The Day I lost You

by Fionnuala Kearney

  ‘Free’ childcare is clipping my wings. Which makes it EXPENSIVE …

  Comment: Anonymous

  A married lover. Karma is so-o-o-o going to get you.

  Reply: Honey-girl

  Anonymous, if karma exists, you’re right, I’m probably doomed. I willingly got into bed with a married man. No one forced me. I could tell you that we can’t help who we fall in love with. That’s what I believe, but you sound like someone who’d argue. If it helps in your judging of me, I do worry about karma. I try to be a good person, a good mother, a good daughter, but yes, I’ve done bad things. Yes. My bad is BAD in the karmic view of things. If there is some universal weighing scales out there, I’m probably an epic fail. Or am I? Is the idea of karma just some people’s way of refusing to understand and beating me with a stick?

  44. Theo

  Anna had collected hats. All sorts of hats, but mostly flat caps and trilbies, soft hats that would sit on top of one another and harder hats that would sit into one another. She used to laugh and tell him that when she had more space, when she had ‘her own place’, she’d have a hat room, all shelved out, just for hats.

  He had bought her one once, for her eighteenth birthday. Harriet and he had arrived at the local pizza house where Jess was hosting a party for her, and Anna had laughed like a mule when she saw them arrive with the present, although wrapped, obviously a trilby. She had been wearing it when she saw him last. Years later, that same hat, sitting opposite him, the head underneath it telling him she needed to arrange a termination. She had been the last patient of the day and they had talked at length. Before she left, the last thing Theo had ever said to her was not to worry, that things would work out. The last thing. She had stood up, shoved her sodden tissues deep into her coat pocket and looked up from under the rim of the hat. ‘Thanks, Theo. For everything.’ That was the last thing that she had ever said to him.

  He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and lifted Harriet’s hatbox, which had prompted the memory, from the floor up onto the bed. ‘Just the holdall under the bed on the other side and this hatbox,’ he told Harriet. She took hold of the box, took one look around and checked the drawers one last time.

  Finn was at a friend’s house, something that Theo was really hopeful about; a boy his own age from the climbing club, who was also going to the same secondary school. Harriet had been pleased too, when he’d told her. ‘New friends are exactly what he needs.’ She had nodded as if she had organized the event herself.

  Theo crossed over to the other side of the bedroom and reached in under the bed, tugging on the black bag. ‘When you’re sorted, can you bring this bag back? It’s handy for skiing.’

  She frowned as he looked out of the window at the car on his driveway. It was the car she always drove now – Roland’s, a high-spec Range Rover; not something they would ever have spent money on. He narrowed his eyes, tried to get a better glance at the driver.

  ‘Skiing?’ She sat on the bed. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d ever want to ski again.’

  He sat next to her. ‘An accident. It could happen anywhere.’

  She nodded. ‘You’re always so pragmatic.’

  ‘Don’t tell me. Roland’s the spontaneous sort. No matter-of-fact nonsense from Roland. Maybe you and he even fight? Is he more of a challenge, maybe offers some stimulating argumentative debate?’

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked.

  ‘This,’ he said. ‘This is up. It’s all wrong. You here, picking up all of your clothes, and leaving with Roland in a car worth more than I earn in a year. And you and me, so bloody civilized.’

  ‘Is it the car or the fact I’m taking all my clothes?’ She pinched one of his hands playfully.

  Theo didn’t laugh. ‘It’s not the car,’ he shook his head.

  ‘If I told you now that I’d come back, go back to the way we were. What would you say?’

  He thought of Jess. He thought of Finn. ‘I’d say Finn would be very happy. I’d offer to help you unpack.’

  She rubbed his hand where she’d pinched it with her long fingers, and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Liar,’ she whispered, before standing up and looking out of the window. She waved down to the man waiting in the car; a tiny wave, a smile on her lips. ‘Theo, you and I both know that we’re good friends. We’ve always been good friends and hopefully we’ll stay good friends. Where does it say that this can’t be civilized?’

  ‘I’d like to go outside and punch him.’

  ‘No, no, you wouldn’t.’

  ‘I’d take him. I’ve seen how high he sits in that car. Five ten at most. I’d just have to look down and jab.’

  She smiled.

