Something Like Happy

by Eva Woods

Annie didn’t have an answer for that. “I’ll think about it.”

  “It can just be tiny things. Look at this place, for a start. Isn’t it nice? There’s a football pitch—you could come and watch hunky men in shorts. There’s dogs to pet, and even a little coffee kiosk. Not to mention this play park.” She nodded toward the swings, where kids were being pushed on swings and down slides, bundled up against the cold. Annie winced and turned away; she tried to avoid playgrounds.

  “I said I’ll think about it.”

  Polly leaned back, closing her eyes against the faint spring sun. “Don’t be your own worst enemy, Annie. There’s plenty of other people for that. Remember—today is the first day of the rest of your life.”

  Annie rolled her eyes, but she had to admit the fresh air and good food had lifted her mood somewhat. Better than a Cup a Soup while Sharon snooped over her shoulder and everyone talked about Strictly Come Dancing. She realized that Polly had now been to her office and her home—where she spent about 96 percent of her time these days—and she knew nothing about the other woman, except for her eccentric wardrobe and the fact she seemed to have swallowed the Little Book of Inspirational Quotes. “So, are you feeling okay?” she ventured.

  Polly opened one eye. “I’m still dying. But within the context of that, yes, I’m okay. My energy levels are good, probably because I’m on so many pills I’m surprised I don’t rattle. Dr. Max is paranoid the thing will grow a millimeter and I’ll start drooling.” Annie winced, but Polly was still smiling.

  “And...have you given up work?”

  “Of course. I was in PR, you see. Who cares about campaigns for a new lipstick when you have three months to live?”

  Annie didn’t ask what she was doing for money. Only posh people were called Polly. Her head swirled with questions. Was Polly married? Did she have any kids? And most of all, why had she chosen Annie? “This project,” Annie tried. “Are your friends doing it?” She almost said, your other friends, but she and Polly were hardly that yet.

  “Oh, they’d love it. They’re all about Instagramming their morning avocado and blogging about yoga holidays. I don’t want that. Anyway, they’ve got kids and jobs and marriages and stuff. They’re busy.”

  And Annie barely had one of those things now. “So, why did you ask me?”

  “Because. I want someone who doesn’t believe in it. I want to know if it’s possible to make yourself happy, even when things really, really suck. I need to know death can have some meaning. Like it isn’t all just totally random bad luck. You see?”

  “Um, I guess.”

  Annie wasn’t someone who had a lot of friends. She preferred a small group, people she could trust, though this had backfired somewhat now that she could never speak to Jane again. So there was no denying it—there was a gaping hole in her life, which had once held the people she loved most. Mike. Jane. Jacob. And her mum. Maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to make a new friend. But Polly was unpredictable and posh, and, for Annie, a silly project would have been like putting a plaster on a severed arm. So she forked up bits of her lunch—so sweet, so crunchy—and said she’d better get back. “Can I pay you...?”

  “Don’t be daft. I’ll stay here for a bit,” said Polly, swaddled in the blanket. “I bet there’s some cool little shops.”

  “If you like fried chicken and stolen bikes,” said Annie, but her heart wasn’t really in the gibe, and she realized she did feel better. Refreshed, unlike when she sat at her desk with a sandwich in a plastic triangle from the corner shop.

  On the way back to the office, she passed the receptionist, who recoiled. “Shit, are you okay? Are you sick or something?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because, like, you just sort of smiled at me.”

  * * * * **

  Back at her desk, Annie unpacked Polly’s box. She put the pretty stationery into the dusty desk-tidy, then on second thoughts wiped it down with her sleeve. God, it was filthy. She put the sparkly pens in a mug with Cotswolds Wildlife Park on it, where they’d taken Jacob on his first ever day out. His last, too, as it turned out. For months afterward she’d played it over in her mind. Had he caught a chill? Picked up an infection? She placed the plant beside her monitor, touching the thick green leaves. Hyacinth, bright pink. She’d grown ones just like it in her little garden. She wondered if Mike and Jane were looking after them now.

