The Goodmans

by Clare Ashton

  They’d reached halfway down the long ward and the doctor stopped at a single-occupancy room.

  “Luckily, your mother can have some peace in here for recovery. We’re quiet this evening.”

  Jude smiled. “Enjoy it while you can.”

  The doctor opened the door and even though Jude had walked in on severely ill patients in recovery countless times, it was impossible not to be affected by Maggie. She was pale and unconscious in a hospital gown, her face drawn thin in her state. It was surreal for Jude, seeing her own mother rather than another transitory body in care.

  “The procedure was undertaken using local anaesthetic but she’s been asleep since arriving in theatre. I imagine she will be for a while.”

  “Thank you,” Jude replied, and the doctor left.

  She approached the bed slowly, as if Maggie were aware, and sat next to her. Jude couldn’t take her eyes from Maggie’s face. It was so different to how her vibrant mother usually appeared. Maggie’s eyes, which sparkled with every emotion from deep love to fury, were hidden by sleep. Her brow was smooth, without a care rankling her thoughts. And Jude realised, with a little amusement, that it was rare to see Maggie’s mouth motionless, with not a pronouncement or cutting comment issuing from her lips.

  “Oh, Maggie.” Jude reached out for her mother’s hand. It felt familiar yet strange in hers, Maggie’s skin now darker and lined with age since the days Jude grasped it as a child, and a wave of guilt flooded through Jude as she realised the distance she’d kept.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But how was I meant to know?”

  It was with a certain clarity she saw Maggie, but at the same time her mother was more unfathomable than ever. The image of Maggie sitting distraught in the hotel room with Juliette at her side was vivid. It was strange to see her mother with someone other than Jude’s father, but at the same time it had looked right, as if it had always been that way.

  “I don’t know who you are,” Jude whispered, and she squeezed Maggie’s hand, the sensation both comforting and foreign.

  A noise from outside pulled Jude from her thoughts and she glanced up to see her brother through the door.

  “Eli, come in,” she called.

  He pushed the door gingerly, his eyes wide as he stared at their mother. He let the door swing to and stood motionless inside the room. He was like a little boy, all the impishness absent from his demeanour, terrified at seeing his mother stricken. He seemed small, with that slight stature of Maggie’s. They were two large characters who could fill a room with the force of their personalities, then so fragile when reduced only to their physical presence.

  “Ju Ju,” he said, quietly. He hadn’t called her that in years. “She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?” And he looked at her with terror in his eyes.

  Jude rushed over and drew him under her arms. “Course she is,” she murmured into his hair.

  “She’s scaring me, sis.”

  “Me too,” she said, anxiety pulling at her chest. “Me too.” She rocked him from side to side, waiting for the alarm to recede. “But do you think this’ll keep her down for more than a few minutes?” she said, forcing optimism.

  “Nah,” he said, muffled by her chest. “She’ll be up in no time.”

  “You know what she’s like. She’ll not let the small matter of a heart attack slow her down. Imagine how fucked off she’ll be when she wakes up.”

  He sniffled with a laugh.

  Jude squeezed her little brother tighter. “They said it went well. So I mean it, you might not want to be here when she rouses.”

  “Let’s leave it to Dad then,” Eli said, cheekiness returning to his tone.

  Jude took in a lungful of air. “Where is Dad?” And she breathed out the whole lot at the thought of facing her father. “Did Abby find him?”

  “Yes, he was at Caroline Argent’s. They’re on their way over.”

  “Good,” Jude said, for the sake of saying something. “Good.”

  “Hell of a way to avoid announcing the divorce.”

  “What?”

  “Having a heart attack.”

  Jude laughed. “Well, you know Maggie. Never does anything by half.”

  They both turned as the door opened and their father stood large in the doorway, his towering frame stooped and his face haggard.

  “They’ve finished the procedure, Dad,” Jude said hastily. “It’s looking good. I imagine she’s out with sheer exhaustion.”

