If You Were Here

by Alice Peterson

  ‘There’s a test I could take. I’ve spoken about it with my GP.’

  My doctor told me it became available over a year ago, in 1993, and I’ve done nothing but think about it ever since. All it takes is a blood test to determine my fate. How I long to say, after everything Mum has been through, ‘It’s okay. I tested negative.’

  Mum shook her head and moved away from me, as if I was about to cause her physical pain. ‘Don’t, Beth,’ she said, ‘please don’t.’

  ‘But Mum—’

  She turned round to me. ‘Promise me you won’t.’

  She didn’t need to give me a reason why, and I knew this wasn’t exactly the best timing on my part, Mum feeling so upset at the thought of sending Dad to a home, ‘But this could affect Flo,’ I said, my voice small.

  We both looked into the sitting room, where Flo was still watching television, happy, oblivious.

  ‘You don’t have it, Beth. You can’t,’ she said, as if ordering reality to obey her words. ‘It would kill me.’

  ‘Why are you crying, Mama?’ Flo asked, standing by the kitchen door, holding her fluffy owl toy. I hadn’t even realized I was until I wiped the tears away. ‘Mama,’ Flo said, looking up at me, ‘why are you so sad?’

  Of course I couldn’t tell her, and Mum immediately took her away, saying it was time to play a game, before glancing over her shoulder and mouthing at me again, ‘Promise me you won’t, Beth.’

  37

  Peggy

  ‘It’s hard to believe I did the right thing, when Flo still won’t speak to me,’ I say, laying flowers on their grave. ‘But there we are. I can’t go back now. I saw James today. He told me she’s well and wants to see a counsellor. I’m glad she isn’t alone.’

  Tears fill my eyes at the thought of Beth, who was always there for her father and me, despite herself being alone to care for Flo. I remember all those times she rushed over, day or night. I can see, vividly, both of us trying to lift Tim back into bed after he’d fallen out in the middle of the night, something that was becoming a habit.

  ‘Mum,’ she’d said, ‘we can’t go on like this. He needs to be in a home.’

  ‘He needs to be with us,’ I’d replied, still unable to let him go, until I too realized it was for the best.

  Then I see Beth rushing over to my house in the early hours of the morning, one last time, still in her pyjamas.

  Tim had had a terrible night. He was sweating, shaking and his breathing had become rapid and shallow. The duty doctor had said Tim had pneumonia, and that the best thing we could do now was to keep him comfortable at home. All I could do was to hold his hand and stroke his forehead.

  Had he known he was about to go into a nursing home? Does it work like that?

  I remember vividly, Beth saying goodbye to her father. ‘To me you’ll always be my dad who used to run into the sea in your baggy blue shorts, dragging Mum and me with you. I remember all those times we’d go for long walks in the countryside and you’d stand in front of a stream and say, “Do you think I can make it?” and so often you didn’t, Dad. You fell in and ended up caked in mud.’

  I smile at the memory myself, of my Tim. How he loved to play the fool.

  ‘I’ve learned so much from you, Dad. You taught me to look at how things are made, that there is beauty in everything. I loved all the time we spent painting and drawing together. You were . . .’ Beth stopped. ‘You are clever, talented, kind and I have been so unbelievably lucky to have had you in my life.’

  By now, both Beth and I had stopped trying to fight off the tears.

  I picked up when Beth could no longer continue. I knelt down on the other side of the bed and held my Tim’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve had to endure this,’ I said, ‘something you didn’t deserve. No one deserves this, but you’ve done it with dignity and courage, and I couldn’t be prouder of you . . .’ My voice was breaking. ‘You are the bravest man I know.’ I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. ‘But Tim, let go.’ I pleaded. ‘Please let go.’

  In the end, it was the right thing to do. I had to say goodbye. He needed to go to a better place.

  A place where I hoped he’d be free, where he could be his old self again.

  Beth had returned with Flo. She knelt down beside him and told her there was nothing to be afraid of.

