The Torn Up Marriage (29 page)

Emily and Charlotte were tucked up in bed, the exhausting excitement of Christmas still catching up on them. The usual Hogmanay stuff was on the telly; the year’s countdown and Jools Holland tinkering away at the piano. Kate dug a hand into the Quality Street tin that was now half empty; she’d be getting down to the strawberry and orange creams soon. She’d stay up for a while, but she had
no
intention of seeing the New Year in. No point in dragging it out, sitting by herself at the midnight hour with a lone party popper. Though it would be bloody good to see the back of this year.

She’d never really been big on New Year’s Eve anyhow – Christmas, yes, fantastic – but New Year always seemed a touch melancholy or maybe that was just her, too much forced frivolity. No, she didn’t want to find herself sitting up late, getting all emotional. And if she fell asleep by ten o’clock all the better, because when she woke up it’d all be over, the New Year here, and it had got to be a better one than the last, surely. She unwrapped a chocolate caramel.

At least the girls seemed more settled of late. Michael had taken them out for the day yesterday, down to see the latest Disney movie and to catch the Fenwick’s window display in Newcastle before it all got packed away for another year; a sleepover not being possible with his latest temporary living arrangements. No one had mentioned anything about Sophie, not even the girls, so Kate stayed quiet about that, too. Let him sort out his own mess.

The phone dragged her back to the here and now.

“Just want to wish you a Happy New Year, darling. We’re off to bed shortly, so we shan’t be ringing at midnight.” Her mother.

“Oh, me too, I’ll not be up late tonight, and the girls are already asleep. It’s been a hectic few days.”

“Well, you take care. We’ll pop up and see you soon. It was lovely to have you here Christmas Day. Hang on, I’ll just put your father on.”

Peter’s deeper tones, “Hello, sweetheart. Yes, all the very best for the New Year. We’re thinking of you. We’ll ring tomorrow and speak to the girls. Bye love, bye.”

“Bye, Dad. Happy New Year to both of you, too. And thanks for everything.”

She’d just put the phone down, when it rang again.

“Hello, Kate, just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year. Thought tonight might be a bit of a tricky one.”

She struggled to place the voice for a moment. Oh, yes, Graeme. “Hi, Graeme, thanks. Oh, I’m not so bad. Just treating it like a normal night, really. Off to bed soon, I think. I’m already in my pyjamas. Did you have a good Christmas with your sister? Are you back home yet?”

“Yeah, had a lovely time, thanks, but it’s good to get back to my own space, too. Like you, I think I’ll just take an early night tonight.”

It would be so easy to say, “Come round”, spend the evening with his warm arms around her, enjoy his company. But she had a feeling he wanted much more than she could ever give him, and she would only disappoint him in the long run.

“Thanks, Graeme, and thanks for all your support this year.”

“No worries, Kate, any time.”

She hoped he’d find someone to love him properly, but he wasn’t the man for her, not for life, for keeps, till death do us part. He had never come anywhere near to how she had felt about Michael.

“Happy New Year to you, Graeme. And all the very best to you.”

“You too, Kate. Night.”

“Night.” She put the phone down with a sigh.

She found a green triangle in the tin. Wondered about having a Baileys with it or a glass of wine, but decided a hot chocolate with a book in bed might be a better idea. She switched off the telly, texted Mel and a couple of friends, getting her New Year messages in early, and went to warm some milk in the microwave, feeling very much like a ninety-year-old.

She was in the kitchen when the phone went again, the New Year hotline, probably another friend getting the New Year messages done early.

“Hello.” She picked up.

“Can you come? She’s in a bad way.” It was George, his voice staccato, with a hint of panic.

“Oh, George, what’s happened? Is it Dorothy?”

“Yes, I think it’s all finally got too much for her. She’s got herself in a right state, keeps asking for you and her boys… I’m sorry, it’s Old Year’s Night, isn’t it. You’re probably celebrating, or off out in a minute.”

Standing in her pyjamas and dressing gown, her hot chocolate milk warming, the truth was far from it. “No, I’ve nothing on. I’ll come, of course. But the girls… just let me sort something out. I’ll be as quick as I can.” Poor Dorothy.

“Thank you, Kate.”

“I’ll come as soon as I can. Will she be okay till then? Does she need a doctor?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s more emotional than physical, I think.”

“Well, you go and stay with her, till I’m there.”

