I’m driven to the hospital. Occasionally the police car blasts the siren, but only at traffic lights and things. We’re not following the ambulance; they’re just trying to get me there as soon as they can, but I know that the blue lights are on, because people keep turning around as the car swishes past.
And all I can think is that I haven’t got any underwear on.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sensitive.
That’s probably the word.
The paramedics would have told the staff and they are sensitive as they come in to the room I’ve been put in. They ask about his history, and if, apart from Viagra, he’s on any medication.
I feel bile in the back of my throat. How would I know?
‘Nothing.’
They’re doing everything they can, they tell me, but his heart has stopped again and they’re having a lot of trouble getting it started. At that moment Luke walks in. He just stands there, his face white like chalk and I’m told a doctor will be in to speak with me shortly.
‘What happened?’
I run a tongue over my lips and I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
‘Lucy?’
I rest my head in my hands – I have too many thoughts to think, let alone speak, and slowly Luke starts to voice a few of them. ‘Do you need to call his family?’
I’m his family.
Charlotte and I are his family.
I don’t say it though.
It’s another thing they don’t tell you when you marry that sexy older guy, that one day you’ll be ringing his daughter, except Eleanor is due to have a baby in a few weeks. We only found out just after Christmas, and she was already five months pregnant by then. ‘Do you know her husband’s number?’ Luke’s so practical, so boring and practical - he just gets things done. ‘He’s the dentist isn’t he? The one doing Charlotte’s braces?’
It’s more complicated than that. This is the Jamesons we’re talking about after all, so it’s always more complicated than that. I’m not supposed to talk about it yet, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to even know that Noel walked out a couple of weeks ago. I don’t tell that to Luke, I don’t really get the chance, he’s going through my phone and he asks to be put through to Noel. He says that it’s a family emergency and Noel must have come to the phone because Luke is explaining the situation and, after a brief conversation, Luke ends the call.
‘He’s going to go home now and tell Eleanor.’ Luke sits down beside me, he goes to take my hand, but he stops when I pull mine away – I don’t want his sudden friendship – he’s not my friend, he’s his friend, and he’s Charlotte’s godfather. I close my eyes as I remember that I should be picking Charlotte up soon – she’s sitting in school and she doesn’t have a clue that her father’s going to die.
And he is going to die.
I know it.
I think he already has.
I think he was gone by the time they put him in the ambulance – I can’t explain that because I don’t believe in God, or a Higher Power, or spirits, or anything, but he’s not here any more, I just know it.
He’s gone.
I’m left.
And I can’t do this on my own.
‘I have to pick Charlotte up.’ Except I’m dressed in a smock and not wearing any underwear and I don’t have my car but I have to be there for her.
‘I’ll ring Jess,’ Luke says. ‘I’ve told her what’s happening and she’s already on her way here. She can pick up Charlotte and bring her here.’
‘Not here.’ I shake my head. ‘Not here.’
I don’t want to do that to her.
I don’t want her to know.
But she has to.
I can’t protect her from this.
‘She’ll need you,’ Luke says.
I know that, so I nod and he rings Jess. I can’t stand how everything is changing – I can’t stand the thought of her face crumpling when she finds out.
I wanted her childhood to be perfect.
I’ve done everything that I can to ensure that it is, but still, it wasn’t enough.
I know that it ends today.
My phone rings as he speaks to Jess, because the world carries on.
Yours stops, yours shifts permanently, yours changes forever, while everything else keeps moving along.
It’s the clinic about my missed Botox appointment.
‘I’m at the hospital,’ I say. ‘My husband…’ I don’t finish, I don’t have to, they apologise, give their best wishes and I hang up.
‘Jess is going to the school now,’ Luke tells me. ‘And she’ll bring her here.’
There’s a long silence and I know what’s coming - he’s always bringing her up, but this time there is no choice, this time it’s me who says her name.
‘Should Gloria be told?’ I’m not just asking him, I’m asking the question to myself. I mean, should she? I look at the little pamphlets they’ve got on display and wonder if there’s an etiquette one, for times like this. I’m sure Dr Patel would have one that would explain what happens in such situations. I mean, who does ring the ex-wife and how much of a priority is she? Do you even call her – would she even want to know? I expect Luke to whip out his phone again, or for him to say that she’s already on her way, but for the first time Luke doesn’t seem sure what to do.
‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘Maybe we should wait till Eleanor gets here.’
They’ll all be here soon.
Luke’s like a machine with my phone.
Charlotte, Jess, Eleanor, which means Gloria will be being told – then there’s his mum who’s in her eighties, Luke rang his brother and asked him to tell her. He rang my mum too, insisting that she’d be good for Charlotte.
Please!
I look at the phone ringing again and it’s my neighbour.
I don’t answer.
I don’t want to talk to anyone – except there are so many people to deal with, to inform, to update when I just need a moment to process things.
I don’t get a moment though.
She rings again and I am furious as I answer, she can’t wait to find out, the nosey bitch.