  Richard nodded and moved into the room. He and Eli took opposite sides of the bed and held a hand of Maggie’s each.

  Seeing her mother in good care, Jude relaxed for what she realised was the first time in hours, letting the knots in her neck loosen and her shoulders ease.

  “I need to get a drink,” she said. She was falling asleep on her feet, most likely from the draining worry since arriving at the hospital. “I’ll be back in few minutes.”

  “I’ll come with you, love,” Richard said, and he peered at her with heavy eyes. “Let’s get a coffee.”

  They sat at a table in the hospital foyer café, neither even nursing their coffees.

  “Abby should be with Celia by now,” Jude said. “She’ll bring her over if she can.”

  “Good, good,” Richard said absently. “I’ll ring Maggie’s sister in a moment.”

  “Abby said she’d do that too.”

  “Oh right. Please remind me to thank her.”

  Jude pursed her lips, aware they had a great deal to thank Abby for.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “They think it was a panic attack preceding the heart event. They tested immediately so there was no delay in care. Abby said they couldn’t have treated her any quicker.

  “Abby?” Richard asked confused.

  “Abby called the ambulance. She took Mum in. I,” and the words were crushing, “I wasn’t there.”

  Jude was always going to regret walking out. A moment of pique and self-righteous outrage, and she’d turned her back on her mother at the wrong moment. Even when Juliette had run after her, begging for understanding for Maggie’s sake, Jude had carried on walking, filled with fury and indignation, until a phone call from Abby at the hospital had poured icy water on that fire.

  “Thank Christ for Abby,” her father sighed, and he absently took a sip of coffee.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, love.”

  “She was with Juliette.”

  “Who? Abby?”

  “Mum. She was with Juliette.”

  “Oh,” he said, and his tone conveyed full understanding. “I see.” And again he looked away. “I imagine you have some questions,” he said at last.

  “Yes, I do. It can wait though.”

  Richard reached out for her hand. “Now might be as good a time as any. Tell me, what did Maggie say?”

  “She said you were just a donor.” Jude swallowed, unexpectedly affected by the admission, as if she were losing her father and his role was demoted to biology. “Mum said she loved Juliette and she’d wanted a family with her.”

  “All true,” he sighed. “She’s right.” He took another sip of coffee while he collected his thoughts. He smiled at last and looked at Jude.

  “I was introduced to Maggie by a mutual friend, someone who turned out rather poisonous and manipulative, unfortunately.” He shook his head.

  “Go on,” Jude said. “Please.”

  “Well, her name was Tiff and she worked at my department. We’d been friends for years. We often argued about all sorts, from things as mundane and esoteric as the rules of rugby to obscure philosophy. One thing she found fascinating about your dusty conservative father was how little gay folk bothered me. She was incredulous I found gay parents neither scandalous nor outrageous, so much so that I said I’d have no qualms about donating to a lesbian family. And it was true. A child needs a loving parent and both need a supportive network. Who or what gender that parent or network I think hardly matters. And one day, I think as
a mischievous challenge, she introduced a vivacious, outgoing, fiercely intelligent post-graduate. And that gorgeous woman was Maggie.”

  Jude listened fascinated. This wasn’t their pat answer of meeting at university. Richard’s explanation was vivid with the colour of real people rather than stale parents.

  “I never met Juliette. I knew her by sight from around the university and Maggie told me much about her. She adored her. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so in love. They had issues over having a family, but those seemed surmountable to me, and I agreed to be a donor and available should any child want to meet me later in life.”

  He frowned and had to gather his emotions for a moment. “But they split rather painfully. I remember being surprised at how vicious it was at the time. Maggie was devastated and her health became poor and I worried for the child. I supported Maggie through the birth then,” he looked up and smiled at Jude, “Well I was swept away after that. There’s nothing quite like a newborn to soften your soul. As soon as I saw your face and touched your tiny fingers, so fresh and new that your nails had a tinge of purple.” He had tears brimming. “I invited Maggie to stay while you were young, to share the broken nights.” He grinned. “You were adorable, but good lord babies are maddening. I’ve never been so tired in my life.”

