Half-truths & White Lies

by Jane Davis

  Laura had only been home for two days when she woke during the night with a fever. She shook me awake. 'Something's wrong,' she kept on repeating.

  I propped myself up on my elbows and turned the bedside light on. She was feverish but shivering and I could see that the colour had drained from her face. 'I'm going hot and cold.'

  'Shall I get you something? A drink, maybe,' I offered feebly.

  'Pete, I'm not thirsty. I think I need to go to hospital.'

  There's nothing like the 'h' word to make you wake up.

  'I'll get dressed,' I said, pulling back the blankets. 'Do you want to put some clothes on?' As I turned to cover her again, I saw a large bloodstain on the sheets and more wet blood on my own pyjama bottoms. 'You're bleeding.'

  'Call for an ambulance,' she said calmly and without surprise. 'Get the children up. You can drop them off at my mother's and then follow.'

  'Should I . . . ?'

  'Now, Pete,' she said firmly.

  'Right.' I rushed to the phone and dialled 999. They used the word haemorrhaging when I described the bleeding and asked me if I knew her blood type in case she needed a transfusion.

  'I don't know,' I stumbled, the seriousness of the situation dawning on me.

  'Stay with her,' I was instructed. 'We'll be with you as soon as we can.'

  I woke Andrea who was groggy with sleep and got her into her dressing gown and slippers, telling her that there was no need to be scared but that Mummy was not well and an ambulance would be coming to take her to hospital. I asked her to go and look out of the window and shout as soon as she saw it coming. I didn't want to frighten her but I couldn't risk her rushing to her mother's side and panicking at the sight of blood. With Derek slung over one shoulder howling, I went to see how Laura was faring, intending to help her into some clean clothes. She was barely conscious and murmuring. Not even Derek's cries roused her.

  'Stay with me, Laura, they're on their way.' I tried to keep on talking to her, keeping the panic at bay, just as I had been instructed. 'Not long now. They'll have you fixed in no time.' Five minutes passed. Six. I was torn between watching for the ambulance myself and staying with her. I paced the room, patting little Derek's back, while keeping an eye on the figure in the bed who seemed to be fading. 'Any minute now,' I told her, checking my watch, each minute seeming like an eternity.

  'They're here!' I heard Andrea shouting.

  'That's a good girl.' I hurried down the stairs to open the front door. 'You stay there in the warm, then we'll go to Nana's in the car. Upstairs,' I told the ambulance crew as they pushed past me. 'First door on the left.'

  I followed them up to find the first, a man, giving instructions for oxygen and a stretcher to be brought in. I could read little from his expression.

  'How long ago was the baby born?' he asked.

  'Twelve days.'

  'First child?'

  'Second child.'

  'Any complications after the first?'

  'None that I know of.'

  'Maybe if you grab some clean clothes and wash things,' a lady suggested, although I got the distinct impression that she was giving me a job to keep me busy. 'Are you coming in the ambulance, Mr Albury?' She had assumed that I was Laura's husband.

  'I'll follow in the car after I've dropped off the children at their grandmother's.'

  'We'll move her now. Can you go downstairs and make sure there's nothing blocking our way. It'll be St Theresa's. We'll get her checked in right away, so she may have gone down to surgery when you arrive. She's lost a lot of blood.'

  They were so quick and efficient that there was little for me to do. As I walked out to look at her in the back of the ambulance, they already had a drip in place. The doors were slammed shut and the driver turned the siren on.

  'Right,' I said to myself, walking back to the front door, my mind a blank. 'Andrea! Are you ready to go?'

  'Is Mummy all right?' She looked so small and frightened that my heart went out to her.

  'Mummy's going to be fine, but she needs to go to hospital for some rest,' I told her. 'It's very hard work looking after a new baby. Have you got teddy with you?' I tried to distract her. She shook her head, wide-eyed. 'Well, run upstairs and get him and then we'll be off.'

  I picked up the phone to Mrs Albury, judging that she might prefer to be warned of our imminent arrival. I didn't want to be outside in the middle of the night hammering on her front door with two children in tow. It rang for some time before she answered, 'Four-seven-three- six.'

