by Eva Woods
Annie’s mother was fidgeting, her hands restless on her lap. “What is it? Are you the dentist, dear?”
“No, I’m not the... Are your teeth sore, Mum?”
She peered over Annie’s right shoulder, at nothing. “It was the toffees did the damage. Sally always did like them, but they pulled her teeth right out!”
“Right, okay, Mum, but try to listen, okay? I’m going away for a few days, but I promise I’ll be back soon. It’s only Scotland.”
“Oh, you can say hello to Andrew, then.”
Annie frowned. “Andrew? Mum, what do you mean?” Why was she suddenly mentioning him all the time? When Annie was growing up her father had been almost a taboo subject, brought up only as an answer for why Annie couldn’t go to university or on the school ski trip. We aren’t made of money. Don’t wish for the moon. “Mum? Did you understand what I said?”
“Of course,” she said crossly. “You’re going on holiday.”
Her mother used to always come over when Annie and Mike went on holiday, to water the plants, collect the post and doubtless have a good snoop in the cupboards. They’d usually come back to find every piece of china taken out and washed in baking soda. It had been annoying—Mike had always rolled his eyes—but at least there was someone looking out for her. Now she wasn’t even sure her mother would notice she was gone. “That’s right. You see, I’ve been fired from my job. Well, I quit.”
“Your job?” Her eyes passed over Annie, watery blue.
“I’m sorry, Mum. I promise we’ll be okay. I just couldn’t stay there for another second.”
“Quite right, too, dear. Why should you be working, a young girl like you? You should be at home looking after your kiddies.”
Annie watched the hands. “Mum, are you all right? You seem restless.”
“Oh, I just wish I’d brought my knitting. The queue is so long in this dentist’s. I feel like I’ve been here for weeks!”
She hadn’t knitted since her diagnosis, but before that she’d been an expert, capable of intricate patterns—socks, hats, jumpers, the works. “I can get some wool, Mum. If the doctors say you can have knitting needles.”
She saw Dr. Quarani approach. “Hello, Doctor. I’m just trying to explain I’m going away.”
“So I hear.” He made a mark on the chart. “Dr. Fraser, too. It’s his first holiday in five years. Try not to worry, Ms. Hebden. I’ll take care of your mother. She won’t be distressed if you don’t come for a few days.”
No, because she still had no idea who Annie was. Sometimes she didn’t even remember she had a daughter at all. Sometimes she thought she was five, or eighteen. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She wondered when he’d last had a holiday himself. He was always so controlled, so distant. It was hard to imagine him having a life at all.
DAY 52
Buy new clothes
“No way,” Polly said decisively.
“But I like it!” Annie held it protectively. It was her favorite hoodie; she’d had it since she was seventeen.
“There are literally teenagers who are younger than that jumper. Get yourself something new, for God’s sake! There’s a whole world of clothes out there. And don’t tell me you can’t afford it, because you can’t have bought anything new since 2003.”
Annie scowled. “I hate shopping. Those changing rooms are always so tiny, and the light is so bad, and nothing ever fits me. Anyway, I’m unemployed now. I have to save my pennies.” Polly might only have a few months left, but Annie had to somehow manage for the rest of her life, and take care of her mum, too. When she thought about it, her stomach felt like it was back on that roller coaster.
Polly was sitting on Annie’s bed, her head covered in a floppy straw hat. She sighed. “Annie, I wish I could make you understand. I’m not saying blow all your cash. Just that, maybe, some of your clothes are past their best, and maybe, replacing them might give you a little boost?” She looked pointedly at Annie’s saggy black top, the fabric all bobbled around the neck. “Anyway, won’t you need some things for interviews?”
Interviews. Of course. Annie began to nod, reluctantly. “I suppose.”
“And look, if you feel guilty spending money on yourself, get someone else a present, too. That’s what I always do. Used to drive Tom nuts. He had more pairs of socks than a millipede in winter. Anyway,” she said, nodding to the corner of the room. “I’m afraid that jumper’s a goner.”