  Jude laughed. She could see the love in his eyes.

  “And, I couldn’t bear to see either of you leave. Maggie very quickly suggested I take a greater part in your life, but I didn’t want to miss a single moment. I was crazy about you both. So, I asked Maggie to marry me, being ultimately an old-fashioned sort, and to my great surprise she said yes.”

  He sniffed and took a moment. “It was after Eli was born that I realised I’d been naïve. Tiff came to the christening, and she was a little worse for wear with alcohol when she smugly declared she’d engineered it all. ‘I gave her to you,’ she said. And I will always remember the chill that ran through me. It was sickening – her conceit and the mendacious way Maggie and I had come together. She’d forced Maggie and Juliette apart, you see. Oh they had problems, but I have no doubt they would have stayed together otherwise.”

  “What did you do?”

  “There was nothing to be done.” He shrugged. “We were a family now. Years had passed, and you knew me as your father. We had another child together. I debated for months whether I should tell Maggie, and to this day I don’t know whether I should have.” He seemed drained simply at the remembrance. “And so I remained silent, and we stayed together.”

  “But.” Jude felt overwhelming sorrow for her father. “Didn’t it feel like a sham? Don’t you feel cheated by Maggie? By her friend?”

  “Yes and no,” Richard replied. “There was real love there. No question. For Maggie too.”

  “But you could have fallen for someone who wanted you.”

  “Ah, you forget,” he smiled. “Your father was a dusty researcher, a consummate bachelor at thirty-five. I hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in all my life. And in walked this beautiful, terrifying woman carrying my child. When her world fell apart, I stepped in to help. And I was rewarded with thirty years of love, laughter and experiences I thought reserved only for others. Maggie gave me the best years of my life.”

  Jude found it difficult to reconcile this history with the parents she remembered as a child. “Doesn’t it bother you that she carried a flame for Juliette? I know she did now. And I’ve realised you knew too.”

  He dipped his gaze for a moment. “Yes, there were difficult times.”

  “Mum used to sit at the bottom of the garden, and we would watch her. I wondered where she went to in her thoughts, but you knew didn’t you?”

  He nodded sadly. “We all carry a flame for someone. Granted Maggie’s burned that bit brighter. But look at you. Look at Eli. I have two beautiful children. I have a best friend in Maggie that was worth it alone. And,” he blushed and scratched his head, “I seem to have got myself, at the ripe old age of sixty-six, a girlfriend.”

  Jude laughed at the ridiculousness. “Caroline?”

  “Yes,” he said, incredulous.

  That had been a surprise when Eli had told her. What a polar opposite in outlook Caroline must be compared with Maggie. Jude sniggered. “Hasn’t that driven Mum nuts? You going out with a Tory?”

  “Yes, it has,” he admitted. “It’s been rather satisfying.” And they both chuckled.

  Jude considered him. “I love you, Dad. Mum was lucky and Eli and I more so.”

  Richard pursed his lips, awkward as always with accepting compliments. “Balderdash dear first born. It was me who was the lucky one,” and he ruffled her hair.

  Jude laughed out loud.

  Their drinks had cooled as they’d talked, and they gulped down their coffees before standing to return to Maggie.

  “Dad?” Jude suddenly thought. “When did you know?” She stared at him shocked. “When did you realise Mum and Juliette would meet again?”

  “Ah,” he grumbled, and he slumped back into his seat. “Well, that I didn’t take so well.”

  Jude slowly sat down again, staring at her father, concerned.

