Please Don't Cry

by Jane Plume

  The consultant met us with her usual light-hearted greeting and showed us Shaun’s scan on the computer screen. She explained that the scan showed some small changes, but due to the pain he was now suffering it was likely that there were a number of microscopic changes that were taking place too.

  As we left I remember thinking that we were no more in the picture than before we saw her. She said that nothing more was to be done at this stage, and Shaun was put on a cocktail of strong painkillers and told to come back in three months unless he noticed many more changes or there was anything that he was worried about. But I knew Shaun. He was a born stoic. For him to admit he was in pain, it had to be pretty bad. I also knew that unless it became unbearable, he wouldn’t say if he felt worse. What if his own bravery turned out to be his worst enemy?

  Whether it was the news from the hospital and his deteriorating health that made Shaun think about Lapland I will never know, but a couple of days later, over a cup of tea, he told me that he wanted to take the boys to meet Father Christmas. It was something that he and Gina had talked about a few times.

  ‘Ah, that’s lovely,’ I smiled. ‘They will love that.’

  ‘So will you,’ he replied, laughing. ‘You’re worse than the kids when it comes to Christmas!’

  I looked at him, puzzled. ‘I want us all to go, your children included,’ he explained. ‘That way, when I’m no longer here, you will be able to talk to the boys about their memories of the holiday.’

  I was really touched and couldn’t wait to tell the kids. As expected, they were all really excited, especially Anni-Mae and Ashton, who still believed in Santa. We booked it with only a couple of weeks to go before departure, so getting ready for that as well as Christmas was hectic, but fun because we were looking forward to the trip so much.

  Anni-Mae and Ashton each wrote a letter to Santa, but didn’t post it.

  ‘We don’t need to,’ they both exclaimed, their grins so wide they filled their cute little faces. ‘We can give it to him when we see him!’

  At last it was time to go. We got the kids up in the middle of the night to catch the flight, which added to the excitement. As we started the descent into Ivalo the view out of the aeroplane window was beautiful – snow covered everything. The magic began as soon as we walked down the steps of the aeroplane, where we were met by a couple of people in traditional costumes holding reindeer on a rope so that the children could pet them and have their photographs taken with them. Anni-Mae and Ashton were chattering away happily, trying to decide which reindeer they were and both agreeing on one thing: neither of them were Rudolf because they didn’t have a red nose. Lewis and Millie were incredible – obviously too old to believe in Santa themselves, they did everything to make sure Ashton and Anni-Mae didn’t pick up on it, chatting away about Santa and his reindeer and encouraging them to believe. Then we were whisked off to our hotel on the coach. The scenery was breathtaking. Every now and again you would see a couple of people dressed as elves sitting on top of a road sign waving to everyone. At the hotel we were kitted out in thermal hats, gloves, suits, socks and boots, which were absolutely essential with the temperature at minus seventeen degrees.

  When we were muffled up and snug we went off to explore, Shaun and I pulling Anni-Mae and Ashton on a sledge behind us, and the older ones with a sledge under their arms. We braved the toboggan runs, the longest of which was a kilometre, then the kids had a number of goes on the smaller ones. Then we went back to the hotel, went for a swim in the pool, had dinner and the kids fell into bed exhausted.

  ‘I don’t feel well,’ Shaun admitted, after dinner. ‘I ache everywhere. I’m in pain and my throat is killing.’

  I felt his forehead, he was red hot. I had brought plenty of medication with us so I dosed him up, hoping he was just coming down with a cold, or tonsillitis at worse. After a hot drink he decided to turn in for an early night and I went off to bed as well but, despite our exhausting day, sleep was a long time coming. My head crowded with worry as I remembered how sick Shaun had looked that evening.

  The next day he didn’t feel any better, but he put a brave face on, as usual, and we set off on the bus to a park. The kids knew that they were going to have a husky sleigh ride and a reindeer sleigh ride, but they didn’t know that this is where they would get to see Santa.

