The Carmel Sheehan Story

by Jean Grainger

  He withdrew his hand, and it was as if he was pulling back from her. She cursed herself for bringing it up. Everything was fine, why did she have to go and ruin everything?

  ‘It doesn’t matter, you don’t have to do anything Sharif,’ she said, trying to turn the clock back. ‘Forget I mentioned it...’

  ‘No, Carmel, no. Secrets are bad. I should know that better than most; I’ve seen so many people when they’re dying, regretting keeping secrets.’

  He took a breath, and she was panicking. Had she ruined everything? Was he going to end it? She forced herself to be calm. Everything was going to be OK. He wouldn’t leave her because she told him the truth. She knew he wouldn’t.

  ‘There is something,’ he said. ‘It’s a sad story, but I should have told you before. I’m sorry.’

  Carmel could hardly bear to see the distress on the face of the man she loved.

  ‘I wish Zeinab had not said anything. I should have been the one to do that. But now that she has opened that can of worms, I want to tell you now.’

  ‘OK,’ she said quietly and placed her hand on the table, hoping he would take it once more.

  He did, and then he began.

  ‘Jamilla and I knew each other all our lives. You knew that. We grew up together, her family and mine emigrating from Pakistan at the same time. Though Zeinab likes to go on about Jamilla’s family being wealthy, and one or two of them did do well, her parents were poor immigrants just like we were. And when we got married, well, it wasn’t arranged, exactly. If either of us hadn’t wanted it, then we could have pulled out. But both families were pleased. She was a nurse, and I was in my final year of medicine; we were happy.

  ‘Despite lots of hints from our extended family, we decided to put off having a family until I finished my exams. She probably wanted to start trying to get pregnant right after we got married, but she waited because when we spoke about it, I felt we would have more money, be able to get a house suitable for a child, once I was actually working. Jamilla must have been more upset about it than I thought, because she told her mother. Then her father came and offered me money, to tide us over until I was earning a proper wage. And I... Well, I’m a proud man, and I refused—rudely, I must admit—and I got really cross with her. We fell out. I told her that what happened between us should stay between us and not involve her family. But that’s not how Pakistani families work, I’m afraid.’

  Carmel stared at the uneaten food in front of them, hoping the staff didn’t interrupt their conversation to check everything was OK.

  ‘So,’ he went on, ‘we fought, and there were tears and everything, but eventually I got my way and we waited. Then I got my first year as an intern, and I realised very early on that oncology was what I wanted to specialise in. It was a long road, with lots more study, and many more years of experience needed, but I felt I could do it. And so, again, I asked Jamilla to wait. I was working crazy hours, sixteen-and seventeen-hour days. I thought we had all the time in the world. She was working too, but she was happy as a staff nurse and had no aspirations for further study or career advancement. But she understood that I did. So she agreed to wait, but not before extracting a promise that we would have a family within five years, the time it would take me to finish my internship in internal medicine and get set up as a surgical resident. I agreed, and it seemed like everything was going to plan. She deflected all the nosy aunties with their questions about babies and was totally loyal to me.’

  Carmel gave his hand a squeeze as he spoke. He glanced down at her hand and gave a weak smile. Though it clearly hurt him to tell the story, he kept going.

  ‘Eventually, I qualified, and we stopped using contraception. Jamilla was pregnant quickly, and we were all over the moon. We’d moved to a little house with a garden, and while I still worked long hours, at least now I could support her and the baby financially so she could stay at home.’

  He took a deep breath and then sipped his wine again.

  ‘The early weeks of pregnancy were tough. She was exhausted all the time, she felt nauseous, and she’d feel full after just a mouthful or two of food. But we thought nothing of those symptoms. In fact, her mother and all the aunties were delighted—those were symptoms of a good, healthy pregnancy. So we weren’t worried.

  ‘But when we went for the first scan, I saw the tumour right away on the screen. Jamilla knew by my face that something was wrong. The radiographer and I exchanged a glance, and she left the room. I knew her well, because Jamilla was attending the hospital where I worked.’ His voice cracked, and his breath was ragged.