  ‘You’re not taking this very seriously,’ he said. ‘And, by the way, when we were married, I wanted a wife, a lover. I had enough friends.’

  Her back to the window, she bent over at the hip and placed her hands on his knees. ‘We were both, Theo. Stop talking shit.’

  ‘I miss our life together. When the clothes go, I’ll miss that bloody scented lotion of yours.’ He shrugged, laid both his hands on top of hers. ‘I know that this is the way forward for us, for our family, even for me; but just tonight, it’s hard.’

  Her hair fell in long lengths from each side of her face, almost touching their hands. He raised her chin a fraction and kissed her gently on the lips. ‘I could take him,’ he said.

  ‘You could.’ She laughed. ‘But please don’t.’ She stood up. ‘Is now a good or a bad time to ask how it’s going with the “climbing woman”?’

  Theo made a face. ‘It’s not. Not any more.’

  ‘That was short-lived. How did she take it?’

  ‘I called her. She’s fine. It’s not as though we were a real item, I mean—’

  ‘You called her? You broke up with someone on the phone?’ Harriet tutted loudly.

  ‘Do not.’ Theo grabbed the black bag and passed her as he headed for the landing. ‘Do not claim to be able to tell me the best way to break up with someone.’

  ‘Ouch.’ She winced.

  ‘Jacqueline and I were only together once.’

  ‘Too much information and that makes it worse.’ She caught hold of Theo’s sleeve. ‘Look, a woman doesn’t like being broken up with after, you know, after one liaison. It might make her feel used.’

  Theo shrugged. ‘She was fine with it. We’re both grown-ups.’

  ‘Good.’ Harriet held the hatbox in both hands as she followed him down the stairs. ‘Just remember that when you get outside. You’re a grown-up and grown-up men don’t punch or jab other men, especially if they’re not as tall as them and especially if they’re your ex-wife’s lover.’

  Theo looked over his shoulder at her. ‘My ex-wife’s lover. Now, that’s an “ouch”.’

  She grimaced.

  ‘I’ll behave,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  When she had left, he chose the furthest corner of the den and stood on his head. Minutes later Bea poked her head around the door.

  ‘She’s gone? Mrs Harriet?’

  ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘Why do you do that to your head?’ She tried to look at him upside down and laughed.

  ‘Most of the weight is in the arms. It’s relaxing.’

  She shook her own head. ‘Doesn’t look so. See you in the morning, Theo. I’m going to bed early to read.’

  He said goodnight and closed his eyes, allowed his mind to empty of all the what-ifs in his marriage. As they emptied, others flooded in, all of the what-ifs of Jess and him, like what if they were never to be together again?

  Women don’t like being broken up with after, you know, after one liaison. It might make her feel used.

  No, Harriet, they don’t. Neither do men …

  45. Jess

  The day after the party, the day after Theo held me, just held me without talking or moving for hours, I wake with a pounding headache. I feel as though I’ve been hit by a truck and it’s backed over m
e again. I’m struggling. I can hear Rose, who sneaked out of bed earlier and is now in Anna’s bedroom. Last night, she set up her train set in there and it takes everything I have to walk across the landing and join her. My throat feels scratchy and my limbs heavy.

  ‘Morning, gorgeous girl.’ I lean down and kiss her.

  ‘What’s wrong with your voice, Nanny?’

  She’s right, I sound awful. ‘Just a cold,’ I reply, heading back to the house phone ringing from my bedroom extension. I’m in a cold sweat and out of breath by the time I get there.

  ‘You sound like shit,’ Leah says when I pant into the phone.

  ‘Feel like it too.’

  ‘Go back to bed. I’ll come and get Rose.’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine.’ I don’t want Rose going back there today. I know it’s irrational. Rose has spent her life in and out of Gus’s house, but that was before I knew what I know.

  ‘Don’t be silly. I’m on my way over.’

  She arrives within fifteen minutes. I’ve taken something to reduce my temperature so she doesn’t panic. Leah doesn’t do illness, or vomit, or any of those things that women who are mothers don’t panic about. She lets herself in and hands me a takeaway coffee. ‘Skinny cap,’ she says. ‘Where’s Rose?’

  ‘In Anna’s room,’ I reply; my voice is definitely going.

  ‘Shall I call Theo? You really look awful.’

