The Time is Now

by Gill Sanderson

  She looked upwards at a great arrowhead of birds, flying towards the sea. Distantly they heard a hoarse honking sound.

  ‘Wish I were a bird,’ she said. ‘Just flying here, there, and everywhere, honking at people and being ignored.’

  ‘They have their problems, too. If you were a lady goose you'd have to find somewhere to lay your eggs, somewhere where people like me couldn't get at them. I'm very fond of a boiled goose egg.’

  She giggled. ‘Just think, me and geese having exactly the same low opinion of you. Makes me feel I'm not alone. These sandwiches are very nice.’ They finished the sandwiches, and he poured her another coffee. Then she said, ‘Yes, I do feel better. And I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to see them, aren't I?’

  ‘I would say that you are. You'll never be content till you have. And what's more, you'll want to do it quickly. What about next weekend?’

  Her first reaction was to say no at once. But he was right. This was something she had to do quickly. ‘I suppose it's possible,’ she said. ‘Or perhaps the weekend after if —’

  ‘Do it soon. In fact, do it now. I've got a suggestion. There's an e-mail address here. I'm connected to the Internet, so why not come back to my flat and send a message at once? It's more impersonal than phoning, but a lot quicker than ordinary mail. And if you don't ever want to see them again, then I'm a dead end. They can't get my address from an e-mail.’

  She looked at him suspiciously. ‘You're taking a big interest in my affairs,’ she said.

  ‘And I want to take an even bigger interest. I suggest I drive you over if they can see you next weekend. I could drop you there and wander round for a couple of hours while you get acquainted. It might not be a good idea for you to drive yourself. You might be a bit … fraught when you've been there.’

  She sat, thinking. She knew that her life would be easier once she'd made a decision. It was the uncertainty that distracted her. And she wanted to see her real parents – especially if one of them was ill.

  ‘All right. Let's e-mail them,’ she said. ‘What's in this for you, David?’

  ‘I'm hoping to be forgiven in time,’ he said flatly, ‘but I don't expect it to be quite yet.’

  She followed his car back to his flat, then sat in front of the monitor in the little room he now used as a study. ‘What should I say?’ she asked.

  ‘Be simple, short, and direct. Say you've received the letter and why not just ask if you could call for a couple of hours next Saturday or Sunday? Say at one o'clock. Keep any emotion for the meeting.’

  ‘Keep any emotion for the meeting,’ she repeated. ‘All right, I'll start now.’

  She'd used a keyboard often before but now she couldn't make her fingers touch the keys. He realised what was wrong so he leaned over her and typed for her.

  “Thanks for your letter. If it's convenient, could I call to see you for a couple of hours, say at about one o’clock next Saturday or Sunday? Otherwise, what time would suit you best?”

  She knew he was looking down at her, but she didn't lift her head from the keyboard. ‘Will that do?’ he asked.

  ‘That's fine. Short and unemotional, as you suggested.’

  ‘So how do I sign it? Regards? Sincerely? Love?’

  ‘I've not had any success with love recently. Just sign it Jane.’

  He did as she'd asked, then transmitted the message. They watched and saw that the message had got through, then David went offline. ‘I'll let you know when there's a reply,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said dully. It was only the middle of the day, but already she felt lethargic. All this emotion was tiring!

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  She shrugged. ‘Nothing much. Please don't invite me out anywhere. I'm not fit company for anyone.’

  ‘I can't spare the time to take you out, Jane.’ He gestured to the computer. ‘There's a great amount of stuff I've got to get up to date, results to collate, articles to check over. I'm going to be busy on the computer all afternoon. But if you want to drag the couch in front of the window and watch the shipping go by, you're very welcome. It's hypnotic, very soothing. I do it a lot.’

  ‘All right,’ she said, ‘but we're not to disturb each other.’

  He was right; the slowly changing river scene was hypnotic. For a while she wanted to do nothing but not think. And it worked. After a while she closed her eyes, just for a moment.

  When she opened them again it was getting dark. ‘Have I slept all this time?’ she asked fretfully.

