With or Without You

by Shari Low

  The door opened again, and in sauntered Richard, looking at something on his phone as he walked. He was already a couple of metres into the deserted restaurant before he stopped, glanced up, and saw the whole gang standing there, staring at him.

  ‘What? What is it?’ he asked, with just a hint of alarm.

  Everyone turned to look at me now, and I opened my mouth to speak, only to discover it had apparently been subjected to some kind of numbing agent.

  ‘I… I…’ No good. Couldn’t get any further. My heart was racing, my hands were shaking.

  Eventually, it was left to the only sensible person in the room to intervene.

  ‘Mummy, is it what you told me this morning?’ Finn asked.

  I managed to nod my head.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, taking it on board and deciding to run with it. ‘Richard, my mummy wants to know if you’ll marry her. And me,’ he said proudly, and if it was humanly possible for a heart to burst with love, I’d need a sewing kit any minute.

  Richard’s whole face creased into the widest grin. ‘I think I’d be very happy to,’ he said, stepping forward to scoop up a cheering Finn.

  I finally found my voice. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course. Thought you’d never ask.’ It was the standing joke between us. He’d asked me to marry him a dozen times since we got back together and every time I told him I didn’t see the point in marriage. Only, the truth was that I did. I was just terrified of making another mistake, for me, for him, for Finn. Now it was time to stop being scared and take the leap. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this man. Now I would.

  To a rousing roar of cheers and applause, he reached me in three steps and enveloped me into a hug with him and Finn, before finally pulling back.

  ‘So when are we doing this?’ he asked. ‘Only it needs to be soon, before you change your mind.’

  ‘Er, now?’ I suggested, and before I could even process the look of puzzlement on his face, the door opened again and in charged my mother…

  ‘Oh. Holy. Fuck,’ Sasha whispered.

  …dressed in a full-length nun’s habit.

  ‘They were all out of vicars’ outfits at the dress-hire shop,’ she announced, as George ran in behind her. ‘It was as close as I could get.’ She was the only one who’d been in on this idea from the start, a vital part of the plan, although she’d failed to mention that there would be costumes. ‘So I’m here and ready. Let’s get going,’ she beamed, handing her oversized Gucci tote – the essential accessory for any nun – to George. I loved that he seemed to find her sheer bonkersness hilarious.

  ‘My mum got ordained so she could conduct the ceremony,’ I told my groom-to-be – that is, if he still wanted to be part of this circus that was our lives.

  Before he had a chance to change his mind, Ida stepped up on to the raised platform that was used on the nights that the restaurant had live music. ‘Would the bride and groom step forward please?’

  On shaking legs, I stepped towards her.

  And turned to see Richard coming right alongside me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A Hospital Ward

  December 2014

  I passed out the plastic food containers to Nate and Sasha, then pulled up a chair to the side of the bed and sat with them.

  ‘Hope it’s okay,’ I said, gesturing to the food. ‘The staff canteen can be hit or miss. A bit like myself.’

  My cooking inadequacies weren’t exactly a newsflash, but at least that made the two of them smile.

  ‘How long is your break?’ Sasha asked.

  ‘I can take a couple of hours because I’m on a split shift today. Ida and George are picking Finn up from school. Apparently, they have a hot date with crazy golf, Pizza Hut and a visit to Santa’s Grotto at the shopping centre.’ Christmas was only a few days away, but none of us were feeling festive. We were going through the motions for the sake of all the kids, but we were all consumed with worry about Justin.

  I saw a flash of relief cross Sasha’s face and I knew it was just the thought of having another person here, another layer of support. Thankfully, the schools had broken up for the Christmas holiday last Friday, so she and Nate had been able to spend as much time here as the medical staff allowed, in the three days since Justin had been admitted with extreme vomiting and disorientation. Even without the harsh light of the hospital room, the deep yellow tinge of his skin was unmistakable.

