Something Like Happy

by Eva Woods

  The woman—Sarah—blinked hard. She looked at Morag, and the two seemed to have a hurried silent conversation. Sarah sighed and turned back to Annie. “Oh, hen. You don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?” Annie felt rising panic again. Her hands clenched.

  “Well, Andrew—your dad...” Annie thought she might be sick. “I’m sorry, hen, but he passed away two years back.”

  Annie didn’t understand. There were words, and they were in English, but somehow the meaning of them could not sink in. “Oh.” There was a noise from the kitchen, and the girl—Morag—let out a choking sob and dashed from the room, throwing the box of tea bags into the sink.

  Sarah sighed again. “Poor wee thing. She was very close to her daddy.”

  Her daddy. Her daddy. So that meant... “I’m sorry. I’m not really... A friend of mine—well, I say ‘friend’ but I’m actually pretty cross with her right now—she tried to find him for me because she knew we’d never met, well, not that I can remember, anyway, and she gave me this address and I came and—”

  “So you really knew nothing. Dear God, hen, what was that mother of yours thinking? I wrote when he got sick. I thought you should both know. She didn’t tell you?”

  “My mum’s not well. She...she gets confused.” Had her mother known he was dead? Was that why she kept talking about him? “But...did Mum not reply?” Annie wasn’t understanding any of this.

  “Let me explain, hen. I can see you’re all at sea. Andrew—your daddy—he lived here, yes. You’ve come to the right place. And I’m—I was—his wife, and Morag there, she’s your sister. Half sister. Your dad, he got sick a few years back, and I wrote to your mum. And your mum, she wrote back, all about you and that you’d had your baby. She wanted him to know.”

  Jacob. Her father had known about Jacob. “Oh.”

  “He was ever so pleased, love. He’d wanted to get in touch for years, ever since Morag was born, but he thought—he didn’t know what your mum would say. When she replied he thought he’d get to see you before he... She didn’t pass it on?”

  Annie shook her head slowly. “She already had it by then. The dementia. Maybe she forgot, or maybe...oh, I don’t know.”

  Sarah looked stricken. “Oh, hen. I am sorry. Your dad wasn’t verra well himself at the time. He didn’t have long left. If only—ah, well. It can’t be helped.”

  Annie wasn’t sure what happened next. All she knew was she needed Dr. Max, needed him like you need a life buoy when you’re drowning in the ocean. She got up, upsetting her tea over the beige carpet, and ran out, crunching over the ground to him, waving her hands hysterically. He opened the car door, laying aside Jilly Cooper. “What...?”

  She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt the tears cold on her face. “He’s dead. He’s dead, Dr. Max. My dad is dead.”

  * * *

  Annie was vaguely aware of things. The warmth and crackle of the fire on the backs of her hands. Sarah and Dr. Max in the kitchen, murmuring to each other in low Scottish voices, the kettle boiling, the clink of cups. He had, she thought, tactfully explained the situation with Annie and her mum and Jacob. The light was fading outside—they wouldn’t make it back now before the real weather set in. Snow was already whirling around the windows, until Sarah whisked the curtains closed. She pushed a mug into Annie’s hands, which were cradling her head. “Drink that. You’ve had a shock.”

  “I’m sorry. I just—I never thought I’d even meet him. I thought he was gone, and then suddenly I thought I might meet him, after all, and...I never will now.”

  “He wanted to meet you. He knew he’d not done right by you, love. I tried to get him to write for years, but he was afraid.”

  Dimly, Annie felt the blow, and knew she would suffer for it later. Her mother hadn’t told her they were in touch, for whatever reason—and now it was too late. That was what death meant. It meant it was too late for everything. There was no way back. No wonder Polly was trying to do so many things, be so many different people, all in the space of a hundred days. Once she was gone, it would be as if she’d never existed, and the rest of them would have to turn around and keep trudging on. Annie swallowed some tea, hardly tasting it. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.”

  “We wanted you to, love. I wrote inviting you to the funeral.”