Annie leaped to her feet, pulling her hoodie away from Buster, who had somehow sneaked into her room and chewed the pocket off, all in the past minute. “Bad boy! Don’t eat my clothes!”
“Oh, he’s not a bad boy, he’s a good boy, a good boy.” Polly took him, crooning and kissing. “Don’t listen to nasty old Annie, you’re not a bad boy.” Buster coughed, and spat out a scrap of fabric.
“Easy for you to say, Polly, he hasn’t eaten all of your shoes, has he?”
“All the more reason to buy new ones.” Polly smiled triumphantly.
“Well, okay. But I meant what I said about going to the shops.”
Polly set Buster down on the bed—Annie tried not to wince at the thought of dog hairs on her nice new sheets—and held out a thin hand. “Give me your laptop.”
“Why?”
“Just give it.”
Annie complied, passing over the dust-covered hulk. Polly winced. “We’ll talk about accessories after. But for now, let me introduce you to the delights of next-day delivery.”
DAY 53
Give a present
“So I was just getting a few things for myself and I thought I’d... Does it fit?”
Jonny was speechless, looking at the jacket she’d bought during her online shop. Fleece-lined and waterproof, it seemed like something you’d want if you were stuck outside all the time.
“Is it okay?” Annie felt wretched. Was it patronizing? Would he rather have money?
Jonny made a sudden movement, and she realized he was crying. “I’m so sorry!” she said. “I just noticed you had holes in your jacket and I—”
“I haven’t had anything new in two years,” he said in a strangled voice. “It even smells new. Not like jumble sales or old people or damp.” He stripped off the old rag he had on—Annie tried hard not to wrinkle her nose at the stink—and buttoned up the new one. “How does it look?”
The blue fabric just set off his pallor and thin face, but Annie said, “Great. Looks good.”
“Thank you, uh...”
“Annie. I’m Annie.”
“Jonny.”
“I know, yeah.”
“Thank you, Annie.”
“It’s nothing. Really, it’s nothing.” Compared with everything she had, it really was nothing. Even if she’d lost her job, she was so far away from the street. She still had friends. A mother. Polly. “Listen, I’m going away for a few days, but if you need anything, will you let me know? I mean, I know you need...lots of things, I’m sure, but...”
He waved her away from the awkwardness. “I will. Have a good time, Annie.”
DAY 54
Take a road trip
“Absolutely, categorically no way.”
“But whhhhhhy?” wailed Polly.
“Because it’s my car. We are not having ABBA on. I forbid it.”
Polly, who was of course occupying the front seat, turned around to the others. Annie, Costas and George were all squeezed in the back of Dr. Max’s Renault, padded about with Polly’s things. Polly raised her eyebrows at Annie. You ask him.
Annie shook her head. “So what music do you like, then?” she asked him. Polly mimed sticking fingers down her throat. Annie ignored her.
“Your usual dad-rock. Clapton, Fleetwood Mac. And jazz, of course.”
George groaned. “Dear God, not jazz. How about show tunes? I’ve got the Miss Saigon soundtrack on my Spotify.”
“Why not some disco?” Costas said, muffled by Polly’s ski coat. “Donna Summer! Frankie Go to Hollywood!” At his feet Buster squeaked in agreement. Dr. Max had reluctantly agreed to bring him as long as he sat on newspaper. “As if a bit of puppy wee could make that car any worse,” Polly had remarked.
George ruffled Costas’s hair. “That’s so passé. You’re cute.”
“No show tunes,” Dr. Max said firmly. “I’m sorry, George. I’d literally have to give myself a lobotomy if I listened to show tunes for the next ten hours.” He met her eyes in the mirror. “Annie, why don’t you pick? You’re sensible.”
“Um...” Annie tried very hard not to look at Polly. “To be honest, I love ABBA, too.”
