The Goodbye Gift

by Amanda Brooke

  ‘But you want to, don’t you?’

  When Phoebe refused to even look at her, Helen said, ‘My God, I’m right, aren’t I?’

  Again she was met by silence.

  ‘Julia’s at her lowest right now and she thinks her relationship is hanging by a thread,’ Helen continued. ‘You’ve seen what she’s like.’ She stopped what she was saying and shook her head. ‘Of course you have. That’s exactly what you’ve been doing, isn’t it, Phoebe? Circling like a vulture while you wait for their marriage to fail? Please, tell me I’m wrong.’

  Helen had let go of Phoebe’s arm but rather than try to escape, Phoebe pursed her lips before blurting out her confession. ‘I love him,’ she said quickly before she lost her nerve. ‘I never stopped, Helen.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Don’t go telling me you were in love with him all those years ago. You didn’t know him, Phoebe, you never even had a proper date.’

  ‘But I know what he could have been, what we could have been together. I wish I didn’t feel like this and I’d stop it if I could, but it’s too late.’

  Helen’s heart skipped a beat. ‘So there is something going on?’ she asked, not sure if she was ready for the answer.

  ‘No, of course not!’ Phoebe cried. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I swear to you, Helen, we haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘But you have been meeting up?’

  ‘No,’ Phoebe said before crumbling under Helen’s withering glare. ‘Only that once, and only because I had nowhere else to turn.’

  ‘You had me! And you had your other best friend! You know the one? She’s married to the man you’re claiming to be in love with.’

  ‘I can’t help the way I feel.’

  ‘And what about Paul? Does he feel the same?’

  Phoebe’s eyes were brimming with tears and a couple slithered down her cheeks. ‘He doesn’t know how I feel, Helen. He loves Julia, anyone can see that, and he hasn’t encouraged me at all. If anything, he just feels sorry for me and guilty about stopping the driving lessons. He told me how Julia’s been a bit paranoid lately but that if she were in a better frame of mind she would want him to carry on helping.’

  ‘Except she isn’t paranoid, is she?’ Helen said. Her tone was still harsh, but her anger had been tempered by her own culpability. If Paul and Phoebe’s relationship had been allowed to run its course, if it had been a fair fight, then Phoebe might have outgrown her feelings and they wouldn’t be in this mess.

  ‘I swear I wouldn’t do anything, Helen,’ Phoebe continued. ‘It’s just that I feel … I feel as if I’m trapped in a life I don’t belong in. I keep thinking back to what might have been, what Paul and I might have had if Nan hadn’t frightened him away. She tied me up in her apron strings and squeezed the life out of me, Helen, just like the belt Mum tied around her neck. No wonder she preferred that to going back home to Nan.’

  Helen’s blood ran cold. ‘Your mum hung herself?’

  When Phoebe nodded, Helen didn’t want to make the next chilling connection. ‘And you were the one who found her?’

  With tears rolling freely down her face, Phoebe whispered, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Jesus, why didn’t you ever say?’

  Sobbing openly now, Phoebe continued with her confession. ‘The only person I ever really told back in the day was Paul. I opened up to him and, eleven years on, when he needed someone to talk to, he turned to me. And it felt good, Helen. I was needed. I wasn’t the victim; I wasn’t the one being pitied. For once I felt like a real person.’

  Phoebe was shaking now and Helen surprised herself by grabbing hold of her again only this time it was to enfold her in a hug. Her friend buried her head in Helen’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t mean for my feelings to get out of hand, but I swear to you, I haven’t acted on them. You have to believe that.’

  ‘I do,’ Helen said as she gently rocked her friend. ‘I do.’

  Phoebe lifted her head. ‘You won’t tell Julia, will you?’

  Helen smiled. ‘I should think that’s the last thing she’d want to know right now, but things can’t go on like this. You may not have control over your feelings but you most definitely have a choice when it comes to acting on them or not. Promise me, Phoebe—’

  Before Helen could finish her sentence, the door opened and Julia entered, closely followed by Paul. The broad smiles on their faces froze in perfect synchronicity as they took in the scene. Phoebe’s smudged make-up had left dark puddles on Helen’s vest top. ‘What is it?’ Julia asked and was already putting her arms around her two friends before either had a chance to reply.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Helen assured her. ‘Phoebes is a little overwrought. In my medical opinion, it’s too much wine and, unless I’m mistaken, not enough popcorn and cheesy puffs to soak it up.’

