by Robin Byron
‘You are right. For a short time I did.’
‘Did you tell the clinic?’
‘No.’
‘Or Callum?’
‘No.’
‘Why not, for God’s sake?’
‘I wanted to see if the feeling would last, but it didn’t. It was a delusion. Everything remained as it had been. It didn’t solve anything.’
‘There you go again about solving things. Honestly, Marianne, if we reached for the suicide button every time we felt overwhelmed by problems in life we would die a thousand deaths before we reached adulthood.’
‘You forget, I am older than you and my bodily condition will only deteriorate further. I can’t reverse time. I’ve thought seriously about this for most of the last decade. I am certain now is the time to do it.’
‘I don’t think it’s enough. I don’t think your life is intolerable. If they followed the letter of the law, they wouldn’t let you do this.’
‘Please, Dorrie,’ Marianne said, summoning the last of her energy and courage, ‘I have made up my mind and I will go through with this. Please let us end as friends. I know that everything you have said comes from the heart, and I am truly sorry to desert you – perhaps I am being cowardly and selfish – but I know it’s my time to go.’ With difficulty Marianne got to her feet, and holding on to the metal support which had been placed to help her get up, she stood there waiting for Dorrie to come to her. Dorrie shook her head but then she got to her feet and walked stiffly over to where Marianne was standing beside her chair.
‘I’m still angry with you,’ she said, with a distinct catch in her voice, ‘but of course I give you my love, and if there is a God I ask for his blessing on you.’ They embraced for a long time, both fighting back their tears, then Dorrie broke away and added, ‘But, listen, it’s never too late to change your mind. I’ll keep my phone on all night. All you need to do is say, “I’ve changed my mind.” Remember, that’s all you have to say. No reason is needed. I’ll take care of the clinic and Callum and everything else. Remember, it’s never too late.’
Wonderful Dorrie, thought Marianne, she still hasn’t given up on me.
Jake and Leah were both at the office on Wednesday morning when Leah received a message from her parents that they were going to Cambridge to see Marianne and would not be back until the following evening. She was immediately suspicious and tried to call them but without success.
‘Jeez,’ she said, ‘what is it about Cambridge that is conspiring to give me bad vibes?’ She badly needed time to have a proper conversation with Jake but he was heading into a meeting with Charlie and the lawyers.
‘Probably just going to keep her company – get her to drop this plan once and for all,’ Jake said. ‘Keep trying to call them.’
When Leah finally managed to speak to her mother she had not been reassured. They would be sitting down and having a serious discussion with Gran; they would do what they could to help her; nobody wanted to say goodbye to her and yes, Dad thought she might have changed her mind. If she had, then that would be good, but they had to respect her wishes.
Leah reported this conversation to Jake but he was so preoccupied that he didn’t give it as much attention as he might have done – or as Leah clearly felt it deserved. The earlier report that Marianne had changed her mind (he had subliminally manipulated the message to suit his own hope) was the version he was determined to cling on to – despite the warning signal that she had twice declined to return his calls. He wanted to say that they couldn’t do anything anyway, but he knew this sentiment was not one which would be well received by Leah, so he contented himself with reassuring comments.
34
Marianne knew that however hard it was telling Dorrie, telling Anna was going to be far more painful. At least she had been honest with Dorrie. Thinking about it now, she had been cowardly and deceitful towards Anna. Pretending nothing was happening in her life; talking about Christmas when she would no longer be alive. She had written Anna a long letter saying all the things she knew it would be impossible to say to her face. She had put £1,000 in cash in the envelope and had also left her some money in her will – perhaps too much, Callum and Helen might think, given the state of her finances. When it came to the moment she knew she would have to be strong – brutal, even – or she would never get through it.
Callum and Helen arrived about four in the afternoon. Anna had made up the spare room for them – surprised that they were staying the night mid-week. She had looked suspiciously at Marianne who had pretended not to notice. Helen busied herself in the kitchen making tea. When Anna announced she was ready to leave Callum said, ‘Stay and have some tea with us, Anna, there is something we need to talk about… something important we need to tell you.’
