Two expectant faces stared at her and then Helen asked impatiently, ‘Afford what?’
‘A road trip,’ she said. ‘I haven’t exactly worked out the details but I was thinking we would head to London to catch a West End show and see the sights before taking the Eurostar to Paris. We could do a tour of all the galleries and indulge in some fine dining before catching a flight to New York, where we would end the holiday with a shopping trip before coming home again. I know it might be a bit expensive but I’m pretty good at searching out a bargain.’
‘And you haven’t worked out the detail?’ Helen said, clearly impressed. ‘But if we go to Paris then I want to go to Notre Dame – the location of the best Disney film ever in my humble opinion.’
‘The Hunchback does not beat The Little Mermaid!’ Phoebe said.
Before the argument could escalate, Julia interrupted. ‘Anyway, children, exactly how long will this trip take, including a trip to Notre Dame?’ she added for Helen’s benefit.
Phoebe was starting to blush. She had dreamed up the plan without ever really believing it would happen, and it was probably only the wine talking now. ‘We wouldn’t want to spend all our time travelling so I’d say two weeks, or at a push we could condense it into ten days.’
‘When?’ asked Helen, already sold on the idea.
‘That would be entirely negotiable.’ Phoebe was feeling giddy now. Her dream holiday was taking shape. ‘We’d have to factor in taking time off work and all our other various responsibilities, but I thought it would be best to do it before my birthday in March or after Julia’s in October so we’ve either all hit our milestones or none of us have.’
‘I’d prefer to go sooner rather than later,’ Julia mused.
‘How about February?’ Helen asked. ‘It’s half term so John would probably be looking after Milly then anyway – well, that’s the plan now.’
Phoebe was still in shock. She had expected her friends to dismiss the idea. ‘Look, all of this is dependent on my nan following through with her own plans.’
‘Now don’t go getting cold feet on us, Phoebes,’ Helen warned. ‘Some care homes arrange short stays so even if your nan hasn’t moved by then, she could always try before she buys.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Does that mean we’re all up for this?’ Helen asked, excitement flushing her face.
‘It’s tempting,’ Julia said, ‘and you’re right, we could do with something to look forward to, but I don’t know what might be happening with me. There could be appointments, treatment …’
‘We wouldn’t have to book it straight away and could easily work around your plans if necessary,’ Phoebe offered.
‘Is that a deal then? Shall we go?’ Helen asked, already raising her wine glass.
Julia and Phoebe raised theirs a little more hesitantly, but with a tinkling of glass the plan was sealed and they were all a little stunned as they continued with their meal. Phoebe promised to put together an itinerary and get an idea of costs so they could do a reality check, but as they chatted about ideas for their trip, it was clear that a lack of money wasn’t going to stop them. They were going, come what may.
When the plates had been cleared and desserts ordered along with another bottle of wine, Julia excused herself and went to the bathroom. Helen immediately reached under the table for her bag.
‘What are you up to?’ Phoebe asked as she watched her friend fumble with her phone.
Helen was tapping away even as she spoke. ‘Checking that Milly’s OK. I wouldn’t dare show Julia I was worried.’
Once the text had been sent, Phoebe asked her next question. ‘You were a bit harsh with Julia before. Is everything all right between you two?’
‘Of course it is,’ Helen said confidently but then her shoulders sagged. ‘I don’t know, Phoebe. I feel for Julia, really I do, but ever since she started getting panicky about having a baby, she’s made me feel so bloody guilty about having Milly. I don’t remember anyone feeling envious when I found myself knocked up at seventeen. Julia was all prim and properly engaged at the time and didn’t approve one bit of me and John rushing into things.’
‘I suppose that’s the problem with us three. We either start too early or leave it too late.’
‘I know,’ Helen said, ‘and given what Julia’s going through, I really am glad I have Milly, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of a moan now and again. Being a mum might be a blessing but it can also be bloody hard work, especially on your own and especially with a wannabe teenager.’
‘I’m always available if you want to talk.’
‘I might just hold you to that.’
