I felt the skin on my neck begin to prickle. I was aware that I could hear myself breathe.
Rose, it's time for me to drop the mask. I know from my mother that you are seeing Ed again and, although I've never met you, I assume that you have some influence with him. The doctors have told me that without donor bone marrow I have between four and six months to live. So I am writing to you now, in despair, to ask you to intercede with him on my behalf
. I felt as though I were falling. The letter began to shake in my hands.
'Rose, are you all right?' I heard Beverley say.
'What?'
'You look rather upset. '
'I am. '
'Is it a really sad letter then?' she asked as she turned on her computer.
'Yes, ' I murmured. 'It is. '
Ed has ignored the three letters I've sent him, so my mother, my sister, Ruth, and my two brothers have all tried to persuade him, without success. But Ed has the same blood group as I do, and is therefore my best chance of a match. Rose, I love my wife and daughter and I don't want to leave them. I'd like to see Amy take her first steps. I'd like to push her on the swings in the park. I'd like to walk her to school. I'd like to have the chance to live my life, but time is fast running out. So if there's anything you could say, to make Ed think again, we would be so very grateful to you. Jon Wright.
The words were blurring. I turned over the pages, and reread the address. The Royal Infirmary, Hull.
'Rose, are you all right?' I heard Beverley ask. I looked out of the window at the sky then dropped my gaze to the Thames. 'Are you all right?' she repeated gently.
'No, Bev. I'm not. '
'What's happened?'
I didn't reply. I couldn't. I was lost for words. Now I remembered the phone calls from Ed's mother and sister and his determined refusal to budge. I remembered the letter he'd thrown away, without reading: I remembered the fragment I'd found in the bin. What was it that was written on it?
Please, Ed, I know we've had our differences, but you're my last chance
… I'd assumed that it was money Jon was asking for. But it wasn't money—it was life.
How could Ed
not
do it? I asked myself. How was it possible that anyone could be so selfish, so ungenerous, so…
mean'
? That small word was hardly adequate to express such epic paucity of spirit, such a monumental failure of the heart.
'Do you mind if I see it?' Beverley asked. I handed it to her, and watched her expression change from compassion, to shock, to gob-smacked non-comprehension as she neared the end. 'His own brother?' she said wonderingly. Her eyes were wide with indignation. 'Oh, Rose. ' We looked at each other in speechless bewilderment. She shook her head.
'I know. '
'I knew he was a
mean
man, ' she said, her lips pursing, 'but this is something else!'
'How could you know that?' I asked her. 'You've never met him. '
'Because of Mary-Claire. My friend Gill told me that
that's
why Mary-Claire left Ed—because she found him so terribly mean. She said he'd made her pay rent when she was living with him, even though he'd asked her to move in. She said he'd make her go Dutch so often she can practically speak it, and that he'd never treat her, or tip. She said he was the most attractive man she'd ever met, but that his lack of generosity had been a massive turn-off. '
'Too right, ' I said. 'It is. ' So that's what Ed meant when he'd said that Mary-Claire had 'whined' and 'complained' all the time. No wonder he hadn't wanted to tell me why she'd left him.
'But you must have noticed it yourself, Rose, ' I heard Beverley say quietly. 'You were
married
to him. Didn't you see?' I looked out of the window as I considered the question.
'Yes I guess I did. I
did
see it, sort of, but I was so besotted with him at first that I must have overlooked it. Then I got the agony column and was frantically busy, so it didn't really impact on me. I did notice the small things, but I indulged them because I knew Ed had had a deprived childhood and that can leave a lasting mark. '
'His childhood's got nothing to do with it, ' said Bev hotly. 'I know people who had
dreadful
upbringings and they're incredibly generous. Hamish for one! He grew up in a Glasgow tenement, and struggled for years while he studied music, but he's
always
trying to pay. Ed's background is irrelevant, ' she reiterated indignantly. 'He's one of these people who just can't
give'
Yes, I thought. That's right. As usual, Bev had put her finger right on it. Ed can't give. He can't give, or rather he won't give, because he doesn't want to. He's never really known how.