  Phoebe turned her head away from Paul and began wiping furiously at her panda eyes. ‘I had a bit of a wobble, but I’m back on track now,’ she said, pausing until she was looking at Helen. ‘I promise.’

  21

  There was something about opening her heart to Helen that made Phoebe feel a little better about herself. Her guilty secret had stopped eating away at her because it no longer controlled her. As Helen had so aptly pointed out, Phoebe had choices and she was considering her options as she strolled home from the library laden with a fresh pile of books for her nan.

  It was Tuesday lunchtime and, having worked a weekend shift, Phoebe was enjoying a well-earned day off, although enjoying might be a bit of an exaggeration. The whispered conversation Helen had overheard was Paul promising to phone her so they could fit in a secret driving lesson and she had been waiting for that call like a lovestruck teenager. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach annoyed her, and as she approached home she decided to take matters into her own hands. If he hadn’t called by the time she reached home, she would phone him.

  Opening the door to the small porch, Phoebe set down the heavy tote bag containing the books next to a large yucca that had been a Mother’s Day present for her nan years ago, back when it had been small enough to fit into a carrier bag. After kicking off her shoes to place on the rack, she rummaged in her handbag for her front door keys but her hand closed around her mobile phone first. There had been no missed calls in the five minutes since she had last checked which presented her with her first choice. She could step inside the house and give Paul more time while she made lunch for her nan, or she could get it over with now.

  She had Paul’s mobile number but chose to phone his office to avoid the risk of ringing when his wife might be there. It also left no trace of the call for Julia to find.

  ‘Can you talk?’ she asked when Paul answered after two rings.

  ‘Oh, hi Phoebe. I’ve been meaning to phone you.’

  From the tone of his voice, Phoebe had the distinct impression that he hadn’t been looking forward to making the call. ‘About our driving lesson by any chance?’ she asked stupidly. Why else would he want to speak to her?

  ‘Erm, yeah, the thing is,’ he began. She could hear papers being shuffled while he left a pause, and then he added, ‘I’ve been having second thoughts. I’m not sure we should be doing this.’

  ‘I know,’ she said softly with a note of acceptance that had yet to be felt in her heart. ‘I was thinking the same thing.’

  ‘I want to help, really I do, and especially now. How are things?’

  ‘Nan’s being Nan. She has plenty of moments when she’s just a doddery and overprotective grandmother, and then there are the other times.’

  ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ he said. ‘And I think you need our support more than ever, the other night proved that.’

  Phoebe tried to laugh. ‘I did make a bit of a fool of myself, didn’t I?’

  ‘You didn’t. It only made us all realize how strong you’re being the other ninety-nine per cent of the time. You’re a formidable force, Phoebe.’

  ‘Just one who won’t be passing her driving test any time soon.’

/>   ‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that, but the point I was trying to make, hopelessly as usual, is that you need Julia and Helen in your life right now, certainly more than you need driving lessons. If Julia ever found out that I’d been seeing you without telling her, she’d jump to the wrong conclusions.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Daft, I know.’

  His laugh, awkward as it was, cut her. While she accepted that they weren’t allowed to acknowledge their past intimacy which had been too brief to be called a relationship, it had happened and it had meant something, at least it had to Phoebe.

  ‘We can convince ourselves that there isn’t an ulterior motive,’ he continued, ‘but I’d struggle to justify the secrecy to Julia. I’ve felt bad about not telling her about the other night and I think there’s a reason for that. It’s wrong, Phoebe, no matter how we try to package it up.’

  Phoebe was playing with the leaves of the yucca plant as she let Paul’s words wash over her, but it was one particular sentence that kept coming back in gentle, hopeful waves. He had said that they could convince themselves that there was no ulterior motive. What did that mean? Was he trying to deny his feelings too?

