by Alex Brown
They walked on some more, and Jude mulled it all over, wondering what to do for the best. She needed to talk to Chrissie. Have a proper, sit-down, heart-to-heart, and really get to the bottom of what was going on. It was awful seeing Holly so upset, not to mention Chrissie and Sam’s marriage falling apart like this when they had been so very happy. Jude remembered when they had first started dating – Chrissie had been besotted. Cautious, given her previous relationship, but still … she couldn’t get enough of Sam. And then, when they had started living together, the fun pizza and beer nights they had hosted with all their friends piled into the tiny studio flat, always with Chrissie and Sam loved up on the sofa, or messing around whacking each other with cushions, typically with one of the gang begging them to ‘get a room … for crying out loud’. And their mutual love of homemaking – Sam with his DIY building skills making their farmhouse just right; Chrissie filling it with cosy, comfortable soft furnishings and fabrics. They made a great team. Not to mention their love of music, Sam with his guitar and Chrissie’s singing. And, in the days before Holly, they had travelled all over to music festivals and concerts. Jude went along too sometimes, before she moved away, with whichever boyfriend she happened to be hooked up with at the time. Remembering the fun they had seeing David Bowie perform in Madison Square Gardens in New York City – Chrissie had arranged it all as a brilliant surprise for Sam’s birthday. Then to Reggio in Italy for a U2 concert, and Wembley Arena in London to see Chrissie’s favourite, Robbie Williams. They had the best of times. And then the wedding. It had been like something out of a magical fairy tale. Not extravagant, but beautifully simple and low budget. Chrissie had worn a floaty white sundress with a band of wild flowers in her hair. Barefoot, she had walked with Jude through the fields of Tindledale up to the little church in the village, where Tony had escorted her to the altar to meet Sam. Chrissie’s choir had sung ‘Love Is in the Air’ for her. And then, after the short ceremony, they had partied in the Duck & Puddle pub garden, dancing and feasting on a hog roast with all their friends. Everyone had been so happy. The image of Sam sweeping Chrissie off her feet and twirling her around and around in his arms as the sun set on the horizon, shimmering in her hair and framing the giant smile on her face, would always be in Jude’s mind. It had been emotional, seeing her friends so happy, and even more reason why she had to do something now.
Jude knew her friend wouldn’t thank her for it, though. She had always been stubborn like that. She remembered a time at college when Chrissie had recently dumped the guy she had been seeing and he’d pleaded with Jude to have a word with her friend, which she had, only to get her ear chewed off about minding her own business. They had even stopped talking for a week or so. Until Chrissie had apologised, and presented Jude with a lovely set of pearly eye shadows from Boots. The very palette that they had both been coveting for weeks whenever they went shopping together to Market Briar.
But Jude couldn’t bear seeing Holly so down, especially with her health the way it was. And Holly thinking that Chrissie hated her was a dreadful thing. Jude bit down hard on her bottom lip, pushed a smile onto her face and resolved to help her goddaughter in whatever way she could. She wished she could come up with something. A plan to make Holly’s wish come true and give her the gift she needed this birthday, in more ways than one …
Chapter Twelve
‘Come in. Please, take a seat,’ Dr Ben greeted Sam in his Dublin accent. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and then gestured for Sam to sit down. Swiftly realising that the only chair in his consulting room was covered in paperwork, Dr Ben gathered the files up and promptly dumped them on the floor.
‘Sorry. I hate filing,’ he explained, before sitting on the corner of the desk and pushing his curly black hair away from his face. After disentangling himself from a stethoscope that was wrapped around his neck, he turned his attentions fully to Sam. ‘So, how are you? I’ve not seen you here in a while.’
‘No, I’ve been away working … And I’ve been better, to be honest,’ Sam started, and then let his voice fade to silence. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask, but he’d never been any good at ‘opening up’ to doctors and the like; in fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had been to see a doctor for himself, preferring to battle on whenever he’d had a cold, or the flu. And his head was still crammed with so much stuff, it was tricky to know where to begin. His marriage. His mother. Holly. Chrissie. His whole life. And he was messing it all up to the point where he couldn’t sleep for stressing about it all.
