keep going exactly as you are, okay?”

  She stood and Mary’s hand slipped from her grasp. She stroked the back of it gently.

  “I’m going to pop out now and get a few things sorted. I want you to keep focussing on that breathing. I’ll be back in ten minutes but if you need me press the buzzer and I’ll come straight in, okay?”

  “I’d been wondering if I should write her up for some sedation to calm her breathing down a bit, but I think she just needs some rest,” she said a little later to Edward as they both stood either side of Mary’s bed, watching her chest rise and fall peacefully and her eyelids flutter to a close. He nodded, still looking at his mother, his face betraying little of his own internal conflict. He knew from their last meeting in the bar that Tess continued to have residual ill-feeling towards him, and yet in spite of this she had been able to act in an entirely professional capacity, soothing and calming his mother with her kind and practical demeanour. He wanted to convey his gratitude, but didn’t trust himself to speak without breaking down, so he simply nodded again and, taking his mother’s hand, bent to sit beside her. As Tess left the room, he managed a hoarse, “Thank you,” which she acknowledged with a thin smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She could see the emotional turmoil he was in, and knew how hard he was trying to keep himself together, but she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him just yet.

  For the remainder of the night, Tess was kept busy with another patient, Mr Gardiner, who was in his final hours of life. She sat with him until his family arrived and once she had finished answering their questions and made sure Mr Gardiner was comfortable, she popped her head round the door of Mary Russell’s room to find her fast asleep – with Edward, still awake, hunched in the chair beside her and looking wretched.

  “Do you want me to see if one of the porters can bring a camp bed down for you?” she whispered over to him. As much as her feelings for this man were confused and complicated, she could not help but be moved by his distress. She wouldn’t want to see her worst enemy in this much pain.

  “No.” His voice cracked and faltered, “Don’t worry. It’ll be morning soon; there’s no point.”

  Tess looked at her watch. He was right; it was five o’clock and the sun was starting to filter weakly through the curtains. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  She held his gaze for a few moments before she left to make an emergency referral to the respiratory physiotherapist who held clinics at the hospice. She knew that Mary would benefit from his expertise, and when she left for home, she passed the message on to Farida to ensure that the referral had been picked up.

  “Madeleine? It’s me. It’s Edward.”

  “Hello? Sorry?”

  “It’s me. I’m just outside the hospice. I’m trying to keep my voice down. People’s windows are open, you know. I don’t want to disturb anyone. Hang on, I’ll walk down to the lake, see if the reception’s a bit better.”

  “Outside the hospice?”

  “Yeah. Mum’s been transferred.”

  “Oh good. Glad she got a bed. How’s she doing?”

  There was a pause.

  “Eddie? You still there?”

  “Yes.” Edward’s voice caught in his throat. “Yes, I’m here. She’s not doing well, Mads. Past few days, it’s been pretty tough, her breathing and everything.”

  “Because of the fluid?”

  “Yes. It’s been drained off so she can breathe a bit easier, but they had to whack a massive needle in her chest to do it. It all looked pretty brutal. She was brilliant of course, so brave, barely flinched. Probably just didn’t want me being upset.”

  “Sounds like Mummy.”

  “And she can definitely breathe more easily, so it was worth it. She’s also much happier now she’s back here. They’ve been really good with her, to be fair.”

  “You’ve changed your tune. Time was, you couldn’t wait to get her out of the hospice and onto active treatment.”

  “I know. I haven’t necessarily changed my mind. I just want her to feel better, and they seem to be pretty good at that here. They know her. They know what to do.”

  “And how are you?”

  “Okay. Just a bit knackered, you know.” He paused. “It’s hard.”

  “Oh, Eddie! I know. I so wish I could be there to take some of this burden off. Is Clara stepping up a bit?”

  “I haven’t seen her much. She’s busy with work. Trying to make partner and, well, I remember being in that position. She can’t just drop everything. And I’m spending so much time in Bristol now. She’s come to visit a few times.”

  “What? To visit Mummy?”

  “No. She’s not… I don’t think she’d be comfortable with that.”

  “Hmm. Your office still being good about everything?”

  “Yes, they’ve been great. Told me to take as much time as I need. I’m doing little bits here and there for clients – online, over the phone, you know. I need to take my mind off things now and again. But the reality of taking Mum to all these appointments and being there for all the treatment… I don’t know how people manage if they can’t take time off work. Must be a nightmare.”

  “Yes, I suppose I’ve never thought about it before. How the other half live and all that. Anyway. You won’t be on your own for much longer. Flight’s booked for Monday.”

  “Great. Can you text me the details and I’ll pick you guys up from the airport? Assuming nothing more dramatic has happened in the meantime.”

  “God, don’t say that. She is stable, isn’t she? I mean she is going to still be… Do you think I should change the flights? Bring them forward? I could, you know.”