  Sharon sniffed loudly, which was her way of getting Annie’s attention without having to say her name. “You were late back from lunch. That’s ten minutes.”

  Annie sighed. “I’ll put it on my time sheet.”

  “And you should answer that message. I don’t have time to be taking your personal calls all day.”

  “What message?”

  “Left it on your desk. Some foreign woman rang.”

  Annie hunted around, eventually finding the scrap of paper under the desk, alongside a sizable dust bunny. She shot Sharon a dirty look, but her colleague had gone back to her very important work (Farm World). She unfolded it, and for a moment a thrill of horror went through her. This was her fault. She’d taken a break, let herself feel all right for a moment. And now look. She shot up, fumbling for her bag.

  “Where you going?” shouted Sharon. “You’ve got time to make up!”

  Annie ignored her. She really couldn’t care less about the time sheets right now.

  * * * * **

  It was nearly forty minutes before she reached the ward, panting and sweating into her nylon top. “My mum...she’s taken a turn for the worse?”

  “Who?” The receptionist didn’t even look up.

  “Maureen Clarke. Please, is she all right?”

  “Hang on.” She tapped at the keyboard while Annie’s blood boiled. Why were all these women so unhelpful?

  “Annie? Is that you?” She turned at the sound of the Scottish accent, to see Polly’s neurologist. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, his curly hair sticking up and his white shirt creased.

  “I got a message, my mum...”

  “Aye, she had us a wee bit worried there, but she’s okay, don’t take on so.”

  “What happened?” Annie’s heart gradually slowed. “Why are you treating her—aren’t you Neurology?”

  “Polly asked if I’d take a look at her chart. Not really my area, of course, but I know a bit.”

  “Oh.” Was Polly planning to infiltrate every area of Annie’s life?

  “Your mother was...” He sighed. “Well, she was a bit agitated. Thought we were keeping her in prison. Look, why don’t you come with me. I want you to meet a colleague of mine.”

  Annie followed him down the corridor, which was painted the color of baby puke. She noticed people nod to him as they passed—orderlies, porters, cleaners. “Afternoon, Dr. Fraser. Hi, Max.” And he nodded back, not breaking his stride. They’d reached a door now, and he swiped his pass over it.

  “Mum’s locked in?”

  “For now. Annie, we thought she might hurt someone.”

  Her mother was in the bed, wearing just a hospital gown, shivering as if she was freezing cold, looking around the room with hunted eyes. Annie started to rush forward, then stopped, horrified. “She’s chained up!”

  “Och, Annie, it’s just a standard restraint. I know it looks bad, but trust me, it’s keeping her safe.” Her mum’s wrist, thin as a child’s, was encased in a foam band attached to the bed. Worse, Annie could see from the way her mother’s eyes skipped over her that once again she did not recognize her daughter, her only child. That, in this moment, Annie meant as much to her as the padded hospital bed and the yellow sharps bin and the beeping monitor she was hooked up to.

  The door opened again and in came a tall man in a spotless white coat. “Who is this?” he said crossly. Annie couldn’t place the accent. “Mrs. Clarke should be kept
in isolation, I said.”

  “That’s why she’s bloody terrified.” Annie felt angry tears in her eyes. “Please. Did you have to tie her up, like an animal?”

  The man—she could now see he was frighteningly handsome, with smooth olive skin, slicked-back black hair and the kind of cheekbones models would kill for—raised an eyebrow. “Dr. Fraser? What’s going on here?”

  Dr. Fraser rubbed a hand over his tired face, making his bushy eyebrows stick up. “This is Mrs. Clarke’s daughter, Sami. I thought you could explain some of the treatment options to her. Why don’t we go into your office?”

  Annie protested. “I can’t leave my mum like this!”

  “Dr. Fraser is right. Your presence is upsetting her. Please.” The other doctor ushered them into a small side room. Annie caught a glimpse of her mother’s terrified, confused eyes as the door shut behind them. She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know me.

