Milly put her hand over her mouth to hold back a sob. ‘Please, Mum, don’t cry,’ she begged.
Helen’s whole body was shaking and when she tried to pinch her nose, she was surprised how wet her face was. She wanted to say something only she couldn’t think what that might be. She couldn’t browbeat Milly into believing she wouldn’t be better off with her dad, not when the evidence was already damning. ‘I don’t blame you for hating me.’
‘I don’t hate you!’ Milly cried.
She shot up out of her chair and rushed into her mum’s arms where Helen clung to her as if she were drowning.
‘I’m sorry I said that, really I am, Mum. I do love you. I’ll always love you.’
Milly’s words cut into her. She had heard John say pretty much the same thing when he had left her and it made Helen’s blood run cold. She hadn’t thought it possible to hear a heart break but she swore she heard hers crack. She didn’t know what to do next. Was Milly supposed to sit back down so they could eat their breakfast while discussing the new arrangements? Did she agree to all of Milly’s demands while working out how she could persuade John to refuse her request? Or should they try to salvage the rest of the day so she could prove what a fantastic mother she could be and then leave it to Milly to reach the same conclusion? In the end she did none of these things. She simply clung to her daughter and tried to convince herself that she would never have to let her go.
Phoebe walked into her bedroom and rested her back against the door, taking a moment to soak in the silence which would inevitably be broken by the insistent thump of a walking stick or, worse still, the crash of something falling as her nan fumbled about on her own downstairs. Her grandmother, Theresa, was a proud woman but while she didn’t like admitting she needed more help these days, she still expected her granddaughter to be at her beck and call.
Phoebe’s bedroom was her private retreat and she had pasted its walls with sketches of long, lithe figures dressed in haute couture designs of her own imagination. Some of her creations had been brought to life, and Phoebe had worn them with a mixture of pride and disappointment. These were designs that deserved to be draped over six-foot models strutting down the catwalk, not someone whose life never quite lived up to her imagination.
Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Phoebe was aware of her hunger pangs and it felt strangely comforting. She imagined her body as a chrysalis and that the fat, frumpy Phoebe of old was slowly being gnawed away until one day a new woman would emerge. She was hoping this new woman would bring something back into her life, something she hadn’t even realized was missing until Paul had pointed it out. She was looking for that spark he remembered and she still hadn’t found it.
For a spark to catch there needed to be at least a smouldering ember but Phoebe’s life had been reduced to ash. She had surrendered her dreams a long time ago in return for the security and permanence that a life with her grandmother had offered. She had learned to fear change and had not only turned her back on opportunities to establish a career, she had thrown away the chance to grow, to be a wife, a mother.
Staring at her reflection, Phoebe was aware that things were changing whether she liked it or not. She was a grown woman and as she turned from side to side, she tried to imagine what a man might see. She was average height and, despite losing weight in the last couple of months, she knew she would never be in the same league as her two friends. She might have ten years on Julia but she was no competition and never had been, not really.
A man like Paul would choose Julia over Phoebe any day, whether that was a decade ago or last week. Phoebe and Paul had met eleven years ago to be precise, during that brief time when Helen had re-entered her life but she had yet to re-establish her friendship with Julia. Perhaps if Julia had been an influence in her life back then, if she had been there to tell Phoebe not to give up, then she might have finished her fashion design course and perhaps even gone on to art college instead of a half-hearted attempt at night school. She might have stood up to her nan and by now have what Julia had. She might even have more.
She could remember the first time Paul had showed up in her evening class and how her hand had trembled as she attempted to sketch his semi-naked body. She had been going through a phase of wearing T-shirts emblazoned with her own outlandish designs, wanting to make a statement, and the general theme was, ‘Take me on at your own risk.’ To her surprise, it was a challenge that Paul took up. When their art class had decamped to the pub, Paul had followed and continued turning up even on those nights when he wasn’t modelling.
She would never know if their brief liaison would have developed into something more because she hadn’t been brave enough to fight for what she had wanted. She had let Paul go and if ever there was a moment when she realized her life was no more than a string of bitter disappointments, it was when Paul had re-entered her life two years later – although technically he had entered into Julia’s life. Phoebe’s first reaction was to distance herself from them both, but she had slowly become accustomed to seeing Paul with her friend, and their happiness had proved that they were destined to be together. But they weren’t happy now. No one was.
As she cast a critical eye over her five-foot-four frame, Phoebe’s frown threatened to turn into a scowl. Her jeans had once pinched at the waist giving her a muffin top but the midnight-blue satin shirt she was wearing fell smoothly over her distinctive curves. Not that Phoebe saw those curves as anything but layers of fat clinging to her with grim determination. She had thought losing a stone would do the trick but no amount of dieting was going to help her grow taller.
Phoebe was desperate to reinvent herself; into what, she couldn’t quite say. Why she was doing it at all was an even more difficult question to answer. She had started her diet in earnest after her nan had announced she wanted to move into a care home. Being on her own, taking control of her own life, was a daunting proposition for Phoebe but while it terrified her, she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea, she just needed to prepare herself.
