Patience

by Victoria Scott

  ‘Hi! Nice hair,’ he said, as he opened the door.

  Eliza took him in. He was wearing a pinny. It had a picture of a smiling Santa on the front and ‘Christmas Cracker’ emblazoned in huge red print over his chest.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, smoothing her hair back from her face, colour rising to her cheeks. ‘Felt like time for a change.’

  ‘Well, it suits you. Unlike my pinny. I am no Paul Hollywood, so you must excuse me, we’re making cookies.’

  ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘I don’t like him anyway.’ They smiled at each other, and she felt like dancing. ‘I’ve just come to check up on Patience. I hear she came out of hospital yesterday?’

  ‘Yep, she’s here with us for a bit, to give your mum a break. She’s spent most of the day sleeping in her chair, actually, so we put her to bed after lunch. That lumbar puncture and all of the breathing shenanigans afterwards seem to have knocked the stuffing out of her.’

  Eliza followed Jimmy down the hallway, trying her best to ignore the peaks his shoulder blades made in his crisp white shirt as he walked. Seriously, having a crush on her sister’s carer was ridiculous. Primarily because he must think she was mad. He’d seen her in all states of disarray – in Patience’s bed on Christmas morning, half-dead in her childhood pyjamas, in tears in a church. She was surprised he didn’t want to give her as wide a berth as possible, like everyone else. When they reached Patience’s room, Jimmy stood aside so that she could enter first. She smiled her thanks and walked in, taking a breath as she squeezed past him.

  Patience’s room was dark; the blackout blinds had been pulled down and Eliza could only just make out her sister’s blonde hair on her pillow.

  ‘I’ll just pop this light on above her sink,’ Jimmy said. ‘That shouldn’t wake her.’

  When he’d done so, Eliza looked over at her sister – and gasped. Patience appeared to be panting and her face was incredibly pale. She walked over to her and grasped her hand.

  It was freezing.

  *

  Where’s Gary? He said he’d meet me by the park gate, and he’s not here. Instead, he’s sent Jason. We’ve been making small talk, mostly about unicorns, and that’s nice and stuff, but Jason is not my favourite at all. And also, didn’t he leave? Doesn’t he live in anonymity in Manchester now? Oh, no, actually, that’s not Jason. This guy has short brown hair, sort of floppy, and it’s not Robbie. Hang on… Is it Jimmy? Has Jimmy joined Take That?

  ‘Patience. Patience. Can you hear me, Patience?’

  Everything changes but you, doo bee doo, doo bee doo. Where’s my wheelchair? I thought I’d left it around here somewhere. Am I walking? How odd. I haven’t done that since I was a toddler.

  ‘Patience, it’s Jimmy. Can you see me?’

  If I reach out, can I touch him, this Jimmy-Robbie? My arms feel like lead, but I reckon I could try.

  ‘Did you see her arm move just then? Shit, I only checked on her an hour ago.’

  That’s a shame, I’ve always wanted to feel Robbie’s hair. And Jimmy’s, come to think of it. These days, Jimmy has the edge. Oh no! Don’t walk away. I’ll try calling him back.

  ‘Is she in pain?’ Eliza asked. ‘Is this related to the lumbar puncture?’

  I don’t think he can hear me. Bollocks. I learned that word from Eliza, by the way. It has a nice ring to it. I’ve learned lots from her, over the years. Like I know what an abortion is and that she’s had one. It’s the sort of thing I wish I didn’t know.

  ‘Why isn’t she responding?’

  Eliza’s here too, right up against my nose, making me go cross-eyed. And it’s just as well it’s not Robbie here with me, you know, because I’m feeling a bit tired now, too tired to meet my childhood crush. I think I need a lie down, actually. Luckily this gigantic pillow is right here for me to fall back on.

  ‘Can you check her pulse?’ Jimmy asked.

  Oh, Jimmy’s not looking so good now. His face seems to be melting.

  ‘It’s racing. How long has she been like this?’

  ‘Shit. How can she have deteriorated so fast? She was fine earlier. Totally fine. The hospital doctors said she was fine.’

  ‘Fuck! Fuck!’