“Fine, I’m overruled.” He sighed and jabbed a finger at the stereo, which began pumping out “Dancing Queen.” As everyone—even Dr. Max—lifted their voices to the chorus, the glorious rise of notes that couldn’t help but tug your heart up with it, Annie looked up to see Polly had her eyes closed, a blissful smile on her wan face.
DAY 55
Overcome a fear
Annie eyed the procession of skiers traveling slowly up the mountain on a sort of moving walkway. Dr. Max had called it a magic carpet, but it didn’t look like anything from Aladdin, creaking along as it was in the driving snow, which was already making Annie’s face feel numb and frozen like after a trip to the dentist. “It’s very high.” She should have known the trip would involve various terrifying feats. Bloody Polly.
“Not really. No’ but a hundred feet.” His Scottish accent had broadened now they were over the border, and he sounded cheerier, less gloomy. He was kitted out in sensible black ski gear, sleek as an otter. Annie, who obviously didn’t own any ski stuff, felt stupid in her walking trousers and raincoat. It was worn over so many jumpers she worried she might roll down the hill like a ball if she fell over. Which was very likely. She shifted nervously; the skis felt heavy and clunky on her feet, like hobbit paws.
“I’m not sure about this. I only did it once before, on a school trip to the indoor one in Milton Keynes. Do you think she’ll mind if I bail?”
There’d been a fierce argument between Polly and Dr. Max over whether or not she could ski. It was too cold, he said, and her bones were so weak a fall could finish her off. But she was adamant. She wasn’t going to die without going skiing one last time. She’d never fallen in her life, and she would stick to gentle slopes and take lots of hot chocolate breaks. Of course she had won. Polly was already swooping elegantly down the nursery slope, rosy-cheeked in a pink ski suit, her remaining blond hair held back by a cute bobble hat. She looked like the popular girls at school, the rich ones who went to the Alps at half-term while Annie and her mum sat watching Doris Day films. The ones who’d never have spoken to Annie in a million years, who laughed at her frumpy vests and home-sewn clothes. And yet here she was, twenty years on, part of Polly’s inner circle.
George slammed past, churning up powder. “Might try that black run next. Up for it, Max?” Costas, who came from sunnier climes, had refused to even try, and was drinking Baileys-laced hot chocolate in the café with Buster.
Dr. Max looked at Annie, still struggling toward the lift like a newborn foal. “I’ll stay here for now. Not for Polly, either! A broken leg won’t give her too many happy days.” Polly stuck out her tongue as she glided past on another run. Annie still hadn’t gone up. She was frozen at the bottom of the lift, holding up the queue.
“Excuse me.”
She moved aside to let the next person on. “Oh, God. That kid can’t be more than four.”
“Aye, they start them young.” How good might Annie have been at it if she’d had parents who took her skiing, instead of starting now, like a clumsy adult baby? It wasn’t fair. “You don’t have to do it,” Dr. Max said, looking longingly at the high slopes, smooth and white as hotel sheets. “Polly will understand.”
“It’s just it isn’t making me very happy right now. More utterly terrified.”
He shifted his skis. They were tangled in hers, like feet entwined in bed in the morning. “The thing about happiness, Annie—sometimes it’s in the contrasts. Hot bath on a cold day. Cool drink in the sun. That feeling when your car almost skids on the ice for a second and then you’re fine—it’s hard to really appreciate things unless you know what it’s like without them.”
Annie looked up the slope. It seemed very high to her, and yet toddlers were zooming down it, little legs set wide and sturdy. She pushed hair from her face, her goggles steamed up in the cold. “Don’t you want to try the harder slopes?” she said hopefully. If he left, then she could sneak off to the bar.
“Och, no, I can go anytime.”
But Polly couldn’t. This would likely be her very last chance to glide down, feeling the air rush cold and clear into her lungs, hearing the crisp schwwoop of the snow as she slid over it. And Annie could do it for the rest of her life and here she was, too afraid to go on the nursery slope. “Will you help me get on the lift?” she asked.