  I shake my head. I looked fine about ten hours ago when he left.

  She calls out to Rose, and within moments I can hear her dressing her in her room. She lets Rose choose her own clothes; they’re chatting animatedly together and inside, as my chest and lungs struggle, the real ache is in my heart.

  ‘Nanny’s not well today, so you, Uncle Gus and I are going to spend the day together. And you haven’t met Jen, have you? She’s Gus’s daughter. I think you met her before, ages ago, when you were very little, but she’s lovely. You’ll love her.’

  Gus’s daughter.

  If I had the energy I’d probably scream the word ‘No’ repeatedly at the top of my voice.

  ‘Can we take Pug?’ Rose asks.

  They’ve reached the end of my bed.

  ‘Of course we’ll take Pug,’ Leah says. ‘We’ll all bring her for a long walk later, tire her out.’

  Rose chuckles. ‘Will I be back in time to play with my train set?’

  ‘Yes, don’t worry, Miss Disney Castle meets train set.’ Leah looks over to me and grins. And there they are, two of the most important people left in the world to me, extraordinarily intertwined, neither of them knowing. Rose grips the fabric heart from the memory box in her tiny fingers. I cough viciously from the bed.

  ‘You drink that coffee. I’ll bring you some soup or something later, when we come back.’

  I can’t even lift my head from the pillow to shake it or nod. ‘Thank you,’ I croak.

  She blows a kiss at me. ‘Not going near you,’ she says back over her shoulder. ‘Don’t want what you have. Blow Nanny a kiss, darling?’ Rose sends me one of her special ones, where she kisses the tops of her fingertips, then blows it to me. I’m supposed to catch it in my hand, tap it into my heart and do the same back. I do it badly, end up coughing again and Leah scarpers with Rose in tow, not wanting ‘what I have’.

  When they’ve gone, I reach for my bedside drawer. I haven’t succumbed to these tablets for ages but today I need to sleep. My body needs to rest. I swallow a Valium with a slug of the coffee, lay my throbbing head on the pile of pillows I’ve made and wait for the relief that sleep will bring.

  I’m floating on an airbed on a calm sea, rising and falling with the gentle ebb of the dark blue ocean – the colour of her eyes … I recognize the beach from a holiday we’d taken years ago – Doug, me and Anna. She’s there, on the sand, and she’s waving to me. I’m so thrilled to see her that I slide from the airbed, begin to swim back to shore. All the while, she’s laughing and waving, calling to me, ‘Mama! I’m here!’ And as I swim as fast as my limbs will allow, I’m crying, thinking, ‘She’s not dead, after all. There she is. Look, you can see her.’

  I stop swimming, tread water for a moment, am frustrated as I don’t seem to be nearing the shore. ‘Mama!’ she continues to call. ‘Over here!’ And then I see it, a huge sea of white behind her. It’s moving quickly and I’m confused. How can a white wave be coming for her? I’m the one in the sea. When it swallows her whole, I feel myself sinking underwater …

  Anna is wearing her red suit. It looks ridiculous and I’m trying to tell her so, but my voice won’t work. She’s sitting there laughing at me; or, rather, lying there laughing at me, stretched out the full length of the sunbed. The day is scalding – the type where an egg would cook on the pavement. Sweat is dripping from me yet she seems fine, wrapped up in that snug suit that fits her so well. I wonder if she’s cold. I wonder if she’s dead.

  I shout out to her. ‘Are you dead, my love?’ I cry. ‘Anna, listen to me, please, I need to know.’

  She looks straight at me but doesn’t reply and I realize then, she can’t see me. She can’t hear me. ‘I need to know,’ my hoarse voice repeats. ‘I need to know what to do.’

  I wonder if I’m dreaming.

  Rose is twenty. It’s her birthday. I’m whoop-whooping out loud from the corner of my kitchen. There’s a crowd of us here and it’s weird because there I am whoop-whooping with the best of them, yet here I am hovering above the room, as if I’m seeing the whole thing from a different point of view. I wonder if I’m dead. Do I die just before Rose is twenty? I try and do the maths, see how long I’ve got left, but my fuzzy, cloudy head can’t work it out. I’m quiet up here in the corner, content to watch my image down there taking part. I look younger. And my parents are there, both of them. I’m stupidly pleased that my dad, who I think is probably near the end of his days, has in fact outlived me. Then I realize how awful that is for him – how that means he has to endure a pain I know too well, to outlive a child. I want to reach down and hug them, Mum and Dad, but I can’t. I’m stuck up here on the ceiling watching.