‘It’s my daughter, Doctor. Holly. I know she hasn’t been that well recently. Not seriously ill or anything … but it’s her diabetes, it’s all gone a bit haywire … I wanted to try and find out a bit more about what might be happening …’ Sam paused; it was all coming out in a jumble. He wanted to sound sorted, and rational, in control, like Chrissie was in these situations. But whenever he thought about Holly, and about her being ill and all the things that could go wrong, it just became a big, scary mess. ‘I want to be more involved with everything, hospital appointments, that sort of thing, so I’ll need to know when Holly’s next appointment is too.’ Sam had already mentally kicked himself for not asking Chrissie, or indeed Holly, when this was. He had decided to make sure he would be right there with Holly and Chrissie for the next appointment at the diabetes clinic. He’d taken a back seat for far too long, and that was going to stop now.
‘OK, first things first—’
‘And I’ve been doing some research, you know, on Google, to see what the problems could be.’ Sam reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out the wedge of papers that he had printed off, handing them to the GP.
Dr Ben took them and, after politely glancing through, he placed them on the desk beside him. ‘Ah, Google.’
‘Yes, it could affect her kidneys. Chrissie, my wife, said that there was pressure on her kidneys. I’ve looked into it, and if she needs a transplant, I need to be sure I’m the right blood group because my mother won’t even consider it and my brother Patrick – he lives in Australia – so probably too far away. And my grandmother, Dolly Morgan, you might know her, but she’s getting on, and it says on the internet that eighty year olds can donate but it might be too risky for her. So you see it’s vital that I’m a match …’
‘OK, Sam,’ Dr Ben replied slowly, in that soothing voice that doctors use, before leaning forward and placing a steadying hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘How about we slow things down and—’
‘But don’t you think we should be prepared, I mean, for any eventuality. Holly needs to have a kidney lined up, surely, just in case?’
‘I’m not sure she does.’ Dr Ben turned to the computer on his desk and tapped the keyboard, seemingly to access Holly’s records.
‘But we can’t just leave things to chance. If her blood sugars aren’t stable and her kidneys are under pressure then it makes sense to be prepared.’ Sam leant forward.
‘Sam, please … I’m not sure where you’ve got your information from, but the tests that Holly has been having are just exploratory at this stage. There are all sorts of reasons why Holly’s blood sugar isn’t stabilised, and lots of ways of dealing with the problem.’
‘Ah, so … you’re not worried about her kidneys?’ Sam felt relieved. Dr Ben looked away from the screen and steadily at Sam.
‘Holly is not in any imminent danger, Sam, I promise. However …’
‘However?’ Sam felt that familiar lurch in the pit of his stomach and then the dragging sensation as if he was being cast adrift again, out into the ocean with no way of getting back to the shore. He willed himself to keep steady and concentrated on his breathing. Telling himself it would be fine. He was here. Close to his family. And whatever the prognosis was for Holly, they would face it head on and deal with it. There was no need for him to panic and run.
‘We are keeping a close eye on Holly generally. Kidney disease is a danger for patients with diabetes and it can develop over a
long time. The most important thing for us is to stabilise Holly’s blood glucose levels and take some sensible precautions. If it makes you feel better, we can definitely make a note of your blood group now, it’s all very useful to have on file at this stage. And those of your immediate family. I believe that we already have your wife’s details. But there’s no urgency. I promise you. So please, you really must try to relax, Sam.’ Dr Ben nodded reassuringly.
‘Well, it would be good to know my blood group. And my daughter’s too. Best to be prepared.’ Sam fiddled with his cuffs, still feeling unnerved by the conversation with his mother.
‘I might have that information here, on your records, if you’ve ever been tested in the past for an operation perhaps, but it’s not something that is done as a routine thing.’ Dr Ben turned and tapped the keyboard to bring the computer screen to life, and then started searching through Sam’s medical details. Silence followed. And Sam felt slightly reassured that he was getting somewhere at last. ‘Ahh, no! Sorry, seems it isn’t here.’ Dr Ben turned back to face him.
‘Oh,’ Sam said, instantly deflated. ‘But you can do a blood test though, can’t you?’
‘Well, yes, I can.’
‘Great. I need to do something, you see. I’ve been away, for too long, I feel like I’ve not been doing enough for my family …’ Sam’s voice wavered.