Julia looked a little unsteady on her feet when she returned to the table and had only just flopped back down on her seat when Helen’s mobile beeped. ‘Who’s that? Is it Milly?’
Helen checked the message before answering. ‘She says, and I quote, “I’ve posted a party on Facebook and now the house is being trashed by drug-crazed teenagers. Don’t come home until the police have cleared the area.”’ Helen left a pause before adding, ‘Yes, Julia, she’s fine.’
‘Sometimes the big lies hide the smaller ones,’ Phoebe offered.
‘Thanks for that, Job’s comforter!’
‘We should leave soon,’ Julia said as she stabbed her chocolate gateau with a fork. ‘I’m already regretting falling off the wagon again and besides, I can’t keep up with you two. I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk in a straight line if I drink much more.’
‘I hate to break this to you, Julia, but I think you’re way past that point,’ Phoebe said and then, as tactfully as she could, added, ‘Will Paul be picking you up?’
Julia shook her head solemnly but appeared to have lost the power of speech.
Fuelled by alcohol, Phoebe wanted to shake some sense into her friend. Why couldn’t she see what she had instead of acting like she had nothing? Compared to Phoebe, Julia had everything. ‘Maybe you should phone him,’ she tried.
‘He might say no.’
‘Of course he won’t. Paul would do anything for you, Julia, he loves you,’ Phoebe said without a shadow of a doubt. She knew how much Paul wanted a baby, but he would give up his chances of fatherhood for his wife in a heartbeat. He had told her as much – hadn’t he told Julia too, or was she determined not to listen?
‘The way I’ve been lately, I don’t deserve his love,’ Julia continued.
Helen had remained silent and when she did make a contribution, it certainly didn’t help matters. ‘You’re really convinced Paul would be better off without you, aren’t you?’
Julia’s lip began to tremble. ‘I don’t know …’ she said. ‘I just want him to be happy and if I can’t give him children, if it’s too late for me, then why should it have to be that way for Paul?’
‘You’d break up with him?’ asked Phoebe.
‘It has to be better than waiting to be dumped again. I think that’s why I’m freaking out about seeing the specialist. I’m sure they’ll do their best, but if whatever treatment they suggest fails, then that’s one door closed. Adoption’s another possibility, but what if that doesn’t work out either? The only thing I know for sure is that Paul deserves to be a father. I can’t let him make that kind of sacrifice for me.’
Phoebe wondered how two people who wanted to make each other happy could get it so wrong. She wanted to cry and had to keep her lips pursed to hold back the sob.
‘That is utter bollocks,’ Helen said. ‘I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you it won’t be hard for both of you, Julia, but you and Paul were meant to be together, come what may. He loves you with every bone in his body and I’m going to prove it.’ She picked up her mobile and made the call.
‘I have your wife with me,’ Helen announced, ‘and she’s a teensy bit worse for wear. For some reason, she’s under the impression that you wouldn’t want to pick her up.’
After sorting the details, Helen put down the phone and folded her arms.
Julia didn’t look any more assured.
‘Was he angry?’
‘Not as angry as I’m getting,’ Helen said. ‘He’ll be here in five minutes, so for God’s sake cheer up or he might just drive past. Come on, let’s get some fresh air.’
The fresh air in question was accompanied by torrential rain so they were forced to wait at the entrance where the doorman pretended not to notice how drunk they were. Julia wobbled like Bambi and, despite heavy boots, Phoebe was no better grounded and stumbled into the door when Julia knocked into her. They giggled together while Helen peered out into the gloom. She was marginally less inebriated than her friends, something she wasn’t particularly used to, and eager to find reinforcements. ‘Here he is,’ she said.
When Helen pulled Julia from the shelter of the pub, Phoebe was dragged along with them and they all screeched as the shock of the cold rain hit them. Paul watched from the safety of the car, which they were getting no closer to because as Helen pulled them in one direction, Julia and then Phoebe teetered in another.
Eventually, Paul stepped out into the downpour and his light grey T-shirt became pitted with dark splodges that merged until it was completely sodden and clung to his shivering body.
