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‘Is it a special one?’ I remembered as soon as he said it that Alison Friel’s birthday had
been sometime in spring, so perhaps he wasn’t making this up. I couldn’t remember how old
she was. Could she be seventy? ‘Is she having a party?’
‘No. Not special and no party. But I told her I’d be there.’
‘But she lives in London,’ I said. ‘You can’t expect me to drive you all the way down
there.’
‘They’re not in London. Mam and Dad have moved to Yorkshire. Near Ripon.’
Ripon? That’s where he’d said that he lived too. They had always been a close-knit
family, so it shouldn’t surprise me that they all lived near to each other, but Ripon was an
unexpected choice. Paddy’s mum had been born in Yorkshire, but the family had seemed
settled in London when I knew them, and Paddy’s life was down there. Not just his celebrity
life; according to Wikipedia, he owned an archaeology consultancy business in the south-east
of the country.
Paddy was picking at his toast, not meeting my eye.
‘Your mum will understand why you can’t make it, when you explain the
circumstances, won’t she?’ I asked. ‘Won’t a phone call do?’
‘No. Ah, it’s complicated, Eve.’ He looked up at me, but I almost wished he hadn’t
when I saw the bleakness in his eyes. ‘She’s not so good. I said I’d be there, and I don’t want
to let her down.’
Was I a fool? Maybe. Half an hour later we were in my car, following the road that
wound through the valleys of north Lancashire and across to Yorkshire. It was a glorious late
spring day, and the sun saturated the countryside with warmth, enhancing the rich green shades
of the fields around us and making the new leaves sparkle on the trees. Paddy was silent, but I
didn’t mind. It wasn’t a bad way to spend my Saturday, enjoying all this lush beauty; in fact, it
was good to get out, invigorating to see somewhere different for a change. The sunshine felt
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like a foretaste of summer and seemed to offer hope, and the promise of good things ahead.
Despite the company, I felt relaxed and happier than I would ever have imagined in Paddy’s
presence.
Eventually, Paddy directed me off the main road and towards a village on the outskirts
of Ripon, until we pulled up outside a large, detached bungalow on a quiet country lane.
‘When did your parents move here?’ I asked, as I switched off the engine. I looked
around: there were only two other properties in sight, and the views in every direction were
tremendous. It was a far cry from the busy London street where Paddy’s parents had lived when
I had known them.
‘A couple of years ago. Mam wanted to come back home to Yorkshire.’
He unfastened his seat belt and hesitated.
‘Is there a café in the village?’ I asked. ‘I could wait there until you’re ready.’
‘No, you’d better come in. She’d never forgive me if I didn’t offer you a cup of tea.’
He smiled, but there was an unexplained quality of sadness to it. I accompanied him up
the drive, past a huge people-carrier parked under a car port, and along a covered path to the
front door. A ramp led up to a double-width front door. I looked at Paddy for an explanation,
but he didn’t offer one. He rang the doorbell and pushed open the front door without waiting
for a reply.
‘Dad? Mam? It’s Paddy!’
I followed him into a hallway with three wide arches leading off to other rooms, but no
doors. A man emerged through one of the arches and it took me a moment to recognise Paddy’s
dad, Ray. His smile was as warm as ever, but in everything else he had shrunk and aged beyond
what I would have expected.
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‘Hi, Dad.’ Paddy bent and embraced his father. They had been of similar build, when
Paddy was a teenager; now Paddy dwarfed him. He stepped back and gestured towards me.
‘You remember Eve?’
‘Of course. You don’t look a day older.’ Ray took my hand in both of his and squeezed
it. ‘Good of you to look after Paddy like this. How’s the leg?’
‘Yeah, getting better. Just a minor sprain.’ Paddy glanced at me and I understood the
silent appeal: no mentioning that he’d been in pain. ‘How’s Mam?’
‘Having a good day. Come in, the pair of you.’
Ray led the way through the arch to the left and into a bright living room with huge
picture windows overlooking the garden and fields beyond. But I couldn’t concentrate on the
view. Paddy’s mum, Alison, sat in front of the window in a large wheelchair. If I’d thought
Ray had shrunk, it was nothing compared to Alison. Her face was gaunt, and she looked the
‘hollow figure’ that I had accused Paddy of being. But her smile was as warm as it had ever
been as she caught sight of Paddy.
‘How are you, love?’ she asked, holding out her right hand to Paddy. He took it and
bent down to kiss her cheeks, resting his head briefly against hers. My heart ached at the
gesture: he had always adored his mum. ‘And don’t think of trying to kid me. I saw the pain
on your face when you walked in, though you tried to hide it.’
I’d noticed it too: he had been trying not to limp. He perched on the arm of the sofa at
Alison’s side.