Now I thought of how he'd never give money to charity, or the homeless, and how he'd always try to beat people down in shops. He said he found it 'humiliating' to tip in taxis and so he never did. He'd try and stop me taking champagne to parties because he said our hosts would be 'offended' at their age. And he'd complained if I'd sent the odd cheque here and there to my readers, so I'd stopped telling him after a while.
After all, it was my money—I could do what the hell I liked— but he'd said I was 'hopelessly gullible' and 'naive'. I picked up my bag.
'Rose, where are you going?'
'Out. I'll be back by lunch. '
As I drove over Blackfriars Bridge towards the City I thought of all the other things about Ed which my initial infatuation had led me to suppress. The engagement ring, for example. The one I'd never had. Ed had said that there was 'no point' as our engagement was only six weeks. And our cheap honeymoon, in Menorca, out of season, in his mother's small flat.
Would you like some raffle tickets, Sir? No thanks
. That's how I'd recognised his voice at the ball. I thought about how his chief objection to having children was because of 'all the expense'. And now I recalled him saying that if a baby was what it took to keep us together, he was happy to 'pay the
price
!
I parked on a meter behind Liverpool Street then went up the steps, and through the gleaming glass doors of Paramutual Insurance, and got the lift to the tenth floor.
Ed Wright, Director, Human Resources
, announced the plate on his door.
Human Resources'
? I wanted to laugh.
'Does your husband know you're here, Mrs Wright?' asked his secretary, Jane.
'No, ' I replied sweetly. 'It's a surprise. ' I knocked once then went straight in without waiting.
'Rose!' He looked amazed. His office smelt of leather and wood polish. There were several large files on his desk. 'How lovely, ' he laughed, pushing himself out of his chair with his good arm and coming towards me. 'What a treat. But what on earth brings you here?'
'Well, ' I began as I shut the door. 'I need your help with a letter I've had this morning. '
'One of your reader's problems?'
'Yes. '
'And you think
I
might be able to solve it?' he said quizzically.
'I do. '
'Well, that's flattering—I'll try my best. It must be urgent, ' he added as I sat down opposite him.
'Oh yes, it is. In fact it's very urgent, ' I explained. I took Jon's letter out of my bag and pushed it across his desk. 'Would you read it please?'
He took it in his left hand, sat down again and then, as he recognised the handwriting, his features stiffened and he looked up.
'Listen, Rose, I—'
'Read it!' I said.
'But—'
'Read it! Just read it. The whole thing. '
'Well… okay then, ' he sighed. He read it quickly, pursed his lips, then folded it up.
'Why haven't you done it, Ed? What the hell are you thinking?'
He heaved a painful sigh. 'You don't understand, Rose. '
I felt my jaw slacken. 'What's
not
to understand? Your brother's terminally ill. That's all there is to it. '
'But Jon and I don't get on. Yes, it's all very sad, but there's no relationship now. We haven't spoken for six years. '
'So
what
?
'So I suppose I just don't feel that… brotherly any more. It doesn't really affect me because… well, ' he shrugged, 'it just doesn't. There's no contact. '
'But that shouldn't make
any
difference, Ed, and in any case it's not even true. Jon sent us that lovely lamp for our wedding, remember? Even though you didn't invite him.
He's
kept the door open, so he clearly doesn't see it the way you do. '
'But… '
'There isn't a "but". Your brother's desperately ill and he needs your help, and you're going to give it to him and that's that. '
Ed sighed, and shook his head as though this were a matter of regret, not life or death.
'I can't, Rose. I just… can't. I wouldn't do it for a stranger, and Jon has become a stranger, so I don't feel like doing it for him. I'm sorry, but it's too late. '
'It
isn't
too late. At least, not yet. But it very soon will be if you don't get yourself to Hull. '
'They can do more chemotherapy, he might be okay'
'He says it doesn't work for long. '
'Or they can take stem cells from his own blood. That's a new technique. I read about it in a newspaper article. '
'If it was likely to work don't you think they'd
know
?'
'Anyway I
hate
hospitals, ' he said, shuddering. 'I loathe them. You know that. I have a real phobia about them. And I've only just come out of hospital and I'm not going back in. I'm still in a lot of pain actually, ' he said touching his plaster cast.