Anna sat down. She looked enquiringly from Callum to Marianne. Marianne looked at the ground. Helen came in with tea and a plate of little pink cakes she had brought with her. She poured tea for everyone and put cups in front of them. No one spoke. No one touched the tea or the cakes. Then Marianne looked up towards Anna with an anguished expression. ‘Anna, you have been the most wonderful friend to me and I could never have managed without you these last few years, but…’ She hated the sound of what she was saying; the words seemed trite and commonplace.
‘What is this about?’ said Anna, looking alarmed.
‘It’s time to say goodbye. I am going to the AD clinic tomorrow.’
‘I don’t understand?’
‘Assisted dying, Anna. To end my life.’
‘I know what AD is. Are they making you do this? Don’t let them. How can you think of this?’ she said, turning to Callum.
‘It’s Marianne’s choice,’ said Callum. ‘I have tried to persuade her against it.’
‘No, you can’t – you can’t do this! Marianne, just tell them no!’
‘Callum is right, Anna. It is entirely my own choice.’
‘I don’t believe it. Why you say nothing to me before?’
‘I should have done, Anna, but I didn’t have the courage.’
‘You must say no to her,’ Anna said, turning again to Callum. ‘She is just a bit depressed. Old people, you know, sometimes it’s hard for them. Sometimes they get low. She will cheer up again. This is my fault, I let her get miserable, but I can make her better,’ and, getting up, she ran around the low table and fell on her knees in front of Marianne. ‘I will cheer you up. We will play some games together. Tell them we are good team. You say that to me once. We are a good team. I will move into the house – maybe you are alone too much. Yes, I will move in and keep you more cheerful. I am sorry, I should have said before. I didn’t realise you feel so bad. I can live here with you. Why you never tell me? I can cheer you up. They don’t understand. We are good together. I will help you. I’m sorry… I’m sorry…’
The tears, which Marianne dreaded, began to flow. Anna put her head on Marianne’s lap and sobbed. Marianne stroked her hair but said nothing. She could feel the tears running down her own cheeks. There was so much she wanted to say to reassure Anna, but she knew she would choke if she tried to speak.
Eventually Helen got up and came over to Anna, taking her by the shoulder. ‘Come on, Anna dear, you’re upsetting Marianne.’ The effect on Anna was electric. She leapt to her feet, pushing Helen backwards.
‘Upsetting? I’m upsetting Marianne!’ she shouted at Helen. ‘She say tomorrow she will go to the clinic to die – so she is upset and I am upset, but why you are not upset? You and Callum – you just watch. She is your own mother, flesh and blood,’ she yelled, turning to Callum. ‘You want to take her away like a dog – how do you say it? – to be put down. Put down like a dog. And you,’ she said, looking back towards Helen, ‘you are even worse. This is your idea, I am sure.’
‘That’s not true…’
‘This must be stopped. Marianne, I beg you! I will go to the
police – I will rescue you. You two, you are criminals…’
‘Stop it, Anna! Stop this at once.’ Marianne’s words, sharper and more authoritative than she expected, silenced Anna. ‘I will say it again. This is my decision. I have been thinking about it for years. I have written you a letter, Anna, which says everything that I can’t say now. I love you like a daughter, but it’s time to say goodbye. Please don’t make this harder for me than it already is. Come and kiss me and say goodbye and then you must leave.’
Like an obedient child, stunned into silence, Anna knelt again beside Marianne, kissed her and buried her head on Marianne’s lap for a few seconds then, putting her hands to her face, she ran out of the room. Callum followed her, shutting the door behind him. A few moments later Marianne heard the front door slam.
It was nearly ten o’clock that evening when Jake answered Anna’s call. As soon as he spoke to Anna he realised that she had been told that Marianne was going ahead.
‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t know who else to speak to,’ she said. ‘I thought of calling Leah but I didn’t have her number.’
