The Carmel Sheehan Story

by Jean Grainger

  ‘I know people always say truth is the best way forward, people should know the truth, and so on, but I’m not too sure about that. I’ll tell you something that nobody knows. When my parents were young, and I was just a child, my father had an affair. He told me when he was dying, he needed to confess to someone, I think. And when I asked him if my mother ever knew, he said he didn’t tell her because it would only have hurt her. He loved her deeply, always did, but he was foolishly flattered by another woman’s attentions and so he was unfaithful. It was over in a matter of weeks and it meant nothing to him. He explained to me that his punishment for himself was to bear the burden of the guilt on his own, to spare my mother the pain of his betrayal. Of course, I was furious at first and accused him of not telling the truth to protect himself, not me or my mother, and I stormed out. But then, I spoke to Dolly. She was like the grave if you confided in her; you could guarantee her silence.

  She said to me, “Sharif, the truth is overrated. It usually hurts, and more often than not does no bloody good at all, sometimes the best way to love someone is to protect them from the truth. Your father is very sorry for the mistake he made, he regrets it and he never did it again. Your mother loves him and you and the life you’ve all had together all these years. Breaking that up over something so inconsequential as a brief affair with someone he didn’t love would be to make you and Nadia pay for a crime you didn’t commit. He chose to bear the guilt himself and spare both of you, you should be thanking him, not angry at him.”

  And after a while, I calmed down and realized she was right. It would have broken our family; my mother is a proud woman, she could never have taken him back, and then what would her life, and my life have been like? My father worked so hard for me to go to university, and every penny he earned was for us. He never bought things for himself, he had the same car for fifteen years, but he would spare no expense when it came to my mother or me. He was a good man.’ Carmel heard the catch in Sharif’s voice and knew how private he was, so the fact that he confided something like that in her, made her feel so loved and trusted.

  ‘He did the right thing. Your mum talks so fondly of him, and it’s clear she adored him.’

  ‘She did, we all did. Dolly too. He was so good to us all, and he carried that his whole life. That whole experience has made me rethink the value of the truth.’ Carmel got up and went to sit on his lap, her arms around him as he rested his head on her breast. Together, they sat in the silence of a fragrant French evening.

  Chapter 15

  The holiday really refreshed them both and brought them even closer. Sharif talked about Jamilla, and how losing her was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Carmel just listened and, even though she knew Sharif had once loved Jamilla so much, she didn’t feel the confusion and hurt she felt about Bill and Gretta. Probably because Sharif was so anxious to point out that she was dead and they were living. They owed it to her, and to Dolly, to live the best life they could.

  Two days after they returned, they were having breakfast before work.

  ‘I was thinking of inviting Joe and maybe his kids over for the engagement party, what do you think?’

  ‘Sure, good idea. He’s told them about you, so I’m sure they’re curious; I know I would be.’ Sharif was talking to her but reading something on his phone at the same time.

  ‘Yes, well, he said they were okay about it but…’ she stopped. ‘Sharif, what’s the matter? You seem worried.’

  ‘Oh, I just asked Marlena to keep a log of all the complaints coming in from this Derek Johnson, and she’s just emailed it to me. Claims that his mother wasn’t given her medicine at the right time, the room is too cold, the food is making her sicker, staff are rude, the physio is too rough, and he said he didn’t want Ivanka working with her anymore, something about her swearing at his mother! He mentioned something to her about malpractice, he actually used that word. This is outrageous; I can’t have this any longer, I’m going to speak to him today. If he is not happy with the service we provide, then maybe he…oh, I don’t know…Mrs Johnson wants to be here, and she expressly asked me, and he’s her next of kin, and now her dementia is advancing and there doesn’t appear to be any other family. This is such a mess. I just have a feeling he’s building up to something.’

  ‘Like what? I mean, he can’t do anything to hurt you, can he?’

  ‘Well, a malpractice suit is every physician’s worst nightmare. It’s damaging beyond repair, even if it’s totally groundless; it can drag on and on in court and the patients’ advocacy groups are very resourceful if they take up someone’s cause. Even a complete lie could close us down.’