  ‘Darling, say goodbye to Granddad,’ she’d said calmly to Flo, who was only four at the time. Beth held on to her hand and she stepped forward and kissed her Granddad on the cheek.

  Then my Tim stopped breathing.

  Beth looked at me. The room was silent. We both held his hand, willing him together to let go, for all of us, now.

  And he listened.

  Now, I touch his name, engraved into the stone.

  TIMOTHY GEORGE ANDREWS,

  24 OCTOBER 1938 – 8 MAY 1994;

  BELOVED HUSBAND, FATHER AND GRANDFATHER.

  REST IN PEACE.

  I have to believe Tim’s in a better place now, where he and Beth are together again.

  38

  Flo

  ‘I’m going for a run,’ James calls. ‘Need anything while I’m out?’

  Don’t cry.

  ‘Great,’ I say closing Mum’s diary and holding it close to my chest.

  ‘Flo?’ He sticks his head round the door. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ He enters my room and sits down, but I can’t speak. ‘Have you told Theo? Is this about your appointment with the GP today?’

  ‘Granddad just died,’ I say, dissolving into tears. Mum’s diaries have opened a door to a whole new world I didn’t know existed. A world of pain, loss, guilt, fear and secrets. But they have also shown me human resilience, spirit, courage, unconditional love and kindness. Granny stood by Granddad until the very end. Mum held his hand until his very last breath.

  I wish I’d had the chance to tell Mum how sorry I am that she had to watch her father die slowly, day by day. How I’d have hated watching her suffer in the same way. And how I wish I’d known what a brave and wonderful person Granddad was.

  Why is it we only find things out about the people we love when it’s much too late?

  ‘Go, I’m fine,’ I say, knowing how much James needs a run to unwind after work, even if I can’t think of anything worse.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘Go, James,’ I insist this time, before I crack again. ‘I want to see Granny.’

  Gently he wipes away my tears with his thumb. ‘I couldn’t be prouder of you.’

  ‘Don’t be too nice,’ I say, laughing through the tears, ‘you’ll make me cry even more.’

  He holds out his hand. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift. My run can wait.’

  Just as we reach the front door, I turn round. ‘Did you forget something?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes. This.’ I kiss him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, James, for being one of the best people I know.’

  39

  Peggy

  I’m planting some basil and parsley in the two new pots I bought from the garden centre today, after walking Elvis back from the cemetery. I frown when I hear someone knocking on the door. It can’t be Ricky because he and his family are on holiday. They hired a camper van and went to Poole, by the seaside.

  I’m tempted to leave it as it’s such a bore taking off my dirty gardening gloves. Unless you’re Paul Martin, the dishy presenter of my favourite antiques programme, Flog It!, please go away.

  Whoever it is knocks again.

  ‘All right, I’m coming!’ Keep your hair on!

  I look through the peephole and open the door at once.

  ‘Hello, Granny,’ she says.

  It’s not often I’m lost for words, but when I open my mouth nothing comes out, and when Flo embraces me, I break down into uncontrollable tears, my heart finally beating with hope again, that the person I thought I’d lost has come back to me.

  *

  ‘I’m so sorry for all those things I said to you that night,’ Flo says as we drink our co
ffee in the kitchen.

  ‘I deserved everything you said, and more.’

  ‘But I had no idea how hard it was for you, looking after Granddad. If I’d known—’

  ‘How could you have known? We should have told you years ago. I should have handled it better; it’s something I’ll always regret. Your mother and me, if only we had talked.’

  ‘Reading her diaries, I longed to bang your heads together,’ she agrees.

  ‘I let her down,’ is all I can say, the shame refusing to go away.

  ‘She wanted to talk to you, but was too scared because you’d already suffered enough.’

  ‘After your granddad died I was empty. I had no fuel left in my tank so I refused even to consider the possibility of your mother having HD. I was weak,’ I admit.

  ‘You weren’t weak. You were human.’

  ‘I was weak,’ I correct her, not allowing Flo to let me off the hook so easily. I have to own my mistakes. ‘I understand it’s going to take a long time for things to go back to the way they used to be but—’

  ‘Granny,’ Flo says, her voice crumbling, ‘I need you now more than ever before.’