‘That’s OK. Actually, Leah’s here with me.’
‘Shit, is that Anna? What’s happening?’ said Leah.
‘You don’t sound very shocked,’ said Anna.
‘The thing is, Anna, I knew this might happen. Marianne wrote to my grandmother a couple of weeks ago and told her she had booked into an AD clinic. I spoke to Marianne about it when I came up to see her. Leah was told by her parents.’
‘You English – sometimes you are so cold.’
‘Anna, that’s not fair. I was very upset to hear about it. I tried to dissuade her and afterwards I went to talk to Callum and Helen. But it’s not as if I’m a son or grandson – I really can’t interfere – you know, old people sometimes prefer to go this way.’
‘What the fuck are you saying?’ shouted Leah into Jake’s other ear. ‘Here, let me talk to her,’ and, grabbing the phone, she demanded a blow-by-blow account from Anna. Jake was unable to hear the full conversation but it was clear that Leah was directing most of her anger towards her parents.
‘So this conversation happened half an hour after they arrived? And they did nothing to try to dissuade her? Unbelievable – they’ve totally fucking lied to me. Tomorrow… Jesus… yes, I agree. Persuade Jake – yes, I’ll pass you over to him now.’
‘We’ve got to go there,’ Leah hissed into his ear.
Jake could sense the mood of hysteria growing between Anna and Leah. He tried to reason with Anna.
‘This is very distressing for all of us, Anna, but have you considered that it might be the right decision for her?’
‘But it’s not right for her. She is not ill – maybe just a bit depressed. And she has a good brain still. I know. I see more of her than anyone. Why does no one talk to me?’
‘I don’t know – I suppose they found it difficult to break the news to you.’
‘You must come to her immediately. Both of you. She likes you. You could make all the difference.’
‘I could try to call her again. Would that help?’
‘I am trying to call Dad now,’ said Leah.
‘No,’ said Anna. ‘I have tried many times to call the house but all calls just go to voicemail. You have to come yourself.’
‘Anna, I really don’t see that I can. I’m not sure it’s right for me to try to intervene.’
‘Not sure it’s right. I don’t know what that means. I’m sure it is right. You could prevent her killing herself. She could have years more life. She told me she was hoping you could help her with the old diaries. You and Leah are the only ones who can save her now.’
‘Anna, if Callum supports what she is doing, I don’t see what I can do.’
‘Callum! He is weak man. I am sorry, but it is true. Helen pushes him around. I have seen it. I think if Marianne has you and Leah on her side she will change her mind.’
For a long time Anna sought to persuade him to intervene while he tried to explain why it was impossible. Eventually, he promised to think about it and talk it over with Leah. Really, this is so unfair, he thought. Why am I being made to feel responsible for Marianne’s death. Christ, why does she have to do this – and why now?
‘Neither Dad nor Mum are picking up,’ said Leah. ‘Shit, I can’t believe they’re letting this happen. We’ve got to go.’
‘Leah, have you any idea how difficult it would be – I mean, turning up uninvited – when Marianne obviously doesn’t want us around?’
‘OK, fine if you won’t come – but I’m going anyway. I’ll take an early train.’
Jake sighed. ‘I’d like to go, but tomorrow… Charlie wanted everyone in – I’m not sure exactly why. That actually includes you, Leah.’
‘Tough. I’m going. I’ve got money for the train and taxi – but I wish you’d come with me. You can talk to the office from the train. They just think of me as a child. It needs both of us to make a difference.’
Neither Jake nor Leah slept much that night. Jake continued to protest that it might be better not to intervene, but Leah remained adamant that she would go anyway. At five thirty in the morning Jake sensed that Leah had finally gone to sleep. Creeping out of bed, he went into the living room, made some tea and checked the news on his tablet. He read the lead story with incredulity. What the fuck! They’ve launched their AD exposé – Mills and Charlie – today of all days. No wonder Charlie wanted everyone in the office.