  She’d never seen him so solemn. Surely, that can’t be true? Sharif was a wonderful doctor and Aashna House was such a special place, surely one malicious person couldn’t tear down all he’d built just out of spite.

  ‘But why would he want to, even if it was possible?’ Carmel couldn’t understand such viciousness.

  ‘Well the deal is that if people want to come here, the state funds it partially, but in return, their pension and whatever income they might have is taken into consideration. The state means tests people, and then based on what they can contribute themselves, they make up only the difference. If he had his way, he’d probably take her home, say he’d care for her, which he wouldn’t be able to do even if he wanted to, but he would then inherit the house and whatever bit of money she has. You’d be amazed at how many children of elderly sick parents are against them coming here, not because the offspring themselves have to pay, but because they see it as eating into their inheritance.’

  ‘Oh, what a nasty piece of work. How could he do that to his own mother?’

  ‘Easily. He sees her death as a windfall day for him, and he wants to make sure he gets the maximum amount possible. By complaining that everything is wrong here, that I’m being negligent or unprofessional or whatever, he has grounds to remove her from our care. Poor Mrs Johnson is not lucid most of the time now, so she’s easily manipulated. That’s a very sad element of this, but worse, there’s the threat of him reporting me as an incompetent physician, and that would be a disaster.’

  ‘Don’t you have insurance against that? And, as you say, Mrs Johnson’s needs are complex and there’s no way he’d be able to take care of her properly.’

  ‘Yes, but the problem is the process takes so long, people believe in the no smoke without fire theory, even if the accusation is totally false, the damage done to reputation is irreparable. Even one malpractice case has been known to close down so many healthcare professionals. As for him taking care of her, well, I dread to think. She would be in terrible pain if it’s not managed, and she’s not lucid most of the time, so she wouldn’t even be able to complain or get help.’

  Carmel was trying to think. It was an area about which she knew nothing but she desperately wanted to help Sharif.

  ‘Perhaps you talking to him isn’t the best idea. You know, it might end up being used against you, especially if you get cross or whatever. Why don’t I have a go, you know, casually, I could be popping into Mrs Johnson and I’ll try to strike up a conversation, see if I can’t get some information out of him? I promise I won’t make the situation worse, if I can’t get him to open up, then fine, we try another way, but it might be worth a shot? It could be that he’s just an old loudmouth, looking for something to moan about, but he won’t go any further.’

  Sharif thought for a moment. ‘Maybe you’re right, I hope you are, but just be careful. He’s very aggressive and if this does go to court afterwards, and it emerges, as it’s bound to, that you and I are in a relationship, then it could be misconstrued. In the meantime, I’m going to call my solicitor to get his take on it. See if there isn’t something to be done before this Derek Johnson does anything worse.’

  Carmel hated to see Sharif threatened in this way. He was such a good man, and such a conscientious doctor, the idea that someone could just come along and tell a bunch of lies a
nd threaten everything he worked so hard to create seemed so very unfair. She made it her business to pop into Mrs Johnson several times during the day, but of her son, there was no sign.

  The day flew by, just like all the others.

  Eventually, she spotted Derek Johnson leaving the hospice and getting into a very old car. Carmel approached him as he was throwing an Aashna House plastic bag, which probably contained Mrs Johnson’s clothes for washing, into the back. Carmel noticed several other bags like it littering the back seat. There was a laundry service, but in general, patients’ families were encouraged to do the patient’s laundry at home, and most people did. Clearly, this Johnson was taking the dirty clothes, but not doing much else with them. The entire floor of the car was covered in junk food wrappers and beer cans.

  ‘Hi, Mr Johnson, I’m Carmel, I work here. I was wondering how your mum was today?’

  He looked warily at her.

  ‘What’s it to you? You’re not a nurse or a doctor.’ Carmel tried to ignore the rudeness in his tone and the dismissive attitude. Not only was he an odious personality, but he was a physically repulsive specimen as well. His grubby Guns N’ Roses T-shirt didn’t quite cover his voluminous beer belly and his trousers were shiny with wear and, she suspected, dirt. He badly needed a haircut, greasy curls almost reaching his shoulders, and he was unshaven. He smelled fairly pungent as well, but Carmel was determined to be pleasant and to keep the conversation light.

