The Moment She Left

by Susan Lewis

  As Rowzee gave an assurance that she had, Andee was surprised and even amused to find herself in a state of optimism too, as though Norma’s ebullient nature and belief in good was somehow infectious. It had been right to come here, her instincts were telling her. She’d yet to find out why they’d reached this decision, but there was something so comforting and wholesome about this woman with her twinkly eyes and copious amounts of pretty jewellery that it felt uplifting just to be with her.

  Andee watched Rowzee’s dear little head in front of her as, still holding Norma’s hand, she followed Norma across a dimly lit hall with several closed doors and into a surprisingly large and bright room, given how small the bungalow appeared from the outside. The smell of incense immediately assailed them, while the soothing notes of a harp mingled with the sound of trickling water. Colourful crystals, candles, runes and tiny angels were all around the place, with dreamcatchers and wind chimes dangling from window frames and overhead beams.

  The room was clearly double the size it had once been, for the whole of the back wall had been removed to give full and free access into a spacious sun room where water features and Buddhas and yet more crystals glinted serenely in the late-morning sunlight. All the furniture was draped in beautifully embroidered throws and needlepoint cushions, while the floors and walls were home to an impressive collection of what appeared to be handmade rugs and tapestries.

  ‘Jase is just putting the kettle on,’ Norma told them, lifting a parrot with one finger and handing it back into its cage. ‘He said you like biscuits, so I’ve made some specially. You don’t have to eat them, of course, I shan’t be offended, because they never go wasted in this house. People coming and going all the time, wanting readings, or advice of some sort, or a good old chat about whatever’s on their minds, which is lovely because it helps keep us all lively and up to date with this world and the next, if that’s what they’re after.’ Her violet eyes followed Rowzee’s to the person Andee had only just noticed herself. He was slumped in a wheelchair to one side of the sun room, his carroty hair glinting golden in the sunlight. His head was lolling towards one shoulder, while his thin hands hung loosely in his lap, and his empty blue-grey eyes were staring at nothing at all.

  ‘This is Sean, my son,’ Norma told them, going to bring the wheelchair closer. ‘Sean, do you remember I told you your stepmother was coming today? Well here she is, and a friend has also come with her. Aren’t we lucky to have visitors?’

  Andee had seen enough photographs of Victor to realise straight away how this shell of a man resembled him, and of course, Rowzee would be seeing it too. Worrying about the effect it might be having on her, Andee tried to think what to say, but Norma was already answering her own question, speaking as though Sean had in some way responded to her.

  ‘That’s right, my lovely, they’ve had quite a long drive, but Jase is making them some tea – or coffee if you prefer,’ she said to Rowzee and Andee.

  ‘Tea’s fine,’ they replied, almost in unison.

  Andee said, ‘Jason told us about the accident . . . We hadn’t realised . . . Is it how he came to be like this?’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Norma replied, smoothing a fond hand over Sean’s hair.

  Hating talking about him as if he weren’t there, but having to ask, Andee said, ‘Can he hear or speak?’

  Still smiling, Norma said, ‘He rarely has anything to say, but the doctors are convinced he hears certain sounds so between us we’re trying to figure out a system of communication. Music is very good.’

  Noticing how pale Rowzee had become, Andee put a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Ah, here you are,’ Norma announced cheerily as Jason came into the room with an overloaded tray. ‘Put everything down here next to Dad, there’s a love.’

  Struck by the incongruity of Jason’s razor cut, sleeveless jacket and torn jeans in this mesmerisingly spiritual emporium, Andee watched him set the tray down as expertly as a professional waiter.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ Rowzee told him huskily, seeming unsure about everything, as well she might.

  After giving her a hug, he said, ‘Nan, you haven’t invited anyone to sit down.’

  With a roll of her eyes, Norma said, ‘Where are my manners? It’s a good job I have this young scallywag to keep me on my toes or who knows where we’d all end up,’ and waving Rowzee and Andee to a cosy two-seater sofa, she took an armchair next to Sean while Jason handed round cups of tea before perching on a chair next to the table.

