Dorothy sat back against the pillows of her double bed, tears in her eyes. Kate noticed how even her eyelashes had thinned.
Cancer was a cruel, cold, little shit.
“A new year to come…” Dorothy sounded wistful, “There’s still so much to do. I want more years than just this one… But I’m just so tired, so very tired.”
“You’re bound to be, Mum,” Michael’s tone was calming, “You’ve had so much to deal with, and the chemo will be affecting your body. The doctors said your immune system will go down after each treatment.”
“I know. I know that,” she sounded short with him, “ But I don’t even recognise myself any more. How I feel inside. When I look in the mirror.” His mother raised a trembling hand to her stubbly hair. “Heaven knows what your father must think when he looks at me… Where is he?” her voice softened, “Is he okay? … I can’t leave him.”
“He’s just downstairs. I’ve made some tea,” Kate said, “I’ve brought a cup up for you, here by your bedside. Would you like some? And George’ll be back up soon, very soon.” Kate helped her to hold the cup, steadied her mother-in-law’s frail hand as she took a sip, placed the cup back down on the bedside table.
“I don’t want to leave any of you, not yet,” Dorothy’s voice was weak. It was hard to see her so fearful, broken.
“You won’t have to, Dorothy. You’ll get over this. The doctors are very positive. You’ll soon be better, I’m sure you will,” Kate tried her best to reassure.
“But how do you know? How can any of us know?”
“Mum, don’t put yourself through this. The doctors are doing everything they can… I’ll not let the bloody cancer take you. We’ll do everything possible.” Michael was still fighting, protecting in the only way he knew how.
But Dorothy had got to the point where she had to face what might be true. Wanted to hit it head on.
Honesty seemed the only way forward.
Kate glanced across at Michael to halt his promises; the ones that nobody could be sure to make real. She began to speak, her tone gentle, “We don’t know, Dorothy, that’s the thing. That’s what makes us human, and fragile.” It was still too hard to say the D-Word out loud. Death. “The cancer has made you have to face your own mortality, and that’s something that’s never easy for any of us.”
This honesty seemed to settle Dorothy in some way. She rested herself back on the pillows.
“We’re all here for you, Dorothy. And there are nurses, specialists, to help you through this.” Kate continued, “The Macmillan Nurses, Marie Curie, we can get in touch with them. They deal with the realities of cancer over and over again. They can talk with you, support you.”
“Yes, maybe…” She sounded weak. “They did try at the hospital a while back, they’ve given me a dedicated cancer nurse,” she conceded, “And someone visited me. But I didn’t want to talk about it then. Didn’t want to think about it all. I thought I could cope by myself.”
“Well, maybe they can help you now. Maybe it’s a better time for you. You know what you’re having to deal with now. We can get in touch with them, start the ball rolling. They’re used to helping people in these situations.”
“Yeah, of course. They’re there to help.” Michael was joining in, could see how this might work positively.
“But what if I’m not one of the lucky ones? What if it spreads, if I really am going to die soon? To have to leave you all.” The tears were there again, spilling down her cheeks now.
Michael’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t speak, couldn’t stand the thought of it.
“If it ever came to it, then we’ll all be there for you, Dorothy. They have drugs to ease the pain, to make things comfortable.” Kate glared at Michael, thinking help me here, be honest here.
He started slowly, “We’d be there, Mum. Dad, me, Dan. We’d be there with you,” he paused, “But I’m not going to bloody let you go that easily,” he carried on fiercely. It made Kate smile.
And a glimmer of relief crept across Dorothy’s features, too. She held both their hands tightly, one each side of her bed, and breathed deeply. “I don’t intend going away that easily either,” she added, as though the cancer might just be taking her on a strange holiday for a while.
Kate looked across at Michael holding his mother’s hand, supporting her. And she saw that he was a loving son, and despite everything, in essence a good man. And for a crazy instant she felt that she would want it to be Michael there at her bedside, if she were old and frail and scared. What a shame that that would never happen now. Everything that had happened between them, all the hurt, had just driven them too far apart.