  ‘You were tired. Sleep is the body's natural way of coping with stress. Would you like me to make you something to eat?’

  She struggled to her feet, stretched and yawned. ‘No thank you, David. Just a coffee or something and then I'll drive back. I need to be at home.’

  He didn't press her. After she'd drunk her coffee he took her down to her car. She opened the door, turned and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, David, you've been a big help.’

  He was still standing there as she drove away.

  When she arrived home Sue said, ‘David rang. Will you ring him back at once?’ She went on, ‘Are things better between you now?’

  ‘Well, they're improving,’ Jane said thoughtfully. ‘We'll just have to see how they go.’

  She rang David's number. ‘There's an e-mail message for you,’ David said. ‘It reads, "Either day fine, but hope to see you at one on Saturday. Looking forward so much to seeing you. I'm a bit frightened. Love."

  And there a road map of the town, showing where their street is.’

  ‘She's feeling the same as I am,’ Jane said. ‘A bit frightened. I wonder if this is going to be a success.’

  ‘I would have thought it will be. See you tomorrow, but I'll pick you up at about nine next Saturday?’

  ‘Fine,’ she said.

  Chapter Seven

  Using sodium valproate had done little to help Mrs Todd's post-herpetic neuralgia. In fact, it had made her feel sick, so David was going to try acupuncture. They walked to the ward together.

  ‘This technique was first described in a book published two thousand four hundred years ago,’ he told Jane. ‘It was called The Yellow Emperor's Classic of Internal Medicine.’

  ‘That doesn't fill me with confidence. I'd be happier with sodium valproate. I can understand that. But are you happy with all this talk of yin and yang and chi and meridians?’

  ‘Ah, I see you have been doing some research. The honest answer is that now there's a lot of scientifically provable truth in the old ideas. We can find the so-called trigger points with a sensitive electronic device. There's less electrical resistance than other parts of the body. Acupuncture works, Jane, and if we don't yet know why, we're at least learning.’

  Mrs Todd was as stoic as ever and quite interested in the new technique. ‘One of my neighbours had it, Doctor, when she was having a baby. Worked a treat for her, it did. No pain at all. I thought that wasn't natural.’

  ‘Who was this?’ Jane asked, interested.

  ‘It was young Eileen Tong. She runs a fish and chip shop.’

  Oriental therapy or not David was still observing Western antiseptic precautions. He drew on gloves and then Jane handed him a sterile pack of the fine stainless steel needles. They were 'sharps', and afterwards would be disposed of in the special container.

  She was fascinated as he carefully chose his place, inserted the needle and then twisted it between his thumb and finger. ‘Can you feel anything, Mrs Todd?’

  ‘Well, it doesn't hurt. Tingles a bit, in fact.’

  David had inserted the first needle high into Mrs Todd's chest. Jane tried desperately to remember her anatomy. Surely there was no nerve there that had anything to do with the pain that Mrs Todd suffered. The next four needles seemed to be inserted into equally pointless places.

  ‘You know about endorphins?’ he asked her as they walked away half an hour later.

  ‘Yes. They're pain-relieving chemicals released by
the brain.’

  ‘Well, there's some suggestion that acupuncture stimulates their release. Exactly how we'll find out in time. But for the moment Mrs Todd will benefit anyway.’

  The rest of the week took a lot out of Jane. They were as busy as ever in Theatre with one or two extra-long operations. She saw a lot of David, but necessarily in the company of other people. They were now more friendly, if not yet quite back to their original state.

  There were two rehearsals of the choir, and she was co-opted into doing an extra session for the Samaritans because two people were off sick. She enjoyed these activities as they took her mind away from her own problems.

  ‘I've hardly seen you all week,’ David said on Friday.

  ‘Just one of those things,’ she told him. ‘I'm not avoiding you.’

  ‘You're not seeking me out either.’

  ‘True. I'm doing what is usually called keeping my head down. I just want to get tomorrow over with, and then I'll be able to see how things are going.’