  'It's Peter Churcher,' I stumbled. 'Laura's had to go to hospital. I wondered if I could bring the children over.'

  'Now?' she asked, half asleep.

  'Now.'

  'Is it serious?'

  'She's haemorrhaging and has a fever,' I told her. 'They think she might need a blood transfusion. I don't know any more than that at the moment.'

  'My poor Laura!' she exclaimed. 'You'd better come right over.'

  'We're on our way.'

  It was only once I had dropped the children off at their grandmother's, depositing Derek in Mrs Albury's arms, that I allowed myself a moment to cry. There was shock and a feeling of utter helplessness. The joy of the last few days had disintegrated. I didn't want to let my mind wander, but already my prayers were following the lines that I would be prepared to give up my son if only Laura could be all right. Although I had been overwhelmed by my feelings for Derek, I would have done anything in my power to help Laura. At that point in time it was only a prayer. The mere idea filled me with dread, but praying gave me strength and purpose. I felt that I had an element of control over the situation, no matter how small. It was enough to enable me to switch the engine on and drive.

  There was another restless night of waiting before I was able to see Laura again and then she was only half conscious and delirious, hooked up to tubes and machinery.

  'Are you her husband?' the nurse asked while checking the chart at the foot of her bed. 'She's been asking for Tom. "Find Tom," she keeps on saying. "Find Tom." '

  I sat by her side. 'I'm here now, Laura. You're in good hands.' To the nurse, I explained, 'I'm Peter Churcher. How long will it be before she comes round?'

  'That's a good question,' she said in the sort of kindly tone reserved for bad news. 'It's early days yet. She has an infection that is causing the fever. We'll know in the next twenty-four hours if the antibiotics are doing their job. But she's very weak from the loss of blood. I'll be keeping an extremely close eye on her.'

  'Should I be worried?' I asked. 'What news should I tell her mother?'

  'It's serious, my dear. Tell her to come and see her daughter.' She patted my arm gently. 'And I'd go and find this Tom if I were you.'

  Chapter Forty-one

  I knocked at Mrs Fellows's front door, determined but already on the defensive. I could hear her heavy footsteps as she came down the stairs.

  'Oh, for God's sake,' she muttered with distaste as she opened the door a crack and then closed it. Through the frosted-glass panel, I could still see her shadowy outline, so I knew that she had not retreated far.

  'Mrs Fellows, I really need to find Tom,' I called through the letter box. 'Laura is seriously ill in hospital and she's asking for him.'

  'It's a bit late for that now,' she replied.

  'I know how you must feel but please don't turn me away,' I begged her. 'I don't know if Laura's going to make it or not.' It was as if the situation became more real when I said those words out loud. I was still bent over and leaning against the door when it opened inwards.

  'I don't know if Tom's going to make it or not,' she said softly. 'You'd better come in.'