  “Sit down, please.” Dr. Handsome motioned to a plastic chair and Annie sat, broken by anger and sadness. “Miss Clarke...”

  “It’s Ms. Hebden.” Why would he assume she wasn’t married? Did she just have that look about her?

  He frowned at the interruption. “Your mother is very ill. She had what we call a dissociative episode and threw a chair at one of the nursing staff. Luckily no one was hurt, but we can’t take that risk again.”

  Stunned, Annie looked to Dr. Fraser for confirmation. He shrugged uncomfortably: it was true. “But...she’s tiny.”

  “People can be very strong when in the grip of dementia. I’d like to take your mother onto my service. I’m the new consultant geriatrician here, Dr. Quarani. We need to talk about options.”

  Annie nodded dully. “Is there anything you can do?” She was staring hard at his desk, trying not to cry. On it was a framed photo of a beautiful woman with red lipstick and a headscarf, two young children hanging off her. A perfect family.

  “There’s a clinical trial. A new drug. It’s been quite effective for certain forms of dementia.”

  Annie looked up. “It might help?”

  “We believe it can slow the progress of the disease in early onset cases like your mother’s, calm the patients down somewhat. It works by regenerating some of the neurons in the brain. You understand we can’t reverse the damage that’s already been done?”

  Annie knew the disease had already done its work, twisting and tangling her mum’s brain synapses, mixing up her memories like a drawer dumped out on the floor. “But you could maybe stop it going further?”

  “Slow it, perhaps. But Ms. Hebden, there are side effects, as with all medications. It’s experimental. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “You can think about it if you want, Annie,” said Dr. Fraser.

  Dr. Quarani frowned again. “Mrs. Clarke should start the protocol as soon as possible. I want to move her to the geriatrics ward today. I’d like to keep her in for observation during the trial, so I can monitor the progress of the treatment.”

  Geriatrics. Annie’s mum wasn’t even sixty yet, and she was being lumped in with old people, the ones with no time and no hope. “If I say no, what will happen?”

  “She’ll have to vacate the bed in a few days and be released to your care. I would suggest you think about a care home.”

  And how much would that cost? Would she be able to find somewhere decent? Annie nodded dully. “I think—I think it sounds like a good idea. The trial. If you’re sure.”

  Suddenly, he smiled, and Annie blinked. He was dazzling. “Thank you, Ms. Hebden. I’ll find you an information pack. Please.” He held open the door again and, rather stunned, Annie went through it. Her mother was lying there, small and quiet, only her eyes moving.

  “Don’t mind Sami,” said Dr. Fraser, closing the door behind them. “He’s a good man, even if his bedside manner is a bit...brusque. Just not used to the way British patients want your arm and your leg as well as everything else.”

  “Is it a good idea?”

  “It’s the only chance. Doesn’t mean it’ll work. But...she’s not going to get better like this.” They both turned to the woman on the bed, who stared at them as if she might be able to work out what was going on, if only she concentrated hard enough.

  “You two...”

  Annie waited.

  “Are you my lawyers? Because I didn’t do it, I’m sure. Whatever it was.”

  “No, Mum,” Annie said wearily. “You aren’t in prison. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But I think I did.” She heaved in a big panicky breath that turned into a sob. “I just don’t know what it was. Can you call Andrew, please? Call him to come and get me?”

  “Mum...” Annie stopped herself. Not this again. “I’ll call him. I promise.”

  “We can give her a shot,” Dr. Fraser said gently. “Let her sleep for now, and you can have a think about what Sami said. If you have any questions, just ask me, okay? I’m a neurologist really, but there’s a lot of crossover with Geriatrics, unfortunately.”

  “Thanks.” Annie wanted to go to her mother, hug her or something, but she knew her skin would feel like ice, the pulse fluttering underneath it like a frightened bird. And it would be terrifying for her, to be hugged by a total stranger. “I better get back to work. I’m already in trouble.”