  Rose looks stunning. Her wild curls have been tamed – all plaited into her head. Beside her, Leah is standing with her arm around her. She says something funny and Rose moves, embraces Leah and then Gus. His arm circles her back and, as she turns around, I recognize the dress she’s wearing. I see the obvious swell in her stomach. Anna, I reach down from the ceiling and touch her. It’s Anna.

  Theo’s beside me in the sea. I stay close to him – am afraid of the snow that I know is coming towards us and the ocean behind us. I tread water, try hard to concentrate, conserve my energy. He is quiet and I wonder if he knows, if he knows our fates are sealed, swimming here like this, together. I can almost hear his voice from another time. ‘We build our own traps,’ he said. We were talking about someone I knew years ago, someone who was finding it hard to leave an abusive partner. At the time I thought he was hard – she loved the man. And now, my legs underneath me moving at marathon pace to stay afloat, I see Anna wave from the shore. She looks beautiful, ethereal. ‘Mama,’ she yells at me. ‘Look at me!’ She swirls around, as if she’s showing off a new dress. I hear it before I see it, the snow that will take her from me and Rose.

  ‘Don’t look, Theo!’ I tell him to turn around, to save himself. He reaches for my hand and, as Anna vanishes, the sea takes us. We’ve built this – this trap – by being here together; we will die here together. We are swirled around and around like a washing cycle. My lungs swell with water. I cannot breathe.

  I awake. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep but it’s dusk. Rose is my first thought. Leah has her; Leah took her, I tell myself. I crawl out of bed, coughing all the time. My chest feels too tight. I tell myself off, take the few steps to the en suite. I need a pee. Anna’s not here; that’s because she’s on some beach under an avalanche. I know my thoughts are jumbled. Should ring Leah, I think. Bed. Just back to bed.

  Round and round we go, Theo trying to grab my ha
nd. I want to just yell at him and ask him what the hell he’s doing in my dream anyway. Sand and pebbles beat against my skin, against my face. I remember pebble art when Anna was small. She would make pictures of things made out of pebbles stuck onto paper. If I can just reach out and grab some, we can make some pictures together. We can …

  Leah’s calling my name and I can smell a familiar scent. Theo, musky, aromatic. My eyes open and I see his face as he pulls me into a sitting position.

  ‘C’mon, Jess. Okay, you’re awake. Good.’ He has a stethoscope on my chest where his hand once was.

  ‘Theo.’ I croak his name.

  ‘Can you just hold her upright for a bit?’ He’s talking to Leah, who has a strange expression on her face.

  I feel him tap on my back, pulsing it with two fingers. He has lovely fingers …

  ‘Right.’ He places me back on the pillows gently. ‘I’ll phone straight through to the hospital so we can bypass A&E, but we need to get her in. We’ll need an X-ray to confirm but I’m fairly sure it’s pneumonia.’

  I hear Leah question him as only she can, and I want to smile and tell them to just play nicely.

  I had a bad night. I don’t remember having it, but according to Theo the next day, I had a bad night.

  ‘Leah stayed until the early hours but she has an urgent meeting this morning she had to go in for. I told her I’d stay.’

  I’m not sure where I am. I’m not sure what’s happened, but I am sure I don’t want fuss. ‘Rose?’ My voice is low and croaked, my breathing laboured.

  ‘Don’t worry. I took her to school and Gus is picking her up. She knows you’re not well so she’ll stay there a few days.’

  ‘No,’ I try to move.

  ‘Lie the hell back down, Jess. You’re pretty ill.’

  I do as I’m told only because I can’t do otherwise.

  ‘Jesus, you’ve been delirious for the last twenty-four hours. Let the antibiotics do their work and you have to rest. This is serious.’

  I can tell that by the unusual rhythm in my chest. It hurts to breathe. Theo is shaking his head, muttering that he can’t understand it. ‘How?’ he asks me. ‘How can I leave you at midnight with a slight cough and this happen so soon?’