‘It’s something and nothing,’ he said. ‘No need to worry. I’d be recovered by now if I
hadn’t overdone it yesterday.’
‘Running around after the girls, like usual, I expect …’ Alison laughed but it turned
into a cough and Paddy sprang up to help wipe her mouth. ‘I hope you’re not giving Eve the
run-around again.’
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I didn’t think she’d noticed me, but I came forward and took her outstretched hand. Her
grip was weak, but she held on to me.
‘You’ve not changed a bit,’ she said. ‘Not like the rest of us.’
‘But I’m older and wiser,’ I replied, ‘and no one gives me the run-around any more.’
‘Well, I’m right glad to hear that.’ She smiled and squeezed my hand, and her eyes
twinkled in the way that Paddy’s did. ‘I’m glad to see you again, love. It’s been too long. How’s
that little girl of yours?’
‘Not so little. Look.’ I took out my phone and showed Alison the picture of Caitlyn on
my lock screen. ‘She’s working in Paris now, as an au pair. She loves it over there.’
‘She’s a beauty,’ Alison said. Paddy was peering over her shoulder at my phone. ‘Make
yourself useful, Paddy, and put the kettle on. And there’s cake in the tin on the counter. Your
dad’s soft, thinks I need a birthday cake at my age …’
A couple of hours passed quickly and with more ease than I would have thought
possible. Paddy’s family had always been close, and the love that knit them so tightly together
was obvious in every word and gesture between them. But after a while, Alison became visibly
tired, her speech less frequent and more laboured, and Paddy stood up.
‘We’ll let you rest now, Mam,’ he said. ‘I’ll just have a word with Dad about the
conservatory. I’ve been offered
a spot on a panel show so we can go ahead …’
Paddy and his dad wandered out and moments later I saw them in the garden,
gesticulating at the back of the house.
‘You’re having a conservatory?’ I said, moving closer to Alison. ‘That will be lovely,
looking out over that view.’
‘God’s own country,’ Alison said. Her words were starting to slur, and her breaths were
shallow. ‘Wanted to end my days at home.’
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‘I’m so sorry.’ I perched on the sofa arm where Paddy had sat earlier and took Alison’s
right hand in mine. She hadn’t moved her left hand at all since I had arrived. ‘I don’t know
what to say.’
‘Don’t fret. Every curse and complaint has already been said. I went through the why
me stage. Now I’m at the why not me. I wouldn’t wish this on any other bugger.’ She stopped
and gestured at her water and I helped her to have a drink. ‘Hate being such a burden. And so
much not done.’ Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘So much not done.’
I was wiping tears from both our faces when Paddy and Ray came back in. I said
goodbye to Alison, hugged her frail body as best I could, and returned to my car so that Paddy
could have a few minutes alone with his family. When he finally walked down the drive
towards me, I wondered how I could have thought I’d seen pain on his face over the last week.
That had been nothing in comparison to his expression now: true pain, from the heart, not the
body. My own heart ached in sympathy.
We drove away and headed home in silence. Paddy looked too upset to talk and I
couldn’t think of anything to say that could possibly make him feel better. But when we were
halfway home, I spotted the country pub where Tina and I had stopped on the night of the
school talk when I had first seen Paddy again. I pulled into the car park.
‘You need a drink,’ I said, when Paddy looked at me. He smiled for the first time since
leaving his parents’ house.
‘I can’t argue with that.’
Paddy found a quiet table and I bought the drinks. I waited until he’d had a first, long
swig of his Guinness before I reached out and took his hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I squeezed his hand and he gripped mine back, so tightly that it hurt.
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I glanced around. There were a few other people in our section of the pub – couples,
families, a large group celebrating a birthday – but no one was watching us, and no one was
near enough to hear our conversation.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘MND. Motor neurone disease.’
‘And …’ I didn’t know how to ask the question, or whether I should.
‘There’s no cure.’ Paddy stared into his pint. ‘No standard progression either. There’s
no way of knowing how or when she’ll lose some function, or when …’ He stopped, took a
breath. ‘She slurred more words than usual today. That’s not good.’
His forehead creased into well-established lines of concern that I hadn’t seen before,
marking him more clearly than ever as a man of his age rather than the boy I had known.
‘When did it start?’ I asked.
‘About three years ago.’ Paddy took a drink. ‘She had some numbness in her foot,
started to stumble and eventually the doctor ran some tests. It was the worst possible news.
You just can’t imagine …’ His drink was disappearing rapidly. ‘Mentally, she’s as alert as
ever. It kinda makes it worse. She knows as every bit of power is taken from her. She knows
exactly what’s to come. How do you bear that?’
