The Night the Angels Came (13 page)

There was a small pause when Adrian looked down and fiddled with the duvet before he admitted, ‘It’s Patrick. And you.’

I looked at him, puzzled. ‘Patrick and me? What’s the matter? Can you explain?’

He fiddled some more with the duvet, clearly finding if very difficult to say what he was thinking, while my thoughts worked overtime on what could possibly be worrying him about Patrick and me.

‘Adrian, love, can you try and explain what you mean?’ I tried again. ‘And then I can help.’

He took a small breath and without looking at me said, ‘Michael said his daddy has lung cancer.’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ I hadn’t explained the exact nature of Patrick’s illness to the children – that he had cancer, which had begun in the lungs. It seemed enough for them to know that Patrick was ill with what I’d described as a nasty disease.

‘Michael said his dad’s lung cancer was because he used to smoke,’ Adrian said anxiously.

‘It’s possible,’ I said. ‘A lot more is known now about the dangers of smoking than when Patrick smoked in his twenties.’

There was another pause before Adrian said, without looking up, ‘Dad told me you used to smoke. Will you get lung cancer like Patrick?’

Thank you, John, I thought: I need help like that. ‘No,’ I said. ‘That was years ago, before I had you and Paula. And I didn’t smoke much. I’m fine, and it’s possible Patrick’s illness wasn’t caused by smoking. People who have never smoked sometimes get lung cancer.’ For I didn’t want Adrian to feel that Patrick was to blame for his illness and therefore Michael’s suffering. ‘When did your dad tell you I smoked?’ I asked, wondering why he had felt the need to tell the children.

‘A few months ago. We saw some boys smoking in the park and Dad gave me a lecture on not smoking. I told him I wouldn’t ever smoke. It’s disgusting and makes you smell.’

‘Good,’ I said and thought that my son was clearly far more sensible than I had been.

Then Adrian looked at me and said quietly, ‘Mum, Patrick will come out of hospital, won’t he?’

I took his hand between mine. ‘Yes, of course. Once the test results are back the doctors will give Patrick the medicine he needs and he’ll be out in a few days.’

‘Good,’ Adrian said, at last smiling. ‘I like Patrick and Michael.’

‘So do I, love.

Having spent some time reassuring Paula and Adrian, it was after 8.30 when I went downstairs. I tidied up and then went into the lounge with a cup of tea. I knew visiting at the hospital was 6.00–8.00 p.m., so I was expecting Nora’s phone call any time. In fact it was nearly ten o’clock before she phoned – when I’d been about to phone her. The poor woman sounded exhausted; I also knew straight away there was something badly wrong.

‘S
orry I didn’t phone sooner,’ Nora began, her voice strained. ‘I’ve only just got in. Colleen and Eamon were at the hospital and we waited behind to talk to a nurse.’

‘How is Patrick?’ I broke in, eager for news.

She sighed. ‘The nurse didn’t really say more than we already knew – that they would know more when the test results are back in the morning – but I …’ Nora paused, trying to find the right words to voice her thoughts. ‘I know I can say this to you, Cathy, and obviously don’t say anything to Michael, but I have a bad feeling about this – about how ill Patrick really is.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, a cold chill running up my spine.

‘I think Pat’s illness could have progressed further than he’s been letting on. Jack does too.’

‘You think he’s purposely not told us?’

‘Yes. I could be wrong but Pat’s a great one for protecting others, especially Michael.’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, searching for every reason to disbelieve her. ‘I’ve seen quite a lot of Patrick recently and he was fine until yesterday. What makes you think he’s worse than he’s been saying?’

‘

‘It’s difficult to explain. He was lying too still; he barely stirred in the whole two hours we were there, and his colour is dreadful. He wasn’t like that when he was ill before – even when he collapsed and was taken to hospital. Perhaps it’s the medication they’re giving him, but when I saw him, so still and pale, it reminded me of the last time I saw my father in the nursing home.’

I felt my stomach clench. ‘He didn’t wake at all the whole time you were there? I asked.

‘Once, sort of. He half opened his eyes and seemed to focus on us. I took the opportunity to tell him Michael was with you and you’d collected his things.’

‘Good.’

‘I don’t know if he heard me. He didn’t say anything and his eyes closed again almost immediately. The four of us stayed until the end of visiting but I don’t think he knew we were there. How is Michael?’ Nora finished.

‘All right, considering. He’s asleep now. He’s had a good evening. I’ll take him to school in the morning. What do you think I should tell him about his dad?’

Nora let out another small sigh. ‘Just reassure him for now, until we know more. Patrick wouldn’t want him being upset unnecessarily. Hopefully once the test results return they’ll be able to give Pat something to get him back on his feet.’