  “No. It’s fine. She is stable. I’m sorry, being melodramatic.” There was a pause. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”

  “Oh God, me too. And the kids. They’ve been getting so excited, packing and repacking their bags. Annabelle’s already chosen and discarded at least fourteen outfits for the plane, let alone the rest of the trip. She’s decided she wants to go to Harvey Nicks. Heard me telling Shalini about the fact that they’ve opened one up in little old Bristol.”

  Edward spluttered a laugh. “I’ll take her. Get her something glamorous.”

  “Oh, she would love that, Eddie. That’s a great idea. Look, I’ll see you in a few days. Hang on in there, okay? You’re doing a splendid job. Give Mummy a big kiss for me.”

  “Will do.”

  “Love you.”

  “You too.”

  Edward walked back into the hospice, a smile on his face as he contemplated the prospect of a shopping trip with his niece. By the time Tess arrived for her night shift he was sitting talking to Mary, who had colour in her cheeks and was more animated than she had been in days. The physiotherapist had visited and they both thanked Tess for arranging the referral; it was clear from their faces how beneficial it had been.

  Tess was gratified to see the improvement, but there was little in terms of additional medical input required for Mary that night and she remained cautious about maintaining a professional distance. She had not forgotten Dr Fielding’s advice and knew that she could not face another harrowing re-run of the previous altercation, which had left her feeling so bruised.


  So she avoided sitting and chatting too long with Mary, even though she wanted to find out how much her patient knew and how she was coping. She avoided pressing her on how she felt about the impending results of her recent investigations and instead focussed on purely clinical support; doing the jobs that were necessary for her patient’s comfort and ease, but not engaging in any real sense. Edward and Tess’s exchanges during the night were polite and courteous, but they were both wary of each other. However, Tess reflected, it was a giant leap forward from open warfare.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next day was Saturday and Tess was looking forward to completing the week – this would be her last night-shift for a while, and she had the luxury of two days off to recover afterwards. Kath had been working days like a normal human being, so their paths had crossed infrequently at home, and as a result Morris had been receiving twice the usual amount of cat food, each housemate feeding him before she left for her shift. That morning Tess noticed the bag of food was a lot lighter than it should have been and, realising their mistake, omitted his breakfast.

  The weather was unusually warm for June and she left the windows wide open in every room to encourage what available breeze there was into the house while she went upstairs to sleep. A few hours later Morris pushed his not inconsiderable bulk through the sitting room window and headed towards the uncharted territory and gastronomic delights of the wheelie bins at the front of the house next to the main road.

  By the time Tess arrived at the hospice that evening, some of the day’s heat had abated, but it still felt muggy in the foyer. Janice on reception had spent most of the day complaining bitterly about the polyester tabard she was forced to wear, and by early afternoon the hospice manager had finally relented and allowed her to remove it. When Tess arrived, Janice was fanning herself extravagantly with a flyer advertising commodes and muttering about workers’ rights for menopausal women.

  Tess first went to check on Mr Silvy, a retired geography teacher with motor neurone disease, who had regaled Tess with stories of his previous rugby triumphs when she had clerked him in the night before. Before she started her evening ward round, she looked in on Mary Russell, having seen Edward leave the building a few minutes earlier. She found her patient sitting by the window where a gentle breeze was bringing in some welcome freshness.

  “Do you have a minute, Dr Carter? I wonder if you might be able to help me get over to the bed? Edward has gone out for some air and I’ve started to feel a little fatigued. I wonder if another one of my extended sleeps is in order. It’s all I seem to spend my time doing at the moment.”

  “Of course,” Tess said. “It would be lovely to catch up with you anyway. I’ve been wondering how you’ve been getting on. I know we haven’t talked much about it all recently. I thought it best to, you know, keep a low profile.”

  “Oh?”

  “I just didn’t want to make things more complicated for you…” She stopped herself, remembering Dr Fielding’s advice. “Never mind, let’s get you back into bed.”

  The process of transferring out of the chair and walking the few steps across the room was slow and arduous. As Tess supported her patient’s weight, she noted how frail Mary had become, the sharp ridges of her shoulder blades poking through her thin cotton nightgown and her wrists fragile, like fine porcelain resting in Tess’s hand. Mary told her, in short staccato bursts, how much easier her breathing had become since the physiotherapy assessment and how glad she was that the doctors at the General had been able to drain the fluid off her lungs.

  “It felt like I was drowning,” she said. “Such a relief to be rid of it.”

  “They didn’t manage to slip you some extra chemotherapy while you were in then?” Tess asked.

  Mary shook her head and smiled as she sank into the bed.

  “Oh, that’s better. No, no more chemo, thank goodness. I think Edward is slowly coming around to the idea that further noxious chemicals may do more harm than good. Dr Hamilton-Jones has been very kind but I worry that he might have given my son unrealistic expectations in the beginning. To be honest, I always feel a sense of alarm when I see him now, wondering what horrific treatment plan he has come up with this time.”

