by Robin Byron
Christ, I hope we do get to the house on time, he thought. Imagine if she is already at the clinic. Do we burst into her room and throw ourselves at her feet and beg her not to kill herself? Surely that would be unethical, as well as unkind to her and deeply resented by Callum and Helen. The clinic may not even let us through the door.
As the minutes passed, Jake and Leah glanced at each other anxiously.
‘No more news from Anna?’ said Leah.
‘No – she’s in position, but no sign of movement.’
‘Do you have a strategy for when we get there?’
‘No – play it by ear, I guess. What’s wrong with this fucking train?’
Jake shrugged. Then, as if to answer her question, an announcement came over the tannoy, apologising for the delay; they were being held behind another train due to a person on the line near Royston. Leah looked at him. ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’
‘Probably.’
‘Jeez…’
‘I know…’
‘It’s as if someone’s mocking us…’
The morning was tense but also weirdly calm. They all sat at the table having breakfast, seemingly intent on pretending this was just like any other day. Helen talked about the girls while Callum looked at news stories on his tablet. Catching Marianne’s eye, he turned the screen away from her so she wouldn’t see what he was reading.
After breakfast, she began a serious talk with Callum. As ever, he seemed very aware of his responsibility to make sure that she was really determined to go ahead.
‘Mum, I know this isn’t the first time we’ve talked about it but I want to be sure you really know what you’re doing.’
‘I know you do, darling.’
‘It’s not too late. I can just call the clinic and we can forget all about it?’
‘You could, but that’s not what I want.’
‘You’re really sure?’
‘Please, darling, if you love me, just let me go the way I want.’
‘Oh, Mum…’ and, kneeling by her chair, Callum put his head on Marianne’s shoulder.
Although Callum wasn’t usually very physical they held each other for a long time and Marianne said a silent apology for the wrong she might have done him all those years ago. I know today will be harder for him than it will be for me, she thought, and that’s why I must remain strong.
It was another forty minutes before their train began to move. Forty minutes for Jake and Leah to contemplate the hideous irony of their situation and to wonder if they had any chance of getting to Marianne’s house before she left for the clinic. Between regularly checking the time and exchanging texts with Anna, they sought to reassure each other that whatever happened, they were doing the right thing in coming.
A few moments before they were finally due to arrive at Cambridge, Jake received a text from Anna that Marianne, Callum and Helen were getting into the car. Fuck, he thought, that’s a disaster. Exactly what I didn’t want. This crazy venture might have had some remote chance of success if we had arrived at her house before she left, but now? Moments later he received another text from Anna with the address of the AD clinic, and then she was calling him. It would take Callum at least twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, to drive to the clinic. If they got straight into a taxi they could get there first. That way they could be waiting in reception when Marianne arrived.
Marianne’s journey to the clinic passed in almost complete silence. No one now pretended this was just a routine drive. One or two staccato words were exchanged between Callum and Helen about directions to the clinic, cutting into an atmosphere which seemed entirely devoid of oxygen. Marianne, sitting in the front seat beside Callum, shut her eyes and tried to turn off the power to her brain, but absurd and trivial thoughts kept crowding in: had she got her reading glasses; where did she leave her purse; who would empty the commode in her bedroom now Anna was gone? Poor Anna – what a way to have to say goodbye for ever.
When they arrived at the clinic, a reception party was there to meet them; Nikhita Singh, the nurse who had been keeping in touch with her, the clipboard woman and an orderly with a wheelchair. Before she knew it, she was being settled into the wheelchair while she heard the clipboard woman say to Callum, ‘We had you down for two family members present, but it seems…’
‘Gran…’
Suddenly the cordon around her broke apart and there was a young woman advancing on her and clasping her around the neck. Such was Marianne’s state of mind, her determination to blank out the immediate present, that she instinctively recoiled, unable to comprehend what was happening.
Several people started to speak at once.
‘Leah!’ said Callum.
‘It’s only me, Gran,’ said Leah.
‘This is a disgrace,’ said Helen, turning towards Jake. ‘How dare you come and interfere like this?’
‘This is not helpful to Mrs Davenport,’ said the clipboard woman.
It was Nikhita Singh who took charge. ‘I am going to take Marianne up to her room. There will be plenty of time for the family to get together with her when she is settled. Perhaps if you could all stay down here for the time being,’ and, with a nod to the orderly, Marianne was wheeled to the lifts followed by the nurse.
It was a relief to Marianne when the lift door closed and she was away from her family. Only now did she take in that Leah had come to say goodbye and Jake must have been there too, judging by the remarks of Helen. Oh well, she thought, I could have done without it, but it’s touching all the same.
Her room felt very much like any room in a private hospital or nursing home, except perhaps for the over-large television screen at the end of the bed. She wondered what happened next. Her unspoken question was answered by the nurse. Although it was ‘optional’, most patients preferred to undress; this would make Marianne ‘more comfortable’. She nodded her acquiescence. With the nurse’s help Marianne undressed and put on a hospital gown. After a visit to the bathroom she was helped into bed and propped up with several pillows behind her back.