  ‘Well, I’m here, and I’ll do whatever it takes for you to trust me again.’ I wait, sensing Flo is holding something back. ‘What is it, darling?’

  ‘I haven’t told Theo yet.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ I say, feeling in no position to offer any advice on how or when to tell him. ‘But you must have had to explain why you’re still here?’

  ‘I said you were unwell.’

  ‘Unwell?’ I stick out my chin. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

  ‘You’re at hospital having tests.’

  ‘Don’t you dare put me in the departure lounge just yet,’ I say with a hint of a smile, though Flo remains distant, lost in her thoughts. ‘Flo, are you scared of telling him because you think he’ll be frightened off?’

  She turns to me. ‘Maybe. I’m trying to imagine how I’d feel if it were the other way round, if Theo were at risk. But I’m going to have to tell him soon,’ she concedes. ‘I spoke to him today, but he was in a rush. It wasn’t the right moment, but I feel terrible for lying. I feel so guilty, and I miss him.’

  ‘Do you still love him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You want to marry him and have a family?’

  She nods, slowly. ‘Nothing’s changed,’ she says, ‘but everything was straightforward a few weeks ago. I was about to start this new life.’ She glances at her ring, ‘But how can I when so much of my past isn’t . . .’

  She stops, unable to articulate her feelings, but I think I know what she is trying to convey. How can she start a new chapter in her life when the previous one has been completely rewritten?

  Flo clears her throat. ‘Do you think Mum’s HD was the reason Graham left?’ Graham was Mum’s fiancé. Flo adored him. He was the father she’d never had. But then, overnight, he disappeared.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, though strongly suspect it’s a possibility. ‘Maybe Beth wrote about it in her diary?’

  ‘I haven’t reached that part yet. I hardly dare. I always suspected there was more to it too. None of it made sense at the time.’

  ‘I think you’ll feel better once you tell Theo. He loves you,’ I say, praying to God he doesn’t let her down. ‘Get on that plane, Flo, don’t stop living your life.’

  ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘And I’ll miss you. But we can Skype.’

  Flo stares at me as if I’ve just said I can do a bungee jump.

  I smile. ‘Ricky taught me.’

  She smiles back. ‘Did you notice Mum had symptoms?’

  ‘Perhaps. Yes,’ I confess. ‘I tried not to see them at first.’

  ‘I keep thinking I should have seen the signs.’

  ‘But you were away at college. You wouldn’t have noticed because Beth was still able to lead a fairly normal life.’ I take her hand. ‘Do you think you want to take the test, Flo?’ I have to ask.

  She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know. I realize last time I rushed into it. I didn’t even understand what HD was; it was just this thing I didn’t want to have. But now I’ve read Mum’s diaries . . .’ She pauses. ‘I want at least to see a genetic counsellor and talk about it.’

  ‘Have you made an appointment?’

  ‘I’m being referred. I want Theo to come to my first one because we’ll need advice about having a family.’

  ‘I understand. I think that’s very sensible.’

  ‘Tell me more about Granddad,’ Flo asks with renewed strength in her voice.

  ‘Well, he loved his red wine and dark chocolate.’

  ‘But how did you meet?’

  ‘I was living with a friend who was going out with Tim at the time.’

  ‘Granny, did you steal him from your friend?’ she teases, and it’s good to see her smile again.

  ‘Well, they’d only been on a few dates. The poor girl had eaten something dodgy and had terrible diarrhoea so she asked me if I could go to the opera with him instead – La Traviata – so off we went, and we got on like a house on fire.’

  She leans her elbows on the table and cocks her head to one side, just as Beth used to. ‘Was it love at first sight?’

  ‘In a way it was. He was funny, kind, interesting, creative, all the things I’m not. I couldn’t believe my luck when he asked me if I’d like to go out with him again.’

  ‘What happened to your friend?’