* * *
She was clinging to him for dear life. His hands, his precious surgical hands, must be in danger of dropping off. He kept up a soothing monologue as she lurched off the lift, walking like a drunk giraffe. “That’s it. Good girl. On you come.”
Annie felt the surface beneath her slip and slide as she ground her skis in so hard she left grooves in the snow. “Oh, God. Oh, God!”
“Annie?” he panted. “Can I give you some advice? Don’t dig in so hard you never actually go anywhere. Okay?”
For a moment she thought he meant in life—that he was giving her a Polly-style inspirational quote. Then she understood. She slackened off her snowplow and felt the ground slide under her. “Don’t let go. Don’t let go!”
He let go. She was moving—she was flying. Gravity had her and she was sliding away from him down the slope. He yelled, “Snowplow. Snowplowwww!”
Annie tried to push her legs out, V-shaped as he’d shown her. But she didn’t have the strength. She realized a second before that she was absolutely, 100 percent going to fall, arms waving, legs wobbling. Then he was beside her, shooting down in a blur of black. “Snowplow! Turn to the left! The left!”
Annie leaned hard on her right leg, and she turned. But she turned straight into him, and for a second his face went into a comical O of shock, and she fell in a heap on top of him. “Oof!”
Winded, they lay there on the snow, as toddlers shot past them. “God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Your hands!”
He was under her, struggling for breath. “I’ll be...okay.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.”
“Och, Annie. Everyone falls over. It’s how you learn. Can you get up again?”
Polly zoomed past, seeing them still entangled. “Jeez, get a ski lodge, you two.” Annie blushed, filled with some kind of strange guilt on top of her existing feelings of shame, fear and embarrassment. Dr. Max hauled her up, with difficulty.
“There you go,” he said. “You skied!”
“Er, I fell.”
“Don’t worry. That’s all skiing is—the bits between falling. You just have to get up again.”
“Like life,” Annie said shakily. “Except I can’t get up by myself.”
“Well, in skiing, like in life, you sometimes need another person to help you up. Come here.” He brushed snow off her back. “Ready to go on?”
She looked down the slope. She’d already fallen, so what else could go wrong? After all, people fell over all the time, and it didn’t mean she was clumsy or stupid or useless. It just meant she was...learning. “Show me what I did wrong that time,” she said, sticking her ski poles firmly into the snow.
DAY 56<
br />
See the wonders of nature
“I saw it! I saw it! That was definitely a tail!” Everyone ran over to the side of the small boat, making it rock alarmingly. Annie braced herself against the side.
Dr. Max was wearing a blue North Face jacket speckled with rain. Drops of it were caught in his beanie hat and the beard he was letting himself grow away from the hospital. It was already impressive; he didn’t have a five-o’clock shadow so much as a 10:00 a.m. one. “Did you see it?”
She shook her head. “Just trying not to fall in.”
“Here.” He held out his binoculars, which were heavy and cold.
She peered in but the sea was just a gray blur. “I can’t see anything.”
“Let me show you.” He leaned over her, and she held her breath. His voice was in her ear. “There. Over to the left. See the wee tail flick up? That’s a pilot whale.”
Annie looked. She couldn’t see it. Nothing but gray, gray, gray, then... “I saw something!” So quick you’d miss it, like a flicker of desire coming and going in your stomach. “And there’s...oh, my God!” As she watched, three dolphins flipped out of the water and back in again, kicking up water. It was so fast.
He laughed at her astonished face. “They play with the whales, naughty wee buggers.”
“Why do they do that, jump out like that?”
He took the binoculars back, looping them around his strong wrists. “Just for fun. For happiness, you might say.”
“Jumping for joy,” she said, eyes fixed on the water.
“Aye. Never understood why people are always so keen on swimming with them, though. Must be horrible for the poor beasties. They’re intelligent creatures.”
Annie nodded so vigorously her hat almost fell off. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Oh, God. Why do you all look so happy? Oh, God. This is horrendous.” George stumbled past, ashen-faced, and puked loudly over the side. His orange life jacket clashed horribly with his gray face.
