Olive released her rather ineffective seatbelt and breathed deeply. Mac patted her hand. ‘You all right, old girl?’
She nodded and placed her hand over his, still drawing strength and comfort from physical contact with him, even after all these years. ‘Less of the “old”, if you don’t mind.’
She loped from the car and knocked hesitantly on the front door. She felt tentative, unconfident; her stomach sat somewhere just below her throat. She could never have envisaged being made to feel unwelcome at her daughter’s front door, but today of all days, she wasn’t so sure. It had been many days since she’d last had any contact – the family had decided that it might be best to give Grace the space she seemed to crave – but enough was enough. This was the day Olive had given birth and she considered it her right to celebrate too.
Tom made his way down the stairs and spied Olive through the glass pane in the top half of the door. She raised her palm in a wave and he called back up to the bedroom, ‘Grace, your parents are here!’
Crawling out from beneath the warm duvet, Grace glanced at the bedside clock. It was nearly 4 p.m. They had slept and cried away most of the day. She pulled the comforter from the end of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders; it didn’t occur to her to put on clothes or to shower, and the mirror was just another wall-hanging, not something by which to gauge her appearance. She sloped down the stairs, allowing her bed-socks to slip off the final bit of tread with every step, and arrived in the hallway as Tom unbolted and unlocked the front door.
It was hard to say who made the first move, but Olive and Grace fell into each other’s arms as Grace wrapped the quilt around them both. They stood in a soft floral pyramid, weeping and holding onto each other as if their lives depended on it. Olive whispered in her ear, ‘You know what it’s like to lose a daughter, Grace, and I cannot begin to imagine the pain you’re in. But I love you, I love you so much. I’m your mum and I’m not going to lose my daughter, do you understand?’
Grace nodded inside her mum’s embrace.
Minutes later, Mac appeared at the front door, in his standard costume of cricket jersey and striped tie. Tom was shocked at how much he’d aged; his eyes had retreated into their sockets and his skin had the grey pallor of the terminally ill. Tom chose not to comment.
Mac stepped past his wife and daughter, almost ignoring the duck-down-covered lump that crowded the hallway, and brandished a birthday cake in Tom’s direction. ‘Got some tea to go with this then, young man?’
Tom nodded and welcomed Mac’s warm hand on his back. He’d missed him. Tom indicated the large Victoria sponge. ‘Did you make it, Mac?’
‘Of course,’ the old man lied, raising his chin.
‘From scratch?’ Tom added, and he and Grace both gave a small giggle. Mac and Olive joined in, not sure what they were smiling at, but relieved to be able to show a happy face in the presence of those they loved.
Olive placed her hands on either side of her daughter’s face. ‘Happy birthday, my darling girl.’
‘Thank you, Mum.’ And once again she was enveloped in her mother’s strong arms.
Eventually the quartet moved into the kitchen. They ate the cake with as much relish as they could muster and drank large quantities of hot tea.
Mac was the first to break the taboo; the oldest and the bravest, the head of the family. He coughed. ‘I know that losing Chloe has blown us all apart, shattered everything that we thought we knew, and I know that none of us will ever be totally complete again. We will carry a Chloe-shaped hole in our hearts forever…’
The group was silent, each of them swallowing hard and listening attentively.
‘But I for one would go through it all again in exchange for the three glorious years that we had with her. She was my little one, our little ray of sunshine, our pure joy and our pleasure.’
It was the perfect eulogy and a much-needed public acknowledgement. For a while afterwards, the four sat in quiet reflection. Then Tom nodded and left the table.
Grace reached out and patted her dad’s hand. ‘I know you’re right, Dad, but I’m still bogged down by how bloody unfair it all is.’
Olive concurred. ‘I agree with you, my darling. I’m old and I’ve had my life. It is so, so unfair.’
Grace could tell by her mother’s new pattern of lines that she had pondered the injustice of it every night until the daylight brought her some relief. She knew she would have lain in her bed, repeating over and over that it should have been her, not her darling granddaughter. No words of comfort could change that for Olive, so Grace offered none. Instead, she simply placed her hand over the back of her mother’s.
Tom returned to the room, holding the photo frame. He tried to hand it to Olive. ‘This is Grace’s birthday present – from Chloe.’