  ‘In case you’re wondering,’ Norma began, ‘we always talk openly in front of Sean so please don’t be afraid to ask anything, or say whatever’s on your mind.’

  Feeling that her own thoughts were largely irrelevant, Andee waited for Rowzee to speak first, but it seemed Rowzee was still finding it hard to say anything.

  Coming to the rescue, Norma said, ‘I’m going about this all the wrong way round, as usual. I’m the one who should start, of course, by trying to express just how sorry I am for what Sean did to Victor all those years ago. I realise much water has flowed since, but that doesn’t make the crime any less serious, or the apology any less necessary or heartfelt. If I’d known where he was going that day I’d have done everything I could to stop him, but he hardly ever confided in me back then so I rarely knew what he was thinking, much less what he was planning to do with his day.’

  Deciding to take the lead until Rowzee was ready, Andee said, ‘How long before that day did Sean know about Victor being his father?’

  ‘A few months,’ Norma replied. ‘He kept threatening to go, and I kept telling him that no good would come of it while he was in the state he was in . . . Of course, I realise now that I should have contacted Victor myself to let him know that he had a son who might turn up on him.’

  ‘Why didn’t . . .?’ Rowzee cleared her throat. ‘Why didn’t you tell Victor right back when you knew you were pregnant?’

  Norma’s eyes went to where her hand was holding her son’s, and it seemed for a moment that she wasn’t going to answer. ‘I was a fool not to have,’ she replied, her eyes still down, ‘and believe me I wish now that I had, but I was very young back then, and selfish and naïve with so many romantic notions in my head . . . I told myself that I’d love my baby so much that he’d never need a father.’ Her gentle eyes showed her troubled conscience as she fixed them on Rowzee. ‘I couldn’t have articulated any of that to myself back then,’ she admitted, ‘all I knew was that he was mine and I didn’t want to share him in case someone tried to take him away. So I never told a soul who the father was, not even my parents who stood by me for as long as they were alive. I realise now, of course, how irrational and unforgivable my actions were, and my only defence is youth and a lack of understanding of myself, never mind the world.’

  Since Rowzee didn’t seem to have any more questions for the moment, Andee said, ‘So what prompted you to tell Sean about Victor when you did?’

  Norma shook her head sadly, but before she could answer Rowzee put a hand to her mouth, saying, ‘He’s crying. Is he crying?’

  Tears were indeed running down Sean’s sunken cheeks, but Norma was unflustered as she took a tissue from a box beside her to dry his eyes, and another to dab the drool from his chin.

  ‘Why is he crying?’ Rowzee asked worriedly.

  ‘We don’t know that he is,’ Norma replied. ‘It could just be the angle that he’s holding his head making his eyes run.’

  Realising she needed to tell herself that as a way of dealing with his inner distress, if that was indeed what was causing the tears, Andee looked at Jason, who was watching his grandmother, apparently ready to help if needed.

  ‘Now where were we?’ Norma asked, sitting back in her chair. ‘Oh that’s right, why did I tell Sean about Victor when I did? Well, I guess we have to put that down to this one,’ she said, nodding towards Jason. ‘After his mother ran off and left him when he was twelve and Sean brought him here to me, I got to realise that in their d
ifferent ways they both needed more than me and what was missing for Sean, most of all, was a father. I’d done my best, I really had, but I couldn’t fool myself any longer. Sean wasn’t the kind of man I’d hoped he’d be, and I had to accept that the cause of his problems might well have been growing up without a father to teach him the rights and wrongs of the world. I felt sure in my heart that Victor was a good man who’d want to do right by his son and grandson, but even so, I still didn’t come clean right away. I thought about it for a long time and prayed for guidance. I was afraid, I suppose, that it wouldn’t work out the way I hoped, and now, with the benefit of hindsight, we know I was right to be afraid. I never dreamt it would go the way it did, with Victor ending up in hospital and Sean being arrested on the way back for drunk-driving. I didn’t actually know he’d been to see Victor then, he didn’t tell me for several weeks, and I’m still not sure if I ever got the whole story. I remember telling myself that if it had been as serious as Sean was making out the police would have come to find him. But no one did, and even though I knew I should be in touch to make sure Victor was all right, I told myself that if he wanted any more contact with Sean he’d do it in his own time, not in mine. I guess you could accuse me of burying my head in the sand, or not wanting to believe the worst of my son in spite of knowing he was capable of some terrible things when he was drunk. And there was Jason to think of too. Life was difficult enough for the lad trying to get over the way his mother had just upped and gone – she used to ring from time to time, but she never came to see him, or invited him to go and visit her. It was a difficult time, and it was all my fault. I knew that then and I know it now. If I’d allowed Victor – and you – to be a part of Sean’s life he’d be a very different person today.’