Downstairs, Marianne’s family had been shown into a private waiting room where coffee and tea were available from a machine. After the initial flurry of exclamations, an uneasy quiet had descended on the room while they queued to make themselves a hot drink. Their silence was broken by a knock at the door and the entrance of Anna.
‘So you are part of this gang as well,’ said Helen.
‘Gang?’ said Anna.
Callum sighed. ‘Come on in, Anna. Get yourself a coffee, and let’s all sit down and we can talk quietly.’
It was Leah who launched the initial attack. ‘Dad – you said that Gran had changed her mind.’
‘I never said that. If you remember, all I said was that I got the feeling she was going to change her mind.’
‘And you were trying to persuade her – but you never did. Anna told us. You just arrived, and…’
‘Leah, listen to me for a minute. I know that this is particularly hard for you at your age…’
‘My age – why is my age an issue…?’
‘Because you’re too young to understand properly…’ said Helen.
‘Shut up, Mum – I’m talking to Dad…’
‘Don’t speak to me like that.’
‘Am I too young as well?’ said Anna. ‘I’ve looked after Marianne for over five years. So I have some knowledge…’
‘This is a family matter. I don’t know why you are here,’ said Helen.
Callum raised his hands. ‘Please. We are going to embarrass ourselves, squabbling like this. I’m dealing with Leah’s question. Darling, I have tried on many occasions in the last few weeks to persuade Gran to change her mind. But she has remained determined and I think we have to respect that.’
‘You didn’t try yesterday.’
‘Actually, I did, after An
na had gone – and again this morning.’
At this statement from her father Leah paused, and Jake thought it was time he joined the discussion. He had prepared a little speech in his head, on which he now embarked.
‘Callum – we all know that you want to do your best for your mother. But I would like to ask you whether you think it’s the right decision for her. We – that is, Leah and I – and particularly Anna, who, as she said, has looked after Marianne for the last five years, feel that she still has a lot to live for. She talked to me about these diaries she’s been translating. I would like to help her with this. I realise it’s the eleventh hour, but we came today because we felt that if we all told her how much we want her to go on living, then she might change her mind.’
As Jake finished speaking, Anna gave a little clap. ‘Well said. We just want her to go on living while she is still well…’
‘That’s what we all want, dear,’ said Helen, ‘but we have to listen to what she wants.’
‘So that’s what you want, is it?’ said Anna.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I think you prefer her to die now…’
‘How dare you? You disgust me. And we all know why you want her to go on – so you can extort more money from her…’
‘Never! I never ask for money…’
‘Please, please,’ Callum said, once again raising his arms. ‘We mustn’t fight amongst ourselves while Marianne is all alone upstairs. Helen, my love, I think you ought to go and keep her company, and I’ll continue this conversation down here.’
Helen nodded, and with a last ferocious look at Anna she left the room. For a while no one spoke. Jake looked at Callum; a nervous flicker had got hold of one of his eyelids. He looked grey and miserable. He admired the way Callum had defused the situation and removed Helen from the scene. Poor man, Jake thought, he’s under intolerable strain and we have not helped. He watched as Callum got up and went over to Leah and sat down beside her. Putting his arm around her, he pulled her head onto his shoulder. ‘This is agony for all of us,’ he said.
Jake felt uncomfortable. Leah should be allowed some time with her father. Glancing at Anna, he got up and moved towards the door. ‘We’ll leave you for a minute…’
‘No, don’t go.’
‘You and Leah need some privacy…’
‘No, come and sit down, Jake. We need to tackle this together.’
Jake returned to his seat while Callum got up and started walking slowly around the room. ‘I want to try to answer your question, Jake. Do I think she is making the right decision?’ He stopped to stare at an abstract water colour on the wall. A swirl of blue and mauve – chosen no doubt to complement the seat covers of the chairs. ‘No, from my perspective it’s the wrong decision – there is no need for her to end her life now.’
‘So why don’t we just…’
‘Hear me out, Leah, darling. Of course I wish this wasn’t happening. But it’s not just a question of what I think. My mother is a highly intelligent woman. She has thought about this deeply over several years. It’s impossible for any of us to know what it feels like to be in her position. It’s not for me to make this decision for her. I have tried to talk her out of it – but I haven’t succeeded. What am I to do? Wash my hands of the whole thing? She doesn’t need my consent. Would you rather she came here in a taxi to end her life alone? Believe me, this is the hardest day of my life, but I must be brave for her sake. And so must you all.’
For a while no one spoke. Then Anna said, ‘You should have told me earlier. If I had known, I am sure I could have talked her out of it.’
‘That was her decision.’
‘So what happens now?’ said Leah. ‘Can I go and see her?’
‘What do you want to say to her?’