Olive stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth and wept. Mac took the frame from his son-in-law and ran his fingers over the uneven bumps; he even chuckled at the garish collection of jewels and beads. ‘Well, well. It is truly beautiful and very Chloe. Why have one jewel when you can have forty?’
Grace smiled as she nodded at her dad. He held her gaze. ‘And you, my girl, are you looking after yourself?’
‘Oh, you know, Dad, everything is sort of carrying on regardless. The world turns, even if I don’t want it to. I haven’t had the energy to think or plan, I’m just being carried along like so much flotsam on the tide.’
Mac closed his eyes briefly at his brave daughter. ‘Oh, darling, I would never liken you to flotsam. A fine rare seaweed maybe.’
Grace smiled again. She loved her dad.
Olive chipped in. ‘I’m more of a reed – I sway between crying and feeling fucking furious!’
Tom positively choked on his tea and Mac thought that he must have misheard his wife of fifty years. Olive didn’t care.
Grace shook her head as she wiped her tears on her pyjama sleeve. ‘Oh God, Mum! Alice wouldn’t believe me if I told her what you’d just said.’ She looked up. ‘Is she still afraid to come and see me?’
‘Yes, a little, I think,’ Olive said. ‘But she’s coming anyway.’
‘Today?’ Grace was surprised.
‘Yes.’ Olive glanced knowingly at her husband.
Grace sighed. She knew she didn’t have the energy to fix Alice, but she was glad of the chance to move forward. ‘It’ll be nice to see her, Mum. It really will.’ She noted the relief in her mum’s expression.
It was an hour later that Alice pulled into the driveway. ‘Happy birthday,’ she whispered as she entered the kitchen.
Grace stood and took her little sister in her arms. She looked her up and down, noting her cheesecloth smocked top and her ripped jeans. ‘How are you, Alice?’
‘I’m… Oh God, Gracie, I don’t quite know how to start!’
‘Well, come and sit down. There’s cake, so that’s a good start – one of Mum’s Victoria sponges, though Dad’s been trying to take credit for it!’ Grace flashed a smile at Mac as she tried to put her sister at her ease.
Alice kissed everyone around the table before taking up a chair. ‘There’s something I need to tell you, Gracie.’ She exhaled sharply.
Grace stared at her, knowing in that instant what her little sister was going to say. She noted the bloom to her cheek, the slight swell to her already ample bosom. She placed her head on one side and let her tears slide from her nose. ‘It’s okay, Alice. It’s okay!’ She waved her hand, trying to catch her breath. ‘These are happy tears, I promise. You’re having a baby, aren’t you?’
Alice nodded as she rummaged in her bag and produced a grainy grey scan picture.
Mac reached out and held the image flat in his large hand. ‘What would our little Chloe make of
this
news, I wonder?’
Mac was and would continue to be unafraid of talking about his beloved granddaughter. Grace was happy and reassured that, within her family, Chloe would never disappear, would never sink without trace; they would keep her alive in their minds and imaginations and would not succumb to the temptation to never mention her, however much pain that might save them. Avoiding talking about her would mean that she really was gone, gone from the earth and gone from their lives. They would never – could never – let that happen.
‘Not much, I suspect.’ Tom smiled.
Olive laughed, thinking about how her granddaughter would have reacted. ‘Oh my goodness, yes, quite right. She’d have hated the whole idea! She would not have liked it one bit! Chloe was always the baby and our only baby – can you imagine asking her to share her grandpa with this little thing?’ Olive pointed at the image, a copy of which she had been gazing at for the past few days. ‘She would be having none of it. She’d say, “You are porridgeable, Grandma!”‘
They all tittered, knowing this to be true. Darling, darling Chloe.
‘I did ask her if she’d like a baby sister or brother.’ Grace recalled the day – like all ordinary days with her daughter, now extraordinary; a precious day, one which she stored away, its details and memories like hidden jewels that she kept close to her chest, taking comfort from the feel of the treasure against her skin. ‘And she said she’d rather have a green bike with a basket. She was quite adamant.’
They all gave small, soft laughs, picturing her cherubic mouth forming the words.