  Over a cup of tea, she told me that Tom had suffered what she could only describe as a complete nervous breakdown. It didn't make comfortable listening. Even if she had insisted, 'Peter, you're not to blame,' I wouldn't have believed her. She did no such thing. There was anger in her voice as she told me that some weeks earlier, Tom had been delivered home by a
man who called himself Surly. Surly was a publican who had heard Tom busking on a couple of occasions, recognized his talent and hired him. When he found out that Tom was sleeping rough, he gave him a room over the pub as part of his salary. In a matter of weeks, Tom reversed the flagging fortunes of the business. It was a large Victorian building near Clapham Common, too large for the few locals who enjoyed a quick pint on their way home from work. Tom pulled in a young crowd who had money to spend and stayed all night. As they thought they got to know him, they started to ask for requests. They wanted cover versions rather than Tom's music. 'We Are the Champions' by Queen, 'Hotel California' by the Eagles, 'Wonderful Tonight' by Eric Clapton, 'Dancing in the Moonlight' by Thin Lizzy. He gave them what they wanted but his heart wasn't in it. The landlord noticed the change in him. Apparently Tom got abusive when he thought that the requests turned into mickey taking. Surly had to step in once when some clown asked for 'Angelo' by the Brotherhood of Man and things turned nasty. Instead of putting the crowds off, Tom's reputation grew. Everybody wanted to see this unpredictable talent – and unfortunately everyone wanted to bait him to see what would push him over the edge. Surly became concerned by his mood swings. Even though he hadn't known Tom for long, he thought that he had the measure of him and knew it was out of character. Then, for days, Tom wouldn't get out of bed at all. Surly tried unsuccessfully to persuade him to eat. He offered to call him a doctor. He was a reasonable man but he was no saint. He knew that he had a liability on his hands. Tom could have had a serious drug problem for all he knew and that was something he couldn't have going on under his roof. He had his licence to think of. To him, it seemed obvious why his discovery had been busking down the Underground and sleeping under bridges. Even after he had paid him, Tom never seemed to have any money. Of course, I knew that he had been sending whatever he earned home to Laura and Andrea, but I could understand how it must have appeared. To top it all, a man in a suit started to turn up week after week looking for him and wouldn't take no for an answer. When Tom asked Surly to lie for him, he thought that Tom was in serious trouble. He did the only thing he knew how to do; he moved the problem to someone else's doorstep. He drove Tom all the way home to his mother, who was now living in fear of every knock on the door.

  'There won't be a knock at the door,' I said. 'The man in the suit was me.'

  'You?' she asked disbelievingly.

  'I spent weeks trying to find him. I thought I might be able to persuade him to come home.'

  'Wasn't it a bit late for that?'

  'I owed him that much.' I shook my head. 'Has he said anything?'

  'Nothing I can make any sense of. He won't even let me call a doctor. Says he'll disappear again if I try. But I don't know how long I can watch him go on like this.'

  We sat in silence for a short while, both staring at our mugs of tea.

  Eventually Mrs Fellows said, 'He told me once that he stole Laura away from you and that he didn't deserve you as a friend. Well, the tables have well and truly turned now. You've got a lot of making up to do.'

  I nodded. 'Is he here?'

  'Not in the house.' She shook her head. 'He didn't want to risk being seen. He's been living in the shed these last few weeks.'

  'Can I see him?'

  'Don't expect too much,' she sighed. 'He's a changed man. If you're lucky, he might not even recognize you.'

  We walked in silence down the long garden, Mrs Fellows leading with a torch. As we approached, I could see a glow through the window and hear guitar chords. Not the expert playing that I had been used to, but random chords. It sounded as if the instrument was under attack.

  'Tom!' Mrs Fellows called out in an overly cheerful voice. 'You've got a visitor. Pete's here to see you.'

  The playing stopped and there was a scuffling movement inside.

  'Be my guest,' she said to me, gesturing inside. 'You're on your own from here.'

  The band's van was still parked at the side of the garage, just as it had always been. There were signs of life. Plates and cups littered the workbenches. An ashtray. The sofa was draped with clothes. It was not an uncomfortable living space and an obvious hideaway. I was surprised that I hadn't thought to look here before. Where else would Tom have gone? I sat on the sofa and waited, looking towards the doors at the back of the van. Whenever it was not in use, the van had always had a double mattress in the back. It had seen an extraordinary amount of use when we had been in our early twenties. It was now Tom's bedroom. I heard the occasional small movement, enough to make me think that he was listening. It was easier to explain why I had come to see him without having to look him in the eye.

  'I know you don't want to see me, Tom,' I started, without knowing if he could actually understand me. 'But I had to find you. Laura's in hospital. She's very unwell and she's asking for you. I know this is a bad time for you, but I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I didn't try.'

  There was silence.

  'I don't know if she's going to make it, Tom. Will you come with me to see her?'

  Still no reply. I tried a different approach.

  'Andrea's fine, Tom. She's with Laura's mum. She's missing you so much. Keeps asking when you'll be home. She needs you too.'

  I heard some more movement and then the opening chords of 'Andrea's Song', unmistakable but played clumsily, as if he was having difficulty remembering the tune.

