A little while after the phone call ended, Michael came to see me. He knew about Max and the quarantine situation and assured me he’d not been in contact with the others. He’d visited every day since arriving from Australia and I was very relieved that he could continue to do so.
It had been lovely spending time with him – despite the circumstances. We certainly had plenty to say to each other.
I caught up with his life in Australia. He told me about his GP practice and about his wife, Jo, and his three girls. One afternoon, after he’d told me about a family holiday to the Whitsunday Islands, I said he sounded very happy.
“I am,” he said. “After Adele and I split up I didn’t think I’d get a second chance.”
“Yes, you were very miserable when you left. So was I. And I was angry with you – at the time – going off to Australia – when I needed you.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“No, Michael, no, it’s okay. I got over it. I don’t blame you. And now I kind of understand why you went.”
“Because of Robbie, you mean? I’m not proud of deceiving you, Rosie. Tom took charge. He was so insistent that you weren’t to know. It just seemed easier to go along with it. I got to the point that I couldn’t stay. I was grieving for Heather, but I was so bloody angry at her too – it was all such a mess. It finished my marriage. I just fled, I’m sorry…” He looked dejected.
I took hold of his hand. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. To be honest, I wanted to get away too – only…” I hesitated. It was hard to admit out loud, but I knew it was high time we were all more honest with each other.
Michael was looking at me, waiting for me to finish.
I took a deep breath. “I wanted to get away too, but I had something more permanent in mind.” I had to look away as I spoke.
“Oh, Rosie,” Michael said softly, as he stroked my hand. “Tom said he was afraid of that. I thought he was exaggerating. He was so scared for you.”
I turned back to look at Michael. “He wouldn’t let me talk about her. Every time I mentioned her name he’d change the subject, say not to dwell on it. But I needed to try and make some sense of it all. One of you should have told me the whole story.”
“Yes, maybe what Tom and I did was wrong, but we did it with good intentions. Look, sis – when you’ve got your strength back and when the danger of you getting this bug has passed - talk to Tom – get the whole story from him. Then maybe you can forgive us - Heather and me and Tom. He loves you, Rosie.”
“Everyone keeps saying that – talk to him – he loves you. And I want us to talk, but I’m scared too. I don’t know what to think. Is he Robbie’s father? Does it matter? And if he’s not, what is it that neither of you felt you could tell me? Does he even still love me?” I shook my head and shrugged.
“And you, Rosie – what do you feel – about Tom?”
“I still love him – no matter what he has or hasn’t done – I love him.”
“So you must talk to him – as soon as he’s in the clear and you’re up to it – talk to him.”
“I will. I have to. But I’m – I’m afraid it’s too late. I’m afraid too much damage has been done. I’m afraid I’ve lost him –
that
he’s moved on.”
Michael looked sceptical. I told him my suspicions about Tom and Sheena and he looked even more sceptical. “I don’t think so, sis. I think you’re way off there. But, if there’s even a chance that you’re right, then all the more reason to get talking to him.”
Michael was right of course, I had to face Tom. The time had come to resolve things.
When I was alone all I could think about was Tom. The situation we were in now was tearing me apart. At best, my longing to see him was a dull ache deep in my stomach. At worst, it was agony – more unbearable than any of the physical pain I’d endured lately – and all I could do at those times was curl up on the bed and wait for the yearning to pass.
But I was also afraid. Much as I wanted to see Tom, part of me dreaded having it all out with him, because then I would have to know, would have to hear him say that he’d moved on. I didn’t think I’d ever be strong enough to hear that.
I was further tortured by the thought that I only had myself to blame. I’d left him. I’d shut him out. Yes, I’d been hurt by him, but I’d hurt him too. I’d pushed him into starting a relationship with Sheena.
To preserve my sanity, I tried to focus on getting well, on the good news about Adam and on enjoying my time with Michael. But the turmoil I was experiencing was never far from the surface.
Chapter Forty One
Just over a week after Tom’s phone call about the need for the family’s quarantine, I got some much-needed good news. Angus Campbell came to see me and told me that the latest tests showed my infection was completely gone. He said Amanda Knox would be in touch about a date for a scan to check that the chemo had done its job. He also said I was to have a month off – no treatment or hospital - before my course of radiotherapy. He said I could go home the next day.
I was glad to be getting out of hospital – but it was a similar feeling to stopping the chemo. The hospital offered a form of security – it was a protective cocoon. Before succumbing to the infection, I’d reached an understanding with my cancer and the loss and changes it had brought in its wake. Now I realised I had a similar struggle ahead of me to make sense of all the other stuff that had been happening in my life. Leaving hospital would be the first step.
The medics weren’t keen on me living on my own when I was first discharged. I was unsure whether just to move back to the flat and hope for the best, or to impose on one of my friends. It was Michael who came up with the solution to my dilemma. He’d been staying in a B&B near the hospital since his arrival, but proximity to the hospital was no longer necessary and, as he’d arranged to remain in Scotland until the end of October, he needed somewhere more comfortable to live. So he suggested moving into the flat with me. With Rick now living at Kirsty’s, there was room for us both and I’d have my own private GP to keep an eye on me. It seemed like the perfect solution.