  Her father’s funeral. He’d been buried and she hadn’t even known. If she’d found out in time, she could have met him. Forgiven him, maybe, for running out on her and Maureen. So many emotions were swirling in her head, she felt like she was in the middle of a blizzard. At least one person could understand. As Sarah and Dr. Max busied themselves in the kitchen, making yet more tea, just for something to do—Morag crept back into the room, her eyes red. “Hi,” Annie tried.

  “Hmph.”

  “I’m sorry about this. I had no idea—I didn’t know about you. I swear.”

  “So...you’re, like, my sister or something?”

  “I guess so.” It was so strange. A lifetime of being an only child, of having only her mother, and now there was this girl, sneaking looks at Annie out of the corner of her eye. A sister. “How old are you?” asked Annie.

  “Fifteen.” Reluctantly, she flicked her eyes to Annie. “You?”

  “Way older. Thirty-five.” So she’d been twenty when this girl was born. Working already, dating Mike. Morag could have been her flower girl at the wedding. But no, it couldn’t have been like that. There was no point in all these what-ifs. There never was.

  Morag leaned in, lowering her voice. “Is that your husband? Or your boyfriend or something?”

  “Dr. Max? Oh! No, no, he’s not. He’s...” She looked over at him, moving around the unfamiliar kitchen like he moved around his operating theater, picking up mugs and spoons, totally focused. His hair was damp with snow and his fleece was old and ratty. He must have felt her look because he glanced up, and mouthed a quick, Okay? Annie tried to summon up a smile back, but couldn’t quite manage it. She was going to need time. There was so much to explain. That she’d had a husband, but didn’t now, and Dr. Max definitely wasn’t it. And it hit her, suddenly. Jacob had been part of this family, too. He’d been her father’s grandson, and Morag’s nephew, but they would never know him. A fresh wave of loss slammed into her and she leaned back slightly, as if from a physical blow. “He’s just my friend,” she said.

  Morag was watching her carefully. Her eyes were the same as Annie’s own—blue, watchful. Their father’s eyes—she’d never known. Annie wondered what else they’d inherited. His inability to stay in anything, not a job, not a marriage? At least, that was how her mother had described him. But he’d stayed here, hadn’t he? Morag was fifteen or so. Fifteen more years than he’d had with his other daughter.

  The feelings were swamping her. That her father had chosen this other life, other family, other child. That she had no one now. He was dead; her mother was lost in the darkness. And Polly. Soon Polly would be gone, too. She stood up, shakily. “I’m sorry,” she said, raising her voice so they could hear her over the boiling kettle. “I think we better go.”

  Sarah looked disappointed. “Oh, hen! I thought you were stopping for dinner? You can stay the night, too, if you like.”

  “No. No, we can’t. Our—my friend’s ill. We need to leave early tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure?” Dr. Max had a flowered tea towel over his shoulder—it seemed he’d been washing up. “It’s no trouble to stay awhile, Annie.”

  Why couldn’t he understand? She started looking around for her bag, ignoring the hostile expression that had crept back onto Morag’s tearstained face. “No. We should go. Will you take me, please?”

  * * *

  Much, much later, in the wee small hours of the night, as Dr. Max described it, the car pulled up at the gate of his mother’s house. It was icy cold, a
nd still, not a breath of a mouse stirring around. Annie was stiff and freezing, her eyes sore. She hadn’t spoken the whole way back, over dark hills and rivers, the headlights catching the glowing eyes of nighttime animals. “We could have stayed, you know,” he said, turning off the engine.

  She stared at her cold hands. He must be disappointed in her. She’d been cold, she knew, and awkward. “It’s a bit much to take, okay? Finding out my dad lives here, only then I find out he’s dead, and guess what, he was trying to meet me only Mum never passed on the letters, and I can’t ask her why because she thinks I’m her friend from school, oh, and I also have a sister I never knew about.”

  “I know. I know it’s a lot. But...they were really trying. It’s not their fault.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s none of your business.”

  He paused for a moment. “I know it isn’t.”

  “Look, I’m grateful to you for taking me. It’s just—it doesn’t seem fair. That I could have seen him, could have known him, but I’m too late. Story of my life. Nothing ever works out.”