‘Well, coming here is a good start. We’ve all got Holly’s best interests at heart and I’ll do whatever I can,’ Dr Ben nodded, talking more softly this time.
‘Thank you.’ Sam nodded.
‘Is there anything else that’s worrying you, Sam?’
‘Well, perhaps, while you’re at it, some sleeping tablets would be good, please. I’m feeling exhausted and haven’t been sleeping well.’
‘OK, we can certainly have a chat about how you’re sleeping. Pills are not always the answer … you might find you feel calmer once we know if your blood type is a match, if that’s what has been keeping you awake night after night – and it’s highly likely given that you’re Holly’s father.’
Sam smiled, feeling less anxious already.
‘Now, have you ever donated blood?’ Dr Ben asked.
‘Yes. Several times over the years. But not recently, as I’ve been living abroad for work. Why do you ask?’
‘Well, your blood group will be on the donor card. So if you have the card somewhere, then you’ll know right away. It’s just another way to find out.’
‘I see,’ Sam said. So if it’s on my donor card, then it’ll be on my mother’s card too, and I definitely remember her giving blood some years ago when I was at school because she had to lie on the sofa all day long to recuperate. Dad had made the dinner that evening and got told off for boiling the spinach for far too long, so Mum hadn’t been able to eat it, even though she had said that she desperately needed the iron to make up for the huge amount that she had given away. She said she wouldn’t want to be a donor for Holly, but if she has the card, then at least I’ll know if she could be. She’d feel differently, surely, if it ever came to that. Especially if she was the only one who could save Holly. My mother might be the most selfish woman I know, but one thing she loves is playing Lady Bountiful whenever the opportunity arises.
The thoughts whizzed around, and Sam felt very much more optimistic now, thoroughly pleased that he had come to see Dr Ben. ‘In case I can’t find the card … could you do a test now, Doctor? It’ll save time in the long run,’ Sam suggested.
‘Sure. Now, if you could take off your coat and roll up your shirt sleeve, please?’ Dr Ben busied himself with getting the syringe and pathology paperwork together while Sam eagerly did as he was asked. As soon as he was finished here at the surgery, he was going to call into The Forstal Farmhouse and ask Chrissie if he could go through his personal paperwork. It was all there in the old bureau in the spare bedroom – school reports, exam certificates, expired passports, etc. His blood donor card was bound to be in amongst all that and then he’d know right away. Plus going through the papers would give him something to focus on. A displacement activity to take his mind off everything, if only for a short while … he realised that.
‘OK, a quick scratch.’ Sam looked away; he’d always hated the sight of needles going into flesh. ‘All done. If you call the surgery in about five days’ time, we should have the results.’
‘Thanks, Dr Ben,’ Sam said, rolling his sleeve down. ‘Fingers crossed that I’m a match.’
‘Yes, it’s hugely helpful if one of you is—’
‘Isn’t my wife?’ Sam interjected, buttoning his cuff.
‘I can’t tell you that, it’s confidential, but surely you and your wife will talk about this, though I do absolutely want to stress that there is no reason to panic or overdramatise things.’ Dr Ben paused. ‘Do you understand, Sam?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Have a chat to Chrissie, so you are all on the same page, OK?’ Dr Ben hurriedly pushed the blood-filled syringe into the plastic envelope for the pathology lab, and turned to add, ‘How is Chrissie? Glad to have you back?’
‘We’re not … um, we’re separated and have been for a while. Since I’ve been away for so long …’ Sam attempted a shrug as he let his voice drift away, hating saying the words out loud. It made it more real, somehow, by putting a spotlight on his inadequacy, his failure to make his marriage work.
‘I see …’ Dr Ben let the statement settle for a moment, before adding, ‘And now?’
‘I’ve come home.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Err …’ Sam hesitated, ‘I need to make sure my family is OK.’ Dr Ben kept quiet. Waiting to let Sam go on. ‘I missed them. Chrissie and Holly. And I guess I’m …’ He stopped abruptly.
‘Go on.’
‘I guess I’m scared.’ Sam coughed to clear his throat.
‘Scared?’