  ‘I sympathise, I really do. And I'll have your company for quite a few hours tomorrow, won't I?’

  ‘Don't count on it being an enjoyable experience. I think I'm going to be a very scratchy person travelling there. And I've no idea how I'll be when we come back.’

  She sat on her bed later that night, trying to decide what to wear. In all the women's magazines she had ever read there had never been an article on what to wear when meeting your mother for the first time in thirty years. She had to be comfortable but she had to look smart, though not excessively so. In the end she chose a light blue trouser suit and a darker blue sweater that complemented her eyes. They would have to do.

  When David called next morning, he was wearing a sports jacket with a dark shirt and tie. He looked fine, neither too formal nor too casual. ‘I was wondering all evening what I should wear,’ she told him.

  ‘This is your mother you're going to meet. It's not your clothes that will interest her. She'll look at your face, and be pleased that she's got a beautiful daughter.’

  ‘David Kershaw! If I didn't know you better I'd say that speech had been rehearsed.’

  ‘It wasn't rehearsed. It came from the heart.’

  ‘Well, it was a lovely compliment. Now, let's get on the road.’

  They set off for the M62. The little spurt of pleasure he had brought her soon evaporated, and she started to worry. The two of them had been getting on better, talking more, but once in the car she found she had nothing to say. He recognised her mood and put soft music on the radio. It helped her a little.

  She didn't know what to expect of this visit and thought that there was no longer any point in going over it with David. But what else could she do? After an hour she turned to him in desperation and said, ‘I get there, the door opens and what do I say? Hello, I'm your long lost daughter? Or nice to meet you, Mrs Stott? What happens if they don't like me?’

  ‘You're panicking,’ he said quietly, ‘which is understandable and quite comforting. Any girl who wasn't worried in this situation wouldn't be normal. Don't plan anything. Remember, they're probably far more afraid than you are. You're a nice person — just be yourself.’

  ‘But what if I come over all hard and cold? I don't want that.’

  ‘You won't, you just won't,’ he reassured her.

  They drove in silence for another fifteen minutes then Jane said, ‘I know you get on with your parents, you love them. What would it be like if you found you had another set? How would you feel?’

  ‘I'd be terrified. And amazed. Apparently, I look so much like my father when he was my age that we could have been twins. But I know that doesn't help you. Incidentally, have you told Peter anything of this?’

  ‘Not yet. I will tell him — we have no secrets from each other. But I want to tell him face to face, and I want to have something concrete to tell him. David, there's an hour and a half before we get there, and I don't think I can stand the waiting!’

  ‘I have an idea,’ he said.

  They had just passed a sign telling them that there were motorway services ahead, so he slid expertly into the inside lane and drove into it. ‘Do you want a drink?’ she asked, puzzled. ‘Petrol?’

  But he drove to the farthest corner of the car park, pulled in under some overhanging trees, turned to her, put his arm round her, and kissed her. That was the last thing she'd expected. His lips were pressed to hers, his hand stroking the back of her neck. What did he think he was doing? She didn't want this! But even as she tried to push him away, she realised that perhaps she did want it. It was a very comforting kiss. So she stopped pushing him, and kissed him back.

  When finally he lifted his head from hers, she looked at him reproachfully. ‘You only did that to make me think of something else,’ she said.

  ‘Certainly not,’ he said indignantly. ‘I've been thinking of nothing but that all week.’

  ‘Well, it'll have to stop till we've made this visit.’

  ‘As long as we can start again as soon as the visit is over.’

  They looked at each other assessingly. ‘Off you go,’ she said. ‘We're not there yet.’ He sighed and restarted the car.

  After that she felt easier, and they chatted about work, about friends, about the concert being organised by Dan Webster. They enjoyed the great sweep of the moors, even the chill on top. Then they crossed the A1 and she knew it wouldn't be long. Panic returned.

  Their first idea had been that David would drop her off at the garden gate and come back for her after two hours. She changed her mind. ‘David, I want you to come with me. At least to the front door. I can't do this on my own.’

  ‘I think you probably could,’ he said gently, ‘but I'm happy to come with you if you wish. How will you introduce me?’

