An Ocean Apart

by Robin Pilcher

  “What’s happened?” David asked, glancing from one to the other.

  The man turned and started walking back towards the door. “The lady’s sick, sir, that’s what’s happened, and she’s made one hell of a mess inside my taxi. Jeez, I didn’t want to do the run, but she said she’d pay me double, and now I’ve gotta clean out the inside of—”

  “All right,” David cut in, holding up his hand. “Let’s get one thing at a time. Just tell us what happened first.” He looked over to where Jennifer sat slumped against the banister, clutching her arms around her stomach, a look of near-delirium set in her eyes. Jasmine had sat down beside her, a frightened look on her face, her arm around Jennifer’s shoulders.

  “Picked her up outside a restaurant opposite the Inter-Continental. New place, I think, so can’t remember the name. Said first that she wanted to go to the West Village, then she was as sick as a dog about three times, and then made me bring her out here. She said she’d eaten something that didn’t agree with her.”

  David looked at Jasmine. “Sounds like food poisoning. You’d better get the doctor fast, Jasmine.”

  “I can’t leave her sittin’ here, David. I gotta get her to bed.”

  “And I gotta get back to the city,” the taxi driver interjected. “I gotta clean out the mess in the back of the car, and that’s gonna take the best part of the night.”

  “How much is the fare?” David said, taking his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

  “A hundred bucks, and that only covers the fare. As I said, I gonna have to—”

  Jennifer let out a groan and keeled forward, throwing up a stream of liquid yellow vomit so forcefully that it covered her skirt and three feet of the floor in front of her, making Jasmine jump to the side to avoid being hit.

  David had a shiver of recognition at Jennifer’s plight, the whole scene sparking off a vision of instant déjà vu, as if a window, hitherto closed tight within his brain, had suddenly been opened.

  “You must be prepared for the worst with chemotherapy, David,” Dr. Spiers had said to him. “It can have some pretty unpleasant side effects. She’ll be depressed, frightened and very sick, but you must just give her your support, David, all the support and all the love and all the gentleness that you can.”

  This was all too familiar to him, and God, he’d had enough experience of it to know exactly how to act. It was like a switch being turned on in his brain, and he moved forward to take control of the situation, his actions as if on autopilot.

  He handed his wallet to Jasmine. “Pay him two hundred, then get hold of the doctor as fast as you can.”

  Jasmine rose to her feet. “But what about Jennifer, David? I gotta get her to bed.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  She looked at him warily.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, putting his hand reassuringly on her arm. “I know exactly what I’m doing.” He turned to the taxi driver. “Thanks for bringing her out. We really do appreciate it.”

  The taxi driver dolefully grunted his acceptance of David’s thanks and headed towards the front door followed by Jasmine, who still wore a look of worried uncertainty on her face. David skirted round the liquid on the floor and squatted down beside Jennifer.

  “Listen,” he said quietly to her. “I’m going to get you upstairs now. Do you think you can manage?”

  Jennifer raised her head to look at him, her eyes barely focusing on his face. He placed his hand under her armpit and gently raised her to her feet, but her legs seemed too weak to carry her weight and she slumped forward against his chest. Wrinkling his nose at the smell of her clothes, he pushed her limp body away from him, and placing one hand round her back and the other behind her knees, he lifted her up in one swift movement and carried her up the stairs as fast as he was able.

  Once on the landing, he suddenly realized that he had no idea in which direction her room was. He called down to Jasmine. “Which room is it?”

  “Turn right and second on the left. Are you sure you can manage, David?”

  “Yeah.” He walked along the corridor and pushed open the door and, having pressed the light switch with his elbow, he carried Jennifer over to the bed and laid her upon it.

  “Not down,” Jennifer said weakly, trying to get herself back into a sitting position. “Feel sick like that.”

  David helped her back upright and felt an involuntary retch shudder through his body, caused by the putrid smell of vomit.

  “Okay, try and stay like that for a moment. I’m just going to run you a bath, and then we’ll get you out of those clothes.” He looked over to a door that led off the bedroom. “Is that the bathroom?”

  Jennifer nodded weakly, too ill to complain, and followed him with her eyes as he walked across the room to the bathroom.

  Having turned on the taps, David grabbed a towel and returned to the bedroom to find Jennifer holding tight to the front of her blouse, a look of helplessness on her face. David leaned forward in front of her, resting his hands on his knees.

  “Jennifer, you’re going to have to trust me. I promise you, all I’m going to do is get you into the bath. Jasmine can take over after that, but I don’t think she can manage to do the lifting work by herself.”

  The kindness in David’s voice was too much for Jennifer. Her face suddenly creased up and she burst into tears, leaning slowly forward so her face rested on his arms.

  “This is so … degrading,” she said between sobs.

  “No, it’s not, Jennifer,” David said, putting a hand under her chin and turning her face up so that she was looking straight at him. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “It’s not that,” Jennifer said, pulling her face away from his hand and looking down into her lap. “I think that it may not be just the sick.”

