by Shari Low
‘Anyway, were you planning on having the boys at the wedding?’
‘Yes. Is that okay with you?’ Should probably have thrown that in before now.
‘Sure. They’ve got those little suits we bought them for my sister’s engagement party last month. They can wear those.’
‘Great.’
‘Let’s try not to be those parents who let their own feelings get in the way and fuck up their kids.’
I had a feeling she was saying that as much to herself as to me.
I was paying attention. I just hoped she was too.
13
2015
Shauna Waits…
‘Mummy, you’re squeezing me!’ Beth squealed, giggling, before her attention was immediately distracted by the sight of her best friend, Marcy.
‘Marcy! Marcy!’ she yelled. ‘Wait for me!’ Marcy immediately ran towards us, and I reluctantly let my girl go. How could I tell her that I just wanted to stay there, hugging her – just freeze time and feel safe, warm, giving nothing else the opportunity to hurt us.
Last night as I lay in bed next to a sleeping Colm, all I could think about was how would I tell her if something was wrong? How would this change her life? Hurt her? She was five years old and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything causing her even a single second of pain or unhappiness. At four a.m., I’d given up trying to sleep, gone into her room and lay next to her, listening to every breath she took. This had to be okay. It had to be. Not for us, but for her and her brothers too. They were nineteen, almost men, but still guys who would roll around play-wrestling with their dad. They needed him. We all did.
Now, I spotted Marcy’s mum, Lina, waving at me but I pointed at my watch and made a rushing gesture. She nodded and put her hand to her ear to mimic making a phone call. I could go speak to her now but I didn’t trust myself to talk to anyone without dissolving into an emotional mess. Instead, I jumped back behind the wheel, and drove off, Colm silent beside me.
There had been a lot of silence this week.
Every day had been surreal, like some crazy TV show had taken over our lives and transformed them into something I didn’t recognize. The morning after we’d been to the optician, the doctor’s receptionist had called first thing with the news that there was a cancellation at the hospital that afternoon and they’d agreed to see Colm instead. The immediacy put me right in the middle of a seesaw of comfort and terror. I’d had to stay away from Google. I wasn’t going to look up papilledema. Or brain tumours. Or anything else that would freak me out even more.
‘Today? I can’t make it today, love. Sure, I’ve got the accountant coming in and then a meeting at the bank.’ On the other end of the “freak out” scale, Colm wasn’t worried in the least. And his nonchalance wasn’t in any way for my benefit – he just refused to even contemplate that there could be anything serious wrong with him.
‘Cancel them, Colm.’
‘I’m not…’
‘Cancel them. Or get Dan to take them. If you don’t do it, I will.’
‘Okay, I’ll go but we’re not telling Dan or anyone else, Shauna. Let’s not make a fuss. It’ll be nothing. Come on, what’s for breakfast? If you make me bacon rolls I’ll love you forever,’ he’d joked. Joked. This may be the single most terrifying moment of my life so far and he was joking.
But then, perhaps he was right and this was the way to handle it. Denial was clearly working for him and who was I to burst his bubble? So I didn’t. I slapped a smile on my face, made two bacon rolls, and then called on a couple of my regular girls that I could trust to cover my bookings for that day. We could do without losing the money, but I’d make it up somehow.
The consultant neurologist, Mr Clyde, welcomed us with a curt smile and an invitation to sit, before introducing a liaison nurse and a junior doctor who were both observing the meeting. Introductions over, he asked Colm to go back to the start and explain everything that had happened, taking notes as he listened.
I tried to read his face, but he was as impassive as Colm was relaxed. A casual onlooker would have guessed they were talking about the weather. Or football. Anything but a potentially life-changing health issue. Colm downplayed everything, essentially telling the truth, but delivering it in a way that suggested there was nothing to worry about. The headaches? Sure, but they were just migraines. His mother suffered from them too. Distortions in his vision? Again, those were definitely caused by the migraines. Weird audio sensations? Not much of an explanation for that one, so he glossed right over it.