  Even then she could catch his little joke. ‘I'll introduce you as a friend,’ she said. ‘As a friend and colleague.’

  ‘I suppose that's better than nothing,’ he said cheerfully. ‘After all, things can grow.’

  They turned off the motorway and drove through pretty wooded country until they came to a small town. He had memorised the road map and drove expertly to the house. It was a pleasant street, tree-shaded, with slightly older houses and mature gardens. She looked at her watch. It was five to one.

  They stopped outside a detached house, showing evidence of a keen gardener at the front. David walked round and opened her door, but she sat frozen to her seat. All she could do was look.

  ‘Come on,’ David said. ‘Get out of the car and walk up the drive with a smile on your face. You can do it.’ He offered her his hand to help her out.

  Somehow she stumbled out of the car. Her heart was thumping but she managed a smile. He opened the gate for her, and she walked past a grey Ford. Ahead of her she saw the door already opening. Someone had been looking out for her. She would be speechless, there was nothing she could say. She wanted to slow down, but felt David's hand in the small of her back.

  The door was open. There was a woman, a slim, smart woman with greying hair. Jane saw the face first, and the anxious expression. But she knew the face, though she hadn't seen it in twenty-nine years. And when Marion Stott saw her she smiled. ‘You're my daughter,’ she said, and opened her arms.

  It was nine that evening before they set off back. The two hours had somehow stretched to eight. Jane sat there in the warmth of the car, listening to the throb of the engine, watching oncoming lights flash past.

  ‘So how do you feel?’ David asked as they turned onto the motorway and the car accelerated. ‘I could see you were pleased you went.’

  ‘That's one way of putting it,’ she agreed.

  Most of the past few hours had been spent talking and she felt the need now of a few minutes' silence. She needed to get her jumbled thoughts together. ‘I'm glad I went, yes, I'm very glad I went. I like them both, and I'm pretty sure I'll like my brother and sister when I see them. But it's going to be hard for them. Meeting an older sister after being just a
pair. And Mark looks just like me.’

  ‘They seem sound, they'll cope. And your … mother will prepare them.’

  Only Mrs Stott had been there when they'd arrived. There had been a tearful greeting in the hallway, and David had slid past them and had made all three of them a cup of tea. The tea things had been set out ready, and sandwiches on plates – everything prepared for Jane's arrival. Then he'd said he'd walk in the garden, take the paper and read for a while. They were to call if they needed him.

  Then the two women had started to get to know each other.

  ‘Where's the rest of the family?’ Jane asked.

  ‘Well, I thought it best if just we two met at first. I didn't want you to be overwhelmed. So Mark and Maria have gone to stay with friends. They didn't want to go but … I wanted everything to be easy for you. They've known about you since Mark turned eighteen. I thought they were entitled to know. They've been on at us to get in touch with you.’

  ‘And where's Mr Stott?’ Jane had had enough of this. ‘What do Mark and Maria call you?’

  Her mother looked at her unbelievingly. ‘They call us Mum and Dad. Would you …? You don't mind …?’

  ‘I don't mind. That's what you are, isn't it? The fact that I had another mum that I loved dearly doesn't matter. Now where's Dad?’

  For a while her mother's tears had stopped, but now they started again. ‘He's in hospital. He desperately wanted to be here, but he couldn't be. A few months ago he started having these dreadful headaches, and then he found he was losing his balance, falling when there was no reason. At first he didn't bother, but then he went to our GP, who sent him to hospital for tests. He had a CAT scan. He's got a tumour on the brain. The consultant says it might be benign — all we can do is hope. They're going to operate on him next week.’

  ‘I see,’ said Jane. ‘Mum, I've scrubbed for a lot of successful brain operations. Don't give up hope. It's serious all right, but it's not necessarily bad news. Now, can we go and see him?’

  There was a lot of family history to go through, so much that Jane – and her mother – wanted to know. Now, travelling home again, Jane was exhausted, but underneath she had a feeling of contentment. She had done the right thing.