  There was only one way to reverse his illness and that had been ruled out a few months ago, downstairs in the same building, in a discussion with the consultant who was overseeing his care. Justin had been in for two days for a succession of tests, and he was already showing signs of end-stage liver disease.

  Nate, Sasha and I were there when the doc was on his rounds, and Justin had asked us to stay.

  ‘What about a transplant?’ Sasha had pleaded. She was right. It was the only hope, the only chance of coming back from this.

  ‘I’m sorry, but that isn’t an option in this case,’ the consultant has said, clearly uncomfortable. Years of experience with similar situations told me what was about to come and I closed my eyes. What a waste. What a tragic, heart-breaking waste.

  ‘But why not?’ Sasha was getting agitated now, her voice rising.

  The doctor had looked at Justin, met his gaze, then eventually filled the pause with, ‘I’m afraid that’s confidential and I’m not able to divulge the reasons…’

  Justin had interrupted him with a bitter reality check. ‘Because I’m still drinking,’ he’d blurted. ‘I’m sorry Sasha. Nate. I’m so sorry.’

  Sasha had been the first to react, standing up so suddenly that her chair thrust backwards, then storming out of the room. I understood. She’d done everything she could for him for all these years and he’d sabotaged his only chance of beating this. She was angry and frustrated and hurting and devastated to see someone who had once been so vibrant and full of life come to this.

  We all knew his alcoholism was a disease. An addiction. He wasn’t deliberately being destructive and if he had the strength to fight it then he would have. He wanted to live. He wanted to beat it. But the disease had won again and it was understandable that Sasha found this too painful to bear and let frustration take over.

  The doctor hadn’t commented, just excused himself and gone on with his rounds.

  Nate had reacted differently to Sasha. ‘When?’ he’d asked, needing facts and details.

  Justin, his yellow eyes bloodshot with unshed tears, had lifted his shaking hands from the bed in an apologetic shrugging motion. ‘Every day,’ he’d admitted. ‘Just a little, just enough to make me feel like I’ve got a reason to wake up.’

  Nate had put his forehead down on the bed for a moment as he tried to process this. I’d stayed silent, realising it was important for them to have this conversation.

  Eventually, Nate had lifted his head, then reached for Justin’s hand. He hesitated before he spoke, choking on the words. ‘I’m so fucking angry with you right now,’ he’d said, but his tone was one of pure love and sorrow.

  Justin couldn’t reply.

  ‘I thought we had this.’ Nate’s voice cracked on every word and I could see he was struggling to keep it together.

  ‘I’m so sorry, mate,’ Justin had whispered.

  Nate shook his head. ‘Don’t,’ he’d said softly. ‘Don’t apologise. We’re still going to be here and this isn’t over yet. Maybe if you stop now, buy some time, a transplant could be an option down the line.’

  It was a long shot, but it was possible. And if there was one thing that a loved one sitting at the side of a dying person’s bed needed, it was hope.

  Now, three months later, that hope had faded. There was no transplant. He hadn’t become a viable candidate again and now he was way too sick for it to be an option. His detox had been brutal and had taken so much out of his body, that I spent many nights sleeping in a chair next to him, just willing him to keep breathing. We all had. Ove
r the last few weeks, his symptoms had escalated, with fluid gathering in legs and abdomen, until they were massively swollen and the pressure on his lungs made it difficult to breathe. His belly had been drained several times, and he’d been given intravenous fluids, but now his pain was being treated with morphine. The biggest risk now was that his damaged liver could no longer make his blood clot effectively, so the chances of a major bleed were frighteningly high.

  The door opened again and Chloe came in, still in her uniform too. She gave everyone a hug and then sat on the one remaining chair. It was normally two visitors maximum at a bed, but the staff on the ward were flexing the rules because Chloe and I were just popping in on our breaks.

  ‘Your lunch is there on the table,’ I told Chloe. ‘Lasagne and salad.’

  She reached over for it. ‘Thanks. How is he?’

  Sasha shrugged sadly. ‘The same. He was awake for a few hours earlier, but he didn’t have a great night so he’s exhausted. I think they gave him a sedative, too.’