  'Laura had a baby boy twelve days ago. He was premature. We called him Derek.' Silence again. I didn't know if he was listening or covering his ears to block out the words. 'They had only been home for two days when she was taken ill. There was a lot of blood. She was barely conscious. I had to call an ambulance. I watched them take her away. I couldn't leave the children. They rushed her straight into surgery.'

  There was no reaction.

  'Are you getting all this?' I was suddenly angry. 'I tried to find you, Tom. I tried to find you for weeks. We didn't want it to be like this . . .' I ran out of steam.

  'What makes you think I wanted to see you?' a small voice said.

  I stood up, almost laughing with joy. He was looking out of one of the two square windows in the doors at the back of the van. I couldn't see him very clearly in the dark, but I could see the outline of his head and whites of his eyes. The most obvious difference was that his silhouette was altered. He had shaved his head.

  'I'm pretty sure you don't want to see me, but Laura wants to see you. Even when she's unconscious and doesn't know what she's saying, it's you that she's asking for. She was never in love with me.' Suddenly, it struck me that I was telling the truth. Laura loved me but she was never in love with me. It hurt to say it out loud. 'It was always supposed to be you and her.'

  'I was never enough for her. She always wanted something more.'

  'No, Tom! Laura's just in love with life. She gets one thing and she's on to the next. It's hard to keep up at times, I'll admit. Come and see her, Tom. She'll put up a fight once she knows you're there.'

  'I can't cope with the baby.'

  'You won't have to.'

  'I can't do that.' His voice was small and child-like, but he was adamant. 'I don't want him near me.'

  'I give you my word.' I still have no idea what I was thinking of when I said that. At the time, I just wanted Tom to agree to come with me to see Laura. What would happen after that was too much to think about.

  I heard the rattle of the door and he appeared, legs first. If he had looked gaunt when he was studying late into the night, he now looked almost skeletal, his shirt and jeans hanging off him. With his head shaven and hunched over his shoulders, he also looked shorter. As he came closer, I noticed the dark circles under his hollow eyes against the paleness of his skin. His head had been shaved unevenly at the sides and back, as if he had done it himself. He shivered visibly, although it was not particularly cold.

  'When's the last time you've been outside?' I asked, looking round for something warmer for him to wear. I found his leather jacket on the sofa, the Spearhea
ds' slogan on the back. 'Here. Put this on.' I held it out to him, but I had to help him into it. It seemed to weigh him down and swamp him, making him look smaller still. One thing was for sure. If Laura saw him and wanted him to stay, it wouldn't be for his looks.

  'Are you ready?' I asked him and turned in the direction of the house.

  'Not that way,' he said, grabbing my arm with remarkable strength. 'Not through the house. You remember the way.'

  We walked along the alley that led around the back of the houses in the darkness.

  'Like the old days,' he said, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets.

  'Just like the old days,' I repeated, feeling older by the minute.

  We drove to the hospital in silence. I was aware of Tom flinching at car headlights, squinting to avoid the glare. I felt his animal presence, his unpredictability. He was like Tom, but also far removed from the Tom that I had known. I wondered if Laura would recognize him if she woke up or if she would be frightened at the sight of this stranger.

  I parked and put the handbrake on.

  'We're here,' I said.

  'It's just us?' he asked, looking full of doubt. 'No one else is going to be there?'

  'Just us.'

  It was still very early and the hospital was silent. As we walked along the maze of antiseptic corridors, my footsteps echoing, Tom's brushing as he dragged his feet, I had a growing sense of unreality. All of the elation of the last couple of weeks, the shock of the previous night and the mixed emotions at finding Tom warred against each other.

  Here was the woman that I loved, lying unconscious in a hospital bed, linked up to numerous machines that flashed and bleeped, administering the medicines that might save her, pumping the clean blood around her body. A clear tube protruded from her nose. A needle was inserted in her hand, held in place by tape. A cold flannel was placed over her forehead, her blonde hair dulled by the dampness.

  Here was the man that she loved – that we both loved – moved to tears by the sight of her, leaning over her, stroking her hair, talking to her softly, changed and yet the same.