By the time Leah’s alarm went off at 6.30 he had come to a decision. He sent a message to Charlie saying that his great-aunt was dying and he would have to go to Cambridge, but would stay in touch. He knew that aunts of any description didn’t count for much in the scale of office excuses – but bugger it, this was a bit different. He couldn’t see that the AD exposé was anything to do with him and even if they couldn’t persuade Marianne to change her mind – and he gave them very little chance on that score – they could at least say goodbye.
35
Contrary to her original intention, Marianne had not drugged herself to sleep. What was it her mother used to say? You are dead a long time. Instead, she sat up late sending messages – a final farewell to Claire, other messages to her remaining friends, individual notes saying goodbye. One or two had replied immediately. Their remarks touched her deeply. The whole process was painful, but also comforting; a voluntary death should be tidy – no loose ends.
Eventually she had fallen asleep and dreamed that she was dead – but at the same time able to observe how the world was reacting. They were all there – all her close friends and relations, it was some kind of wake in her garden. There was a grave dug near the pond and beside it, on a pair of trestles, was her coffin, draped in a white lacy tablecloth and covered in drinks and canapés. They were all dressed for summer – Anna and her boyfriend Stefans, excited about the money they had got; that was nice to see. Callum and Helen, shocked how little money she had left, were complaining to Claire about the size of the mortgage; the house was already sold and they were flying back to Australia the next day. Dorrie was walking up and down with Edward, muttering imprecations that he should never have let her go. Even her parents were mysteriously there – sipping champagne on the stone seat – and who were those two teenagers kissing by the laurel bushes? It looked like Jake and, yes, Fran, but surely that couldn’t be right…
She awoke to her radio alarm and the beeps for the seven o’clock news. For a while she thought she was still dreaming, as the discussion was all about assisted dying. Then she realised that the lead story was about abuses in AD clinics, and particularly the De Zeeou chain, into whose tender care she was about to place herself. How ironic, she thought, but it makes no difference to me. My case is as straightforward as it comes.
By eight o’clock Jake and Leah were settled into their seats on the train at King’s Cross, armed with coff
ee and croissants. Jake sent a text to Anna telling her that they were on the train, and then started to check the news feeds.
The Chronicle’s lead story was already being picked up by the main networks. Jake skimmed the headlines quickly: AD clinics in new scandal. The ugly truth behind how AD clinics operate. De Zeeou chain accused of bending the rules. Safeguards not followed by AD clinics. Daisy Chain pays kickbacks to NHS.
Where did he stand on AD now? he wondered. Did he still hold to his original instinct that AD was both a basic human right and a blessing for many who were close to the end of their life? If that was his view, then why was he rushing off to try to persuade his great-aunt from taking what could be considered a perfectly rational decision to end her life a few weeks before her eighty-ninth birthday?
As Jake sat trying to reconcile his conflicting views, Leah’s phone rang and he listened to her animated conversation with first her mother and then her father. It was clear that they were far from happy to be told that he and Leah were on their way to Cambridge.
‘We’re in the shit for even thinking of coming…’ she said, when the call was over. ‘You, in particular for putting me up to it – which I have to say is a gross fucking insult, as if I’m not capable of thinking for myself.’ Despite her language, it seemed to Jake that Leah was remarkably calm. ‘There’s no point in talking to them anymore,’ she said. ‘We’ll just turn up and see how we get on.’
Their train left on time, but after half an hour came to a halt in the middle of the countryside. Jake gazed out across the flat East Anglian field, the long straight plough furrows leading his eyes towards a group of isolated agricultural buildings, still partly shrouded in the morning mist, which for a moment reminded him of his parents’ home in Dorset. He looked at his watch; the train was due in just before nine and Anna thought it unlikely that Marianne would leave for the clinic before ten, so they should have enough time even if they were delayed. In any event, Anna had told them she was going to the house and would watch the driveway from a distance. If they set out for the clinic before he and Leah got to Cambridge, she would warn them.