  ‘She didn’t seem to mind. We were engaged and married within a year. It was so different in my day: you’d meet a nice man, he’d ask you out for dinner and then he’d pop the question.’

  ‘Theo said he knew he was going to marry me on the day we met,’ she reminds me.

  ‘Well, he was right.’ I sigh. ‘I fell in love with Tim over the years in a way I could never have imagined. He used to kiss me first thing in the morning and last thing at night.’ Gently, I stroke my cheek as if I can still feel his touch. ‘I never thought I’d get married, Flo.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know. When I tried to imagine the kind of man I might meet, all I could picture was a blank face. I think that’s the moment when you know you’re in love. You see your life together,’ I reflect. ‘The moment he shook my hand, I saw our children, adventure and a new home. I can’t explain why, I just did. We may have been unlucky in many ways but we were so lucky in others. He was one of the best people I’ve ever known.’

  ‘Is that why you never met anyone else after he died?’

  I nod. ‘ “When I’m gone, Peg,” he used to say to me, “move on with your life, meet a new chap, don’t be alone”.’

  I can see his generous smile that reached his eyes, the smile I fell head over heels in love with. ‘The idea of meeting another man, of starting over again’, I continue, ‘hasn’t once crossed my mind. Can you imagine me going on a date? Besides, no one would put up with an old boot like me.’

  ‘They would.’

  ‘Much easier to have a dog, Flo. They don’t argue back.’

  ‘How did you cope with his HD?’ Flo asks. ‘I mean, it seems a lot for Theo to take on if—’

  I can’t let her finish her sentence. ‘You have no choice,’ I interrupt. ‘You dig deep and find a strength you never realized you had, and all I can say is if I had to live my life all over again, I’d make the same choices. I don’t know what Beth wrote, but it wasn’t all bad Flo. When he was made redundant his colleagues did a collection and presented him with a cheque for five thousand pounds. It was a blow to his pride not working, but our doctor advised Tim to think of it in another way, saying that if he had been diagnosed with a terminal illness, would he want to carry on sitting in an office or would he prefer spending time with his family and ticking off all the things on his bucket list? Until that moment, Tim and I had thought we might put any savings we had into a new kitchen, but in the end we used that money to go travelling while we still could.’

&nb
sp; ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Where didn’t we go! We visited the Pyramids, as Tim had always wanted to. We went to Rajasthan and Jaipur. It had been a dream of your granddad’s to take his easel to India. I remember the delicious breakfasts we had on the balcony. It was a lovely family-run hotel. Tim would have his usual two fried eggs.’

  ‘What about you, Granny?’

  ‘I think I just had toast and fruit. I can’t really remember.’

  ‘No, what’s on your bucket list?’

  ‘Oh, goodness, I never made one.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t need to. We did other things, too, like going on long cycle rides or driving to the coast. Tim loved the sound of the sea, so we’d have picnics on the beach.’

  ‘It all sounds much more fun than a new kitchen,’ Flo suggests.

  ‘I’d have liked both. But we made the right choice. You can’t hold on to the memory of a new oven. I’d have lived in a tin hut if it meant banking more memories with my Tim.’

  ‘Do you know what we should do? Make a bucket list.’

  ‘What a good idea.’

  ‘You too, Granny.’

  ‘Oh no, I’m too old for that.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You just told me not to put you in the departure lounge just yet. There must be something you long to do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I say, reminded of the conversation I had with Ricky. ‘I just want you to be happy.’

  ‘Oh, Granny.’ Flo looks away, as if scared she’ll cry again.

  ‘I’d like to go back to Burgh Island,’ I reflect, ‘in Devon. It’s where Tim and I went on our honeymoon.’

  Flo’s face brightens. ‘Well, we should go!’

  ‘I’d love to go to Rome, too. Eat ice cream in that famous square. And you, Flo?’

  ‘I’d like to do something I never imagined I’d be capable of,’ she thinks out loud. ‘I don’t know what that is yet, but I’ll work it out.’

  It’s moments like this when I see Beth in her. She certainly gets her strength from her mother. ‘I’m sure you will,’ I say.