  She spoke softly, and I could see how exhausted she was too. In the months since she’d stormed out of his hospital room, despite her initial desperate fury, she’d never faltered in her care for him, not once.

  The four of us sat with our thoughts for a few minutes. Sometimes, nostalgia took hold and we’d tell stories about the past, rewinding the clock to our favourite days and nights. Other times, we got lost in laughter, recounting the dramas, the disasters and embarrassing spectacles. And sometimes, like today, we were just still.

  ‘You know, we never got to Malibu,’ Sasha murmured.

  Nate was the first to react. ‘Malibu?’

  ‘Yes. Don’t you remember? We talked about having a group holiday – actually if I recall correctly, the plan was thwarted by your ex-fiancée Janet the Jogger…’

  ‘Janet the Jogger!’ Chloe smiled. ‘I haven’t thought about her for years.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ Nate admitted, making us all laugh.

  Sasha went on, ‘She announced that you’d set a date for the wedding that never happened…’ she looked at me pointedly, making everyone chuckle again, ‘and nothing ever came of our group holiday. But Justin was absolutely vehement that the destination should be Malibu.’

  ‘Why?’ Nate asked.

  ‘Baywatch,’ Sasha and I said at the same time, before she went on. ‘He was fairly convinced he’d meet David Hasselhoff and they could become best friends.’

  Nothing summed up the Justin we knew better than that story. Young, crazy, funny, wild and the most entertaining, incorrigible friend that anyone could have. So far from the Justin that lay in front of us now.

  I nodded my head, smiling. ‘I think that would definitely have happened.’

  ‘Bloody Janet the Jogger,’ Sasha muttered, stopping us from slipping into a maudlin conversation with a flashback to a better time. ‘Seriously, Nate, what were you thinking?’ she teased. ‘She had a permanent camel toe in all that Lycra.’

  That set us off and I hoped that somewhere, in his sleep, Justin could hear this. He’d find it hilarious too.

  Chloe’s mobile phone buzzed and she checked the screen. ‘I need to go – we’ve got an RTA coming in. I’ll come back up at the end of shift.’ A Road Traffic Accident. I hoped no-one was seriously hurt. With another round of hugs, Chloe was gone.

  I checked my watch. ‘Listen, I can stay for another hour at least, so if you two want to go grab some sleep, or go home for showers, it’s no problem, I’ll be here.’

  Nate shook his head. ‘Thanks, but I’m okay. Sasha came in earlier this morning, so I’ve only been here for a couple of hours.’ He turned to our friend. ‘Sasha? Do you want to head home for a while?’

  Sasha sat back in her chair and stretched. ‘Not home, but I think I’ll go for a walk, clear my head. Maybe just around the grounds.’

  Nate changed his mind. ‘Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Okay, if I come with you?’

  Sasha stood up and lifted her jacket. ‘Sure.’

  Her strength never failed to amaze me. Since the night of Ida’s wedding, she’d talked a few times about her feelings for Nate. She’d absolutely fallen in love with him, yet she still hadn’t told him – not even a hint, despite being together every single day.

  She pulled on her jacket, then her hat and gloves, and swapped her trainers for the boots she’d come in this morning. It was a typical Scottish day in December – below freezing, with a smattering of ice and a wind that could take your breath away. Nate reached for his parka and pulled it on too.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course not. Take your time. Go for a coffee. If there’s any change I’ll call you.’

  He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thanks Liv.’

  ‘No problem,’ I assured him.

  He turned to Sasha. ‘Okay, you ready? I’m warning you though, if you slip on the ice, don’t take me down with you. I’ve got a low tolerance to pain and can be fairly pathetic.’

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ Sasha retorted, ‘I’ve got this. In fact, princess, I’ll take your arm and make sure you don’t accidentally trip and do yourself an injury.’

  I honestly think that other than their love for Justin, their banter was the only thing that had kept them going over the last few years.

