by Anne Fine
‘Minna, his concentration’s shot to hell. And have you looked at his hands? They’re shaking.’
After the next visit, she was even more incensed. ‘Dad, he won’t even compromise. It took me ages to get there, it’s so out of the way. And then Harry couldn’t even be bothered to come down with me in the lift so we could be outside while he was smoking, so I just spent most of the time outside in the corridor. What’s the point of that?’
‘That’s just the way your brother is at the moment, Minna. He will get better, honestly.’
‘Perhaps he will. But we have to think of our baby.’
And Josh was right behind her. I could tell from the bland expression on his face that this conversation had been planned. I turned to Geoff. His hair was sticking up on end from running his hands through, and I saw his eyes fall on the whisky bottle on the sideboard.
Things seemed quite desperate, so I made a family decision. ‘Why don’t you take a break?’ I said to Minna and Josh. ‘We can cope here. Why don’t you two go and spend a bit of time with Josh’s family. It’ll do you good, and you can stop worrying about the baby.’
Could she have sounded more hopeful? ‘What, like a few weeks, even?’
Geoff looked a bit startled, but I said, ‘Why not? Your brother’s so inside himself, he doesn’t get much joy from anyone’s visits. Perhaps you should save your energies for when they’ll do more good.’
‘Really?’ She looked as if she could have hugged me. Then she turned to her father. ‘Dad? Is that all right with you? You don’t mind if we go down to Torbury Bay and live in the barn for a while?’
He’d reached that stage when he would have sold his soul to anyone for one stiff drink. ‘No, really. Tilly’s right. You’re probably better off away from the whole bloody boiling for a while. It’s best you think of the baby. You go down to Cornwall. We can manage here.’
Her arms were round him. ‘Thank you, Dad! Thank you.’
Clearly, she’d got her heart’s desire. And who can blame her for not wanting to spoil her growing happiness by hanging round a hospital ward? The sheer disabling misery of the place chewed its way even into Geoff, who set off each day hoping to see some small improvement in his son, and came home detailing endless attempts to talk in private to impatient, seen-it-all staff, and trying to put out of his mind Harry’s demented diatribes and extraordinary claims about insects crawling under his skin, and men watching from rooftops.
‘At least you’re not the only enemy,’ Geoff used to tell me, dropping his coat on the hall chair and making straight for the bottle standing waiting on the sideboard.
‘Oh, ho,’ I said. ‘The man with the spyglass today again, was it?’
‘Mostly.’ He took a slug. (There was no other way of describing it. Half the glass went in one go.) Geoff refilled the tumbler before he even bothered to turn round. ‘But not before we’d had another of those fugues on the Tilly people.’
That’s what we called them. Harry had formed the view (just like my mother) that there were two of me. But whereas my mother had only ever felt a mild shade of resentment for the ‘stand-offish’ one who parked herself on the windowseat to skim through the papers, Harry kept coming back to the full-blown belief that there were actually two separate people who lived with his father: Good Tilly and Bad Tilly. ‘It makes me sound like something out of a children’s book,’ I complained to Geoff. ‘Bad Tilly breaking all the toys and Good Tilly trying to stop her.’ He’d only wince. The grim reality of dealing with the mad wipes out that part of you that’s open even to registering a light-hearted comment, let alone responding in kind. At first, I’d offered to do a share of the visiting; but since my presence only seemed to fire up Harry, I soon fell back on being useful boning up on side-effects, and the tiresome legalities surrounding those who firmly believe the medication offered them is some new poison smuggled in by men who are watching its debilitating effects through binoculars from rooftops.
And getting away – to the shore office, to the rigs, even to Mother, now grey and soundless in her own hospital bed. Anything was preferable to being at home. So it was purely by chance that, on the morning Minna rang, I was the only one there.
It was the old, unthinking greeting. ‘Oh. Hi, Tilly. I thought you’d be away in Aberdeen.’
‘I take it you want Geoff.’
My chilly briskness threw her only for a moment. She pressed on hurriedly. ‘Is he about?’
‘I’m afraid he’s already left for the hospital.’