“I will. Of course.”

She put down the receiver, slightly shocked, but ready to act. Who would help? New Year’s Eve? Mel surely would. They were having a family party at home, she’d been asked along, but couldn’t face it, preferring a quiet night in. It might be a bit noisy there, but the girls would be fine with them, they could pile into one of their beds, or join in the party if they woke up. The phone was still in her hand; she was about to dial out. The ringing tone startled her.

“Hello?”

“We’ve just had the call, too.” It was Sally. “Dan and Michael are going over to see Dorothy. I’m staying at home. I know she’s been asking for you, too. Do you want to bring the girls here?”

“Well, yes. Are you sure? They’re in bed asleep right now.”

“Yeah, just bundle them up, bring them across on your way. The double bed’s ready in Michael’s room, you can pop them in there, no problems.”

There was no time to dither about it. It sounded a good option, “Yes, okay. Thanks. I’ll get them into the car, then. I’ll be there as soon as poss.”

“Okay. Bye. See you in a while.”

She ran upstairs, PJs off, jeans and a jumper on. Got the car ready, the rear doors open, lifted the girls, one by one, sleepily from their cosy beds, Emily stirring in her arms as she tried to place her into her car seat. Her little girl opened her eyes, blinked, saw Kate, trusted her and dozed again. She ran up for Charlotte, heavier, deeper in sleep, Kate’s arms aching, relieved to have her on her booster seat, strapped in. Mobile, purse, coat, keys, away.

Kate drove swiftly but safely, the five minutes across town to Dan and Sally’s. The roads quiet at this time on New Year’s Eve, the digital car clock reading 10:48 pm, however the pavements in the main street were shifting with drunken revellers staggering between pubs and clubs. She was glad to get out of the centre, heading towards the new housing area. She pulled into their estate, parked up outside a brick-built family home.

Michael was already dashing out of the front door. “Hey.”

“How is she? Have you heard any more?”

“Dad’s really worried, says he’s never seen her like this. It sounds more like she’s upset than anything physical, though… She’s been so bloody brave up ‘til now, maybe too brave…” He swung open the rear passenger door. Kate headed to the opposite side. They lifted a daughter out each; the girls still sleepy. Charlotte murmured “Daddy?” then nestled in to him. Em didn’t stir in Kate’s arms.

“Follow me, straight on upstairs,” Michael’s voice was hushed, “Then to the left.”

Kate went up steadily, minding her step, entered the bedroom. They placed the girls under the double duvet of Michael’s temporary bed. In the half-light, Kate spotted a few of his toiletries on the dressing table, his jacket slung over the back of a chair. They looked misplaced, sad. She didn’t comment on the new arrangements, just tucked Emily in gently, looked over at Charlotte lying there peacefully, and followed Michael quietly back down the stairs.

“They’ll be fine.” Sally was at the bottom of the stairs, her voice hushed, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep a close eye, and if they stir I’ll be there to reassure them. Andrew’s asleep, too, James is still up, wants to see midnight in, so we’ll just be watching a film. I’ll keep looking in on them.”

“Thanks.”

Dan was putting his coat on. “Right, you ready?”

Michael looked at Kate, “You may as well come along with us. Leave your car here for now.”

Kate nodded. It seemed sensible. “Okay.”

Dan was already out of the door with an urgency to get going.

“Send my love to Dorothy,” Sally’s concerned voice followed them as they left.

A frenetic George welcomed them at the door of the farmhouse. “She’s been like it for a couple of hours now. I’m so sorry to have had to bother you all. But, she’s kept asking for you. I couldn’t calm her. I don’t think she would have settled till you came. She’s up in our room, seems very panicky. I’ve never known her like this, in all the years… I’m sorry, you’ve had to disturb the children and everything.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Michael was calm, supportive.

“Don’t worry about that, George. How is she now?” Kate placed a hand on her father-in-law’s shoulder.

“Much the same.”

“I’ll go on up.” Michael headed for the stairs, Dan close behind.

Kate thought she’d leave the two boys alone with Dorothy for a while, give them some privacy. They’d soon call her if Dorothy was asking for her. She’d stay with George, make some tea, have a chat – she wanted to find out more about what had happened, and he obviously needed support, too. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

They heard voices; Dorothy’s raised and stretched with anxiety, her sons’ calming. No words reached them, just tones, vibrations through the walls of the family home. The memories of happier times still there. A stark contrast to what was happening tonight.