  Rowzee was gazing at Sean’s glinting thatch of hair and silvery blue eyes as she said, ‘Jason told us it was a hit-and-run driver.’

  Norma nodded. ‘We have our suspicions who was behind it, but we can’t go to the police without creating even more problems for ourselves. You see, Sean had got in with the wrong kind of people. He told me before this happened that they were following him and he was afraid, but there was nothing I could do. It was drugs; he was selling them and spending what he got on booze instead of handing it over to the dealers. I only found out after, while he was still in hospital, and they came to see me.’ She sighed sadly. ‘It was a terrible time. The gangsters – and believe me, they were gangsters – came here wanting money a few weeks after it happened. I was afraid they might do something to harm Jason if I didn’t pay up, so I raised the money the only way I could and sold my shop. Luckily it got rid of them.’

  ‘You should have to come to us, we’d have helped you,’ Rowzee told her with feeling.

  With a smile Norma said, ‘I think I knew that, and I was going to get in touch, but then I heard on the news that Victor had died and it seemed just plain wrong to ask for your help when you were going through your own difficult time.’

  Rowzee’s eyes were solemn and earnest as she said, ‘I’d like to help now. So if there’s anything you need . . .’

  ‘Not me,’ Norma interrupted gently. ‘I’m fine, so’s Sean, in his way. He’s got his mum to take care of him, but it’s not right for Jason to be . . .’

  ‘Nan, you promised,’ Jason interrupted.

  ‘I know, my love, but you can’t go on wasting your life here, trying to make things easier for me when there’s a whole world of universities and opportunities out there you should be taking advantage of.’

  ‘I don’t want to. I’m all right here.’

  Rowzee’s eyes moved between the two, as though she might get involved, but in the end all she said to Norma was, ‘Do you have help from social services?’

  ‘Actually, they’re pretty good,’ Norma admitted. ‘Someone comes in twice a week so I can go to work in the shop. I enjoy it, it’s a busy place and it gets me out for a few hours.’

  ‘Is that where you do your readings?’ Rowzee wondered.

  ‘Sometimes. I’ve got a small room here as well.’

  After taking this in, Rowzee said, ‘Maybe I could help pay for some private nursing?’

  ‘Oh, no, no,’ Norma protested. ‘If you want to help Jason that’s fine . . .’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Jason informed her belligerently. ‘He’s as much my dad as he’s your son, so if I want to look after him too that’s up to me.’

  Though Andee might have wondered how Sean had managed to earn himself so much love and loyalty, she could see from the photos around the place of a very young Jason with a very different Sean that there had definitely been a bond once.

  Since there seemed to be a bit of a stand-off over Rowzee’s offer to help, Andee ventured to say, ‘Can I suggest you all take some time to think things over before you reach any decisions?’

  After agreeing that this was the most sensible course Rowzee turned to Andee, seeming unsure of what to do next.

  Before Andee could speak Norma was getting to her feet. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I have to see to Sean.’

  ‘It’s OK, I’ll do it Nan,’ Jason offered, getting up too.

  Realising from the odour that had begun seeping into the musky scent of incense that the poor man must have soiled himself, Andee said, ‘Rowzee and I ought to be going. I need to be somewhere.’

  With a smile, Norma said, ‘Of course.’ She watched as Rowzee walked over to Sean and stooped to take his hand.

  ‘I’m sorry this has happened to you,’ Rowzee whispered shakily. ‘So very sorry.’

  There was no reaction from Sean, but she waited anyway, as though expecting it to take some time. In the end, she stood up and turned to embrace Norma.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ Norma murmured against Rowzee’s feathery hair.