‘Do you need me to pick up Charlotte?’
‘No,’ I shake my head. ‘Her godmother is.’
She doesn’t ask for a progress update.
I forget to thank her as I hang up my phone.
Eleanor arrives and I look around for Noel but she seems to be here on her own. She must be eight months pregnant but she doesn’t look it, she’s a tiny thing, a composed thing, or she usually is but she’s hysterical now. Luke is trying to get her to calm down, to take a few breaths before she rings her mum, but she’s not listening to Luke, she’s staring at me and demanding to know what happened.
I just sit there.
‘What the hell happened, Lucy?’
I don’t know what to tell her, I don’t know what to say, I can’t even remember how to speak and then Eleanor storms off - she wants more information apparently. Well good luck getting it, I think but don’t say - I just sit there and someone comes in and offers me tea.
It looks disgusting.
It’s in a green cup and it’s definitely not Earl Grey. They must have put in half a cup of milk and I take a sip and nearly puke it straight up.
My head is pounding. I press my fingers to my temples and I close my eyes. Charlotte will be here soon and I think I want to pass out. Luke goes to a machine and comes back with a bottle of water and I take a long drink and then go into my bag. I open my little tin that has a needle and thread and safety pins and things. It should have two headache tablets too but, that’s right, I had another headache on Sunday.
Maybe I should ask a nurse for one.
‘Mrs Jameson?’
The door opens and there’s a doctor with a nurse standing behind him and they come in and take a seat. I think it would be rude to interrupt them and ask for a headache tablet right now, I mean, I can hear Eleanor screaming and carrying on o
utside and I think that they might have something rather important to tell me.
I’m quite sure he’s brilliant; it’s just his English that isn’t.
I’m honestly not sure if he’s being sensitive, or if he simply doesn’t realise it wasn’t me.
‘The medication,’ he says, ‘put a strain on his heart and the lovemaking…’ I just stare at his face as he tells me. ‘All efforts were made, we did everything we could to save your husband…’ There’s a whooshing sound in my ears and now Luke is holding my hand and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or say, I don’t even know how to cry.
My husband is dead and I simply don’t know how to feel.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gloria
I look the best I ever have.
Today, on this day in my mid-fifties, I probably look the best that I have since I was a teenager.
That probably sounds vain but that’s because you don’t know me. I’m not a vain person, but for now you’ll just have to take my word.
I just can’t stress enough, how good I look today.
Better than I did on my wedding day, though that’s not hard because I was three months pregnant and throwing up.
Three kids will soon ruin your figure and since I got pregnant with Eleanor I’ve had a constant battle with my weight. Then, just when I started to get my life back, just when they were getting older, and things should be getting easier, just when he was due for a really good promotion and we could think about a holiday, just the two of us, bloody Lucy came along.
Lucy, with her lovely slim body and long blonde hair.
Lucy, who had her eye on the prize from the get go.
For a very long while after he left, I didn’t care how I looked.
There was too much other stuff going on.
Then there wasn’t even that excuse.
I simply didn’t care.
I let things slide for a very long while.
Way too long in fact. But, I’m slowly getting there. I started losing weight a few months ago and I finally plucked up the courage to ring my son-in-law, Noel, and I asked him to fix my teeth.
Even though I never expected to, I met someone at my slimming club.
I recognised him from work and we started chatting and it’s all sort of grown from there. Or rather it’s sort of shrunk from there, because Paul’s lost a lot of weight too. He’s been going there for nine months now and, to be honest, I don’t know if I’d have said yes to a date if he’d been as big as he once was. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have asked and, if he had, I wouldn’t have said yes, but for my own reasons… you sort of lose your confidence really, well I have.
We’re going out tonight on our first date. I went to the hairdresser’s yesterday and I had my eyebrows and upper lip waxed and I am trying on some clothes that I've bought.
It doesn't get any easier, this dating lark, whatever your age.
My phone rings and I half expect it to be Paul, for him to have come up with an excuse, to say he’s changed his mind. It would be a relief, I don’t actually want to go, but when I look at the screen I roll my eyes, it’s my eldest daughter Eleanor and I wonder what the drama is this time.
‘Eleanor, slow down!’ I don't understand what Eleanor is trying to tell me, she's at the hospital and apparently things don't look good. ‘Eleanor, you need to calm down.’ I’m suddenly sick in my stomach because she is due to have the baby in four weeks time. ‘Is Noel with you?’ That makes her cry harder and it is then that a nurse comes on to the line.
‘Mrs Jameson.’ She introduces herself as the nurse in charge and I recognise the Jamaican accent - its Rose. I do a few shifts down in Accident and Emergency now and then but I don’t think that she realises it’s me.
‘Rose, its Gloria! Gloria Jameson…’ The line goes quiet and for a moment I think I've been cut-off. ‘What’s going on? Is everything all right with the baby?’ I’m wondering what Eleanor is doing in Emergency, because even though we did our midwifery training together, it’s Emergency where Rose works.