So on Wednesday, the sixth of October, Michael came to fetch me. As soon as we got back to the flat, he told me to put my feet up and went to make a cup of tea. I heard him on his mobile while he was in the kitchen. When he returned with the tea, he said Tom had been on the phone checking we’d got back and that I was okay.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said, feeling really pleased that Tom was thinking about me. “How did he sound? How are the kids?”
“Max is much better and Jenny and Adam are up and about and starting to eat again. Adam isn’t impressed with his welcome home present.”
“No – being given a tummy bug probably wasn’t what he had in mind – poor Ad.” I shook my head and smiled. “And Tom - is he okay?”
“He said he was – but he sounded tired. You could phone him yourself later.” Michael looked at me. It was a meaningful look.
“Yes, I think I will,” I said, surprised by my resolve.
“And will you see him soon, Rosie?”
“Yes, I’ll arrange something when I call him later. I think I’m up to seeing him for a proper talk - strong enough now to hear it all – whatever he might have to tell me.”
Michael glanced away for a moment, looked awkward.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I sort of – well - I asked him – asked Tom - if he was seeing someone.”
I gasped.
Michael shook his head. “I didn’t tell him your suspicions. I just asked casually. I can’t repeat what he replied, but it was along the lines of telling me to mind my own business.”
“Oh, Michael – did you have to? I thought you were staying out of it.”
“I am – it was just - Kirsty, Lucy and I were talking – the other day at the hospital. None of us could believe Tom was seeing anyone and they thought one of us should ask Tom - and I sort of volunteered. ”
“What – you were all talking about it – about Tom – about us?”
“Yes – we all care about both of you. We can see what you two have, even if you can’t. We just want you to-”
“Talk!
Yes I know – so you all keep saying – and we’re going to. We’ll talk! Now can we drop it?”
“Okay, okay.” He raised his hands. “I’ll stop going on about it. I promise.”
Later that evening I phoned home. Jenny answered. The news wasn’t good. When I asked to speak to Tom, she said he couldn’t come to the phone. The inevitable had happened. Tom had
caught the
bug. It would be some days before we’d be seeing each other. It was a crushing disappointment. I’d got myself psyched up to make the call, thought through what I was going to say - and all for nothing.
Michael held my hand while I ranted at the unfairness of the gods, and passed me the hankies to dry my angry tears. He did his best to put a positive spin on this latest setback. He said that at least I’d a few extra days to build up my strength before I met Tom. I wasn’t convinced, but I was grateful to him for trying.
Michael and I got along fine as I convalesced. He and I’d not spent so much time under the same roof since we were teenagers. It felt strange but comfortable at the same time.
We went for walks in the mornings. It was lovely to get out in the fresh air. And it was very fresh. Early October was frosty and clear. We walked in the Botanical Gardens, beneath the bare trees and drank hot chocolate at the terrace cafe. We walked briskly along the seafront at Cramond, with the wind slapping our faces and snatching our words away. We reminisced about our childhood and about happy times with Mum and Dad and Heather. Michael also spoke about Robbie and what a lovely lad he seemed and how he’d like to get to know him better. And I was able to share my feelings about the cancer with my big brother. On one of our beach walks, I told him about my fears of a recurrence, and of the disease spreading, and how I dealt with the witch-bitch.
“Good on you, Rosie,” he said when I described exactly how I viewed my cancer demon. “You’re going to beat it. I have a good feeling about your future. That bitch claimed Mum far too soon. She’s not getting you too.”
“That’s just what I told her or rather screamed at her – and I used words that would make even you blush!”
Michael laughed. He picked me up and spun me round. I laughed too. When he put me down, we both looked up at the sky and shouted, “Fuck off, bitch!” Fortunately the seafront was deserted and we only startled a few seagulls.
In the afternoons I rested. Then later we cooked together. My appetite had certainly returned, and Michael was greatly amused that I ate more than he did.
On the Saturday, my phone rang as we were finishing breakfast. It was Kirsty. She asked if she and Rick could come to see me that morning as they had a couple of things to discuss. I was intrigued.
They were at the flat within an hour. It was weird seeing Kirsty and Rick as a couple. They sat side by side on the sofa. Michael said he’d go out and leave us to it. But Kirsty said no, he should stay, because what Rick had to say concerned Michael too.
Rick leant forward and looked at the floor. He twisted his hands together. “The thing is, Rosie, Michael, I suspect it’s me –I suspect I’m Robbie’s father.” He reached for Kirsty’s hand and looked from me to Michael.
It was me who was able to speak first. “You – you’re Robbie’s dad?”
“Possibly – yes. I began to wonder, that day after we talked about her, Rosie. After we talked about Heather and I told you we met at that exhibition in 1987. Well we didn’t only have a drink that night. We –you know – we had sex.”
“Oh,” was all I could manage. Michael was quiet, but staring intently at Rick.
“I know it was probably a very stupid thing to do – unprotected sex-with our histories – but those were less aware times - and we were rather drunk. Anyway, I was lucky, I got away unscathed. That is, at least as far as any transmittable nasties are concerned. But after you and I spoke, Rosie, I did my sums and worked out it was just possible I was Robbie’s father.”