‘Sometimes he staggers,’ I blurted, unable to keep quiet any longer. I’d been determined not to say anything, to let him deal with this in his own way, but the doctor needed the full facts. He raised one eyebrow in question, but Colm jumped right back in with, ‘Only when I’ve been on the beer.’
Another joke.
‘No, not when he’s been on the beer,’ I countered softly, uncertainly, caught once again between terror and the determination to treat this the same way Colm did. If we acted like everything was going to be fine, then it would be. That’s what worked for him.
When the conversation was over, he asked Colm to sit on the edge of the leather bed positioned against the wall and took a hand-held implement from the counter beside it, using it to look into Colm’s eyes, one after the other. Another ten minutes of tests followed, reflex checks, reaction timings, balance studies, and with every one of them I willed Colm to do it perfectly. The doctor showed no sign of whether he had.
Eventually, he sat back down on his swivel chair and Colm rejoined us in the seat next to mine.
‘Mr O’Flynn, I can’t say for certain what’s causing your symptoms but there are certainly abnormalities in your reactions.’
‘What could it be?’ I blurted again, unable to control myself.
I appreciated that he didn’t seem irritated by my interruption.
‘Many things. It could indeed be severe migraines. It could be a virus. But we can’t rule out the possibility that it could be something more serious.’
I was suddenly overwhelmed with dread. Colm just listened, still saying nothing.
‘So I suggest we organize an MRI scan as soon as possible. Jenny, can you see to that now for me?’
The liaison nurse rose and headed out of the door, leaving a stunned silence behind her. Colm eventually spoke. ‘So it could be just the migraines though, couldn’t it?’ I could have wept for the quiet desperation in his voice, the absolute need to have a best-case option that he could hang on to.
‘It could be,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘But it needs further investigation.’
I looked from Colm to the junior doctor and read nothing in their expressions. Was it just me who was sensing the doctor’s underlying tone of gravity? Was I imagining it? I wondered if they taught that reluctance to commit in medical school, although, I absolutely understood why he was being vague. It was the Colm school of optimism. Don’t think about the worst until it was an incontrovertible reality.
The liaison nurse, a forty-something lady with a soft voice and an air of efficiency, returned clutching a sheet of A4 paper. ‘They’ve added an extra slot, so they can fit you in first thing on Friday morning. Does that suit?’
I could see Colm was about to object so I cut him off.
‘It suits. Thank you. We’ll be there.’
He realized from my definite tone that there was no point arguing.
An extra slot? And only a couple of days from now? What happened to NHS waiting lists, to all those stories in the press about appointments that took months to arrive and double bookings that caused chaos with patient care? This felt like it was the NHS equivalent of a flume – in at the top and rushing towards the end result. Too soon. Too fast. Too high a risk of drowning.
I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe, but then I looked at Colm. Perfectly calm. Grinning at the doctor as he shook his hand. Thanking him, like he hadn’t just advised him of the possibility that he could have a chronic, pe
rhaps even deadly, ailment.
Optimism. Bravery. Or denial? I wasn’t sure which.
We made it into the car park before I stopped him, faced him. ‘You okay?’ I asked.
He smiled, kissed me. ‘Shauna, it’s going to be fine. Look, if there was something really wrong with me, I’d know. I’d feel it. This is going to turn out to be nothing.’
So that’s how it was going to be. I could have argued, discussed the alternatives, forced him to open up, but I realized that wasn’t what he needed. There was a pleading in his eyes that told me he needed me to go along with him on this and I decided there and then that’s what I had to do.
If he wasn’t going to worry, I’d act like I wasn’t worried either.
If he was going to minimize it, I’d make it all seem insignificant too.
If he was going to joke, I’d joke right back.
This was Colm’s head, Colm’s health and the terrifying possibilities were his too – I had no right to claim them or fall apart or think about how I was feeling. This was his game and I had to take whatever role he needed me to play.
So I had.