Dorothy looked at them both with a tired, yet hopeful smile. “Well, then, there’s no time to waste, is there?” She gave their hands a small squeeze, then loosened her grip, her eyelids gently closing as she began to doze.
Chapter 35
It was ten to three in the morning when they pulled up outside Kate’s front door. They’d dropped Dan off, agreeing to leave the girls in bed there; Michael would bring them back at some point tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Just Michael and Kate there in the car, and a whole host of memories.
Dorothy had finally settled in the early hours. George had reassured them that he felt able to cope on his own. They’d agreed to call in the family GP tomorrow, then look into some specialist nursing care and get some more advice from the hospital. Kate and Michael had assured him that they’d be on hand any time, should George need. He’d looked lost as they left, like half the man he was without his Dorothy, but said he’d try and get some sleep. The tot of whisky Michael had handed him ten minutes before might help. He was going to go into one of the boys’ old rooms, didn’t want to disturb her now she’d finally settled. Just the second night he would sleep alone in those 42 years.
Michael got out of the car. The early morning air was crisp around them, making a mist of their breath. He saw Kate in. They stood poised in the hallway. He felt an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms, but didn’t want to wreck everything after the last time.
“Night, then,” was all he said.
“Night.”
“Thanks.” He looked across tenderly at her, “For coming. For helping.” For being you. The only one who could stay so very calm in the midst of all that pain and fear, for knowing instinctively she needed the truth, when all I wanted to do was fight it. He could never imagine Sophie handling the situation so well.
“I did it for Dorothy.” Her words sounded cold, as though he should be under no illusion that it was for him in any way. He knew he didn’t deserve more.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then, when I bring the girls back.”
“Yeah, okay, ‘night,” Her tone softened, she looked exhausted.
“Night.”
He dropped the girls off in the afternoon. They’d been fine; Charlotte had apparently woken once through the night, but had settled again quickly. They were a little confused when they woke up, finding themselves in Uncle Dan’s house, clambering out of a double bed to find their cousins, Andrew and James, bolting around on the landing wishing them a “Happy New Year”, with Daddy asleep on the sofa in Auntie Sally’s front room.
Michael hadn’t stayed long, just thanked Kate for all her help the night before, as he let the girls run on in. He’d looked tired out.
They had a quiet afternoon watching a movie. Kate made a casual supper of beans on toast, got through the usual bath and bedtime routine for the girls, then felt absolutely shattered – the emotions and lack of sleep from last night catching up on her. She phoned George for the second time that day to see how Dorothy was; calmer now, he assured her, and the doctor had visited and been really supportive; he was going to help sort out some extra nursing care. Kate said she’d call and visit tomorrow. In the evening she tried to watch a New Year’s Day film, an old Bond movie, but couldn’t really concentrate.
She heard a message beep onto her phone, Michael’s number. “Than
ks again for everything last night”. “No problem,” she replied, and as an afterthought added, “Happy New Year.” No kisses.
Neither of them had thought to mention the New Year ‘till then, midnight having elusively come and gone in the midst of their crisis. Probably as well, at least the last year was well and truly over now. And what a sodding year that had been.
“Happy New Year to you too x” bounced back.
She’d leave it at that. Be civil, that was all she needed to be.
She wandered to the kitchen, made herself a hot chocolate, hopefully she’d get to drink this one; bed was calling. She turned off lights as she went, checked the back door was locked. She was nearly asleep when she heard a faint knocking sound from the front of the house, wasn’t sure if it was just the wind at the letter box. Heard it again. Made her way downstairs just in case. A muffled voice. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She felt vulnerable at times, living alone here with the girls now. Then the knocking again. Good God, what now? She was so tired she wondered if her imagination was playing tricks on her. Then she thought she heard someone calling her name.