‘Gloria, you need to come now,’ Rose says gently. ‘Where are your other daughters?’ she asks and I frown. ‘Can one of them come and get you, or are they both still in Australia?’ Then I realise just how wrong I’ve gotten things. Yes, Eleanor is at the hospital but she isn't ringing about herself or the baby, this call really is for me. It’s Eleanor’s father who’s sick - my ex-husband.
‘He collapsed at home…’ Rose continues on. ‘Things don't look good.’
I want the truth. I don't want the safe hospital version, so that I don’t have a heart attack and drop dead, or kill myself driving in. ‘Just tell me Rose,’ I say. ‘I need to know what to tell Bonny and Alice. Just tell me now.’
There’s another pause. I can hear Eleanor sobbing even louder in the background; I can close my eyes now and picture the scene. I know it from Rose’s voice, I know it already, and I just need to be told.
‘There was nothing we could do for him.’ Rose gives me the truth that I asked for and I can't remember if I said thank you, I can't even remember hanging up the phone. I do remember a surge of annoyance, that all this time on, he can still mess up my plans at a moment’s notice – because instead of standing in my bedroom and trying to sort out an outfit for tonight, instead of trying on different styles of make up, I’m dashing to the hospital.
I’m dropping everything for him again.
That’s what he does you see.
That’s what he’s always done.
Somehow, even in death – he stops me from finding me.
CHAPTER SIX
Lucy
It’s all about them.
Always.
I promise you.
You’ll see.
‘Would you like to see him?’ Rose asks.
Eleanor starts to cry and moan and says no, she can’t face it, but I actually think the nurse was speaking directly to me.
I shake my head.
I’ve never seen a dead body.
Well, I thought mum was dead plenty of times when I found her passed out, but I’ve never seen a real live dead one – excuse the pun.
A real live dead one. I go over that in my head a few times and then Luke speaks. ‘It might be better to, Lucy. Charlotte might want to see him.’
‘She’s not seeing him.’ I’m adamant.
‘She might want to,’ Rose says. She’s actually nice, a big woman and she’s sort of comforting. She puts her arm around me and talks for a while, tells me that it might help Charlotte accept things, that maybe if I see him on my own first…
‘I can’t.’
I’m scared to go in there.
‘I can come in with you.’ Luke offers.
I shake my head but then I change my mind. I have to make things easier for Charlotte.
It’s funny that a curtain can block out so much noise, or maybe I just can’t hear the world outside when I step in there.
They’ve got a sheet over him and it’s up to his chest and there are all these tubes sticking out of him. To be honest, the first thing that I notice is that his hair’s a mess and that annoys me, he always looks after his appearance, he’s always smart. I mean, couldn’t they find a comb?
‘Can you take the tubes out?’
‘We can’t,’ Rose tells me, because it’s a coroner’s case.
‘He had a heart attack,’ I frown.
But they can’t say that for sure apparently and there’s this sweat beading on my forehead as I’m told that it’s for the coroner to determine. I insist that no, we don’t need a coroner. I tell her again that we don’t and somewhere in this conversation I hear the word inquest – she doesn’t say that there’s going to be one, that’s for the coroner to decide apparently. Just hearing the word, inquest, my insides are screaming, my skin is crawling and I realise what the policeman wanted to speak with her for – for details. I can see me standing there, or sitting on some court bench with his family beside me, with journalists t
here, and Gloria, and neighbours, and a piece written up in the local paper and everyone finding out…
‘Why don’t you talk to him, Lucy?’ Rose says.
Because, I have absolutely nothing to say.
I look down and I can see the teeth marks around a bruise high on his chest and I rearrange the sheet. His eyes are closed and I want to open them, to look into them like I did this morning.
To be the only girl in his world again.
But I can’t.
I’m not.
I think of that slut, I think of Gloria, I think of his daughters.
I realise, for the first time fully, that I never have, nor will I ever be, the only girl in his world.
I hear this strange breathing behind me, sort of rapid intakes of air and I realise it’s the sound of a grown man crying. I step aside and Luke says something to him while I still don’t have the words.
As I said, Luke’s not just a colleague.
The two of them are more like father and son. Yes, they’re friends and colleagues, but they’re more. I know this must be really hard for Luke, awful actually, but I can’t think about others now.
I can’t, because Charlotte’s here and I somehow have to find those words.
Thank God for Jess and Luke.
Jess has already told her that he’s very sick, she’s prepared her really – but actually telling Charlotte that her dad is dead is the hardest thing I hope I ever live to do.
I sort of kneel down and Jess is cuddling her and Luke’s hand is on my shoulder. I tell her as best I can and I watch her face and I can’t stand the pain I’m inflicting but I don’t have any choice.
She screams.
She sits there and screams and I shall never, ever forget that sound.
I don’t know exactly what I say. I do know I try to comfort her and then some still, silent voice inside of me, tells me that I can’t. Oh, I can say the right things and I can cuddle her but I can’t make this better, I can’t take her pain away.
What Goes Around... Page 4