  ‘After you, madam,’ Nate said, his handsome face cracking into a rueful smile. He’d aged well. He was in his early forties but could easily pass for mid-thirties. For the first time, I saw them in a different light than Nate my ex-husband and Sasha, my lifelong friend. I saw them for how they related to each other, how they could be if they were a couple.

  They looked perfect together.

  More than that, I saw something else.

  I watched as Nate’s eyes followed Sasha, and I recognised something there.

  That’s when I knew that Sasha wasn’t alone in having feelings for an old friend. He loved her too.

  Because the way he looked at her, his eyes full of care and adoration, was exactly the same way that he used to look at me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A Funeral

  February 2015

  The morning was beautiful. There was a thick blanket of snow on the ground, and icicles hung like diamonds from the trees. It was like every perfect winter scene ever used on a Christmas card.

  And our hearts were breaking.

  Ten years ago, when Justin was at the height of his party-animal popularity, there would have been hordes of people crushing into the crematorium. Now there were barely twenty of us.

  Chloe and Connor moved into the pew first, followed by my mum and George, then Richard and me. Sasha and Nate sat in front of us, with Jake, Justin’s brother, and his parents, who’d travelled down from Inverness. The only time I’d met them was at Justin’s thirtieth when he’d celebrated like there was no tomorrow.

  Now there wouldn’t be.

  They’d never been close; Sasha said his parents had always been distant, happy to live out their lives on a farmstead up north. But it was still heart-breaking that the booze had taken its toll and too many fights had caused an irreparable rift. Sasha had thought about contacting them many times over the last few years, but he’d refused to let her.

  He didn’t need them, he said. If they wanted him, they could make the first move. I wondered now if they regretted that they never did.

  I saw Justin’s mum’s head fall, her shoulders shake with sorrow and I wondered if she knew, if she understood what Justin’s life had been like.

  Or his death.

  He’d never left the hospital after that day we all sat together eating lunch from plastic trays. His condition deteriorated over the next two weeks, with him slipping in and out of consciousness, still disorientated and confused. In his final days, he’d been moved to my ward, and we’d sat with him, all of us, making sure he was never alone, spending every possible moment telling him how much he was loved. I’d nursed many patients,
but to care for someone I loved so dearly in his final days had been both a privilege and a searing pain that would live with me for ever.

  There had been so many ‘what ifs’. What if we’d got him help sooner? What if he and Sasha had stayed together? What if he hadn’t had that bloody affair? I wondered about her sometimes. Madeleine. I knew Justin hadn’t seen her for years, not since he lost all control of his drinking, left his job and became a shadow of the man who was the big-shot finance guy. I wondered if she ever regretted the havoc she’d caused. But then, it was on Justin, more than her. He was the one who’d betrayed Sasha – Madeleine had just been the willing accomplice.

  The closing bars of Snow Patrol’s ‘Run’ faded, as the humanist funeral celebrant, a woman in her sixties, with a perfect grey chignon and a kind face, opened by talking about the man Justin was, about his love of life and the sadness that he was gone at such a young age.

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘I’d like to invite Justin’s friend Nate up to say a few words.’

  A sob caught in my throat as I watched Nate, his face pale and ravaged by grief, climb the steps and stand behind the lectern on the stage. It shouldn’t have been this way. Nate should have been making this speech at his wedding, or birthday, or some other day of celebration, not at his funeral.

  He cleared his throat and began to speak.

  ‘There was no one else on earth like Justin Donnelly.’ He stopped, the words catching somewhere between his heart and his throat. It was a few seconds before he could go on. ‘We met when he fell in love with our friend Sasha, and she loved him right back. It was impossible not to. He was the guy who made everything so much better than it would have been without him. He cheered the loudest, he laughed the longest, he sang like a rock star and he was always ready to put on another song and take to the dance floor to show off his moves. That’s what he called them – his moves.’

  There was murmured laugh.

  ‘Even when he and Sasha were no longer a couple, they remained friends, still loved each other, and I know it was one of his biggest regrets that he ever let her go.’