She turned the key, opened the front door cautiously, keeping the security chain on. It was Michael, looking worse for wear. His eyes were swollen and tinged with pink.
“Michael, are you alright? Have you been drinking?”
“No, no. Well, yes, just a bit. But I’m not drunk.” He stared at her through the gap. “Kate, let me in, please.”
Jesus, she just wanted to go up to bed and sleep, especially after everything last night. Just wanted to wake up ready to face this New Year and move on. Take that next step into her future, not dig up the past.
“Please, Kate,” his tone was pleading, his voice getting louder. He’d wake up the girls at this rate.
“Okay, okay, hang on a sec.” She unlatched the door, opened it, wrapping herself tighter in her dressing gown, protectively. She noticed he was shivering as he came in; he was wearing only jeans and a thin pullover.
He wasn’t going to mess it up this time, he wasn’t going to try and kiss her. He just needed to tell her the truth, explain how he really felt.
A few paces in, he started to speak, “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. I’ve messed everything up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Kate. If I could do anything, anything to go back and change what I did, not to have hurt you or the girls, I would…”
They stood face to face in the hallway they’d painted together, a world of sorrow wedged between them.
“Come through,” she softened slightly. He didn’t seem drunk, more distraught, “Let’s go into the lounge.” She led the way, turning the lights back on as she went.
“I – I just need to try to explain. I had to come. Seeing you yesterday, there with Mum… Look, I’m probably saying this all wrong. I don’t expect you to have me back. I know I’ve hurt you so much and I don’t blame you for not wanting me back in your life. But I need you to know how very sorry I am, Kate.” He stood. His face was tight with anguish.
Kate sat down on the sofa, silent.
“I thought I loved her.”
The words hurt less than she imagined they would.
“But it wasn’t the kind of love that lasts… It wasn’t our kind of love.” He paused, regret weighing down the words, “I realised that too late. Christ, I’m so sorry.” He gave a fragile smile, his blue eyes full of pain. “It’s probably too little, too late, but I need you to know that I’ve left Sophie. It’s over.”
She sighed, exhausted with everything. Sorry just wasn’t enough. It couldn’t erase the hurt of the past months. “I realise you’ve been staying at Dan’s. But, oh, for the whole of what, three, four days? Well, that’s impressive.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. So, he was just feeling sorry for himself – Sophie had dumped him, his mother was desperately ill and he’d nowhere left to go. Well, how lonely had she been since March? How many nights had she cried herself to sleep? It wasn’t a good place to be, she knew that only too well, but he couldn’t come slinking back to her at the first hurdle.
But looking at him standing there in the middle of the lounge, shoulders hunched, dark shadows under his eyes, her anger weakened.
“It’s not like that Kate… It’s been all wrong for a while now.” He looked across, his eyes searching hers. “I was trying to save the wrong relationship. I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“But why, Michael? Why did you do it in the first place?” Her voice had a bitter edge to it.
He sat down on the other sofa. “I don’t quite know how to explain… but shit, I owe it to you to try…” He stayed quiet for a few moments, trying to frame his thoughts, to get to the truth. “This last year, maybe two, me and you, we felt miles apart. I was tied up with work, you with the kids. I remember coming home late, never seeming to be able to do anything right by you… You’d get annoyed that I was keeping the girls up late, spoiling their routines.” He paused, ruffling a hand through his unkempt hair. “All the bickering.”
She remembered. It used to annoy her, how he unsettled the girls at bedtime, but she’d probably been tired, tetchy herself.
“And then Sophie,” his throat felt tight, aching with emotion, “I just got swept away with it all. Everything at home just seemed so hard, like we were enemies,” his voice softened, “We should never have been enemies.”
“No.” Then a panicked thought swept over her, “Michael, I need to know… when Lottie was small and you were working late… you weren’t…there wasn’t anyone then?” She hardly dared voice her fears, that he might have done this before, way back then.