‘Need some help?’ he asked while checking all three women in turn to work out who he was more likely to get a coherent response from. It was clearly not his wife and when his eyes settled on Phoebe for a moment, all she could give him was a woozy smile. He opted for Helen and was about to ask her something when Julia began to sob.
‘I came on,’ she cried. ‘I wanted to tell you this morning, but I couldn’t.’
‘It’s all right,’ Paul said in a low voice, concentrating on his wife and trying not to acknowledge the doorman standing only feet away. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘But it is,’ Julia said, taking a step towards Paul that somehow resulted in her taking two steps back.
Paul handed Helen the car keys. ‘Take Phoebe and get out of the rain.’
Helen took hold of Phoebe’s arm and dragged her away, but Phoebe was more interested in looking back.
‘See, he does love you,’ Phoebe said as she watched Paul scoop Julia up into his arms.
‘Go!’ he said, when he noticed they had come to a standstill.
Phoebe would have to wait until they had sobered up before her friend would tell her how right she had been. Julia would go into exquisite detail about the rush of relief she had felt when she looked up into her husband’s eyes. Paul hadn’t looked sad, or annoyed, or any less in love with her than on the day he had vowed to take her as his wife, for better or for worse, till death do us part.
12
Helen was overdue her coffee break but with waiting times in the clinic lengthening as the morning wore on, she had to settle for a quick drink of water from the cooler while fetching another for a patient.
‘Here you go, Lucy,’ she said, returning with a plastic cup.
The young woman who thanked her had been a regular since transferring from Alder Hey Children’s Hospital where she had been cared for since birth. After a lifetime of challenges, Lucy’s treatment options had gradually diminished and it had been at least a year ago, probably closer to two, when her consultant had concluded that a heart transplant was the only real option left.
In the five years that Helen had worked in cardiology, she had met more patients than she could possibly hope to remember, but there were some she would never forget. Craig Winchester had been one and Lucy Cunliffe was another. The young woman was stronger than her failing organ gave her credit for. She never complained about the endless wait and refused to let it show when the short walk to the consultation room was ready to defeat her. She always remained remarkably calm while her mum fussed around her and more than anything, Lucy tried not to act like a patient, but rather the young woman her health would otherwise deny her.
‘Do you think we’ll be much longer?’ Lucy’s mum asked Helen.
‘You’re next on the list, Mrs Cunliffe.’
‘You mean, I’m next on the list,’ Lucy corrected.
Mrs Cunliffe seemed about to argue but was silenced by her daughter’s warning glare. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘But you know where I am if you need me.’
Two minutes later Lucy’s name was called and Helen remained with Mrs Cunliffe while they watched Lucy walk carefully down the corridor. Like Lucy’s mother, Helen had to fight against the urge to rush to help her.
‘She’ll be fine,’ Helen said.
‘Will she?’ Mrs Cunliffe asked, mostly to herself before aiming the next comment directly at Helen. ‘Do you think we’ll ever get the call?’
Helen tore her eyes away from the now empty corridor and sat down next to Mrs Cunliffe. The plastic seat that Lucy had occupied only moments earlier held no residual warmth as if she had never been there at all. ‘You know I can’t answer that,’ she began. ‘It’s closer to a lottery than any of us would like, and some people are luckier than others.’
‘Our Lucy hasn’t been blessed with luck, I’m afraid. She doesn’t deserve any of this, spending all her energy fighting for every breath while her friends and her sister sail through life. Not that I wish ill on any of them,’ she added quickly. ‘I thank God every night that Hayley’s healthy and happy, but is it too much to ask the same for Lucy?’
‘No, of course it’s not,’ Helen said, putting her hand briefly on Mrs Cunliffe’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.
‘And I wouldn’t wish ill on anyone else either, but there lies the problem.’