Except, she reminded herself, this version of events wasn’t quite true. Phoebe had become a little more particular about her appearance some time before her nan shared her plans. It had been around the time Paul had started giving her driving lessons. He had said he missed her spark and he had made her want to find it again. But her efforts had been wasted today, as they had been for the last couple of weeks, because despite his promises on New Year’s Day, Paul had so far failed to deliver. She wasn’t sure if this was a blessing in disguise. It had been awful to watch him wrestle with the possibility that he was infertile, and she was desperate to talk to him, but what could she say? What comfort could she offer him?
As guilt began to rise like bile into her throat, Phoebe’s phone began to ring, giving her a start.
‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’ Helen asked.
‘No, I was just about to put on my pyjamas and read a book,’ Phoebe said as she turned her back on the reflection and concentrated on her friend. ‘So what’s up? How was your weekend?’
‘Oh, you know,’ Helen said.
Before Phoebe could ask why there had been a catch in her voice, Helen quickly continued. ‘How was your driving lesson?’
‘What driving lesson?’ Phoebe said, trying not to sound as frustrated as she felt.
‘Another no-show?’
‘They were at some antique fair in St George’s Hall, so he couldn’t fit me in.’
‘Good,’ Helen said.
‘What do you mean good?’
‘Sorry,’ she said before clearing her throat. She sounded as if she were coming down with a cold. ‘I just mean it’s good to hear Julia and Paul are busy doing stuff together. Don’t you think?’
The question was a probing one and it wasn’t the first time Phoebe had sensed that Helen was a little unsure about Paul spending time with her. ‘Of course I do,’ she said and was thankful that the old Phoebe was still there deep inside, the one who wouldn’t hav
e felt burning jealousy at the sight of her friend making up with her husband on New Year’s Day, the one who wouldn’t dream of coming between them, but would put her friend’s needs before her own. ‘I just hope it lasts.’
There was a break in the conversation as Phoebe waited for Helen to say something. She didn’t.
‘Helen?’
The only response was a weird strangled noise. Helen was trying to speak but she couldn’t get the words out.
‘Helen, are you OK?’
‘No,’ came a whispered reply and then silence again.
‘What’s happened?’
After a couple of gulps for air, Helen said, ‘I screamed at Milly today.’
‘You scream at Milly most days, Helen,’ Phoebe said with a nervous laugh.
Helen released a long, painful wail. ‘I know! And now she doesn’t want to live with me any more. She says she’s going to move in permanently with John and Eva.’
‘Well, she can say that all she wants,’ Phoebe said, sounding more like her nan than she would like. ‘Tell her she can’t go picking and choosing where she lives, there are other people to consider. Besides, John wouldn’t agree to it, would he?’
‘He already has.’
‘You mean it’s really going to happen?’
Helen hiccupped as she fought to bring her sobs under control. ‘I’ve just got off the phone with him. He says Milly’s been more of a help with the baby than he could have imagined. He says that with Eva taking the next year off on maternity leave, they could easily manage school runs. He’s got it all worked out.’
‘And I don’t suppose it’s a great hardship for him financially if he’s not giving you child support,’ Phoebe said with more than a note of cynicism.
‘I know,’ Helen added, ‘which means I might have to downsize, but to be honest, that’s the least of my problems.’ There was another painful sob and then, ‘I’m going to lose Milly, Phoebe. I’m going to lose my baby girl and I can’t bear it. I just can’t.’
Phoebe dropped down onto her bed. Her understanding of the bond between a mother and child was mostly theoretical, but when she heard the desperation in her friend’s voice, it sent shock waves through her body.
‘Do you want me to come over?’ she asked.
‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Helen said when she could speak. ‘And I’m sorry for blubbing like an idiot.’
‘I don’t blame you. So what happens now?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t exactly been in the mood to reason with John, or Milly for that matter.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Up in her room. I’ve been holding back the tears all day, Phoebe, and I’m sorry you’ve had to take the brunt. I’ll wait a few days and then talk to her again when we’re all calmer.’
‘What does Julia say?’
‘I haven’t spoken to her yet. You know what she’s like. She’d adopt Milly given half a chance and she’ll be just as upset.’
‘No, she won’t. She’ll be devastated for you and she’ll want to support you as much as I do. Would you rather I told her?’
To her surprise, Helen said, ‘Would you? I can’t bear to talk about it any more, and I certainly don’t want to think about what it will be like having Milly as a visitor by arrangement in my life.’
‘It won’t come to that,’ Phoebe promised. ‘It’s probably just premature teenage histrionics from Milly and nothing will actually change.’
After ending the call, Phoebe needed a moment to collect her thoughts before phoning Julia. Helen had called Phoebe first; one of her friends had needed help and they had turned to her. It was a good feeling. Her friends meant everything to her. How could she even think of risking what they had? Nothing was going to threaten that; she wouldn’t allow it.
15
The Accident
Anya delayed going into the CCU so she could comfort the man standing outside. She placed her hand gently on his arm. She couldn’t tell him what he should say to the young girl walking towards them. Even if she were familiar with his ex-wife’s condition, she would have no magic words and the best she could offer was an apology. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.