Since that moment until now, I’d adopted a façade of normality. We’d laughed, we’d worked, we’d moaned about bills. Just another normal week, people. Move along. Nothing to see here. In front of Colm, I acted like I didn’t have a care in the world. Only when he was asleep or out, did I find myself in the kitchen, clutching on to the side of the kitchen worktop, my heart beating wildly, gasping for breath as some unseen force squeezed my throat.
There had only been one flashpoint, that first night, after I’d cleared away the dinner plates, and read Beth two stories in bed. On a normal night, I’d hope she’d fall asleep quickly so I could get back to work, or cleaning, or doing one of the other dozen things I’d yet to tick off my to-do list for that day. That night, I’d have read to her all night if she’d let me. When her eyes closed, I lay still for a moment, trying to calm the fears that were making the muscles in my stomach clench. Only when I was sure I could pull off something approaching normal, did I kiss my sleeping Beth and head back downstairs. Colm was still sitting at the table, his laptop open in front of him, brow furrowed.
‘Colm, I think you have to tell Dan.’
He was adamant as ever. ‘No. Christ, Shauna, he has enough on his plate with Lulu and the business. The last thing he needs is something else to worry about. This will be fine, I’m telling you. No point in creating a huge drama for nothing.’
I felt tears prick my eyes. Frustration, panic, fear, worry… I wasn’t even sure what was causing them any more. I blinked them back. The last thing this situation needed was wailing and drama.
‘And I don’t want anyone else to know either. What’s the point? In a week, it’ll all be clear and we’ll have forgotten about it.’
How could I tell him that I had a horrible feeling it wouldn’t be? I couldn’t explain it. It was a sense. A dread. But he didn’t need the negativity, so I chose not to argue.
So that was it. Case closed.
Only now, with every junction and set of traffic lights, we got closer to the hospital for the results.
His hand rested over mine in the centre console of the car, neither of us up for speaking until the barrier rose at the entrance to the car park.
‘I’m taking you out tonight,’ he told me. ‘We’ll ask Lulu or Rosie to babysit Beth, and we’re going out. There will be drinking and dancing and wild sex afterwards,’ he promised, with a smile that wasn’t quite convincing.
So we were doing the light-hearted humour thing again. Okay, I could play along. ‘For the worry you’ve put me through this week, there had better be diamonds too.’
‘Always suspected you’d turn out to be high maintenance,’ he said, his words punctuated by kisses.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him properly, softly, like it could take us back to the days when just being together, like this, entwined in each other, were all that mattered.
Too soon, we stopped, looking wordlessly at each other for a few seconds, before he smiled, kissed the end of my nose. ‘You ready?’
‘Yes,’ I told him.
‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘And please stop looking so worried. It’s all going to be fine, I promise, okay?’
Every particle of my being silently screamed no.
14
2001
Shauna and Colm’s Wedding Day
Before I’d even opened my eyes that morning I’d know it was going to be sunny, and when I threw open the curtains, I immediately felt the rays of heat on my face.
Perfect.
The phone rang and I picked it up to hear Annie’s cackling laugh. ‘Just a quickie. I’ve got nothing to wear today. Okay to come in my dressing gown?’
‘As long as it matches your shoes,’ I answered, giggling.
‘Great! As you were then.’ She hung up, still chuckling, leaving me thinking that there were no words to explain how much I loved that woman.
‘Hey, gorgeous, happy wedding day.’ Colm’s voice was still thick with sleep, so I padded back over to the bed and climbed back in, wanting to feel his body curled back into mine. If we didn’t have a ceremony to go to, wild horses wouldn’t have been able to drag me away from the heaven of my bed and Colm.
‘Happy wedding day. You know there’s still time to change your mind?’ I murmured, reaching for him under the duvet.
He laughed. ‘Not while you’re doing that.’
Suddenly awake, he flipped over, moving above me, guiding himself inside me.
‘I thought it was unlucky to see your bride on her wedding day,’ he teased, sending delicious waves of pure bliss coursing through me as his hips began slow-dancing with mine. ‘I believe there’s a law that states love and incredible sex trumps superstition every time.’