Grace smiled at her sister. ‘Congratulations, clever Alice. I’m so happy for you, after all those tears…’
Alice shrugged her shoulders. ‘I know! We gave up, completely gave up. After being told it would never happen, I accepted it, reluctantly, but I did, and the next thing, here we are!’ She rubbed her tummy. ‘I feel…’ Alice chose her words carefully. ‘I feel delighted, over the moon, obviously, but also guilty. I was nervous about telling you.’
‘I’d feel a bit like that too, if the shoe were on the other foot.’ Grace spoke openly. ‘I understand. But how sad it would be if losing Chlo were to take the joy from everything good to come. We can’t let that happen. We must celebrate your news, Alice. It’s wonderful! I bet Patrick is beside himself.’
‘He is.’ Alice beamed. ‘I’ve had to stop him redecorating and buying all sorts of contraptions that we can’t afford and I’m sure we don’t need.’
Olive gazed lovingly at her incredible daughters; fine, strong, compassionate women. She knew her job was done.
‘You’ll be a great mum.’ Tom smiled, speaking the truth but finding it hard to share his wife’s magnanimity. It felt like he was handing the mantle on to Alice and Patrick and that thought left him feeling empty. ‘And you must let Patrick redecorate and buy his contraptions. Let him enjoy every single second.’
Alice nodded. ‘I will. I promise.’
‘Do you know what you’re having?’ Grace hardly dared ask.
Alice shook her head. ‘No, not yet. It’s too soon.’
‘Doesn’t matter though, does it – a baby’s a baby. It will be wonderful.’ Grace stood and held her sister tightly. ‘It will, it will be wonderful.’ She closed her eyes and remembered the moment they’d placed her little girl in her arms.
‘Welcome to the world, little one.’
The evening stole up on them too fast. It had been a day of healing; the cathartic musings over the kitchen table had been restorative, with tea and birthday cake as the salve. It was worth more than therapy and left all involved with a feeling that they had moved forward a little, and had laid some ghosts to rest.
Tom and Grace were still in their pyjamas, having waved Mac and Olive off in their little car only an hour before. They had somehow forgotten to get showered and dressed and now there was no point; as if by magic, it was night-time again. They sat in the sitting room, nursing mugs of cocoa on the sofa. For the first time in as long as they could remember, the silence was far from uncomfortable.
‘I can’t believe she wanted a bike over a brother or sister.’ Tom sipped the foam from his drink.
‘Not just any bike – a green one with a basket. She was very specific.’
‘I can imagine!’
‘It’s incredible and horrible, Tom, how much our lives have changed in one year. I can see us all so clearly this time last year. You’d both decorated me that fab cake and cooked supper, Chloe was so excited, and everyone drank too much wine. It was amazing.’
‘Our lives didn’t change in a year, Gracie. They were changed in a matter of minutes. When we brought her home from hospital, sat on this sofa, chatted, tended to her, we had a life, a family. I had it all…’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘And by nine o’clock in the morning, it was all gone. My daughter, my marriage as I knew it, everything.’
Grace wanted to offer some warmth, some kindness. She sidled closer to him. Perhaps she could offer physical comfort through proximity.
Tom continued without registering her actions, as if afraid that if he reached for her, like a hesitant bird, she might fly away. ‘Even though she was only a little girl, Chloe managed to make this place into a home, didn’t she? Her routine kept us busy. It was the little things that made the difference. There was always noise, activity, mess – even her physical presence, singing or humming, like a comfortable background noise. And now…’
Grace was silent. It was true.
He continued. ‘Recently, I’ve been missing much more than just her. Missing the things that she used to do and missing the way that our home used to feel.’
‘I’m sorry, Tom. I’m sorry that I’m so crap at making things better. I just feel so preoccupied.’ It was the grossest of understatements.
‘Grace, I don’t expect anything from you. I wasn’t saying it for that reason. I know you’ve got a lot to contend with; more than most people will ever have to endure. I think you’re amazing and I think you’re doing a great job of keeping going. A lot would have thrown the towel in.’
‘Don’t think I haven’t considered it.’ She smiled at Tom. Poor, sweet Tom. He, like her, had had his life turned upside down and was trying to cling on to the wreckage of what remained. But she was trying so hard to stay afloat herself that she couldn’t deal with his sinking as well. It was every man for himself, women and children first.
‘That’s some news from Alice.’ He sniffed.
‘Yes. I’m pleased for her and I’m happy for Mum and Dad. This will be a lovely diversion for them.’