There was a soft clatter as two cups of water hit the linoleum floor. The girl who had been carrying them still had her hands outstretched and her fingers coiled as if still around the drinks that had already spilled onto the floor. She stared at her father with unblinking eyes and held herself so still that Anya suspected she wasn’t even breathing.
When the man took a step towards her, it jolted the girl out of her trance. ‘Is Mum dead?’ she asked bluntly in a way that only children could.
‘What? No! Good grief, Milly, no,’ John said, dropping to his knees and seeming not to care that he was kneeling in the puddle of water.
Milly didn’t believe him and turned to Anya for confirmation.
‘I’m sorry if I gave you a fright,’ she said. ‘I’m a nurse from another department and I don’t have any news of your mum, not at all. I really am sorry.’ She glanced at John before saying the one thing she usually avoided because her words would be faithless. ‘But I’m sure she’s going to be fine.’
‘My mum was a nurse,’ Milly said and immediately took a sharp intake of breath, her swollen eyes wide with horror. ‘I mean she is! She is a nurse.’
This new knowledge made the circumstances all the more painful because Anya could see the parallels with her own life. She too was a mother and her son Jacob would be at home waiting for her, insisting on staying up past his bedtime until he knew his mum had arrived home safely. He was a few years younger than Milly, but still …
Milly’s lip trembled. ‘What if she dies and she doesn’t know how much I love her?’
‘She knows, Milly,’ John said as he tried to wipe away fresh tears, but the dam had been breached and there was no stopping the flow.
‘But I said I hated her, Dad. I said it all the time.’
‘And you’ve told her you love her plenty more times, and I know which she believes,’ her father said.
‘Have you been able to see her yet?’ Anya asked.
Milly shook her head while searing, heartfelt pain contorted her features.
‘They’ve said we should be able to see her soon,’ John explained to Anya. When he stood back up, his jeans had wet patches from where he had been kneeling and he gave his daughter a look of reproach. When he winked at her, he managed to tease an apologetic smile.
‘If you like, I could find out what’s happening? Do you want to wait in the family room?’
The man shook his head. ‘There are so many people in there already, including her mum and dad. We wanted some space and they said they’d come and find us if anything changed.’
‘Would you like me to see if I can find anything out?’
‘Please. Her name is Helen. Helen Butler,’ he said and then, seeing the look of recognition on Anya’s face, asked, ‘Do you know her?’
‘I have another patient, Julia Richardson, who’s been asking for her. That’s why I’m here, to find out how she is.’
‘Is Julia going to be all right?’ Milly asked. She had taken a step closer to her dad and leaned in so he could wrap an arm around her.
‘She has some pretty serious injuries,’ Anya said, daring to be as honest as she could, ‘but she’s receiving the best of care. We’ve given her some pretty strong painkillers so I’m hoping she’ll have a peaceful night.’
‘I saw Paul before and he’s in one hell of a state, a complete mess,’ John said, shaking his head. ‘Helen and her friends were all setting off on a little world tour this morning. It’s so scary how things can change in a heartbeat.’
A few minutes later Anya had found Helen’s bed in the fully occupied CCU, and she stood listening to the hiss and sigh of the ventilator. Milly’s mum was in a medically-induced coma and from the machines tracking her vital signs, she was holding her own. On one of the screens, Anya’s eyes followed the thin line tracing her hear
tbeat. Helen Butler’s ex-husband was right; things could change so easily.
16
The cardiology clinic was busier than usual thanks to the post-Christmas catch-up combined with the arrival of the flu season, which meant not only more patients needing care but fewer staff to deal with them. Despite this, Helen was thriving on the pressure that gave her no time to wallow in self-pity, not when she was looking after people who would gladly swap their problems for hers.
‘You look as bad as I do and that’s saying something,’ Lucy said when Helen escorted her from the consultant’s room back to her mum. Lucy had been struck down by a virus over Christmas and was struggling to recover to the point that even the short journey to the waiting area required a little help. Talking at the same time was completely beyond her so she stopped to catch her breath before adding, ‘And I hope you’re going to tell me it’s from nonstop partying.’
‘That’s exactly what it is,’ Helen said. ‘It wasn’t even worth going to bed by the time I got in this morning and I’m still wearing my going-out gear underneath this.’ She lifted the collar of her uniform and Lucy played along by pretending she had spied her outfit.
Mrs Cunliffe stood up as they approached. ‘Do you want to have a rest before we go, love?’
‘No, the less time we spend here the better. No offence,’ Lucy said to Helen.
‘None taken.’
Before checking the next patient on her list, Helen paused to watch Lucy’s stop-start progress out of the clinic. She used the time to remind herself that Milly wasn’t only strong-headed, she was strong and healthy. There were worse ways to lose a child.
Caught up in her thoughts, Helen continued to stare down the corridor long after Lucy had disappeared and it took a moment for her to react when another familiar figure appeared around the corner. Julia was already offering her a smile by the time Helen’s thoughts caught up and the shock transformed to one of suspicion when she spotted Phoebe behind her.
The Goodbye Gift Page 16