  ‘Jamilla turned and examined the screen. Of course, she was a nurse, and she could read the scan for herself. We were both fairly sure what we were looking at, though we had to have it confirmed. There was a slight chance it was just a cyst, but we both knew the more likely thing was much worse. She had ovarian cancer.

  ‘We were referred that day to a colleague of mine, who told us that it was bad, about as bad as it could be, actually. The foetus was at thirteen weeks’ gestation, and Jamilla would need immediate treatment. Usually cancer is only at stage one when found in pregnancy, and there are a number of options, but in her case, it was stage two. The cancer had spread into the fallopian tubes and the uterus, and so there was only one way to save her life, and that was to remove the womb completely, which of course meant terminating the pregnancy.’

  Carmel could barely hear him, each word hurt him so much to say.

  ‘Of course, as a doctor and her husband, no matter how horrible the prospect, I was in favour of that course. But she wanted to wait. She wanted the baby so badly. There was a fighting chance of saving Jamilla’s life, but time was against us. Both I and her consultant convinced her to make the hardest decision any woman could ever have to make. I know you might be thinking I should not have pressured her, it was her decision, but I just couldn’t bear to lose her. Losing the baby was going to be horrific, but my darling girl, I just couldn’t let her sacrifice herself like that. She finally agreed to the surgery, and it was the hardest day of our lives. I felt guilt, pain, fear… We clung to each other in the hours before she went to theatre, and I cursed myself for asking her to wait. If we’d gone ahead and had a family when she wanted to, maybe none of it would have happened. That thought has tortured me for my whole life, Carmel.’

  She blinked back tears, all thoughts of eating forgotten.

  ‘Afterwards, I lay beside my wife, held her in my arms, and cried with her for our lost baby.’

  A tear ran down his cheek, and Carmel leaned over and wiped it away with her thumb. ‘If it’s too hard...’ she began, barely able to speak herself.

  ‘No, I’m fine.’ He took a drink of water. ‘Anyway, the operation was done. Afterwards, she grieved, and I worked. The more pain I felt, the angrier I was, the harder I worked. I tried to be there for Jamilla as much as I could; she was in constant treatment and almost full-time in the hospital. I would do my shift and then go to her room and sit with her. We even got a double bed put in her room so I could sleep there in the hospital with her.’

  Carmel could hardly bear to see the pain etched on his face. She wanted him to stop, for his own sake, to go back to the smiling, jokey Sharif he’d been half an hour before, but it was impossible. He needed to finish.

  ‘After the hysterectomy, she had chemotherapy, and once she was finished with that round of treatment, she went to Pakistan for a visit. She knew on some deep level that the treatment wasn’t going to work long-term. I think she knew it from the start, actually. At that point, she was in good enough health and her spirits were high and she wanted to go home one last time. She loved Pakistan in a way that I don’t really. I wanted to go with her, but she asked me not to. It broke my heart to let her go, but she went back with her parents and she wanted to spend the time with them on their own. They never said anything, but I know they blamed me as well for making her wait. They felt that if we’d had a family right away like normal people, then the can
cer would have either never happened or been picked up at a very early stage. Jamilla loved her parents dearly, and she loved me too, but knowing how they felt about me was just going to add to her stress if I went. Very reluctantly, I let her go.

  ‘ She looked well, considering how sick she was. She didn’t even lose her hair after that first round, not everyone does. We didn’t tell anyone—only her parents and I knew about the cancer. She hated fuss, and if there’s one thing an extended Pakistani family excel at, it is fuss. She said she wanted to keep things as normal as possible for as long as possible. So she went back, met up with all the family and all of that, and pretended everything was fine.’

  ‘Oh, Sharif, I’m so sorry.’ Carmel’s heart was breaking for him. ‘What a terrible story...’

  He nodded sadly.

  ‘They stayed there for a few weeks and then were due back for more treatment. She called me every day, telling me about all the places they visited, places from her childhood, and the people they caught up with. She was missing me, I know, but she was happy, too. And she knew the goodbyes to everyone in Karachi were forever.