George’s expression was harried.

“She’ll be alright, George, I’m sure. She’s been holding it together for all of us. But maybe it was just too much, she was asking too much of herself. And now with the chemo and everything kicking in, she’ll be weak, tired of it all. It’s too much to expect of anyone.”

He sighed, “I hope so, my dear. I truly hope so,” fearing all the while that the cancer had truly got to her now, because it had gnawed into her spirit.

The kettle came to a boil, a humdrum background to their pain. Kate filled a large teapot, popped in three teabags, enough for everyone.

Dan appeared around the kitchen door, his voice tense. “She’s asking for you, Kate. I’ll stay with Dad a minute.”

She went on up, paused at the bedroom door. Filled with unease, fear. But then love took over. Dorothy needed her. She was there to help.

She walked in. There was Dorothy, sat up in bed, propped against pillows, no scarf on her head, no NHS wig, which she’d taken to wearing of late. Nowhere to hide. The shock of grey stubs, lack of eyebrows, the face slightly puffy, reminding Kate of an eagle chick, she’d seen on a recent documentary. She looked so vulnerable. Kate pulled her thoughts back; this was still Dorothy.

“Oh, Kate,” Dorothy’s voice rasped as it broke on the words.

Michael’s face looked ashen, anxious.

Kate sat down gently on one side of the bed, steadied her resolve and took her mother-in-law’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Not so good. No, not good. It’s just so unfair… What if the chemo doesn’t work? What if I don’t get over this thing? I’m not ready to go yet. There’s so much I want to do.” Dorothy was shaking her head, her tears glistening in the low light of the lamp, moist on her puffy cheeks, “The grandchildren, I want to see them grow up. And I’m afraid for them too, Kate. For your little girls. The links are there, aren’t they? That breast cancer can be hereditary, in the genes somehow. What if I might have passed it on?”

A stab of fear hit Kate too, there was so much in the news about it lately, the BRAC gene, family history playing a big part, preventative mastectomies, but she bit it back down, “We can’t be sure of that, Dorothy. And you can’t blame yourself anyhow.”

“Kate,” she tightened the grip on Kate’s hand, “My mother died of breast cancer at sixty-three.”

Oh shit.
“Oh God, Dorothy, I hadn’t realised.” She felt the pain of Dorothy’s loss, and the sharpness of her fear, but they had to try and remain positive. “And for the girls, at least they’ll be informed and checked. Science is advancing so fast, there might even be a cure by the time they grow up.”
Please, dear God
. “And recovery rates are already so much better…”

“Try not to worry about the girls, Mum,” Michael added, “Let’s just concentrate on getting you better now, hey?”

Dorothy sat back against the pillows of her double bed, tears in her eyes. Kate noticed how even her eyelashes had thinned.

Cancer was a cruel, cold, little shit.

“A new year to come…” Dorothy sounded wistful, “There’s still so much to do. I want more years than just this one… But I’m just so tired, so very tired.”

“You’re bound to be, Mum,” Michael’s tone was calming, “You’ve had so much to deal with, and the chemo will be affecting your body. The doctors said your immune system will go down after each treatment.”

“I know. I know that,” she sounded short with him, “ But I don’t even recognise myself any more. How I feel inside. When I look in the mirror.” His mother raised a trembling hand to her stubbly hair. “Heaven knows what your father must think when he looks at me… Where is he?” her voice softened, “Is he okay? … I can’t leave him.”

“He’s just downstairs. I’ve made some tea,” Kate said, “I’ve brought a cup up for you, here by your bedside. Would you like some? And George’ll be back up soon, very soon.” Kate helped her to hold the cup, steadied her mother-in-law’s frail hand as she took a sip, placed the cup back down on the bedside table.

“I don’t want to leave any of you, not yet,” Dorothy’s voice was weak. It was hard to see her so fearful, broken.

“You won’t have to, Dorothy. You’ll get over this. The doctors are very positive. You’ll soon be better, I’m sure you will,” Kate tried her best to reassure.

“But how do you know? How can any of us
know
?”

“Mum, don’t put yourself through this. The doctors are doing everything they can… I’ll not let the bloody cancer take you. We’ll do everything possible.” Michael was still fighting, protecting in the only way he knew how.