I had no answer. My experience of loss had been swift and unexpected. Painful though
it had been, perhaps I had been lucky. What must it be like to go through this torture, seeing a
loved one suffer and gradually fade? Day after day of grief, both longing for it to end and
dreading that it would? I rubbed my thumb over Paddy’s hand. Even when I thought I’d hated
him, I couldn’t have wished this on him. But I had never hated this heartbroken man in front
of me.
He stood up, breaking the contact between our hands. ‘Another drink?’
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I had barely touched mine, and he headed to the bar for another pint, still walking stiffly
on his injured leg. A few people looked at him as he passed, and frowned as if trying to place
him, but he was lost in his own world and didn’t seem to notice.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I asked, when he came back. ‘You only needed to say, and I
would have driven you anywhere.’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t talk about it. I choose to be in the public eye. Mam doesn’t. She’s
a private person. You know that.’
‘And so all the TV work,’ I said, remembering the conversation about the conservatory.
‘All the celebrity stuff …’
‘Yes. If it pays, I’ll do it. The speed dating show paid for the garden to be landscaped
so it was wheelchair-friendly. Then there’s the car, the environmental control system, the top-
up therapy, the extra holiday costs, the respite care for Dad … She’ll have the best of everything
as long as I can earn the money for her.’
And this was the man I had accused of being hollow! I sipped my cranberry juice,
wishing it was a glass of Merlot instead, to numb the shame that was eating away at me. I’d
thought I was living with a stranger, far removed from the Paddy I had known, and now I knew
it was true – but in the best, not the worst way. This man at my table was ten times the character
the boy had been. Adversity had shaped him, made him stronger – made him someone that in
another time, in other circumstances, I might have wanted to know better.
‘So is this why you don’t join digs abroad now?’ I asked, as many of the things he had
told me began to fall into place.
‘I won’t leave the country for more than a week, and I’ll only go to places with regular
and short flights home. We just can’t know …’ He looked across the table at me. ‘This is what
I’ve been wanting to tell you. I get it now. About Caitlyn, about realising what’s really
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important in life. I get why you would do anything, give up anything, for someone you love. I
didn’t understand it then. There was a lot I didn’t understand back then.’
He reached out for my phone, which was lying on the table beside my car keys, and
pressed the button to wake it up. Caitlyn’s picture flashed up.
‘I was a coward to walk out,’ he said. ‘I’ve had a long time to think about that. About
what I missed.’ He glanced at me, but I didn’t stop him, even though he was well within
forbidden territory. ‘She’s exactly like Faye. Have you looked after her entirely on your own?
No partner? No contact with her father?’
‘No.’ I shrugged, and ignored the first question. Now wasn’t the time to tell him how
devastated Caitlyn had been when he left; how wary it had made me of hurting her again by
introducing her to other boyfriends who might leave. ‘We never found him. Faye must have
fallen pregnant just after I started university. You didn’t know what s
he was like back then.
Let’s just say that Faye didn’t tend to stick with one boyfriend for long.’
I smiled, to try to take the sting out of my words. I hadn’t meant them critically. Faye
had never turned down an opportunity for fun or pleasure, whatever the consequences. Live
hard, die young, she had once said to me. We couldn’t have known how prophetic those words
would be. I felt a quiet tug in my heart, as if the frayed edges of my well-worn grief were being
pulled again.
‘Has Caitlyn never wanted to find him? What would you have done if her father had
shown up?’ Paddy asked.
‘I …’ The question floored me. I’d never seriously given it any thought. We’d always
been honest with Caitlyn: that we didn’t know who her father was, but that I, Mum and Gran
would offer her as much love as she could ever need. What if someone had turned up and
staked a claim on Caitlyn? How could we have given her up?
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‘I’d have been pleased for Caitlyn,’ I said, clutching my glass between my hands.
‘Assuming he was a good man who deserved her. But he couldn’t have been a good man, could
he? Faye’s death was reported in all the national papers. All the stories mentioned that she had
a child. A decent man would have turned up then, wouldn’t he?’ Thank goodness I’d never
been put to the test, I added to myself. I wasn’t sure I could have borne one more loss.
I held out my car keys to Paddy as we were leaving the pub.
‘Let yourself in. I’m just popping to the ladies.’
I looked around and spotted the sign pointing past the bar. I started to head that way,
but Paddy grabbed my arm.
‘Couldn’t you hang on? Only, the painkillers have worn off and I’m in sore need of a
top-up …’
‘What?’ I laughed. Was he seriously trying to stop me going to the toilet? But he wasn’t
joking; the frown had reappeared, and he was staring over my shoulder.
‘Don’t be silly. I’ll only be a minute.’
‘Listen to me, Eve. Don’t go that way.’
A Dozen Second Chances (ARC) Page 18