  She had the impression he was trying very hard not to snap at her. “Annie, I know things have happened to you, bad things... It must have been dreadful. But you’re not the only one, okay? Polly’s dying. Her family are going to lose their sister, their daughter, at thirty-five. And Dr. Quarani—you know he’s from Syria? Came here on a work visa but they wouldn’t let the rest of his family in, so he’s working all the hours he can to try and get them out. His sister’s stuck in Aleppo with her two little kids. He’s got their picture in his office—you might have seen it. No one’s heard from his brother in months. He’s basically all alone here, in a country that thinks he’s a parasite, while he works himself to the bone trying to save lives.”

  Yet more sadness, yet more suffering. “I didn’t know.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”

  “Well, you are.”

  “Sorry. But it’s just the facts.”

  They sat in silence for a while. Annie wiped her hands over her eyes, willing the tears to stay in. “That’s terrible. He must be so worried.”

  “It’s how life is there. Don’t tell Polly, okay? She’d only blab to the whole hospital or try to organize some kind of rescue mission. He just wants to do his job.”

  Annie saw that one light was still burning in the living room. “We should go in. Thank you for driving me.”

  “That’s okay. Will you maybe think about contacting them sometime? Once things have settled a bit?”

  “Maybe,” she muttered. She couldn’t imagine that things ever would settle. “Let’s just go in, okay? I’m tired. You must be, too.”

  Inside, the warmth hit them like a wall. Polly was curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, with her ski hat on her head. Buster slept in the crook of her arm, snuffling away. It must have been thirty degrees in the room, and she was still cold. Not a good sign. Her blue eyelids fluttered as they came in. “Oh, there you are. Good trip?”

  “Didn’t exactly go to plan,” Annie said stiffly.

  “Why not? The weather? Thought you’d be fine with your famous snooow tirrrres.” She put a cod Scottish accent on the words.

  “Annie’s had some bad news,” Dr. Max said, closing the door. “Maybe you shouldn’t—”

  “What’s happened now?” Polly yawned. She actually yawned. What did that mean, what’s happened now? Did she mean Annie was always finding problems, reasons to be sad?

  “My dad’s dead,” she said stiffly. “He died two years ago.”

  “Oh, God! Annie, I’m so sorry. That sucks.”

  “Yeah. I’ve also got a half sister I never even knew about.” She heard her voice tremble. “She’s fifteen.”

  Polly beamed. “But that’s awesome! A sister! I bet you’re glad I did all that digging now. And there you were all grouchy with me.”

  Annie’s hands clenched. “Polly, you shouldn’t have done it. It was up to me to look, if I ever wanted to.”

  “You wouldn’t have. You were too scared to shake things up. She wouldn’t, would she?” Polly appealed to Dr. Max, who was shutting the curtains and putting the fireguard on.

  “Leave me out of this,” he said shortly.

  “So what if I was?” said Annie. “It’s up to me. You can’t control every aspect of my life. You can’t just decide when it’s time for me to meet my dad, or find out I have a sister. What am I supposed to do with that? My dad’s gone, and she had him all her life. I had him for, like, a day and I don’t even remember. How am I meant to deal with that?” Polly rolled her eyes. Annie felt icy rage pour into her veins. “What?”

  “Oh, Annie. You’re so determined to feel miserable. You were sad you had no family left, and here I’ve found you a sister and you aren’t even grateful.”

  “You haven’t found me anything! You’re not God, Polly! You don’t get to push us all around!”

  “Annie, keep it down,” Dr. Max said reasonably. “Everyone’s in bed.”

  She turned on him. “You agree with me! You know she’s always interfering. You were the one who said she was unstable.” Annie was quivering all over. Polly was just staring at her, unmoved. She heard herself say, “I’m leaving. First thing tomorrow.”

  “We’re all leaving tomorrow. Don’t be so dramatic, Annie!” Polly drawled.

  “I’m leaving without you. I’ll get the train.”

  “Fine. If you want to make me do the journey by myself, when I’m ill.”

  “You’ve got your brother, and your neurologist, who incidentally is taking time off from saving lives to hang about in Scotland with you. Because everything always has to be about you.”