‘Will you phone me again as soon as you know anything?’ I asked. ‘It’s no good me phoning the hospital: they won’t tell me anything as I’m not family.’

‘Nor me. I’m just the neighbour as far as they’re concerned, although Jack and I have been close friends of Pat’s for twenty years. Colleen and Eamon are down as next of kin. Colleen is going to phone the hospital tomorrow morning, and then phone me. Either she or I will phone you.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘And thank goodness Patrick has friends like you.’

We said goodbye and I hung up. I remained where I was, sitting on the sofa, and stared into space. I ran through all Nora had said, which wasn’t a lot, still searching for hope. I knew what Nora had meant when she’d said Patrick was very still and pale. I’d seen that earlier when I’d collected Michael from the hospital. Usually Patrick had a ruddy complexion but he’d looked almost grey. He was also an active man, even since his illness, and seeing him lying so still seemed unnatural. Whether or not his condition was worse than he’d let on, as Nora and Jack thought, I didn’t know. I’d have hoped Patrick would have confided in me – we’d shared a lot in the time we’d known each other. I also had no idea when Michael would be able to see his father again and I knew that that would be one of the first questions he’d ask in the morning. It was therefore with a very heavy heart that half an hour later I switched off the television and went up to bed, hoping the following day would bring better news.

I didn’t sleep. I thought of Patrick as I’d seen him in A & E, with the oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose, and poor Michael sitting beside his bed looking so very sad and alone. I thought of Patrick’s jacket hanging over the chair back and the scuff mark on the shoulder, which he would have immediately brushed off had he been able to. I pictured Pat unconscious in the street with Michael kneeling beside him waiting for help; then refusing to be parted from his dad until I’d arrived at the hospital. I also remembered Michael’s words when he’d stayed with me before and we’d looked out of his bedroom window at the night sky: ‘When it’s my daddy’s turn the angels will come from heaven and take him to be with my mummy.’ Tears filled my eyes as I remembered the way Michael had finished his prayer that night: ‘I know you want my daddy, but I’m staying at Cathy’s and haven’t said goodbye. So please don’t send your angels for him yet.’

‘No, don’t send your angels yet,’ I now said quietly, making the prayer my own. ‘None of us has said goodbye.’

The first thing Michael said when I woke him at 7.00 the following morning was, ‘Did Nora phone? How’s my dad?’

‘Yes, Nora phoned,’ I said brightly. ‘She and Jack, and Auntie Colleen and Uncle Eamon, went to see your dad. Nora said he was having a good sleep but he woke once and Nora was able to tell him you were fine and with me. Dad sends his love.’ Which I knew Patrick would have done had he been well enough.

‘When can I see him?’ Michael asked. ‘As soon as your dad is feeling a bit better. Auntie Colleen or Nora will phone later when they’ve spoken to the doctors.’

‘OK,’ Michael said, reassured and getting out of bed. ‘School today.’

Leaving Michael to dress in his school uniform, I went to Paula’s bedroom to wake her.

‘Is Patrick better?’ Paula asked as soon as she opened her eyes.

‘The nurses are looking after him,’ I said, laying her clothes on her bed.

‘When’s he coming out of hospital?’

‘Soon, I hope.’

‘Good.’

And when I went into Adrian’s room the first thing he asked was: ‘Any news?’

‘Nora phoned last night and said Patrick was comfortable. She will phone again later when the test results are back.’

Leaving Adrian to dress, I checked on Paula’s progress and then went downstairs to make breakfast – toast and cereal. Despite my waking the children in plenty of time to wash, dress and have breakfast there wasn’t a moment to spare, and I had to remind them all to eat rather than talk at the breakfast table if we weren’t going to be late for school, which we weren’t.

We arrived at Michael’s school at 8.05, ready for his 8.15 start. I saw him into the playground and then turned the car around and headed back to Adrian’s school for his 8.50 start. Then I took Paula to nursery for 9.00, and once I’d seen her in and said goodbye I went straight home.

Although I knew it was probably too early for the test results and Nora’s phone call, as soon as I let myself into the hall my eyes went to the answerphone in the hall, which showed no messages. I slipped off my shoes and jacket and concentrated on the tasks in hand. There’s always plenty of clearing up to do on a Monday morning, after the weekend. I also wanted to fill in a job-application form that had arrived in the post on Saturday. With Paula starting full-time school in September I’d started searching the job section in the local paper for any position that would fit in with school hours. So, it appeared, had many others: the last post I’d applied for – a classroom assistant in a local school, hours 9.15 a.m.–3.00 p.m. – had had 175 applicants, and the one before that, a part-time clerical post, over 200.