‘Damn!’ Her frustration obvious, she did the best job she could of switching to sisterly concern. ‘So how is Harry?’
‘Not so brilliant.’ I would have carried on and told her more, but clearly she couldn’t resist the chance to twist the conversation as fast as she could back to her own concerns. ‘Well, that’s really what I wanted to know. Because everyone down here thinks that, what with the baby on the way and all that, it might be better all round if …’
‘If …?’
‘If Josh and I got married.’
What can you say? ‘I’m quite delighted for you, Minna. And so will your dad be, I’m sure.’
‘Ye-es.’ She sounded uneasy. ‘Well, the thing is, Tilly, everyone down here thinks it might be nice to do it quite soon.’
‘Quite soon?’
‘Well, as soon as possible, really.’
Before she could no longer fit in the dress of her dreams, presumably. Before it was too late to be able to trail the words ‘The baby was rather premature’ in front of the neighbours later.
I wasn’t going to help her out. ‘I’m not sure, Minna. You see, what with things as they are’ – I swear I put only the slightest tinge of mockery into the next two words – ‘“up here” at the moment—’
She pounced so eagerly I knew that ‘everyone down there’ must already have things planned. ‘Well, that’s the point, really, Tilly. You see, Natalie and Caspar, and Elise – and Josh’s sisters – and Josh as well, of course—’
‘Pretty well everyone “down there”, in fact.’
Did she even notice the mimicry? I don’t believe she did.
‘Yes. Everyone down here thinks that it might be easier if …’
She did at least have the grace to hesitate. And since I wanted to be able to make it clear to Geoff that there had been no possibility of his daughter having misunderstood the way things were ‘up here’, I made a point of interrupting to voice plain facts. ‘The thing is, Minna, your brother certainly isn’t well enough to travel. And, given the state Harry’s in, your father certainly won’t want to leave him.’
Again that eagerness. ‘Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Everyone down here thinks it might be best for me and Josh to have the simplest of weddings now, even without my side of the family, and then maybe another celebration up there when everyone’s feeling more up to it.’
‘You realize that could be quite a while?’
Her relief was evident. ‘Oh, well. Never mind. We don’t have to worry about that now, do we?’
I lost my patience. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘so long as everyone down there is perfectly happy.’ And then, to stop her saying anything else that might annoy me, I said down the phone, ‘Hello? Hello? Oh, damn this telephone! It’s always cutting out.’
And I hung up.
But day by day, things with Harry did improve a bit. Each drug they tried took hold in less upsetting ways. The worst of the battiness passed. (And certainly, if Good and Bad Tilly were still in the forefront of Harry’s mind, his father said much less about them.) Soon Harry was allowed the privilege of visits home, and Geoff would fetch him on the days I was away. The closeness of the timings – me barely out of the house before Harry was in it – could scarcely fail to irritate me with their reminder of the end of my marriage; but it was still a while before real resentment crept in. One night, instead of reaching forward as usual to take my coat as I walked into the house, Geoff stepped outside, forcing me into retreat, and pu
lled the door closed behind him. ‘You told me sevenish,’ he said, almost accusingly. ‘Or even later.’
I was cold, I was tired, and in no mood to indulge Geoff and his family. ‘So?’
‘So Harry’s still here.’
I shot him an evil look. ‘This is my house, you know.’
‘I know. It’s just …’
‘Just …?’
Defeated, he stepped back and let me pass. I dropped my bag in the hall. Was this the moment to explain the only reason we were still together was Harry’s illness and the sheer impossibility of throwing the pair of them out in the storm? But just then Harry appeared in the kitchen doorway and even managed a slightly sheepish ‘Oh, hello there, Tilly,’ before his father swept him safely away. I vanished up the stairs, forcibly reminding myself that Geoff was trapped inside this nightmare, while I, at least, did have the sheer relief of getting away. And get away I did, the very next morning with Donald’s help, sandwiching someone else’s unwanted trip to a troublesome semi-submersible between a trip to Mother in the hospital and a refresher course for safety skills I hadn’t yet had time to lose. So it was scarcely surprising that, when a few wedding photos finally arrived from Minna, Geoff asked so tentatively, ‘Shall I post them up to Aberdeen?’