  ‘I worked day and night. I would come home from the hospital after a fifteen-hour shift and start researching alternative medicines. As a clinician, I would have dismissed almost all of that stuff when patients suggested it to me, but now it was my own wife, well, I’d try anything. I was exhausted, over-wrought and blinded with grief and pain.

  ‘The tests when she came back were our worst nightmare: the chemo hadn’t worked, the cancer had spread, and while the ovaries had been the primary, there were secondary tumours everywhere. They scheduled one more round of chemo, more to keep it at bay than cure it, but the cancer was so aggressive it was pointless. She was so sick, she lost her beautiful hair and just faded away in front of my eyes. Palliative care was all that was available. Back then, hospices were everything Aashna is not, all candles and whispers and people trying hard to make the environment peaceful. But Jamilla was too full of life for any of those places, so I took her home. We spent the last months together. We realised there was no time for anything but love. I took a leave of absence indefinitely, and the hospital were understanding. I looked after her, and we listened to music, watched films, slept, ate, everything together. She loved Elvis Presley, not really my thing, but I must have listened to “Can’t Help Falling in Love” about a thousand times in those months.

  ‘The day she died, she was actually brighter than she’d been for days, and we talked about my future. She told me to live after she was gone, not to just work all the time, but to actually get out and live life. That’s what it’s for. She wanted me to meet someone, to have a family, all of that. The next morning, a Tuesday, I’ll never forget it—we’d been up late the night before watching a Bollywood thing—she loved them, in so many ways she was more Pakistani than I was—and she fell asleep in my arms. Normally, she woke early, needing pain meds, but that day I woke up and looked at my watch, Jamilla’s head on my chest, and realised it was after ten. She’d died in her sleep. I lay there, for over an hour, holding her, not wanting to move, not able to face that day.

  ‘But eventually, I got up and called the doctor. He came, and the whole thing after that is a blur. Relatives, friends, the funeral, food… It was like I was watching it all underwater or something. I couldn’t even think of living the way she wanted me to, so I threw myself into creating Aashna. I didn’t really fulfil her wishes until I met you.’

  Carmel smiled weakly. ‘You always said, when I thanked you for rescuing me, that I rescued you as well. Nadia says it, too, but I never understood how.’

  ‘Well, now you do. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all of this before...’

  ‘It’s OK, I understand. It is so hard to talk about it, I can’t imagine, and we kind of bury the past, don’t we? But I’m glad you told me.’

  ‘So when we never spoke about a family, I was relieved, I suppose. I’m afraid of going back to that time in my life, afraid of you getting pregnant, that’s the truth. I know its irrational. I of all people should understand that, but pregnancy can be complicated...’

  ‘And I am over forty.’ She smiled. ‘It’s OK, Sharif, you can say it.’

  ‘I just couldn’t bear to lose you, and I know you and Jamilla are two different people, totally different circumstances, all of that, and I hate even the sound of myself saying the words, but... I don’t know, Carmel, the thought of it terrifies me.’

  ‘We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.’ She heard herself say the words but even to herself they sounded hollow. She felt for him—of course she did, what a horrible experience—but her overriding emotion was one of bitter disappointment. She would never be a mother.

  Sharif nodded and squeezed her hand. The food was gone cold, but neither of them was hungry. Carmel stood and went to Punyaa, the owner.

  ‘It’s been a really hard day,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if we just settle up and go? It’s nothing to do with the food, but we just can’t tonight...’ She took out her card to pay, but he waved her away.

  ‘Of course, we will box it for you, heat it tomorrow. You and Dr Khan and everyone in Aashna do lot good. Sometime is hard,’ he said in halting English. ‘Do good for my mother. Please, no money, you go, good sleep, no money tonight.’

  Within moments, the food was boxed up and handed to her in a paper bag.

  She smiled. There really were such good people in the world.

  ‘Thanks, Punyaa. I appreciate that. We’ll see you soon.’

  Sharif was outside on the pavement waiting for her. She linked her arm with his, and for the first time in her life, she felt like the strong one.

  Chapter 10

  ‘Let’s take a day off.’ Sharif was up on his elbow looking down into Carmel’s sleepy face.