  She smiled and her vision shimmered with tears. ‘You’re right, Paul, of course you are. Don’t go beating yourself up about it. You have enough to deal with. I’m not the only one who has to be strong, am I?’

  ‘I can’t tell you how much I’m dreading the appointment with the consultant tomorrow. I really don’t know what to hope for. I suppose the best outcome is that it is me if only because that’s the answer I’m most prepared for.’

  Phoebe wanted to tell him again that it wouldn’t be him but he had made it clear he didn’t want the finger pointed at Julia either. ‘If your consultant is anything like the ones my nan goes to, you probably won’t get a definitive answer either way, just plenty of theories that you’ll be sent away to disprove.’

  ‘Which means we’d be no further along. It’s a lose-lose situation whichever way you look at it.’

  ‘I’ll be thinking of you,’ Phoebe said, then quickly added, ‘I’ll be thinking of you both.’

  There was a long, drawn out pause which could easily be filled by either of them saying goodbye and yet the only sound came from the shuffling of more papers on the other end of the line and the faint scratch of a fingernail being drawn along the sharp edges of the houseplant’s succulent leaves.

  ‘I’d better go,’ Paul said.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Bye then.’

  ‘Bye, Paul,’ she said and was about to take the phone from her ear when she felt a rush of panic. ‘Let me know how you get on tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll get Julia to phone you,’ he said carefully.

  ‘Yes, of course. I meant Julia.’

  There had been no ‘of course’ about it and when the call ended, the power Phoebe had convinced herself she had over her life wasn’t even strong enough to turn the key in the front door. Her hand shook as she put all her effort into staunching her tears and composing herself before daring to enter the house. She didn’t want her nan asking her what was wrong. She might just tell her.

  After a few minutes, Phoebe took a deep, juddering breath, held it and then imagined releasing all of those inappropriate feelings that had been contaminating her heart. It didn’t work, but it was a nice idea, she told herself as she pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold to face an entirely different kind of pain.

  The house was quiet which immediately struck Phoebe as odd. Theresa was a creature of habit and while she didn’t spend all day glued to the TV, she liked to watch the lunchtime news, which should still be on. Straining her ears, Phoebe heard a gentle thud as Leonard jumped down, probably off a chair, and a moment later he prised open the door to the drawing room and sauntered down the hallway. Ignoring the cat winding around her legs, Phoebe crept along the narrow passageway with growing dread. ‘Nan?’ she called out softly.

  Phoebe looked through the half-open door as she waited for a reply. She couldn’t see the far side of the room where her nan would be sitting although she could just make out the blanket that would normally be draped over her legs. It was lying on the floor.

  She strained her ears but the only sound Phoebe heard was the hiss of rising blood pressure as countless scenarios played out in her mind. Her nan might have had an accident and could be lying on the floor unconscious, or she might have had a stroke or heart attack. What if her life had been slowly ebbing away while Phoebe had been browsing bookshelves? It wouldn’t be the first time she had arrived home too late to save someone she had loved and she didn’t think she could face it a second time.

  Phoebe pushed open the door gently and called out again. ‘Nan, it’s me. Are you all right?’

  Terrified of what she might find, Phoebe looked tentatively around the door. For a brief second she felt a rush of relief when she spotted her nan standing behind her armchair, using one hand to support herself while the other was raised over her head. There was a pink blur as something flew through the air and Phoebe barely had time to avoid the china figurine before it smashed against the wall with enough force to break it in two. She stumbled back into the hallway, tripping over the cat that was rushing for cover, before thumping her back against the stairs. Little Bo Peep’s head rolled to a stop only feet away.

  ‘Get out of my house!’ Theresa screamed. ‘I’ve called the police and they’re on their way! Get out now!’

  Her heart thudding, Phoebe returned to the doorway but remained out of sight for the time being. ‘It’s me. Phoebe,’ she explained quietly and calmly. ‘Your granddaughter.’

  ‘Rubbish! I don’t have a granddaughter! My husband will be home soon and he’s built like a brick shithouse. I’m warning you, if you don’t walk away now, you won’t be walking anywhere when he’s finished with you.’