‘No, no,’ I told him, suddenly curious. ‘Something’s been cancelled, so I’m coming home.’
What had I said? ‘So long as everyone down there is perfectly happy’? Well, perfectly happy they did seem to be. For the simplest of weddings, it looked pretty fancy. I pored over the very few photographs Minna had dared send up to us (the perfunctorily mothballed guests), pointing out clues to the nature of the occasion. ‘Everyone looks very dressed up. And isn’t that a yew-lined path?’ I glanced at Geoff. ‘Did you know the ceremony was to be in church?’
Geoff didn’t answer. He, too, had fallen into private-detective mode. ‘That’s bloody thick canvass for “a tiny marquee in case it rains”.’ He held the print closer. ‘Tilly, this photo’s grainier than the others. I reckon someone’s cut half of it off, and tried to disguise it by getting what’s left enlarged.’
I took it from him. ‘They’re hiding the wedding cake.’ I pointed. ‘See? Right at the edge there. That tiny rim of white.’
‘You think that’s icing?’
‘I’ll bet it is. And see where Minna’s looking? If it’s at the top of the cake, the bloody thing must have been the height of Mount Everest.’
Depressed enough for suspicion to have taken full hold, Geoff stabbed the next print with a finger. ‘Why would there be a silver gravy boat on the edge of this table if it was all just sandwiches like she said?’
I passed him the next one. ‘Look, here’s another give-away. I take it she couldn’t resist sending us this one so that we can join her in admiring the wonderful Elise—’
‘Saint Elise of the Free Barn.’
‘But see that puff of pink just behind?’ He squinted where my finger rested. ‘I reckon that’s a bit of bridesmaid.’ I put the boot in. ‘And there were proper speeches – unless this bloke simply stood up to fart.’
Geoff pushed the photographs away and made a stab at humour. ‘Good thing we didn’t go. Her father-in-law’s new suit would have put mine to shame.’
I didn’t answer since it seemed so cruel to remind him we hadn’t been invited. And I felt equally forlorn. That very morning I had looked at the calendar and noticed it was four months to the day since I had packed my bags. Four months of Harry so unhinged he made no sense. Four months of biding my time. And what had happened? Here, right at the end, as if to snuff out not just her father’s hopes and dreams but also mine, came Minna, carelessly tossing the two of us out in the same basket. For, for the first time ever, Geoffrey and I had been cast out together: a fully equal pair.
And what did I feel? Disappointment, pure and hard – as if an almost certain passport to freedom had been snatched away at the last hour. Once more I would be forced by circumstance either to whistle as I packed my bags the moment Harry came back to his senses – cruel and hard-hearted Tilly –
Or look for yet another excuse to leave.
11
HARRY MADE PROGRESS. Those who have been through this particular wringer will know how time and again, and even in retreat, this sort of illness snatches back the days of hope till everyone involved is quite as raw and limp as in the worst times. But as the drug dosage lessened, Harry’s weepiness subsided and his concentration began to return. Soon, even his hands stopped shaking, and he was pretty well back to his old self. ‘A most optimistic prognosis,’ one of the doctors admitted cheeringly. ‘This could turn out to be a one-off, if he’s lucky.’
‘And if he stays away from all that crap that set it off in the first place,’ I said tartly to Geoffrey, ripping his neatly written Tod rang off the telephone message pad and dropping it straight in the bin. A few days later, Harry came back from an appointment with the specialist and thundered up the stairs to the small room I’d recolonized since he moved back where Minna used to be. ‘Tilly, where’s Dad?’
‘Carlisle. Some of that paper he delivered yesterday turned out to be the wrong sort.’ I looked up from the installation sheet I was studying. ‘Why? Everything all right?’
‘Better than all right. That hospital bloke just said he doesn’t want to see me again. I’m to make one last appointment with my regular doctor, and then I’m free.’
‘Really? You mean, not just off their outpatient list, but really free not to go back for more check-ups?’