An hour later, we were still in bed, eating croissants from a tray. How had I got this lucky? Even if I’d planned every detail of the last three months, instead of just going with the flow and hoping for the best, we couldn’t have had a better outcome. My lovely flatmate, Zoe, had announced a couple of weeks before that she was going off to Australia to live and work, solving Colm and I’s dilemma over where to live. He’d moved in here and we’d turned Zoe’s room into a bedroom for the kids.
It was perfect. Our own place. Just for us. At least, it was until the door burst open and Lulu and Rosie stormed in the door, both in full-length pale cream dresses. They were both so gorgeous I decided not to remind them that I’d given them a key for emergency purposes, not for bursting in like a SWAT team. Lulu had a band of flowers around her wild mane of red curls, while Rosie’s dark hair was sculpted in a gorgeous retro style that suggested she’d just joined the Wrens in 1942.
‘Er, hello?’ Lulu’s horror was obvious. ‘Have I got the date wrong? Only I was pretty sure you were getting married in…’ she checked her watch. ‘Less than three hours.’
‘Oh bugger, is that today?’ I shot back, and watched her face turn an exasperated shade of red and beside me, Colm struggled to contain his laughter.
‘Get out of your bed!’ she screeched, the fact that no one was taking her seriously sending her even higher up the pole of infuriation.
‘I’ll put the kettle on. Colm, if I were you I’d get out of the line of fire there.’ Rosie, always one to avoid confrontation, bustled out of the room, a scratching sound coming from the bridesmaid’s dress that rustled when she moved. I’d been delighted when we’d found both outfits in a little boutique that Lulu knew about in Kensington. They were both the same shade of cream, but that’s where the similarity ended. Lulu’s was off the shoulder, clung to her every curve, before flaring softly at the waist and falling to the floor. Rosie’s was very much in her style, with a sweetheart neckline, cinched bodice and then a skirt that was about three feet deep courtesy of the three layers of tulle underneath. They both looked spectacular.
Realizing that Lulu was close to dragging me out of bed by
my ankles, I lifted a shirt from the floor beside me and pulled it over my vest top, then got up.
Colm pushed off the blanket, about to do the same, causing Lulu to throw her hand across her face, screeching, ‘My eyes, my eyes!’
‘It’s okay, he has boxer shorts on,’ I told her through cackles of laughter. She was unreliable. Reckless. Crazy. But she made me laugh like no one else except Colm, and I wouldn’t have her any other way. Except possibly slightly quieter.
‘Move!’ she wailed, her hands off her face now and directing me to the bathroom.
I was in and out of the shower in ten minutes, leaving it on for Colm to jump in after me.
Back in my bedroom, I blasted my hair with the dryer and then pulled it back and fastened it with a long diamanté clasp, so that it was swept off my face, but the waves trailed down past my shoulder blades.
‘I don’t know why I keep you as a friend,’ Lulu said, from her position, lying prone, next to Rosie, both in full bridal party wear, on top of the bed. It was one of those picture-perfect scenes I’d always remember. Why did I never have a camera when I needed one? She let out a dramatic sigh. ‘No one should be able to look that good so quickly. I had to get up at dawn to do my hair.’
We both knew she was kidding.
As I applied my make-up, just a light, natural look, Colm came back into the room, shaved, dressed in smart black trousers and a white shirt.
‘Come here and I’ll help,’ said Lulu, who saw that he was struggling as he tried to secure his cufflinks. Colm did as she said, and she had them fixed in seconds. ‘Colm, are you okay?’ she asked.
‘Yep, fine. Champion. Why?’
‘Because you don’t seem to be able to look me in the eye.’ She was amused rather than annoyed.
I understood the problem straight away.
‘He’s still mortified because he saw your mum with my dad at their anniversary party.’
‘Ah,’ Lulu retorted, getting it too.
Colm found his voice, but it squirmed with discomfort. ‘I just think that must be really hard for you guys. I mean, the whole swapping thing is just… different.’