  ‘No, no, I’m not, but I organize the events here.’ She nailed a smile on her face.

  ‘Look, my mother ain’t goin’ to be goin’ to any events. She’s nearly dead, thanks to this excuse for a hospital.’ He opened the car door and got in.

  ‘Well, perhaps if you and I had a chat, maybe we could address some of the issues you appear to be having?’ Carmel knew she was grasping at straws, but she was trying to get something she could take back to Sharif.

  ‘You’re having a laugh, right? I ain’t got nuffin to say to you or to that Paki what owns this place. Why don’t you lot all bugger off back where you came from, eh?’ He slammed the door and drove away, the car backfiring and emitting bilious black smoke.

  Carmel stood in the car park, stunned.

  ‘Carmel! You okay?’ Zane ran across the car park. ‘I saw him talking to you, was he having a go?’

  Carmel relayed the conversation to him, incredulous that someone could be that horrible.

  ‘Oh, welcome to my world, darlin’. It happens. Most people are nice, glad to live in a multi-cultural society, but there’s always a few, and he’s one. Don’t give him the time of day, he’s horrible to everyone, it’s not personal.’ He grinned and gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘He called me the N word the other day.’

  ‘He didn’t!’ Carmel was shocked.

  ‘Water off a duck’s back. Have you seen the state of him? And the smell off of him? He’s mingin’. I don’t rent out space in my head to people like him. Now, it’s knocking off time. A post work drink to settle our nerves after all of this?’ He winked at her and flashed her one of his irresistible grins.

  She had been going to tell Sharif of the exchange but she decided to leave it. She hadn’t found anything out apart from the fact that Johnson was a racist ignorant pig. Anyway, he was at a multidisciplinary conference with the team to discuss some patients with very multifaceted needs, so he wouldn’t be home for another two hours at least. She might as well go and try to forget about Johnson.

  ‘Sure, will we text Ivanka?’

  ‘She and Ivy are already there; it’s been one of those days.’ He threw his eyes heavenward dramatically and linked her arm as they walked to the pub.

  The school production was almost ready and excitement was at an all-time high. The set looked fantastic and was being painted and sanded by several of the patients, and even those who were too ill to participate were enjoying the buzz created by the kids around the clinic. Daf was thrilled and she had the children make a huge card, full of drawings and messages for everyone at Aashna, where it proudly took up most of one wall of the Kaivalya.

  Carmel had a few things to organize for next week’s cookery course, so she needed the calm of her office. Sai, the chef, was Indian and his cuisine was legendary, so he was giving five half-hour cookery demonstrations and the patients were looking forward to it. Though it was unlikely any of them would be using their new skills again, Sai was a character and he made everyone laugh. The Derek Johnson situation was never far from her mind, but there was nothing she could do about that, so she was just doing everything she could to remove any other responsibilities from Sharif’s shoulders.

  Oscar waved as she passed the sun-filled yoga studio. It was one of her favourite rooms, with bleached pine floorboards, polished and varnished to a shine, and one full wall of glass that overlooked the gardens. There were comfortable chairs around the walls, and a beautiful grand piano in one corner, but the main floor area was clear. There were all sorts of activities in there from meditation to tai chi, ballroom dancing to yoga.

  ‘Hi, Oscar, how’s it going?’ she popped her head round the door.

  ‘Hi, Carmel, all good, thanks. How about you?’ Oscar had a way of asking how you were that made you feel like he really wanted to know.

  ‘Fine,’ Sharif had spoken to a few of the staff about the situation with Johnson but she wasn’t sure who. She suspected he’d probably told Oscar but she didn’t want to say anything just in case.

  ‘I hope you’re going to make the engagement party on Friday? Zane, Ivanka, and now Ivy have taken over the organization, so I’m in the horrors about what they’ve planned. They are so enthusiastic, I need someone calm by my side.’

  I certainly am, wouldn’t miss it. I’ll have to go home after the strippers, though…’ He laughed out loud at the look of dismay on Carmel’s face. ‘Oh, I fear I’ve said too much.’