But as I sat at the dining table and began filling in this application form for part-time supermarket work my thoughts were a long way from what I was writing and I kept making mistakes and having to Tipp-Ex them out. At 11.40 I had to leave to collect Paula from nursery and when I returned at 12.15 there were still no messages on the answerphone. I made Paula and me a sandwich lunch and after we’d eaten she played while I had another attempt at the job application, still anxiously awaiting news. Surely the test results would be back from the lab now? I thought. Nora had said Colleen was going to phone the hospital in the morning and the morning had officially ended at twelve noon. I didn’t want to phone Nora and make a nuisance of myself, but I was desperate to hear and, without news to the contrary, I began to imagine the worst.

When the phone did eventually ring just after 1.00. I pounced on the extension in the kitchen, nearly tripping over the chair leg.

‘Hello?’

‘Cathy, it’s Jill. Stella has just phoned. I understand Michael is with you?’

Disappointed that it wasn’t Nora, I hoped that Jill might have more information. ‘Yes, I collected him yesterday. Have you heard anything?’

‘Stella phoned the hospital this morning and was told they were waiting for some test results,’ Jill said.

‘Yes, that’s all I know.’

‘How’s Michael? He’ll need his clothes.’

‘I collected them yesterday on the way back from the hospital. A neighbour let me in. Sorry, Jill, I should have phoned and updated you, but I’ve been so worried waiting for news. Didn’t the doctors give Stella any more details? Is Patrick still unconscious?’

‘All Stella said was that Patrick had collapsed, was in hospital, and they were running tests. What have you told Michael?’

‘Only that his dad is being well looked after and we should know more later today. He’s coping well, considering. Adrian and Paula have been keeping him occupied.’

‘Good. And how are you and the children?’ Jill asked.

I appreciated her concern. ‘Worried, obviously. I’ll be happier when I know more.’

I heard Jill’s silence. ‘Cathy,’ she said sombrely after a moment, ‘it may be that the test results are not what any of us want to hear. It may be we have to start preparing Michael for saying goodbye to his father.’

‘It’s only your optimism that keeps you going,’ I said curtly and unprofessionally. ‘Let’s wait and see what the hospital has to say tomorrow.’

‘I agree,’ Jill said, unperturbed. ‘But bear in mind what I said. Let me know if you hear anything further. I understand you are in contact with Patrick’s friends?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Cathy?’

‘Yes?’

‘The bereavement counselling that Michael will be offered will also be extended to you and the children if you want it.’

‘Thanks, Jill,’ I said stiffly. ‘I’ll remember that.’

All manner of thoughts and emotions went through my mind as I said goodbye to Jill and hung up. While I knew she had Michael’s, my and my children’s welfare at heart, talking about bereavement counselling was unnecessary and unhelpful at present. Also, I thought, presumptive. Jill hadn’t met Patrick since that first meeting. She didn’t know him and hadn’t seen how well he’d been dong. Had she known him better, she would have realized that with his strength of character he wouldn’t let one setback get the better of him.

Still anxious and now somewhat annoyed by Jill’s comment, I hid my feelings from Paula and put away the job-application form again; there was no way I could concentrate on it now. Jill hadn’t been able to tell me any more than I already knew and I was still waiting to hear from Nora. It was now nearly 1.30 and in an hour I would have to leave to collect Michael from school. I couldn’t arrive at the school gates without any news of his father, so I decided that if Nora hadn’t phoned by 2.00 I’d phone her. I played a few card games with Paula and then she went upstairs to play with her dolls’ house in her bedroom. Finally at 1.50 the phone rang and it was Nora.

‘How is he?’ I asked immediately on hearing her voice.

‘Much the same. Colleen has only just managed to contact someone at the hospital. I’ve just finished speaking to her. Patrick’s blood-cell count is very low, so they are giving him more blood, and a saline solution so that he doesn’t become dehydrated. Colleen and I are going to the hospital this evening, so hopefully he’ll be awake by then.’

‘Michael was hoping to see his father tonight but I’m not sure that’s a good idea, are you?’

‘No, I should wait. If he’s awake tonight then you can take him tomorrow. I’ll phone you either way when I get home.’

‘Thanks. And Colleen didn’t say any more?’

‘No, only that he’d had a comfortable night, and they may do another scan later today or tomorrow.’

I thanked Nora again and we said goodbye. While it wasn’t the good news I’d been hoping for – that Patrick was sitting up in bed eating and joking with the nurses – it wasn’t bad news either. Aware that I should update Jill, I phoned her and told her what Nora had told me.

‘Thanks, Cathy, I’ll tell Stella. Let me know when you hear more. And Cathy?’

‘Yes.’

‘What I said earlier: obviously we’re all hoping Patrick gets over this, but I have to be practical.’

‘I know, Jill. Thanks.’