  ‘What?’ She struggled to wake up.

  ‘Today, you and me, let’s take a day off and just go somewhere.’

  She opened her eyes, the events of last night slowly coming back to her. They’d walked home from the restaurant and gone straight to bed. And even though they were both exhausted, they’d made love, and afterwards, Sharif had cried, the first time she’d ever seen him do that. She’d held him in her arms until he fell asleep.

  ‘But aren’t the architect and engineer coming to go through the snag list with the builders today?’ She hated to be the voice of reason, but they were going on holiday in four days and there was so much to be done.

  ‘They are, but I asked Ammi to supervise it. They are more scared of her than me anyway. I just texted her, and she said it was fine. It will do Benedict good to have a day on his own in charge before we go away.’ He smiled. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘Well, you’re the boss, so I suppose if the boss tells me I have to take a day off...’

  ‘Great.’ He lay back down and drew her head onto his shoulder. ‘Thanks for last night.’ He spoke the words to the ceiling, suddenly serious, and she heard the rumble of them in his chest, along with the beating of his heart.

  ‘No need. I love you, Sharif.’ She kissed his neck and put her hand on his chest. ‘How are you today?’

  ‘Better. I should have told you the whole story ages ago, I just... Well, I couldn’t. But you’re right—we need to take out those buried feelings every now and then, no matter how painful, and take another look at them. I was so scared to even go back to those days, I buried it so deep. But now, I feel so much better having got it all out. I just wish it wasn’t precipitated by Zeinab. But maybe if she wasn’t stirring it up, you wouldn’t have raised it and I would never have got the guts to tell you. Maybe I should be grateful to her.’ He chuckled.

  ‘Well, gratitude is fine, but not so much you let her move in with us, OK?’ Carmel snuggled closer to him.

  ‘Oh, did I not say? We’re buying a huge mansion on St Andrews Park, nine bedrooms, loads of staff, dressing in black tie for dinner every evening, and Zeinab is coming with us. You’re going to love it. Ow!’ He yelped a
s she slapped him sharply.

  ‘Not even as a joke, Sharif! I swear, I think she was deadly serious the other day.’

  ‘Let me think, how would my life be improved by having my aunt move in with us? I’d be adored, but then I’m adored already. I’d be well fed, but I’ve got to like Irish cooking, so I don’t need her for that. I get to curl up on the couch every evening in my pyjama bottoms with the most gorgeous woman on earth, and Zeinab would definitely not approve. And we get to make as much noise as we like together, whatever the activity, so again, I can’t see Zeinab going big on that. So, on balance, there’s nothing in it for either of us, therefore it won’t be happening.’

  ‘Promise?’ Carmel wanted 100 percent assurance.

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die, I’d hate it, you’d hate it, Ammi would hate it, so, no, my love, it will never happen.’ With a smile, he asked, ‘So what will we do today?’

  Carmel thought for a moment. ‘Now, you can say no if you don’t want to, but how about we bring some flowers to Jamilla’s grave together? I’ve never been there, and I’d like to say a prayer and just to show her that you’re OK and happy…’

  She tried to quell the familiar feeling of panic that came whenever he was silent, the feeling that she had no right to make such an intrusion into his life.

  ‘I’d love that.’ His voice was barely a whisper. ‘Thank you.’

  The subject of her wanting a baby was like an elephant in the room. She felt like she should say something, tell him she didn’t mind, but the thing was, she did mind. His fears were irrational. Jamilla was a different person, in a different place and time. But he was worried, and Carmel was older. A fleeting thought crossed her mind: maybe his saying he was worried about her was just an excuse, maybe he just didn’t want to have a child with her because he didn’t think she was up to it.

  She went to get up, but he stopped her.

  ‘I know we haven’t talked about the reason you wanted to talk to me last night,’ he said gently. ‘It all became about me and the past and everything, and I know I mustn’t have sounded very logical last night. We will talk about it, I promise. I just need some time. I’m sorry, Carmel, I want to be able to give you everything your heart desires, but this whole thing is so tangled up for me...’