Helen knew what she meant and made it easier for her. ‘Don’t think you’re the only one to sit in that chair and wrestle with conflicting emotions. You just have to keep telling yourself that the people who donate organs don’t die so that someone else can live: they die because of what happened to them. Whether their organs are harvested or not, the outcome for them remains the same. They still leave behind families who will grieve their loss. The only crumb of comfort is that the donor leaves an amazing gift of life, to be given to people like Lucy.’
Mrs Cunliffe refused to be comforted. ‘When I listen to the news, my ears prick up whenever I hear there’s been an accident. I can’t believe I’m even admitting this but I get this tiny buzz of excitement when a fatality is reported because I wonder if we’re going to get the call. Can you believe how heartless I’ve become? I certainly can’t,’ she said bitterly, ‘and I hate myself for it.’
‘I have a daughter too. Milly is eleven going on twenty and I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do for that child. No matter how crazy she drives me, I’d wish ill on my best friend if it meant saving her life.’
‘Lucy can drive me mad too.’
‘And you’d do anything for her,’ Helen said, her words slow and purposeful.
Mrs Cunliffe sniffed and then sat up a little straighter. ‘Sorry, I talk utter nonsense sometimes.’
Helen knew the signs. It was time to step back and brush off Mrs Cunliffe’s temporary lapse. ‘If we’re giving out awards for talking a load of rubbish then you’ll have to join the queue. It’s a wonder I’ve managed to keep my job this long given some of the things I come out with before I remember to engage my brain.’
‘You have a job because you’re good at it. I’ve dealt with a lot of nurses in my time and, don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of good ones, but occasionally there are one or two that stand head and shoulders above the rest, and you’re one of them.’
Despite the lack of caffeine and with little prospect of snatching more than twenty minutes for lunch, Helen felt re-energized as she got back to work. She couldn’t wait to get home and tell Milly how amazing people thought she was, although given her daughter’s current mood, Helen might have to resort to taking Mrs Cunliffe home with her before Milly would be convinced.
It was the week before Christmas and Phoebe was meeting Julia and Helen for some last-minute shopping in an effort to get Helen organized. Phoebe had already bought all of her Christmas
presents in a single lunch hour, although in fairness, her list hadn’t been a particularly long one. All she would be looking for now were some last-minute bargains to revamp her wardrobe and she could do with her friends’ help. She might know instinctively how to find the perfect outfits for customers, but when it came to picking something out for herself, she had a tendency to dress down rather than up. Julia always complained about her wearing black and she needed a firm hand to stop her from reverting to type.
‘Aren’t we waiting for Julia?’ Phoebe asked Helen, raring to go after they had met on the corner of Lord Street.
‘Sorry, it’s just me. I thought it would be easier,’ Helen said.
‘You didn’t ask her?’
‘You know what Julia’s like,’ Helen answered curtly. ‘She’ll want me to spend a fortune on my already spoilt child and I’d rather save up for our holiday. I’ve told Milly not to expect the ridiculously expensive iPod she’s been asking for. She’s getting a mid-range one, which is more than she deserves, but if Julia were here …’
‘I suppose,’ Phoebe said. Every once in a while she enjoyed being with just one of her friends so she didn’t feel the need to compete for attention, but she didn’t like the idea of anyone being excluded, if only because she wouldn’t want it to be her.
‘Shall we head straight off to the shops or do you fancy a caffeine fix first?’
‘Caffeine,’ Phoebe said with more than a hint of desperation.
‘Bad night?’
‘Nan was wandering about at two o’clock in the morning, wanting to know where Grandad was.’
‘She’s getting worse, isn’t she?’ Helen asked.
‘It’s only once in a while. Most of the time she’s fine.’
‘Liar.’
Phoebe fell silent as they queued up in the nearest coffee shop.
‘Any progress on getting her into a home?’ Helen asked after she had ordered coffees and a couple of Danish pastries.
‘We’ve been back to see a couple and now it’s just a matter of waiting until one of them has a vacancy. Even when we do get offered a place, it’s still Nan’s choice, and I’m not going to push her. It has to be her decision and it’s going to be a hard one.’
The Goodbye Gift Page 11
