Please Don't Cry

by Jane Plume

  Shaun had to stay in hospital a couple of times due to minor infections, but on the whole he was doing extremely well.

  As Shaun’s chemotherapy sessions were drawing to an end, he was looking well. The evening before he was due to attend hospital for his last dose, Gina arranged for all their family and friends to be waiting at the pub for their customary ‘pre-chemo meal’. As they walked in a huge cheer went up from all of us and Shaun was visibly surprised but absolutely delighted. During the course of the evening Gina and Shaun again thanked everyone for their help and support. At one point I was wondering how they coped so well, then I smiled to myself as I realised the answer was obvious. They had each other!

  The scan at the end of the treatment confirmed that the chemotherapy had stopped the cancer growing – for now. Both Shaun and Gina knew that there wasn’t a cure but in relative terms, this was the best news they could have hoped for. Gina phoned me as soon as they arrived home from the hospital to tell me the news. She was elated and I was so pleased for them both, yet there was a tinge of apprehension. How long would this good news last?

  Despite the relief in Gina’s voice, I feared for my friend and her family, and just what the future would bring them.

  • • •

  Christmas 2009 came and went with the usual hustle and bustle – too much food and wine, and spending too much money. One thing that being around Gina and Shaun had taught me was that life is too short for stress and anxiety. It’s best to cherish each moment and enjoy it to the full. That’s just what Gina and Shaun did, even though there was a chance that he wouldn’t be there for the following Christmas. They made the most of everything.

  It was over the festive period that they decided they needed a truly memorable family holiday with Lewis and Ashton. They had already missed out on the Caribbean when Gina was pregnant with Ashton, so they wanted to splash out on another dream destination and this time they settled on Mexico. As usual, it became an all-consuming mission for Gina and she researched everything to make sure it was a holiday they would never forget.

  And the vacation wasn’t the only excitement. Shaun had decided it was time for a change of hobby. While he was managing to go to work each day, and at his hospital appointments they continued to be amazed at how well he was doing, he had come to the conclusion – with a little help from Gina – that he was getting too many knocks in rugby and he opted to hang up his boots. As a (much) younger man he had been into motocross – motor biking cross country – so naturally he went back to racing bikes. It was something he could share with his brother David, so every weekend they would pack up the van and off they would go for couple of days. Initially, Gina didn’t really see how this dangerous sport was better than rugby, but if it was something that Shaun really wanted to do, she reasoned calmly, who was she to stand in his way? She gave him her full support and started going off to meetings with him.

  Trust Gina and Shaun to turn it into a production, however. At the first proper meeting that Shaun entered, I phoned Gina every hour for an update. She made me laugh when she told me that for his first race he gave the bike too much throttle at the start gate – and promptly fell off the back onto his backside!

  I tried to go along with them as often as I could, but my weekends were fairly full with dropping off and picking up my children at their dads’, so I couldn’t attend if the meetings were too far away. If I wasn’t with them, I looked forward to Sunday evenings when Gina would call me for a lowdown of what the weekend had entailed for them all. Even though I couldn’t be there as often as I had liked, it was great to see Gina and Shaun sharing something that made them so happy. Even Lewis and Ashton got into it and Shaun brought them their own little bikes and kits so they could have a go.

  As well as family events, Gina and I would still meet up regularly for our girly time – though not nearly as much as we would have liked. And circumstances were against us. In late 2009 Gina and I had been told that the Charnwood site of AstraZeneca would be closing and people would be made redundant. We were both gutted. My department was one of the first to go and, in November that year, I started a new job at a GP’s surgery. I really enjoyed the job and my colleagues were friendly but I missed AstraZeneca and, more importantly, I missed my lunchtime rendezvous with Gina.

  But for now Gina’s job was safe – so she stayed on.

  • • •

  Before we knew it, it was time for Gina and Shaun to be away on their dream holiday. The day before she left she came to visit and, as I waved her off at the door, there was a hollow feeling in my chest. I was hurting for my friend and the uncertain future that lay ahead of her. The constant feeling that there was nothing I could do ate me up inside.

  I couldn’t wait for Gina and her family to be home; I missed all of them enormously. Two weeks felt like a lifetime. They arrived back full of life with glowing tans and bursting with stories. They really had had the time of their lives and I couldn’t have been more pleased for them. I leafed through the hundreds of photographs Gina had taken over the fortnight. She had wanted to capture every moment. If you didn’t know them you would never have guessed the tragedy behind their smiles.

  But it seemed they weren’t the only ones with trouble on their hands. Around this time, a close friend of mine was diagnosed with lymphoma, or blood cancer. When he was very ill there were times that I helped to nurse him. Gina was always there for him and me, even though she had so much at home to cope with. In time my friend made a complete recovery and I’m very pleased to say that he is still doing well to this day. I could tell that Gina and Shaun were genuinely pleased that he came through the cancer, in spite of Shaun’s contrary prognosis. I’m not sure I could have been as selfless and generous about it as they were. I’d like to think I would be, but honestly, I suspect I would have been bitter at the unfairness and randomness of this terrible disease, which allows some people to get better while others never would.