  “They’ll understand, surely?”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it. Thank you, Dr. Fraser.”

  “Please, call me Max. Dr. Max, if you want.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Going out, trailing back down the misery-colored corridor, she passed Polly. She was sitting on a gurney, chatting to a cleaner who was leaning on a mop, laughing. “Annie!” she cried, jumping down. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

  Annie swallowed her tears. “How come you’re here again?”

  “Well, basically the MRI machine is massively overstretched, so I sort of hang about most days and wait for a gap so I can have my scan.” Polly must have seen her face. “Oh, Annie! Are you okay? Is it your mum? Come here, sit down.”

  Annie collapsed onto a waiting room chair, noticing the rip in the plastic covering. Spilling its guts, just like she felt. “She—she’s having a bad day. Doesn’t know who I am. She got very upset—they had to restrain her.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must be awful.”

  There was this woman, this virtual stranger with more than enough problems of her own, patting Annie’s arm. As if she really cared. How did she manage that? Annie took in a bubbly breath. There has to be more than this. Something was clearly working for Polly, whatever it was. And she was too tired to fight now, too tired to hold out against the one corner of color and positivity in her life.

  “That hundred-days idea?” she heard herself say. “I’ll do it. I mean, if you want me to.”

  “Of course I do. We both have to keep coming here...we may as well try to enjoy it.”

  Annie couldn’t even begin to imagine how she’d ever enjoy this—how she’d ever not hate every second of it. How she’d find anything at all to be happy about in her life. But as with the drugs trial, when there was no other option, you had to do something rather than nothing. “Okay,” she said. “I’m in. Just as long as I don’t have to swim with dolphins.”

  “You don’t want to swim with dolphins?”

  Annie shuddered. “I can’t think of anything worse.”

  “But dolphins! Everyone loves them.”

  “I don’t. They always look like they’re planning something. Nothing that smiles that much can be trusted.”

  Polly burst out laughing. “Oh, Annie, you’re hilarious. I promise, not a sea creature in sight. Why don’t you come over to mine on Saturday—we can compare our lists for the week, okay?”

  It was years since Annie had been around to someone
’s house. Since she’d made a new friend, or socialized at all. The idea was terrifying. But she made herself say, “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  DAY 5

  Get active

  Annie stood over her chest of drawers, holding the swimsuit she’d unearthed. Tastefully substantial, in black-and-white stripes, she’d bought it for a holiday in Greece with Mike. It was supposed to be their last just the two of them, and in a way it had been—they’d never gone on holiday together again, and now never would. She held it to her briefly. The smell of salt and sun cream lingered in the fabric, reminding her of when she’d been happy. Turquoise seas and the whisper of the ceiling fan and waking to squares of sunlight on the wooden floor.

  It would have been so easy to put it back, give up on the cold public pool with its grubby changing rooms, but she wanted to have something to tell Polly the next day. And so she packed the suit into a bag, along with a towel and an old-lady swim cap covered in plastic flowers. And when she blundered into the pool at lunchtime, she found herself smiling at an over-sixties water aerobics club attired in similar headgear, and they waved at her, and she waved back shyly, wondering if she might be able to take her mother to something like that one day, if the trial worked. Realizing that without her even knowing it, hope had somehow lodged itself in her heart again after years of being AWOL.

  DAY 6

  Celebrate your body

  “Oh, God! Sorry, Annie, I forgot you were coming.”

  Annie blinked at Polly, who was standing in the doorway of the beautiful three-story house she’d said to come around to. Her jaw fell open. “Um, should I go?”

  “No, no, come on through. I’m really sorry. It’s just Bob, you see. Makes me forgetful.”

  Annie stared at the floor, which was tiled in a blue-and-white mosaic. Did Polly realize? Maybe this was a symptom of the cancer. “Um, are your family in?” She knew this was Polly’s parents’ house, though not why Polly was living there.

  “No, they’re all out.”

  Thank God for that. “Um, Polly...”