  ‘Tell me you’re joking, honestly, with Zane anything is possible.’ The closer the party was getting the more stressed she became. Joe was coming with his two kids and that terrified her. He said that they were fine about everything, but she didn’t know what he’d told them. She had tried to pluck up the courage to ring him but she baulked each time she was halfway through punching in the number. She knew she was being stupid, but texting, she could handle, conversations, either on the phone or in person, about everything, stuff she hadn’t even processed herself yet, were just too much. Then there was the thought of being the centre of attention; Zane even said she’d have to make a speech, which actually made her feel nauseous. Sharif knew how she felt and offered to call it all off, but she said she’d feel even more ridiculous and anyway, everyone was looking forward to it. Everyone except her. Oscar, realizing she was upset, led her to a sofa at one end of the studio and sat her down.

  ‘Hey, are you okay? You look a bit stressed. Don’t worry, Carmel, it’s just a party. A bunch of people who like you and Sharif very much, and are happy to see how much you mean to each other. It’s going to be fun. Ignore Zane, he’s just winding you up, you know what he’s like. There are no strippers or speeches or anything, I promise you; Sharif has spoken to them and said it’s to be kept low-key and not too many people. Ivy and Ivanka will curb the heights of Zane’s enthusiasm, and even if they don’t, the rest of us will. Okay?’

  Carmel shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed to centre herself, to find her inner calm.

  ‘Okay.’ She gave Oscar a watery smile. ‘I know he means well, and he’s been such a great friend to me since I got here, you all have. I never had a bunch of friends before, that sounds mad, I know, but where I grew up it wasn’t encouraged and then afterwards, well, it was a kind of empty life, so I’m just not used to this, and I’m a bit socially pathetic, to be honest.’

  Oscar walked over to the grand piano, took a mirror off of it, and walked back to her, handing it to her.

  ‘Look.’ His voice was gentle.

  ‘At what?’ Carmel was confused.

  ‘
Look and tell me what you see.’

  ‘Myself, I see my face.’

  ‘Who are you, Carmel?’

  She looked up into his kind face as the silence hung between them.

  ‘I have no idea,’ she whispered softly.

  ‘Well, isn’t it about time that you found out? What the world sees is a kind, funny, beautiful woman, who has come here, to this place, the place that the mother you never knew loved, to be with a very special man. We all like you, Carmel, and nobody thinks of you the way you seem to think of yourself. My wish for you is to see that, to see when you look in the mirror what the rest of us see, what Sharif sees. Anyone who cares for him knows how he has dedicated his entire life to this place, it’s not just a hospice, you’ve seen it with your own eyes, it’s something much more enriching and fulfilling than just some place people go to die. People find their life’s purpose here, often at the very closing of their lives, and they die with dignity and peace. Sharif created that. He doesn’t care a jot for wealth or flashiness, you know that about him, he could be a millionaire but he allows so many people in here free of charge, but never mentions it. Sharif sees goodness, kindness, fun, humility, humanity in you, Carmel, and so do we. Nobody here judges you because of your background, the only one doing that is yourself.’

  Such kindness and friendship should have made her feel better but she didn’t. What on earth was wrong with her? She had a life now, one she could never have dreamed of, and here she was being a big baby over everything. She was so angry with herself, berating herself and wishing she could be the woman Sharif deserved.

  ‘I’m sorry, Oscar,’ she scrubbed her eyes roughly. ‘I’m just being stupid. Ignore me.’

  ‘You’re not being stupid. You are feeling a bit worried about a big event coming up and you’re talking it out with a friend. We all need that, Carmel, me, Sharif, Zane, everyone. Nobody is as composed as what we present to the world, and what happens in childhood matters. Sometimes, in order to make sense of things we can’t comprehend, we pack away beliefs about ourselves, maybe not the healthiest beliefs either, when we’re kids. Then we just live our lives accepting these beliefs as truth, when, in fact, they’re not. We sometimes need, as adults, to take these deep-rooted beliefs out and examine them, check if they are actually true.’