  “Do you want to hear my favourite oncologist joke?”

  “Go on then.”

  “Admittedly, it’s from a limited repertoire: why do they nail coffin lids down?”

  “No idea.”

  “To stop the oncologists delivering one more dose of chemotherapy!”

  Mrs Russell snorted a delicate laugh through her nose.

  “Sorry.” Tess looked sheepish. “Not at all appropriate. Make sure you don’t tell your son about that joke – he’d be appalled. Probably have me escorted off the premises!”

  “Actually, it seems perfectly appropriate given the circumstances. And I don’t think Edward would necessarily disagree.” She looked sidelong at Tess, “His views have changed somewhat.”

  “Mary, we don’t have to talk about this. Your son’s opinions are his own business. He has made that abundantly clear on several occasions.”

  There was a pause as Mary found a better position in the bed. “I can imagine. And I am sorry if he upset you. He has a fierce temper on him, that one. He’s learnt to control it but goodness, it did cause havoc when he was young. He was a bit of a terror really – never malicious but he could get so fired up! Always so fixed on what was right or wrong, outraged by anything he perceived as injustice – against himself, his friends, or even complete strangers.”

  She told Tess about several occasions when Edward had intervened in fights between much older children. “He was always fearless. He’d wade right in, often ending up being hurt in the process, but he’d be completely unfazed, standing there with a bloody nose, scraped and bruised, explaining patiently to his teachers how the situation had arisen and what he thought needed to be done to sort it out.”

  “He sounds a bit like my brother,” said Tess. “He was always getting into scrapes on behalf of other people, looking out for the underdog, you know.”

  “Exactly. I think that’s why Edward ended up studying law: he had this very clear idea of doing the right thing. Well, that and the fact that his father was completely determined he should follow in his footsteps. Edward actually wanted to be a vet for a long time, but sometimes a parent’s wishes have a way of encroaching on their children’s choices, don’t they?”

  Tess smiled to herself, thinking of her mother and her secrets. Mary’s comments also chimed with something Edward had told her that first night together, about his reservations regarding his current choice of career. Hearing Mary’s take on Edward was interesting. His mother’s opinion fit better with Tess’s earlier recollections and made her wonder whether her initial assessment of him had actually been correct.

  “Still,” Mary said, “he’s a good lawyer and his clients certainly seem to appreciate him.”

  “He’s very driven? Focussed, I mean? Only, from what I’ve seen of him working in the café…” She was aware that she was treading a fine line between allowing her patient to talk and get things off her chest, whilst also wanting to probe a bit further for her own self-interest.

  Mary was nodding in agreement. “He works very hard. Too hard, but at least it keeps him busy. Takes his mind off things. And his office have been very understanding about him needing time off at the moment. I think because he’s put so many hours in over the years. And they can’t afford to lose him; he’s so good at what he does.”

  She shifted position in the bed and took another slow breath that rattled through her chest. “But I still see that expression on his face sometimes, that outraged little boy, determined to make things right. He’s really struggling with this”—she gestured to herself—“because he can’t make it better. Obviously. And it drives him up the wall. Hence the outburst. Or rather, series of outbursts.”

  She looked Tess directly in the eye. “He does feel bad about the thin
gs he said, Dr Carter, I can tell. He actually holds you in very high regard, although I appreciate that may be a little hard to believe.”

  There was a pause and Tess patted her hand. “It’s okay,” she said. “Honestly. These things are sometimes more complicated than any of us realise.”

  Mary sighed and Tess could see she was starting to look tired, so she took her cue and rose to leave. “Is there anything you need? Can I get you a drink of water?” She pulled the table closer to the bed and poured some iced water into the plastic cup, holding it out to Mary who pursed her mouth round the straw and took a couple of gulps.

  “Delicious, thank you,” she said. “One forgets how lovely a cold drink is on a hot night.”

  Tess rested her hand briefly on Mary’s shoulder before making her way out of the room, bumping into a returning Edward who was holding a worn paperback in his hand.

  “Oh, I’ve read that,” she said looking down at the book. “The Song of Achilles – yeah, it’s great. In fact, I think that one might be mine. Was it from the library shelf? Yes, it’s one I brought in.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, should I not have taken it?”

  “No. I mean obviously, it’s a library shelf; I brought it in for people to borrow. That’s the idea. It’s a good read anyway. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  “Well. Thank you. Did you get a chance to…?”

  “Oh, to finish the Adam Kaye you lent me? Yes, I did. It was fantastic wasn’t it? I laughed so much, but it was also just so poignant.”

  “I know. That bit where he casually mentions the effect the job has had on his partner…”

  “Oh, God, yes, and the bit where he says, ‘You saved the wrong one.’ I was in pieces. Anyway, I suspect you might be wanting to immerse yourself in a story tonight. It looks like your mum’s settling down to sleep. You can always sit in the relatives’ room if you want? Or the offer of a camp bed still stands? Just let me know.”