  Throughout Shaun’s illness both Gina and Shaun were gracious, and always grateful for what they did have, never resentful of other people. Naturally, Gina had days when she would feel angry and upset and ask herself ‘Why us?’ – and she had every right to feel that way because all her future dreams had been shattered – but on the whole they made the most of everything while they still could.

  With the dream holiday over Gina and Shaun continued as a normal family, going to work as usual, while Lewis and Ashton carried on at school. There was no outward sign of the tragedy that had struck the little family and the turmoil that their lives were in, or the big black cloud hanging over them that never dissolved between the hospital appointments. Although Shaun seemed healthy to all around him, the prognosis was never far from their thoughts and they knew they were living on borrowed time.

  One night, when Shaun had gone out for a while with some friends, Gina and I were having a girly night in and chatting away as usual. The time seemed right to broach a question that I had been hesitant to ask, so I decided to just come out with it.

  ‘Gina,’ I said gently. ‘How will you cope, babe, when the time comes?’

  It probably wasn’t the most tactful of questions but I genuinely feared for my friend. Gina and I always spoke openly and honestly about things, and I couldn’t just tell her everything was going to be okay because we would both have known that I was lying. Besides, in her darker moments, I know she had thought about how she would cope without Shaun by her side, how she would have to carry on for the sake of the boys, and how she would have to be as strong as she could.

  Her answer was short and simple.

  ‘I will probably lock myself away in my bedroom with you for a few days,’ she said. ‘And then I will just get on with it, because you will make me. You won’t let me slide into a black hole that I can’t get out of. You will keep me going!’

  She was right. I would be there for her and get her through it. The problem that was I really didn’t know how I was going to do that. I would just have to figure that out whe
n the time came. I knew I would do whatever was necessary.

  • • •

  As well as worrying about my best friend, I was also concerned about my sister Ann and her family. Ann’s husband, my godfather Brian, was very ill with motor neurone disease and, as his condition worsened, Ann was getting increasingly run down with the strain of looking after him. I couldn’t help thinking if this was how it was going to be for Gina in the future.

  I did whatever I could to help Ann and Brian as well as being there for my niece Sam and my nephews Justin, Neil and Lee. They were all grown up but, like Lewis and Ashton, they were going to lose their dad some time soon. However old you are, it’s a completely devastating loss.

  Despite her own immense troubles, whenever I went round to their house, my sister never failed to ask after Gina and Shaun, and ask me to pass on her love. She was such an inspiration to me.

  As the next phase of the AstraZeneca site closure was imminent, Gina started applying for jobs in the summer of 2010. I knew that she would have no difficulty finding a new position as she was so good at what she did and people thought highly of her. She could afford to be choosy about which job she decided to take and she was genuinely pleased when she was offered a job with a large company in Nottingham. The only thing she was worried about was the 25-mile round trip every day and, as I had done the same journey for six years in my previous job, she asked me how I found it. I explained it was a bit of a bind but you just got used to it. In hindsight, I wish I had said it was awful and not to take the job, that it was too far to travel. But after an emotional farewell to her friends and colleagues at AstraZeneca, she had a short break then started at her new job.

  She called me on the Monday evening after her first day in her new role and she was really happy and chirpy. Everyone had been really nice and friendly, she told me, and the journey hadn’t been as bad as she was expecting. Most importantly, she had had a long conversation with her new boss and she had explained in more detail about Shaun’s condition and how her family life revolved around his cancer. He had been very understanding and compassionate, reassuring Gina that she could be there for her husband as much as she wanted to be, and could work from home whenever necessary. She was so relieved. Underscored by everything that had happened to her lately, Gina’s philosophy was that you ‘worked to live, not lived to work’, so her boss’s understanding was incredibly important to her.

  I didn’t get to see Gina for the rest of that week, due to her new job and my own shift-work. I had my usual nightly phone conversations with her, but that’s just not the same as a face-to-face natter and a hug when you say goodbye. Nevertheless, I could tell she was enjoying the new job and it was lovely to hear her so happy after everything she’d been through. The following Monday, Gina rang after work again, to fill me in on their weekend of motocross. She chatted light-heartedly about how Shaun got on in his race and the fact that it had been so cold. I remember smiling to myself as I imagined Gina wrapped up in several layers of clothing, with a pom-pom hat on her head.

  Our conversation veered to the following weekend and our Friday evening plans – wine, face masks, nail polish and great company. I couldn’t wait! As we said our goodbyes, she said, ‘I won’t speak to you tomorrow as you’re on the late shift, so we’ll speak on Wednesday.’

  ‘Sure will,’ I replied.

  ‘Love ya, babe,’ she said.

  ‘Love ya too’ I replied, the usual way that our phone calls would end.

  • • •

  The next morning, Tuesday, I roused myself with a groan. Tuesdays had always been my least favourite day because of the late shift. But moaning about it wouldn’t make it go any quicker. That day, 12 October 2010, I arrived at the clinic as usual and, to help put a smile on my face, made myself think of the girly night that Gina and I had planned that Friday.