“No… No. Oh Christ, I’m so sorry if that’s what you’ve been thinking? No, of course not.”
“Michael, I don’t know what to think any more.”
“No, I was just working hard back then, establishing the business, trying to earn enough to make a good life for us all. Good God, no. It was only Sophie, those few weeks before you found out… never before. And I regret it so much, Kate. I know I should have tried harder to stop it happening, tried to talk with you about it. I’ve been thinking about it all so much lately… Going over everything. It was like we’d lost each other, and we couldn’t find a way back.”
There were tears in her eyes as she remembered, too. The coolness between them, the late-night-home rows. How had she blocked it all out?
“For Christ’s sake, I’ve only just got Emily off to sleep. I’ve had hours of it, Michael. You are not going to go upstairs and wake them up again.”
“I only want to say goodnight. See them for five minutes. I’ll creep in quietly and kiss them.”
“No,” she was adamant, “You should have got home earlier if it’s so important to you. It’s 8.30 now. They go to bed at 7.00. What the hell have you been doing, anyhow?”
“Well, obviously I’ve just been slaving away at work all day.”
Work, always friggin’ work. She’d glared at him.
“I had to finish the web design with Pete for the new estate agency we’ve just secured. It’s good business, Kate, and they have a lot of contacts in the local area, too. It had to be on time for this weekend, and finished professionally.”
“What about being on time for us, Michael? We hardly ever see you these days?”
“Look, I’m sorry. I know it’s a long day for you, but I’m doing it for us, Kate. I’ve got to build the business to stay financially secure. It’s my own company. It’s our future. We’re just coming out of recession, everyone’s got to work hard to get new business.”
Admittedly, it was what attracted her to him in the early days, that drive, ambition. But sometimes it was so bloody difficult when she was trapped at home all day. The girls, yes, she loved them absolutely, but sometimes caring for children, it just wore you down. Colic, then teething, then the toddler tantrums. You get over one hurdle and there was always a new one.
She’d imagined being the mum who home-baked Mary Berry recipes, the girls giggling a
longside, making bunting out of Cath Kidstone material scraps, going for cheery walks in the sunshine in the park, not some stressed-up, grumpy bag lady (it wasn’t worth putting on anything smart when within seconds you’d be smudged with biscuit crumbs, play-doh or something regurgitated).
And then… later that night in bed. Michael had tried to hold her, put his arm around her, kissed her shoulder. She had shrugged him off, turned away… and that hadn’t been the first time.
“And Sophie was there,” he continued, bringing her back to the present, “I suppose I was flattered by the attention.” He paused, aware that this would hurt Kate to hear, yet somehow he had to try and let her know how he had got carried away with it all.
“I’m so sorry Kate, so bloody sorry. I’ve let you down so badly. You and the girls. If I could go back, I would have talked to you, tried to put us right, before going off blindly elsewhere. But I can’t change what I did, can I? I only wish I could.”
She didn’t know what to say. The hurt ran deep. His words merely sliding over the surface.
He continued, “I know I can’t expect you to forgive me… But if there might be another chance for us, maybe later on, I swear on my life I would never do that again, to you or the girls.”
“You can’t just come back like this and expect me to act like it’s never happened… And things have changed. Other things. I–I’ve done things, too.”
If they were being honest, then she needed to share this. He looked at her.
“There was a night, one night, with Graeme, the neighbour.”
He looked a little shocked.
“It was all a bit of a mistake, really. I was lonely, months after you left…”
He looked anguished. “Ok. You don’t need to say any more. I don’t need to know any detail, honestly. Whatever it was, I deserved it… I drove you to it. That’s the past, Kate. I’m sure we’ve both made mistakes. No one more than me.”
“I’m just trying to say that we’ve both changed so much, Michael. It can’t be like it was before. That’s all gone. Everything has shattered.”
The Torn Up Marriage Page 28