‘What he said was, “See how it goes. Let’s just give it a whirl.”’ True to the specialist’s word, Harry stepped in the room to seize the back of my swivel chair and give it a celebratory spin. He took the first appointment that they offered him, a cancellation on the very next day, and came back on cloud nine. ‘Tilly, she’s wonderful! Wonderful.’
‘Yes. Geoff said she was good when he—’
‘No, not her. Not the doctor. Tara! The girl who’s helping out for a few weeks in the dispensary.’
I stared at his soppy, smiling face. ‘I hope for your sake she was just as smitten with you.’
‘I made her laugh,’ he said, the same way I’d have said ‘I built a rocket’ or ‘I went to Mars’, and launched into the story he told again to his father over supper, and then a third time after that, about helping this beautiful young woman shift a few boxes filled with patients’ case notes taken out of the old cabinets across to the glossy new filing units she had arranged to be delivered. One of the doctors had stepped in the room and, seeing a stranger with armfuls of confidential records, asked sharply, ‘What are you doing?’
‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ it seems that Harry had responded airily. ‘I’m just helping out with a cabinet reshuffle.’
Small enough joke. But it was Harry all over – the old Harry back again – and Geoffrey was thrilled. So he was predisposed right from the start to take to Tara. And take to her he did. When I came back from Aberdeen the following week, he told me excitedly, ‘I’ve met her, Til! We all went out for pizza. I liked her enormously, and you can tell she’s going to be so good for Harry.’
Perhaps, with things as they were, it wasn’t surprising I felt the need to remind him that women aren’t put on earth simply to serve some useful purpose for men. ‘That’s as may be. But what’s she like?’
He scoured his brain for some way of describing her. Then out it came. ‘She’s very pretty and she’s very nice.’
‘Is that it?’
You could tell from the look on his face he realized he’d failed some test that left him baffled. So he thought some more. ‘Oh, yes! And she’s a Christian.’
‘Meaning, exactly?’
‘You know. She actually prays. And attends special church meetings and things. Oh, and when she opened her handbag, I saw a badge pinned on the inside flap.’
‘A badge?’
‘Yes. In the shape of a dove. It said, I am a Christian, clean and clear.’
‘Curtains for Tod and the druggies, then. If it lasts …’
It lasted. No one could slide a sheet of paper between the two of them all through the summer. Tara wasn’t just pretty and Christian, she was bossy too. In the short time she worked in the dispensary, it seems she changed not just the cabinets but the computer procedures, the appointments system, and most of the doctors’ schedules. ‘My Christ, they’ll be relieved when she goes back down south,’ I whispered to Geoffrey after an hour of hearing Harry sing his girlfriend’s praises. ‘And I can’t understand why she is going back to Business School when, left to herself, she could already run the whole bloody planet.’
‘Her first degree isn’t enough. She wants to get her Masters.’
‘God help poor Harry,’ I muttered, though it was plain that he was blooming under the strict new regime. His hours of wakefulness snapped back to being those of normal people. He shyly crossed the name of his usual sticky cereal off our shopping list and asked for crunchy granola. One day I even caught him reading a book. By the start of September, he was firmly back on track with his studies. I took him to be one of Tara’s little projects – something to pass the time before her new course began. But I was wrong. It seemed the three-year age gap was of no significance to either, and Harry’s plans for a little break from his studies in the middle of term suddenly included a trip down to Sussex.
‘It’s to meet Tara’s mother,’ Geoff explained.
I grinned. ‘A-ha? The smoking widow?’
Geoff glanced round nervously. ‘Don’t say that, Tilly. It really isn’t funny. This problem with the circulation in Gloria’s legs is getting worse, and really worrying Tara.’
My sweet pink arse. As far as I could tell, Tara was simply peeved that her mother wasn’t following her regular strictures about the evils of smoking with the same bovine keenness Harry had shown to kiss the rod of good health. My stepson was reduced to the odd snatched cigarette and lashings of toothpaste. What did I care? Each week that passed, he was a stronger, fitter and a happier person. Even his new beloved’s organizational skills seemed to be brushing off on him. One day I found him at the kitchen table, poring over a map.