  Shortly after two, my mobile phone rang and the caller display told me that it was Gina’s mum. My first thought was, ‘Why on earth would Gina’s mum be ringing me at work?’

  I picked up the phone. ‘Hello you,’ I said, in a light-hearted, breezy voice.

  Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to hear.

  It was instantly apparent that she was crying and my thoughts flew automatically to Lewis and Ashton.

  ‘What’s happened? Are the boys okay?’ I asked frantically.

  ‘It’s not the boys,’ she wept.

  ‘Then what?’ I asked. My heart was in my mouth and I felt physically sick.

  ‘It’s Gina,’ she said.

  Racked with sobs, she couldn’t say any more. She passed the phone to Gina’s dad.

  ‘She has been killed in a car crash,’ were the only words he could get out through his tears.

  I couldn’t speak. My phone crashed to floor as tears rolled down my face. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My beautiful, loving, amazing friend was gone, wiped out in an instant.

  My world shattered and I simply fell apart. My colleague came straight over to comfort me but I was lost for words. Stunned. She called my brother Mick, then put me in her car to get me home.

  I vaguely remember my phone ringing again as I was on the way home. SHAUN flashed up on the screen. My stomach lurched. I felt like my heart had been shredded, so I couldn’t even begin to imagine how Shaun was feeling, or the boys. I just kept saying to my colleague all the way home, ‘The poor boys. What about the boys?’

  As I sat staring at my telephone screen, with Shaun’s name flashing on it, I couldn’t find the strength to press the answer button. I was a coward, but I didn’t know what to say to him. At this point I was still in my colleague’s car and it was not a conversation I wanted with an audience so I chickened out. I decided I would call him back once I was home and had checked on my own three children or, even better, I would get to him as quickly as possible as I felt actions would speak louder than words. I knew that there was nothing that I could think to say that would be of any comfort to him.

  At home, I found Mick waiting. By this time Marco and Millie were home from school, and my brother had broken the terrible news to them. They were in pieces. Mick told me later that they had guessed something was wrong when they arrived home from school to find him there and, as he had also built up a good friendship with Gina and Shaun, they could see he was visibly shaken. They had panicked, assuming something had happened to me, so he had been forced to tell them. In truth, I was relieved that I didn’t have to form the words myself. I’m not sure I could have got through the sentence.

  ‘Are you sure it’s Auntie Gina?’ they both asked. They didn’t want to believe it any more than I did. They loved her like a second mum.

  Mick knew Gina’s dad as they lived on houseboats that were moored close to each other, so I asked Mick to call him back. I’d been so upset that I had just dropped my phone on hearing the news without even saying goodbye. Mick spoke to him and passed on his condolences, then said I wanted to apologise for my reaction but Gina’s dad said he completely understood.

  ‘She wants to come over to be with Shaun and the boys,’ said Mick.

  ‘She doesn’t need to ask,’ he replied.

  When I arrived at the house, Shaun was just letting a friend out of the door. As the friend walked away, I looked Shaun in the face and he looked like a lost little boy, so sad and helpless. It felt like I was moving in slow motion. I went straight over to Shaun and held him. ‘I can’t believe it. I was supposed to go first,’ he kept saying, over and over.

  As I walked through the door, the first thing that hit me was the sound… absolute silence. Nothing. It was so quiet. This house had always been full of laughter, chatting, even children being told off. Now there was nothing but the low whisper of the people that had gathered in the kitchen, all in a state of shock.

  I asked after Lewis and Ashton, and went to the lounge where they both were. The television was on but both boys looked as though they were staring through the screen rather than watching the programme. Being
just five years old, Ashton was totally confused by the house full of people, and being told his mum was gone. He chatted to me about nothing in particular then simply said, ‘My mum has died.’

  ‘I know, darling,’ I comforted him as best I could. ‘But she will now be an angel and live in the brightest star in the sky.’

  Next, I went over to sit with Lewis and see how he was doing. He was 11, and bewildered by the day’s events. He was trying to be brave but you could see in his eyes that his heart was breaking.

  People were coming and going so I helped the boys get ready for bed, and made tea and coffee – all on autopilot. When people starting thinning out I asked Shaun if he wanted me to stay that evening to help with the boys. He said he did so I told him I would be back later and I went home briefly to spend some time with my own children so I could comfort and reassure them.

  I had got just them all settled in bed when my phone rang. It was Shaun, asking me to bring my vacuum cleaner when I went back to his house. He had just snapped the belt on his own and he was devastated because he had promised Gina he would hoover that night when he got home from work, and he didn’t want to let her down.

  Shaun and I sat in silence that evening. I did manage to get him to eat a sandwich with a cup of tea, but we were both lost in our own thoughts and there wasn’t really anything to say. Nothing could change the fact that our worlds had been shattered.

  After Shaun had gone to bed, I lay on the sofa but there was no way I was going to get any sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Gina’s beautiful face and heard her infectious giggle. I couldn’t believe that the only time I would see her now was when I remembered the many good times we had spent together over the years, but now no new memories could ever be made.