‘To make one last plea…’
‘I don’t think she would welcome that.’
‘Of course we wouldn’t want to distress her,’ said Jake, ‘but that is why we’ve come…’
‘Look, I will go up and talk to my mother now. I’ll tell her what you want to say and let her decide whether she wants you to come up.’
Marianne lay back on the bed with her eyes shut, while Helen paced around the room, tut-tutting about the arrival of Jake and Leah. ‘This is just a bit of journalistic voyeurism for him,’ she said. ‘I wish to God I’d found something else to occupy Leah’s time. This must be so upsetting for you.’
Marianne didn’t have the energy or inclination to reply. Outside she could hear whispered discussion amongst the staff. Something odd is going on, she thought, and it’s not just to do with Leah and Jake. She was relieved when Callum came up and sat on the side of the bed. He told her about the intended deputation downstairs.
‘They want to come up and make a joint plea to you – a plea to go on living, is how they put it.’
Ah, the wonderful idealism of youth, she thought. Twenty-year-olds – full of optimism, immortal gods of the planet. The idea of death – the reality of death – offends them.
‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s too late for all that.’
‘I thought that’s what you’d say.’
‘If they promise to behave and not to make a scene they can come and say goodbye – but I don’t want them here at the end. Now can you find out what’s going on. I haven’t seen a doctor yet. No one’s told me anything.’
Callum scuttled off to find someone to talk to, while Helen went on muttering about how intrusive Anna and Jake were and how brave and sensible she was being.
‘It’s Thursday today, isn’t it?’ Marianne said suddenly.
‘Yes, why?’
‘Nothing.’ The last Thursday in November, she thought. Thanksgiving. How curious that I should have chosen this day without realising it. Appropriate, I suppose. After all, I have much to be thankful for. Both in my life and now, finally, at the end; I get the chance to atone – and my death now can still do some good.
Callum was now back in her room. ‘Mum, I know this is really the last thing you need, but it seems there might be some delay. There’s a story in the press this morning about the De Zeeou chain – which runs this clinic – suggesting that in some cases they may have been bending the law.’
‘Delay?’
‘Apparently, the board at the head office in Holland are in emergency session at this moment and in the meantime everything is on hold – a moratorium on all activity, they told me.’
‘I see.’
‘Yes, but the manager here thinks it could be lifted at any time, so he recommends just waiting for a while.’
‘Well, that’s what we’ll have to do, I suppose.’
‘Yes – Mum, I’m so sorry. This must be very upsetting for you.’
‘It’s certainly unexpected.’
‘Do you want me to get you a coffee or anything?’
‘No, they advise against it. But you and Helen go and get a coffee. I would appreciate a little time to myself.’
When Callum and Helen had left, Marianne lay propped up in bed in a state of stunned disbelief. This does seem a cruel trick, she thought, when I am ready to flick the switch. A stay of execution – except in this case I am trying to die and the clinic is forbidding it. What happens if they refuse to proceed today? Suddenly, the idea of going home terrified her. How long would the delay be? Would she ask Anna to come back? What would she tell her? Then there were all those people she had sent emails to. And Dorrie – it was agony being berated by her yesterday; she would see this as a timely intervention by fate – a message that her death was not supposed to happen yet.
But would she be right? Perhaps this is my rescue, the cavalry cresting the hill in a cloud of dust. Perhaps I am the ceremonial turkey to be saved by the president? If I go home today how will I feel about coming back? An unexpected sensation, warm and seductive, seemed to be infiltratin
g her body, creeping up slowly through her stomach. Was that a tiny flicker of relief that I felt when Callum told me the news? Like hearing that the dentist can’t see you after all and, despite the continuing toothache, you feel relieved that you won’t have to endure the extraction that day.
‘No, no,’ Marianne muttered to herself out loud. ‘I can’t allow myself these thoughts. That way lies madness. I must be strong.’
She thought of her dreary prison room in Moscow and the endless and increasingly pointless interrogation. Time distorted by unfamiliar environments. Watching the minute hand on the wall clock, it seemed barely to move. Was this how it had been when she sat with Izzy at the hospital? Time like an amorphous blob, like Dali’s wall clock, melting in front of her, mocking her need for movement.
She thought of those moments after the air crash: moments of crushing pain and terror, terror at the thought of being roasted alive, the unimaginable agony, and how she had willed herself to die. She hadn’t burnt, nor had she died – and for that salvation she had often given thanks – but now her time had come; this time she should have the magic box to switch off her life, only she couldn’t get her hands on it.
Downstairs Callum reported Marianne’s wishes. ‘You’ve got to promise me, no begging – just goodbye.’
Anna put her head in her hands. ‘So that’s it then?’
‘Yes.’
Leah moved around to sit next to Anna and held her hand. ‘Can we go up now?’ she said, looking at her father.
‘Not quite yet – we have a bit of a delay at the moment. There are stories in the press this morning – things are on hold…’