  ‘I’m glad I did,’ Rowzee replied.

  Still holding her Norma closed her eyes, and frowned, and for one awful moment Andee was afraid she might be trying to contact someone on the other side. Or perhaps someone there was trying to reach her. Dear God, don’t let it be Victor.

  Seeming unfazed, Rowzee waited and gazed expectantly into Norma’s face until eventually Norma said, ‘You have a dog?’

  Rowzee blinked. ‘No.’

  Norma simply shrugged. ‘I thought maybe you did.’

  For a long time after she and Andee had driven away from Norma’s bungalow, Rowzee said nothing. The shock of finding Victor’s son in such a debilitated state was still resonating profoundly with her, speaking to her in ways she couldn’t articulate, only feel. The empathy was like nothing she’d ever known before; the frustration of being unable to reach him, of not knowing how he felt, if he needed to speak, if he wanted to stay as he was simply to remain alive, was so intense it was making her light-headed.

  One day, perhaps sooner rather than later, there was every chance she was going to be like that, unable to act for herself, or communicate her needs, or even recognise those she loved. Someone would have to wash and feed her, put her to bed and get her up in the morning. She wondered if Sean did recognise those he loved, if not by sight then by voice or even some kind of extra-sensory perception. Surely to God he didn’t want to be as he was, but even if he were desperate to die he couldn’t tell anyone. He was being kept alive because medical science had made it possible, not because it was right or what he wanted, if anyone even knew what that was. He could be locked up inside himself, unable to make his voice, his hands, his eyes, or his brain function in a way that could help him to escape the misery and ignominy of a living death.

  Feeling absolutely certain now that she must press ahead with her plans to go to Zurich, and soon, probably in the next two to three weeks while the steroids were still working, she refused to allow herself to feel afraid or upset. She simply thought of Sean and what she’d just seen of his tragic existence and his family’s devotion. All her instincts were telling her that Victor had been in that room today, showing her his son, and reminding her that it di
dn’t have to be that way for her. He’d be waiting with Edward when she got to the other side, and everyone she loved on this side would understand, once she’d written it all down for them, why she’d chosen to go the way she had.

  Eventually breaking the silence, Andee said, ‘That was harder than you were expecting?’

  Rowzee didn’t deny it. ‘But it’s helped to clarify some things too,’ she said, wondering fleetingly if she could ask Norma to go to Zurich with her. She was such a gentle and soothing person, exactly the right sort of presence to help her on her way. But of course it was supremely selfish to think of putting such a burden on dear Norma when she already had so much to contend with. And the last thing she’d need was Rowzee’s family blaming her in some way for Rowzee’s own decision.

  ‘I wonder why she thought you had a dog,’ Andee commented.

  Rowzee frowned. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she replied, ‘but I’ve just remembered that I’m going to be looking after my niece’s dog for the next couple of weeks. I wonder if she was meaning him.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Graeme looked up from the auction site he was browsing as Pamela bustled in through the shop door with her arms full of carrier bags from some of Kesterly’s most expensive boutiques.

  ‘Have you heard from Rowzee?’ she demanded with no preamble, while dropping her shopping on an elegant mahogany and ivory silk chaise longue.

  ‘I wasn’t really expecting to yet,’ he replied. ‘Were you?’

  ‘I just thought she might have called to keep us in the picture. No word from Andee either, I take it?’

  Shaking his head, he nodded towards her bags. ‘Robbed a bank?’ he teased.

  ‘Actually, most of it’s for Rowzee and the girls. I thought they could do with a treat.’ She took out her phone to check for messages. ‘Are you worried?’ she asked.

  ‘You mean about Rowzee? I wasn’t.’

  ‘How can you say that when you know she hasn’t been herself lately – all these dizzy spells and headaches, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they’re worse than she’s admitting to. You need to talk to her about seeing the doctor. Hello Blake, gosh they’re pretty,’ she declared, admiring the mid-century Murano glass candlesticks he was bringing through from the workshop. ‘I think Rowzee would like these, Graeme, don’t you? Shall I get them for her?’