‘That it might be too late. You see, I … well, I sort of abandoned them.’ He hated how it sounded. How it made him seem. Spineless and immature. ‘Things weren’t going too well with my wife; we had drifted a bit, because of my job, though we both agreed on it and she didn’t want to come to Singapore … And then … when we first found out that Holly had diabetes, I …’ Sam paused, pushed a hand through his hair. ‘I guess I didn’t handle it very well. So I stayed away a lot, felt she managed it all better without me.’
‘And you wished you hadn’t?’
‘Yes. I should have stayed here. Or at least made more of an effort to come home from time to time.’
‘So why didn’t you?’ Dr Ben was looking at the computer screen, seemingly to appear pragmatic, but Sam still felt as if he was being analysed.
‘Are you asking about this because of the sleeping tablets?’ Perhaps that was why. ‘Anyway, Chrissie reckons it’s a commitment thing,’ he offered, starting to wish he hadn’t come to see Dr Ben after all. This was awkward. It was like being under a microscope.
‘And what do you think?’ Dr Ben asked, bringing Sam back on track.
‘She’s probably right. I’ve always been like it. Chrissie says I have a wall.’
‘A wall?’ Dr Ben turned to look at Sam head on.
‘Yeah, you know. A distance. She says it’s like I keep her at arm’s length.’
‘Ahh, I understand. So, if she’s right, why do you think that is?’
‘For obvious reasons,’ Sam shrugged.
‘Obvious?’
‘Yes. Look, I really need to get going.’ Sam stood up, feeling very uncomfortable now.
‘Yes, of course. Sam, I know it’s a difficult time for you. Do you mind if I give you my opinion? For what it’s worth …’
‘Go on.’
‘Maybe if you were able to concentrate on repairing your marriage instead of focusing on Holly’s health – she really isn’t in any immediate need of a new kidney, I promise you – then you might find that you’re better able to sleep.’
‘Sure.’
‘How about I see yo
u again in a few days’ time and we can see how things are progr—’
‘Thanks, Doctor.’ And Sam left rapidly, and was striding towards his Land Rover, keen to go and see Chrissie right away. To talk about whether she was a match or not. And Sam knew exactly what Dr Ben was getting at. His fear of rejection. He had felt it that day in the hospital. The look on Chrissie’s face when he had piped up about his dad having had diabetes. The silence in the room when it became apparent that he should have considered it and said something sooner. It was similar to how he had often felt as a child. Inadequate. Not good enough – he couldn’t have been if his own mother couldn’t really be bothered with him. Speaking to his mother had been a reminder of all the reasons why he had built that wall around himself. Protection. He’d let his anxieties from childhood spill over into his relationship with Chrissie.
He had felt happy and secure with Chrissie. He loved her to bits. Adored her. Fancied her. But then their differences had started to emerge, especially when they became parents … He had often felt as if he was muddling through, figuring it all out as he went along, both in trying to be a good parent, and a decent husband. At times he had been like a big kid himself, making the mistake of trying to be Holly’s friend, have a laugh with her, instead of being a proper father figure, solid and sensible, like his own dad had been before he died. Sam had never had that with his mother. But then Chrissie wasn’t Linda. She was his wife, and he loved her with all his heart, but his insecurities had reared up and got in the way. He knew he had to find a way back to her. Be the husband he’d always intended on being, but had lost sight of along the way …
Chapter Thirteen
Jude loved this time of year in the Duck & Puddle pub, tucked away next to the village green. The pub garden was giddy with the glorious scent from the abundance of bluebells in the wood beyond. The sun sat plump on the horizon, chalking the powder-blue sky in streaks of red and gold and orange. Birdsong mingled with the sound of goats bleating as they nudged their heads through the hedge, hoping for a titbit of bread or crisps from the children playing underneath an enormous old oak tree nearby. She thought it was one of the most idyllic places in the whole world. Which is why she had persuaded Chrissie to come out with her this evening for a drink, and hopefully a lovely long chat over a nice pub dinner of ploughman’s with crusty bread followed by homemade lemon meringue pie – the ‘Special of the Day’, it had said on the chalkboard behind the bar when she’d popped in earlier to book a table. An absolute must at this time of year, as every villager and their dog – or pet ferret, in Molly’s case – gravitated to the Duck & Puddle pub of an evening for a refreshing pitcher of Pimm’s and some pub grub with good friends.