  Despite herself, Phoebe smiled. Her nan’s episodes were not only accompanied by confusion about where she was and when, but often a dramatic change in her character too. She said things that even someone as outspoken as her grandmother would be horrified to hear, let alone utter.

  ‘It’s all right, Mrs Dodd, no one’s going to hurt you. I’m here to help. Your husband sent me to check you were OK.’

  ‘I don’t believe you!’ the terrified lady yelled.

  ‘Please, Nan,’ Phoebe said as she stepped tentatively over the threshold with her hands lifted in supplication.

  Theresa had moved from behind the safety of her armchair and, with the help of her walking stick, had crept along the edges of the room. She had been lying in wait and when Phoebe came through the door, the crack of the wooden walking stick across her brow made Phoebe’s teeth crunch. Again she stumbled back only this time she couldn’t save herself and fell to the floor.

  Phoebe knew she didn’t have time to get up again because her nan was moving faster than her weak knee should allow. She could only manage to put her arms over her head before a set of fresh blows rained down on her.

  ‘It’s me, Nan!’ Phoebe screamed. ‘Stop it! For God’s sake, stop! I’m your granddaughter. I’m Phoebe.’

  Still crying out, Phoebe began crawling down the hallway on her knees, one hand over her head while the other kept her balance. Despite another blow that flashed pain across her back, Phoebe managed to gather enough momentum to outrun her nan and when she reached the front door she used a side table to get to her feet. She turned and despite the pain in her left hand where she had received a nasty blow, Phoebe made a grab for the walking stick that was about to come down on her again.

  ‘No!’ she cried as she took hold of the weapon tight with one, then both hands so she could fight back.

  Fuelled by a rush of adrenalin, Phoebe had to remind herself that she was still dealing with a frail old woman whose bones might easily shatter if she were knocked down with the kind of force Phoebe wanted to direct at her assailant. Theresa put up more resistance than she expected, however, and she had to push fairly hard against the walkin
g stick until she had her nan pinned against a wall. Once she was sure she was in control, Phoebe looked into her grandmother’s terrified eyes and searched for the merest flicker of recognition, but soon her vision blurred from the stream of blood trickling down her brow.

  Still holding fast to the walking stick, Phoebe dropped her head and began to sob. Her body was shaking uncontrollably and it took all her strength not to fall to the floor. She didn’t know what to do next. Her nan’s episodes could last for hours, and even when she did come out of her mental fugue, it was a slow and painful process. Phoebe’s first thought was to go upstairs, pack a bag and leave. She couldn’t take this any more.

  Wiping her eye as best she could against her shoulder, Phoebe could see that her nan was crying too. Theresa had stopped fighting back and while there was still no sign of recognition, she had at least recognized defeat. Using the last remnants of composure, Phoebe said, ‘I want you to go into the drawing room and sit down in your armchair. Do you understand?’

  Theresa nodded.

  ‘I’m going to take your walking stick away and you can use my arm for support. Will you do that?’

  Another nod.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you as long as you do as you’re told,’ Phoebe warned as she assumed the role of the house invader her nan perceived her to be.

  When Phoebe removed the walking stick from her grasp, her nan’s body sagged a little. Theresa had been carried along by her own rush of adrenalin and it had left her completely spent. Her hand trembled when she took Phoebe’s arm as instructed and the walk from the hallway to the drawing room was a slow and solemn journey.

  To Phoebe’s shame, once the old lady had been returned to her chair, she felt no warmth of feeling towards the cruel monster that had invaded her nan’s body. She could offer no words of comfort as she left the room, only a cold warning. ‘Don’t move,’ she said.

  Closing the door, Phoebe told herself not to crumble. She went into the kitchen and ran her injured hand under the cold tap to ease the throbbing and then used kitchen towels to staunch the blood from the wound to her forehead. She didn’t look at herself until she was in her bedroom and when she did, she didn’t simply cry; she began to wail. The sobs racked through her body and, as if she wasn’t hurting enough, Phoebe felt fresh pain as her cries tore at her vocal chords. Her body juddered and she could barely breathe as she dropped down onto the bed and curled up into the foetal position. She pressed her eyes tightly closed and the darkness confirmed what she already felt. She was utterly alone.