  How funny, he’s so hot when I feel so cold. I’m just going to walk over there, where… warm… sun… out…

  ‘Eliza, go and get help, now!’

  29

  Louise

  April

  Louise was staring at the empty bottle of whisky which she’d just pulled out from behind the wrapping-paper box, which lived in the downstairs cupboard. When she last saw this bottle, it had been half-full. Now there wasn’t even a dreg left. She had just fancied a snifter, a tiny amount, to celebrate Patience being discharged from hospital after the gene therapy, back into the respite care home. Eliza was there visiting her right now; she’d call her later to get an update. Moving one step away from hospital deserved just a little celebration, didn’t it? But no, Serena had got to this, too. Were there no limits to her capabilities? Did she have X-ray vision?

  Admitting defeat, Louise switched on the kettle and hunted for teabags in the cupboard. She had to remove several boxes of camomile, green and Red Bush before she located the English Breakfast – her friend had very hipster tastes.

  Serena had now been in residence for three weeks. Louise hated to admit it, but she had transformed the place with her keen eye for detail, her obsession with cleanliness and her love of order. She had also set to work making Louise behave well, which included cracking down on her little booze habit. The latter had made her feel very indignant, but she saw that it was coming from a place of love, so she let it go. Serena was about to leave, anyhow, and it wouldn’t be long before Patience would be able to come home and then life could resume as before.

  Like before – and yet nothing like before. There would be no Pete. Not that he’d been around full-time since the children were teenagers, of course, but this was different. She was beginning to accept that this particular separation might be permanent. And although she missed him – she had allowed herself to acknowledge that at least – it was a relief not to have to consult with anyone any more, about anything.

  She had been with Pete for nearly forty years. Wasn’t it time for her to discover who she really was? More than just a mother; more than just a wife. She was finally getting the respect she deserved now. She had her own income. Life was back on track after years of derailment. And Pete’s financial insecurities and infidelities were no longer her concern, thank God. And things were calmer this way. No one bothered her.

  Pete had been trying to worm his way back in, though. While she had been staying in hospital with Patience during the gene therapy trial, he’d apparently come to the house with his tool kit and set about rectifying every outstanding piece of work, fixing down carpets, nailing down floorboards, plugging leaks. He had even painted the shed. He had said nothing about it and she’d only discovered it when she’d returned, exhausted and dishevelled, a few days ago. It had been a huge relief, admittedly, to find everything working and presentable and she was enjoying it.

  She wasn’t sure what he hoped to gain from it, though. He wasn’t coming back, was he? He must be in clover at his brother’s house, anyway; Steve had a huge six-bedroom house in Selly Oak, with a hot tub and a bar.

  ‘Good morning,’ chirped Serena as she walked past her, fresh from the shower, her red hair wet and freshly brushed, her body encased in a green towelling robe. ‘How did you sleep?’

  ‘Better.’

  ‘Good. That will be the detox talking.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  Serena fetched herself a mug from the cupboard and lifted down a cafetière. ‘Coffee?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, why not? More caffeine is probably what I need,’ replied Louise, stifling a yawn. ‘I still feel like crap, though.’

  ‘How’s the appetite?’

  ‘A bit better, now I’ve stopped feeling sick,’ Louise slumped into a chair next to the ki
tchen table and put her head in her hands.

  ‘Shall I get you some toast?’

  ‘Sure,’ Louise answered, rubbing her eyes.

  ‘As you know, I need to go back today,’ Serena said while filling up the kettle and putting sliced bread into the toaster. ‘Mum can cope on her own for a bit, but I think she’s lonely without me. I’ve probably been here long enough. And I hope you’re now on a better path.’

  ‘I’m fine, Serena. Really. It’s all good.’

  ‘Mm-hmm. Hang on, I have something for you.’

  She abandoned her coffee-making and went into the living room. Louise could hear her open her handbag, followed by rustling as she searched through its contents. She returned within a couple of minutes, bearing a piece of paper. ‘I picked this up from the library yesterday, when I was in town,’ she said. ‘I want you to go.’ It was a leaflet advertising the services of a local branch of Alcoholics Anonymous.