  David squatted down on his haunches so that he could look up into her face. “Look, I promise you, I couldn’t give a damn. I’ve seen a lot worse than anything you can show me.” He paused. “I don’t mind, Jennifer, if you don’t mind.”

  Jennifer sniffed and nodded her head.

  “Come on, then, let’s get those clothes off.”

  Jennifer let go of the front of her skirt and put her hands to the side, and David calmly began to undo the buttons. He pulled the shirt off round her shoulders and let it fall to the ground, then, undoing the clasp and zip at the side of her skirt, he lifted her up enough to slide both that and her half-slip down over her legs.

  At that point, he heard Jasmine’s voice talking to him as she came up the stairs and along the corridor.

  “I called the doctor, David. Thank God he lives just down the street. I reckon he should be here any min——” She walked into the room to find Jennifer sitting on the bed in her bra and pants, with David standing in front of her. “David! What are you doin’? You shouldn’t be—”

  David looked over to her and held up a hand. “Jasmine,” he said in a quietly controlled voice, “could you just go and turn off the taps? The bath will nearly be overflowing by now. I’m going to get Jennifer into the bath and then you can take over.”

  Jasmine looked quickly at Jennifer, who turned enough to give her a brief nod. She went into the bathroom and turned off the water, swirling it around with her hand to check the temperature. Then, standing back from the bath, she found a position from where she could get a clear view of what was happening in the adjoining room.

  “Right, now I’m just going to put the towel round you and get everything else off, okay?”

  David flicked open the towel and wrapped it round Jennifer’s shoulders, then, reaching round her back, he undid her bra strap and pulled the bra free, letting it drop to the ground beside the shirt. Having inched her forward enough to slip the towel underneath her bottom, he gently rid her of her pants, and wrapping everything up into the skirt, he threw the soiled bundle over towards the door. Then, pulling the towel tight around Jennifer’s body, he hoisted her up from the bed and carried her towards the bathroom.


  Jasmine stood aside as David entered, dumbfounded at what she had just witnessed. It had been a scene of such gentleness and caring that she felt instantly ashamed for ever considering that there might have been any other motivation behind David’s actions. Every movement that she had seen him make was as if it had been rehearsed many times before—from the way he knew how to shift Jennifer’s body weight with little or no effort to how he wrapped her in the towel and tucked it neatly into its own folds.

  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you, David, my boy,” she said to herself as she watched him lower Jennifer’s feet into the water. “Yessir, you sure done this before.”

  “Is the temperature all right?” David asked.

  Jennifer nodded, and he turned to Jasmine, still with an arm around her waist. “Can you manage from here?”

  “Yup, I reckon so,” Jasmine said, coming forward and taking Jennifer’s weight on her arm.

  “Right, well, I’ll just go downstairs and clean up that mess. Give me a call when you’re finished and I’ll come back up and get her into bed.”

  Jasmine nodded slowly and watched him as he left the room. Then, turning to Jennifer, she removed the towel and gently lowered her into the bath.

  * * *

  The front doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, as David made his way down the stairs after having helped Jennifer back to her bed. He walked across the hall and opened the door, letting in a young man whose dishevelled appearance was indicative of the fact that he had obviously done more than his fair share of work that day.

  “Sorry I couldn’t be quicker. I was already out on a call when you phoned. So where’s the patient?”

  David pointed up the stairs. “Go right at the top and it’s the second door on the left.”

  The young man took off up the stairs, then turned back to David. “Has she been sick since you called?”

  “Yeah, once at least. Jasmine would know better. She’s up there with Mrs. Newman.”

  The doctor nodded. “Good. Better to get it all out.” He turned and continued his way up the stairs.

  David stood in the hall until he heard the bedroom door shut behind the doctor, then, thrusting his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, he walked through to the kitchen and put on the kettle. He shook his head. He needed more than a cup of coffee. A large whisky would be better. He made his way over to the refrigerator and took out a can of beer, then, walking to the table, he picked up the chair that he had knocked over and sat down, pulling off the ring of the can and taking a long drink.

  A flood of emotion suddenly coursed through his mind. Never had anything that he had done over the past few months brought back such vivid memories of Rachel. No, that wasn’t right. She was constantly right there at the surface of his thoughts, but until this time it had been the happy, carefree memories of her that had occupied his mind, never the bad ones. Now he began to remember the countless occasions on which he had comforted his wife, gently stroking the soft patchy bristle on her head, being all that remained of her shining brown hair, while she, contorted in pain, bent over the basin at the side of her bed. Once she had finished, he would lay her down carefully, wiping her face clean with a wash-cloth. Then her hand would feel for his, and he would hold it, carefully so as not to hurt its thin covering of flesh, and she would open up her eyes and they would sparkle at him, exactly the same way as when they had first met, all those years ago in Oxford. And they never lost their sparkle. Never, until the day that she—

  He heard the door of the kitchen open and, giving his eyes a rub and clearing his throat to rid it of the lump that had formed in his gullet, he turned to look at Jasmine. She smiled at him and walked over to the kettle.

  “It’s just boiled,” he said, his voice still choked.