  We all had a great time, even Shaun, which was amazing considering how he was feeling. As the kids played in the snow a lady came over, discreetly took the Santa tickets from Shaun, then turned to the kids.

  ‘I know where some of Santa’s elves are playing,’ she told them. ‘Do you want to see them?’

  Ashton and Anni-Mae took off so fast we virtually had to run to keep up with them. The lady led us to a beautiful forest and, as soon as we entered, elves jumped out from behind the trees, making the kids laugh out loud. We were settled into the sleigh drawn by four reindeer and off we went for our forest adventure. Every now and then we would see someone dressed as an elf sat up a tree, or behind a rock waving at us. Then there were reindeer and a sleigh on its side, with presents falling out of it. Ashton and Anni-Mae looked at each other, wide-eyed, and gasped, ‘I think Santa might live near here.’ As far as they were concerned, we were in the North Pole, not Lapland.

  ‘What makes you think that?’ I asked.

  ‘Because there are presents and elves everywhere,’ said Anni-Mae.

  The sleigh ride carried on to a little log cabin, with Christmas lights twinkling in its windows and smoke rising from the chimney. It really did look like something from a fairy tale. The sleigh stopped and suddenly we were surrounded by elves, who lifted the children out and began to throw snowballs at me and Shaun, then encouraged the children to join in, which they did with undisguised glee, including Millie and Lewis who joined the fun happily! They were in their element.

  Just then, the cabin door creaked open and another elf told the naughty elves off for throwing snowballs, then took the little ones’ hands and led them to the cabin door. Inside a real open fire crackled under a fireplace lined with stockings, and there in the armchair next to it was Santa, in his big red suit with a snow-white beard that almost touched the floor. It really was magical. I looked at Ashton and Anni-Mae, their mouths wide open – then realised that my jaw had dropped too!

  The two children went and sat on Santa’s knee, each giving him their letter they had written and telling him they had been very, very good and what they would like for Christmas. We took some photos, and then we were off again on the sleigh heading back to the hotel.

  The kids slept so well that night. I would have loved to have been privy to their dreams, but it doesn’t take much to guess what was in them.

  In my bed, however, I tossed and turned most of the night, and it’s my guess that Shaun did the same. I had seen the sadness hidden behind his smile. I’m sure he was thinking the same as I was. I just couldn’t help it. ‘This could be his last Christmas with his wonderful boys…’

  • • •

  Back in the UK, we had a great Christmas Day, all things considered. We were a party of seven – me with my children, and Shaun with Lewis and Ashton. We decided to spend the day at Shaun’s as he and the boys wanted to be at home.

  Shaun was adamant this was to be a Christmas to remember and he woke really early to put on a Santa costume that he had asked me to pick up for him. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud when I saw him.

  ‘Shhhh!’ he whispered, putting a finger up to his mouth.

  ‘What on earth is he up to?’ I wondered.

  Soon after he’d put the finishing touches to the outfit, we heard the younger ones excitedly waking up their older brothers and sisters.

  ‘Don’t say a word,’ he warned, as he quickly ran into the lounge, shutting the door behind him. I gathered up the spare bedding from where Marco had slept downstairs and then headed upstairs where the five children were all sitting on one bed opening their stockings. I stood just outside the door for a few seconds, listening
to their excited voices.

  ‘Happy Christmas!’ I shouted, bursting through the door. Anni-Mae and Ashton threw themselves into my arms and I gave them a big kiss and cuddle, then went to each of the older three in turn, giving each of them a Christmas kiss and a hug.

  ‘Where’s Daddy?’ questioned Ashton.

  ‘He’s just cleaning his teeth, sweetheart,’ I fibbed. ‘Come on,’ I added, rounding them up, ‘let’s go and see if Santa has left anything else besides your stockings.’

  Anni-Mae and Ashton pushed and shoved to get out of the door first, with the older three close behind. We walked into the hallway and I put my hand on the lounge door handle.