  “I don’t know if you remember, but I popped out to Paris six months ago to see Eli. I wanted to visit a museum while I was there, and he’d not long been dating a woman. I’d never seen him so besotted. You know what he’s like usually. As joyful but blasé about a new love as a new shirt. But he was different about this woman. I took him for dinner and all he could talk of was this Selene. He showed me a photo on his phone.” Richard paused. “She was a beautiful girl, but it was the woman in her embrace that almost stopped my heart. I’d forgotten she even existed. But there she was, Maggie’s eternal love, the mother of Eli’s.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “No,” Richard shook his head. “I feigned feeling unwell. Actually, I felt sick as a dog. And when I returned home–”

  “You stepped back.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s when you moved to the attic.”

  “Oh you noticed?”

  “Of course we bloody noticed.”

  “Ha. You sounded like Maggie then.”

  “Keep on topic, old man.”

  “You’re only proving my point. But yes, I stepped back.”

  “Why?” Jude cried. “Mum loved you. Didn’t you still love her?”

  “Very much. But it was a mature, respectful love. And while that contentment is everything I crave, it’s not what sustains your mother.” He looked most saddened of all by this. “That kind of mellow happiness might as well be death to her. She thrives on passion. You children filled her world with colour for years, especially you. I think she clung to you most of all, as the last vestige of Juliette. But when you grew up and drifted away, as well you should,” he said emphatically, “it left your mother with only a devoted friend, and to Maggie that would always be lacking. Besides, she should never have been mine. But for Tiff’s trickery she would have been with Juliette.”

  “And then?”

  “I realised I’d lost her. When she and Juliette would meet, and they would, it would be folly and grossly unfair to stand in their way.” He looked embarrassed. “I went home and drank myself silly at a bar.” Then he chuckled. “Very mature I know. But, it happened that Caroline Argent was there, doing exactly the same, drinking away her sorrows after putting her husband in the care home. We became friends. And after Maggie and I decided to live apart, we became more.”

  A few weeks ago Richard with this new woman would have seemed ludicrous, now it seemed the least remarkable change.

  “Does she make you happy?” Jude asked.

  “Yes,” Richard replied. That this was a surprise for him was evident. “She’s very good company. I’m, again, a very lucky man.”

  “Bollocks, Dad,” Jude replied. “You deserve happiness.”

  “Again, my dear first born, you sound just like your mother.”

  Jude was tempted to nudge him with her foot before realisi
ng that’s what Maggie would have done too.

  Then she surprised herself. “Yes, sometimes I am like her.” And she thought perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  Chapter 43.

  After a trip home to change and shower, it was late when Jude returned to the hospital and the lights were low. Maggie slept on, but in the shadows beside the bed sat the stricken figure of Maggie’s former lover.

  “I’m sorry.” Juliette rose from the seat and smoothed her dress, all her usual poise and confidence gone. “Celia let me in. I accompanied her. I can go.”

  “There’s no need,” Jude said, stepping forward quickly. “You must stay as long as you like. Please don’t leave on my account.”

  Juliette gave the slightest of nods, her gaze averted. “I talked to your father also. He doesn’t mind me visiting.”

  “I’m sure he’s more than happy.”

  “I can’t stay long in any case – an unavoidable meeting – but I hate to leave. Please, would you keep me informed?” She peeped towards Jude. “A message or two to reassure me everything is well?”

  “Of course,” Jude smiled.

  “I would ask Eli or Richard, but I trust your judgement more. I think you would tell me if things took a turn for the worse.”

  “I’m happy to.”

  They fell into an awkward silence.

  “Dad told me what happened.” Jude hesitated. “He said you were very much in love but split apart.”

  Juliette’s features pinched with grief. She reached out for Maggie’s hand and clasped it with a tenacious anguish. She gulped in an obvious struggle to contain her feelings, but a tear trailed down her cheek.

  “Please forgive her.” Juliette whispered. “I hurt her so badly.” She stroked Maggie’s hand with a firmness that betrayed deep regret. “I know you must find her opinions frustrating and they surprised me when I arrived. How could the biggest lesbian activist be unsupportive of gay relationships? But when you have been burned like that, it’s difficult not to keep away from the fire, and of course you protect your children doubly so. And I did hurt her very much.”