  Jasmine looked at him and nodded and, taking a cup from the draining-board, she spooned instant coffee into it.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “She’ll be fine. The doctor gave her something to make her sleep. He reckons though that she’ll have to get rid of it all herself. He doesn’t know how long it will take. It can go on for some time, he says.”

  She poured water into her cup, and walking over to the table, she pulled out a chair and sat down beside him.

  “You all right?”

  David nodded.

  “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “No, I’m all right.”

  “Reckon now I can’t say much to her about what we were talking about.”

  David sat back in his chair and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  For a moment, Jasmine was silent, turning her coffee-cup round in circles on the table. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

  “Yeah?” he said, picking up his can of beer.

  “Are you a doctor or a nurse or somethin’?”

  David stopped and looked at her, the lip of the can pressed against his mouth. “What?”

  Jasmine leaned forward on the table towards him, an intent expression on her face. “David, you knew what you were doing up there. You said as much yourself. I saw it all. You’ve done that before—many times, I’d say. How come?”

  David continued to look at her.

  “Are you married, David?”

  He said nothing.

  “Because you were about to say something about you and someone else when we were talking earlier, just before Jennifer came back. Are the two things tied up, David? Is that why you’re lookin’ like you do right now?”

  He turned and stared out of the window into the darkness.

  “David? Do you want to talk about it?” Jasmine asked quietly.

  He looked back at her, then began in a faltering voice. “Yeah, I was married. For eighteen years, actually. That was until April.” He took a deep breath. “Rachel”—he paused and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand—“had ovarian cancer. It was not detected till too late, and she underwent treatment for about six months. I nursed her the whole time—no one else—hence what you might call my expertise in the job. But she died in April.” He turned and looked out the window once more. “And that’s it, really. Now you know the whole story of David Corstorphine.”

  Jasmine sat with her hands clasped over her mouth. “Oh, Lordy, I didn’t know, David. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  David shook his head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was going to tell you sometime, but didn’t really feel I was quite ready yet. Hadn’t quite exorcized the ghosts of the past. That’s really why I took this job—so that I could get away from it all. I didn’t want to think, let alone talk, about it.”

  “And here’s me puttin’ my big foot in it. Oh, I feel awful. I didn’t mean to get that out of you.”

  He smiled at her. “You know, Jasmine, you’ve been more help to me than anyone else. That’s the truth. Both you and Benji. You’ve taken me at face value. You haven’t once asked me about where I come from or what I’ve done. I really mean that, Jasmine, you couldn’t have done more good for me. And as for Benji, well, just being with him has helped me realize just how much I’ve missed my own children.”

  Jasmine let her hands fall with a thump to the table. She sat with her mouth wide open. “Children? You have children?” she asked incredulously.

  David nodded. “Three. Sophie, Charlie and Harriet.”

  “But where are they?”

  “At school.”

  “Yeah, I guessed that, but who’s looking after them at nights?”

  “They’re at a boarding-school.”

  “At a boarding-school? You mean they live in?”

  David nodded.

  “Do you mean to say that their mother died last April, and you have them at a boarding-school?” Jasmine exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief and slowly rising from her chair.

  “Yes, but—”

  “That is…” She paused, trying to think of the right word. “… unforgivable, David! How could you do that? I mean, how old is the youngest?
”

  “Nine.”

  “Nine? But that’s younger than Benji, David! Nine?”

  “Listen, Jasmine, it may be difficult for you to understand this, but the children were all away at school before their mother was ill, and when the time came to choose whether to continue with their present school or find somewhere nearer home, it was the children themselves who chose to go back. You see, they have all their friends there; they’re happy and secure; and for me, that is absolute. Even though I wanted them nearer home, I couldn’t go against their wishes, because that would have been both cruel and self-indulgent.”

  Jasmine stood eyeing him, her arms folded and her head on a tilt.

  “That’s as may be, but what I can’t understand is how you’ve felt able to … gallivant around having fun with Benji when your own children are … locked up in some boarding-school.”

  The remark hit a nerve, a painful one. He jumped up from his chair, banging his fist down on the table.

  “That is neither fair nor true, Jasmine! I love my children, more than you can ever imagine! I have been in constant touch with them since I’ve been over here, and they with me. And if it’s any of your business, I’m going back to Scotland at the beginning of next month, and we’re all going off on holiday together. Anyway, I was only meant to be here for a couple of days, but then I realized that I couldn’t go back, because…”

  He slumped back down in his chair, his anger having worked its way deep into his mind to batter at the defences that had been hitherto holding so strong against his grief and sorrow.

  “… because I found that I just couldn’t cope without my wife.”

  Fighting hard to control his emotions, he rubbed at his forehead with his fingertips, pressing them in hard to cause enough pain to act as a distraction. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

  He hadn’t heard her walk round the table to stand beside him, but suddenly felt her hand resting on his shoulder.

  “It’s not you who should apologize. It’s me. I’m too darned stupid to understand all that’s gone on in your life. It’s not for me to pass judgement on what you do and don’t do. You know and understand your children much better than me, and I know that you love them better than I could ever imagine. I’m sorry. I should never have opened my big mouth.”