'You know what, Ed? I don't give a fuck. And in any case it's your own stupid fault because you were too mean to pay a roofer to clear the gutter—so you did it yourself and you fell!'
'That's not true, ' he protested, though his throat had reddened.
'It
is
true!'
'Well they charge ninety pounds an hour. '
'Worth every penny, Ed. Look how much more it's cost you—and me. '
'I hope you don't regret helping me, ' he said peevishly.
I looked at him and blinked. 'Yes, actually—I do. I
do
regret it now that I know that you've been refusing to help Jon. I find it… ' I groped for a word with which to convey such staggering selfishness'… amazing, that you could have ignored his pleas for so long. Where's your heart, Ed? Do you have one? Or are you a medical freak?'
'But the donation procedure is very unpleasant, Rose, it involves several injections in your pelvis. There's a lot of discomfort. '
'What's that compared to death? Jon will die if you don't help him. You've got no choice. '
'I do. I do have a choice, actually, and I choose not to do it. As I've tried to explain—but you refuse to understand—I don't feel sufficiently… involved. '
'You're right, ' I said, sitting down. 'I don't understand. I don't understand at all. I thought blood was supposed to be thicker than water. It clearly isn't in your case. '
'No, ' he said slowly, 'that's right. It
isn't
thicker than water. And it isn't in your case either, Rose, because if it were, then your natural mother would never have given you up for adoption would she?' I felt winded, as though I'd been punched. 'Sometimes, Rose, family relationships can be ruptured beyond repair. You, of all people, should understand that. '
'This has
nothing
to do with me. My mother… gave me up, ' I went on carefully, 'when I was tiny, so there was no real relationship there. But Jon's been your brother for thirty-six years. Your refusal to help him is despicable, ' I said quietly. 'I feel so ashamed of you. '
'Well I'm sorry you feel that way, Rose, ' he said calmly. 'But in any case you're probably wasting your breath abusing me, as I might not even be a match. '
'No, you might not be, that's true. But then, on the other hand, you might well be as you've got the same blood group, so you must try. It's one thing for Jon to die because no suitable donor was available: it's quite another for him to die because his own brother refused to help. Do it, Ed. '
'No. I won't. I just… don't think I can. '
'Do it today. Phone the hospital. Phone them right now. Here's the number, ' I handed him a piece of paper with all the details. 'Ask them what you have to do. You know, ' I added, 'you don't realise how lucky you are. '
'Lucky? What do you mean?'
'Exactly that. You're lucky, ' I repeated.
'In what way?'
'Because you've been given the chance to do something really great for someone: something… '—I groped for the right word, then I thought of Theo and suddenly found it— '… something
grand
. Not many people get an opportunity like that, to make their lives big and meaningful—not narrow and selfish. You should seize this chance, Ed, and you need to seize it, because it'll make you a much better man. '
'I just… can't. ' He was shaking his head.
I stood up. 'Yes you
can
, and you
will
! Or are you too, too mean?'
'I'm not mean!'
'You bloody well
are
. I've noticed it in small ways often enough but I never really saw it 'til now. But that's why Mary-Claire left you, isn't it, Ed?'
He reddened. 'Oh, she was a pain. She just whinged all the time. She expected me to subsidise her, ' he said, his mouth twisting with distaste. 'As though I don't have commitments of my own. That house is very expensive to run. '
'I'm sure it is. But then you insisted on buying such a big place, even though you didn't want kids. And it's a huge expense on your own and you're really pushed. No wonder you never have any spare cash. '
'That's right—I don't, so I really didn't see why Mary-Claire should live there for free. '
'You know, Ed, I never thought I'd sympathise with Mary-Claire Grey but right now I'm on her side. And that's why all your previous girlfriends left you, isn't it? Because you're so bloody tight. You're incapable of generosity, Ed, either of the pocket or the heart. Those two things are connected, and now I know just how ungenerous you are. I'd overlooked it because I was besotted with you, but I'm not any more. There's no way I'd stay with you now, knowing this. It's over. I'm not coming back. '