  ‘For God’s sake, Serena!’

  ‘Lou. I love you. You’re my best friend. We have supported each other through everything. And I know you. And I know what you need. Please do this – for me. Go to these people. Just once, if you want to. But please go.’

  Tess had now wandered in, in search of a snack in the form of crumbs on the floor. Finding none – Serena kept a tight ship – she rested her head on Louise’s lap, begging for a stroke. Louise was happy to oblige.

  ‘I am not an alcoholic,’ she said, showering attention on the dog and avoiding Serena’s gaze.

  ‘So you say. And that’s fine. Just please, go.’

  ‘If it will stop you going on about it at every opportunity and destroying my booze supplies, I will. OK?’

  Serena raised an eyebrow. ‘Great.’

  Louise leaned in and hugged her friend, realising as she did so how much she had missed human affection in the past few months.

  ‘Will you be OK? On your own?’ Serena asked as she plunged the filter in the cafetière.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ replied Louise. ‘I’m used to it, as you know.’

  ‘But there won’t be Patience here, for a while anyway,’ Serena said as she poured the coffee into two mugs. ‘And so there won’t be any carers visiting either.’

  ‘Blessed silence,’ Louise replied, smiling. ‘I can hardly wait.’

  ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ Serena replied with a ghost of a smile which disappeared almost as soon as it had appeared. She put both coffees on the kitchen table, pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Louise.

  ‘Is it really that quiet at home?’ Louise asked.

  ‘Put it this way – the bin collection every Wednesday is a thrilling event,’ Serena replied, blowing on her coffee.

  ‘You don’t talk about it much, what it’s been like, since Patrick… And I haven’t been there for you, have I? Jesus, I am such a shit friend.’ Louise reached out to hold Serena’s hand.

  ‘You had Patience to worry about,’ Serena replied, batting her hand away. ‘And it’s my fault, isn’t it, for always appearing together? Just because I painted my face on every morning and continued to wash, people thought I was fine. Some even said that it must be a relief. A relief!’

  Louise looked closely at her friend, realising for the first time since her arrival how tired she looked. Her face was, as she’d said, usually a perfectly set mask of make-up; very few people ever saw what went on beneath the surface.

  ‘Anyway, I know that talking about him makes people uncomfortable. No one knows what to say and nothing makes it better, anyway. Nothing is ever going to bring him back.’ Serena ushered her hair back over her shoulders.

  ‘You can talk about anything with me, you know that. I’m sorry, I should ask you more about you. I realise now that I’ve been utterly selfish for ages.’

  ‘You bloody haven’t,’ said Serena, standing up and walking over to retrieve the toast. ‘You devote yourself entirely to Patience. And that’s how it should be.’

  Louise knew that she had avoided talking to Serena about Patrick. That was partly because she felt guilty that she was the lucky one – her disabled child was still alive. And it was also because it made her even more anxious about Patience’s fate. She had survived for all these years, but they all knew that just one major illness could kill her. It was like seeing your child play on a cliff edge every day, while you were forced to watch, impotent, hundreds of metres away. There was nothing she could do to protect Patience, apart from monitor her like a hawk and dive in with medical treatment at the very first sign of trouble.

  ‘It’s pain beyond anything I ever imagined, to be honest,’ Serena said, filling the silence while reaching for plates, knives and jam. ‘It’s like someone’s taken a sword to my soul.’

  ‘Oh, Serena!’

  ‘You know, I had all those years to get myself ready for it, I knew it was coming, but when he died, there was just… darkness. Nothing helped.’

  Serena walked back to the table, placed her load on it, and sat down once more.

  ‘Alec tried to help, but he couldn’t fix me, and he wanted me to be “fixed”,’ she added. ‘He was locked in his own personal grief, of course. We were both in our own personal hell, lashing out, angry.’

  ‘I didn’t know it was that bad,’ replied Louise. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have been there more…’ She took a large gulp of coffee. ‘Is it any easier now? Less raw?’

  ‘Honestly?’ Serena began to apply jam to her toast with vigour. ‘When the fog began to clear – and my God that took a while – I decided that I hated everything. The empty house. My empty life. Alec. I know now of course that that was more about my anger at our situation rather than real, actual hatred. But of course, Alec has a new partner now. What’s done is done.’