  ‘Shall we go and have a look?’ Silly question – I already knew the answer – but they burst into the lounge and stopped dead in their tracks. Shaun was sitting in the chair in his full Santa suit, including hat and fluffy white beard. He had taken the throw from the sofa and covered himself up with it and he was pretending to be fast asleep. For once Anni-Mae and Ashton were speechless.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said, trying so hard to keep the smile from my lips. ‘It looks like Santa has fallen asleep at our house, what are we going to do?’

  They both shrugged their shoulders, standing stock still with gaping mouths, not taking their eyes off the sleeping Santa. Anni-Mae actually looked a bit scared. I turned around to look at the older three, who all had huge grins on their faces. Lewis shook his head, as though to say ‘typical Dad’.

  ‘Well, there are a lot of presents,’ I pointed out. ‘I think we should open them, but be very quiet because we don’t want to wake Santa.’

  The five off them went and sat on the sofa, huddled up together. I passed a present to each of them and they eagerly started to unwrap them. But as they started to tear at the paper, Shaun pretended to stir, stretched his arms and faked a huge yawn.

  ‘Oh my, where am I?’ he asked, in a low, deep voice.

  ‘In Conway Drive, in Shepshed,’ Anni-Mae and Ashton replied, almost in unison.

  ‘Dear, dear me. I must have nodded off. It was that big mince pie and glass of beer you left me,’ Shaun continued.

  I was struggling to control the giggles building up inside me, and looking at Marco, Millie and Lewis, I could see they were too.

  ‘Well, I had better give out your presents while I’m here, then I need to get the reindeer home and give Mrs Claus her present,’ Shaun continued. He lifted a present up for each of the five of them and as he read out the tag on Ashton’s, the excited little lad suddenly said, ‘Auntie Jane go and get Daddy for me, he is not going to believe his eyes!’

  That was too much. I couldn’t hold the laugh in any more, nor could the older three, and our laughter set Shaun off. The secret was out. Once again, Anni-Mae and Ashton stood open-mouthed as Shaun removed the fake beard. Ashton ran straight to him. ‘Oh Daddy!’ he scolded, as he climbed on to his knee. Anni-Mae went over and gave Shaun a big hug.

  ‘Merry Christmas everyone,’ said Shaun, looking round the room at us all.

  It was wonderful to see the five kids, laughing and playing together that day. Shaun and the male members of his family went down the pub, as was their Christmas tradition, and he took Marco and Lewis with him, leaving me to get on with the dinner, and the younger kids to play with their presents. Dinner was lovely (if I do say so myself!) and after the meal and into the evening, we all drank and ate too much, playing board games until the little ones could no longer keep their eyes open. As the three older children sat in the lounge watching a film, Shaun and I sat in the kitchen having a coffee.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘What for?’ I asked. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘You have,’ he replied. ‘You have helped to make this Christmas amazing for us all – something I didn’t think was possible without Gina.’

  I was really touched. I swallowed hard, gave him a hug and said, ‘Thank you,’ in return.

  Then, to my surprise, he took my hand.

  ‘This is probably my last Christmas,’ he said sadly, looking at me simply.

  I nodded, too choked to say anything.

  ‘At least it has been one to remember,’ he added.

  He then filled up my glass, chinked his glass to the side of mine, and toasted, ‘To family and to Gina.’

  ‘To family and to Gina,’ I replied.

  Then we sat in silence. There was nothing more to say.

  CHAPTER 8

  PLANNING FOR THE FUTURE

  At the beginning of 2012, Shaun’s condition grew steadily worse. The cocktail of painkillers that he was on didn’t seem to take the pain away and the side effects were horrendous. He constantly felt sick, light-headed and dizzy, and he was barely able to keep his eyes open at times as he felt so drugged up. Because he was nauseous, he wasn’t eating well and the weight started to drop off him.