  Finally, Polly snapped. “Is that so much to ask for?” Her eyes blazed. “I got three months, Annie. That was all. One hundred days, to do everything I ever wanted. This cancer, it’s taken so much away from me. My hair. My dignity. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and no one will look at me except to see if I might be dying soon or stick needles in me. I have nothing, and you begrudge me a few days of attention? Jesus, Annie. I thought we were friends.”

  Annie gulped. She wasn’t going to let Polly play any more cancer cards. “Friends don’t push each other around like...like...a puppet on a string.”

  Polly laughed. A hard and unfriendly sound. “You’re mixing your metaphors, Annie. And where would you be if I hadn’t pushed you? Stuck in that job you hated, miserable, hating every day? Feeling sorry for yourself, wasting your life? You’ve no idea how lucky you are! I just helped you along.”

  “What do you mean?” Annie frowned. But as soon as she said it she realized she knew. The link to the YouTube video. Jeff never went on YouTube; he was far too dedicated to the job. What were the odds he’d just stumbled across it? Someone must have sent it. “You didn’t. Polly! Did you get me fired?”

  Polly shrugged. “Someone needed to. You were going mad in that place. I just gave you a little boost.”

  “You got me fired! How could you? You—you...you’re unbelievable. You’re the most selfish person on the planet.”

  “Good,” said Polly. “I want to be. At least that way people might remember me when I’m gone.”

  She felt Dr. Max’s hand on her arm. Not the way she would have liked him to touch her—gentle, loving—but warning. “I think you should stop this now. Go to bed, both of you.”

  Polly snarled, “Don’t think I don’t notice you two making eyes at each other. I bet you’re delighted—me dying’s worked out great for you. Fall in love over my dead body, why don’t you. It’s not fair. Everyone else will get to go on with their lives and I’ll be gone, dead and gone!”

  “No one’s in love,” Dr. Max said coldly. “You’re acting like children. Both of you. Now go to bed and we’ll sort this out tomorrow.”

  “I won’t
be here tomorrow,” Annie said, making her own voice cold, too. “Like I said, I’m going. I have a life to get back to and a job to find. Thanks to her.”

  DAY 59

  Travel

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the delay to this service, which is due to, er, cows on the track.”

  A loud groan went up.

  Annie hadn’t been able to get a seat on the packed train from Edinburgh, so she sat on her case near the loo as far as Doncaster, sniffing bleach and wee with every breath, people stepping over her. And what did she have to go back to? Costas and George were going to stay on in Scotland for a few days, because “Buster is so happy here.” So she’d be going back to her empty, damp flat—all those nights she’d longed for Costas to be miles away, and now she would miss him singing to himself in the room next door. Alone, it would be just her, a frozen pizza, a boxset, and back into the hospital to visit her mother again. She’d have to start staggering her visit times with Polly’s—although everyone in the damn place loved her so much, it would be hard to avoid her name. It wasn’t fair. Polly was doing a better job of dying than Annie ever had of living—popular, cool, making the world a better place with every day she had left. Whereas Annie just ruined it. She’d lost her best friend and husband and son, and now a father and a half sister, too. Her mother would go soon, as well, and then where would she be? Anchorless. Orphaned. Divorced. Annie felt it rise up in her, a wave of sadness, of hopelessness.

  “Are you okay, dear?” An old lady peered over her Take a Break at Annie.

  Annie stared hard at the grimy train floor. Make something up. Allergies. Peeling an onion. But there were no onions there, and so she let it go, a sob ripping out of her stomach. “I’m so sad. I’m just so sad.”

  “Oh, pet! Whatever’s the matter?”

  How could she explain all of it? Her mother, Mike, Jacob? “My...my best friend is dying,” she whispered, and then she was lost in an incoherent sobbing mess, snot running down her face.

  Everyone was so kind. The old lady—Patricia—said her best friend had died the year before—“Bless her, she made eighty-four, though she was furious she missed Wimbledon”—and that she understood how alone it made you feel. A squaddie with arm tattoos gave Annie his seat, and a student with dreadlocked hair fetched her tea from the buffet cart. She couldn’t drink it, she was crying so hard, but the gesture made her sob even more. “You’re all so niiccce. Thank. You,” she hiccupped.