  ‘I thought the fact that you were so quiet meant that you were doing well, enjoying your freedom.’

  ‘Mum moving in means the house isn’t empty, thank goodness,’ Serena continued. ‘But why do you think I’m able to stay here for weeks on end? I don’t have to be anywhere. I’m a non-person. Women of a certain age without kids? We don’t exist. No one needs me, Lou.’

  ‘Oh, Serena, that’s not true. I need you.’

  ‘Only temporarily.’

  ‘Well, Pete has gone, hasn’t he? We’re in the same boat in that respect.’

  ‘Do you really believe that, Lou? Really? This is a man who slaved away fixing things in this house for days while you were in hospital.’ Serena pointed out the remedial work Pete had carried out in the kitchen. ‘I know. I was here. And he’s living in some fleapit in Birmingham so that you have enough money, now he’s jacked the Qatar gig in. It seems to me that he hasn’t “gone” at all.’

  ‘But I thought he was staying with Steve?’

  ‘No. He’s in a bedsit in Aston.’

  Louise paused while she digested this new information. ‘Well, you may be feeling sympathetic towards him, Serena, but what about the fact that he cheated? No amount of self-flagellation will ever make that OK, will it?’

  ‘You have zero proof for that, sweetheart. You only have a feeling. He hasn’t confessed to it, has he?’

  ‘No. But the way he acted at the counselling session? I just know, Serena.’ Louise looked down at her toast, which was now cold, and found, to her surprise, that she felt hungry. She hadn’t felt truly hungry for months. She reached for the jam jar and spoon.

  ‘OK, be that as it may,’ Serena replied, taking a mouthful of her own toast. ‘We’ll park that. But do you think it’s possible that you may be deliberately trying to shut the people who love you out of your life? This all feels like a mental health crisis to me.’

  ‘Honestly! Everyone is bloody depressed these days. It’s so fashionable. No. I’m just tired, busy, with a shit marriage and a disabled daughter. I have no friends, apart from you, and my healthy daughter is completely absorbed with her own life. But I’m not depressed, I’m just unhappy.’

  ‘It takes one to know one, love,’ replied Serena, getting up to
retrieve a pack of pistachio nuts from one of the cupboards. ‘I’ve been there. And I see the signs in you too. You’ve always been a doer, an achiever – but even superwomen need help sometimes. You need to fix your oxygen mask before helping others, as they say.’

  ‘Have you got a leaflet for counselling in your bag, too?’

  Serena snorted. ‘I couldn’t find one! But I’ll email you some links to sites where you can find a local counsellor. You need one, for yourself, not just for your marriage.’ Serena offered Louise a nut, but she declined.

  ‘Yeah, well, whatever.’ Louise had almost finished her toast and was considering putting on another slice.

  ‘I’m a wise woman, Lou. Ignore me at your peril.’

  Louise smiled, despite herself.

  ‘Right, OK. How about you? Are you having counselling? Do you take your own medicine?’

  ‘Yes, I am. And it’s helping, you old cynic. I’ve been trying to work out what my future should look like. I may be in my sixties, but I’m not done yet. I need to take charge of my life, before society overlooks me completely.’

  ‘Blimey, you do sound depressed,’ said Louise, with a smirk.

  ‘Ha, you joke – but life without hope is deadly. I know. I’m working on it. I’m thinking about dating again. About getting a job.’

  ‘Yes to the job. I love mine. But blimey, dating? No thanks.’

  ‘What I’m saying is that you should think about yourself, Lou, for a change. Ask yourself – how long will you be able to continue looking after Patience at home, with just these occasional respite visits? And how will you ever do anything for yourself ever again, if she never leaves?’

  Louise’s expression reflected her shock that this topic, of all topics, had been raised. There had always been an unspoken agreement between them that they should never, ever question each other’s caring decisions. She was preparing to launch into her defence when she was interrupted by a hammering at the door.

  30

  Eliza

  April

  ‘Mum! Get your stuff, quickly, we’ve got to go. Now.’