  One day he was due to see his consultant and it was all he could do to get dressed. I drove him to the hospital and helped him to walk inside, barely able to get him through the double doors. His skin looked grey and drawn and he was holding on the backs of the chairs to hold himself upright, not like Shaun at all. The nurses all knew him as he had been attending so long and they could instantly see how ill he was, because this was way out of character for him. They were keen to get him lying down as soon as possible, so they led us to a small side room with a couch where Shaun could rest while waiting for his turn to see the consultant. Angela, Shaun’s specialist nurse, came and sat with us and she too was shocked to see him looking so ill.

  At last his consultant arrived and she was very sympathetic. She could see Shaun was suffering with the side effects and, to be honest, the drugs weren’t having a lot of effect on the pain anyway so she said he needed to have an up-to-date scan as soon as possible. She also said that she was going to ask a pain specialist to come and see him. In the state he was in, Shaun didn’t have the strength to argue.

  The pain specialist arrived soon afterwards. She spoke to Shaun and gathered as much information as possible, having already been filled in on the situation by his consultant. But nothing could have prepared us for what she was about to say.

  ‘I think you need to come and spend some time with us at LOROS,’ she said, in a matter-of-fact voice. Shaun looked horrified and I was shocked. LOROS is the local hospice – the Leicestershire and Rutland Hospice – and Shaun, like me, erroneously believed that a hospice was somewhere that you went to die. She saw the look of horror on both our faces and asked what was wrong. I told her what Shaun and I were thinking and she tried to reassure us, explaining that LOROS also provided palliative care, in other words, helped to control symptoms. Shaun didn’t seem convinced but he felt too unwell to fight. When he looked at me, I saw the same look in his eyes that I had seen a number of times since Gina’s death: fear. My heart went out to him but going to the hospice was for the best. I took his hand and tried to reason with him.

  ‘It will only be for a couple of days,’ I told him. ‘You have to try something. You can’t go on like this.’

  ‘What about the boys?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t worry about them,’ I reassured him. ‘You know I will look after them.’

  I promised I would stay at his house with all the kids and do school runs, packed lunches and so on before going to work. Eventually – albeit reluctantly – he agreed to go into the hospice. At that moment it took everything I had to be strong and look confident for Shaun. Inside, I felt a deep sense of dread and fear for the future, for Shaun and the boys.

  The medical staff wanted to get an ambulance for Shaun, but he refused, ‘I want to get there under my own steam,’ he insisted. He later admitted that he felt everything was spiralling out of control and wanted to hold on to any independence that he could.

  We spent a few more minutes with Angela, while the arrangements were made. Shaun perched on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

&nb
sp; Shaun shrugged his shoulders, unable to speak.

  ‘Come on, Shaun,’ she coaxed. ‘It’s okay. You can tell me. What are you thinking?’

  Shaun looked at Angela, then at me, then back to Angela. ‘I think you are all giving up on me,’ he said simply.

  I had been as shocked as he when LOROS had been mentioned, so I was so upset by this presumption that I immediately got a bit defensive. ‘How can you say that?’ I asked tearfully.

  ‘Not you, Jane,’ he reassured me. ‘But they obviously know something we don’t,’ he said, sweeping his hand around the department as though to indicate the doctors and nurses.

  ‘Not at all,’ Angela told him. ‘But we need to get you feeling better than this so you can enjoy your time with the boys. If there was simply nothing at all that we could do for the cancer or the symptoms, I promise I would tell you.’

  Shaun slowly nodded his head. He had a lot of trust and respect for Angela so I knew that her words meant a great deal.

  We left the hospital and went straight to the hospice where we were met by the staff. As we walked through the front doors we were greeted warmly by the receptionist, who phoned through to the ward, then a nurse came down to meet us. She introduced herself to Shaun, then turned to me to shake my hand, saying, ‘You must be Jane?’ The hospital must have already explained who I was when they rang to book him in.

  The nurse took us to the side room that was going to be Shaun’s for the duration of his stay. I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised. I had imagined the hospice to be a sad morbid place, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. It was surprisingly welcoming, and not just Shaun’s own room, which had an en suite and its own TV, but the whole of the hospice. The staff were lovely, friendly and helpful, and they did their best to make us both feel at ease.