That Elusive Cure 43

First thing I did Saturday morning was dash over to the church and test the pod. The result was what I expected, but not what I hoped for. Ten days to go. What I wanted was a miraculous jump in production, and to have the machine say it was one day away from working, or even two.

I’d made Jimmy a cup of tea that morning and said a good morning. Sometimes the two of us were so stubborn the best thing to do was move past an issue, not appropriate blame. I’d seen the look in his eye when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. He felt guilty for buggering up the machine, very guilty. And I had to admit, if it wasn’t for him getting in contact with Bob, we’d never have got to this point. We’d still have a broken machine and no clue how to fix it.

Dad had called a secret meeting with Margret down at the boat yard. We were going to be holding the meeting at a café nearby. I think the idea was to eat cake, drink tea, and plan the party Mum supposedly didn’t know anything about. To be honest making small talk with a woman I knew nothing about didn’t appeal to me, especially today. Stress was building up in me. There was no reason to think that the machine wouldn’t fix itself, yet it was all I could think about, central to everything I worried about.

“Hi Dad,” I said as I rounded the side of a building and caught him standing by his boat with that woman beside him. The two of them seemed thick as thieves, her hand resting on his shoulder and him looking intensely at her. For a moment my guts went cold, had I been blind to an actual affair? Then Margret turned to me. She seemed to be sad. Surprised at being caught in the act of trying to steal my dad more like. Maybe that’s what her guilty expression looked like.

“Kathy, how lovely to see you again.” She gave me a hug despite me trying to avoid contact, and as she pulled back I realised she was crying.

“What’s wrong?” I pulled a tissue from my pocket and handed it to her. Dad stood close beside her. Dad looked watery eyed as well.

Margret steadied herself. “I knew what was going on with you and your health, so I didn’t tell your father. I figured there was enough worry going on there.”

I glanced at Dad, hoping for a clue. But he was staring at the ground sadly.

“It’s my husband, you see. He was diagnosed with cancer six months ago. He died last night.” She burst into tears again.

“She didn’t want to worry us, not when we had you to worry about,” Dad told me quietly, his voice almost lost on the sea wind. He was still staring at the ground, one arm placed awkwardly around Margret’s shoulders.

“Jesus, I am so sorry.” I gave Margret another hug.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” she said as she dried her eyes. The tears had gone again and she dabbed her cheeks dry as she attempted to compose herself.

“What on earth are you apologising for?” I took out the travel pack of tissues from my pocket, thought about giving her another one, then handed her the pack. “Can I take you home? Or is there somewhere else you’d like to be?”

Margret gazed out towards the tidal islands. “Mark loved walking to Hilbre Island. If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk out there.”

The tides were in our favour and Dad and I walked Margret out past Little Eye and Middle Island to the biggest of the three islands. Margret walked to the very end and sat on a grassy mound, watching the colony of seals as they chattered and readied themselves to go out to sea for the day. Dad and I sat close, both of us unsure about how close to sit and what to say.

The sun moved up to its apex as more walkers appeared. The tides would be turning soon, if Margret didn’t make a start I’d have to interrupt her thoughts. Before I was had to, she stood and without a word turned to leave.

Death did funny things to people. I’d told Cass I’d come by hers after party planning. As we walked back along the beach I felt like I was surrounded by death and dying, if not of other people, then of myself.

We took Margret back home and left her only because she insisted. A dog I didn’t know she owned came stiffly out of a back room and sat next to her before starting to lick her hand.

“Mark’s dog,” she said and patted him on the head. “He’s not far off joining his master.”

“Do you want me to fix you anything?”

Dad stood by the door fiddling with the rim of his hat. He looked so uncomfortable, I’d have sent him away to wait outside but I was certain he’d refuse.  

“I could make you a cup of tea? Are you hungry?” I moved to sit next to Margret on the sofa.

“Buster has cancer as well. Seems that dreadful disease is everywhere I look.”

A shape distended the dog’s belly. I saw it now I was sat down. Did the machine cure animals as well? What would happen if I put Buster in the pod? Surely it couldn’t make things any worse for him? All the dog had to look forward to was waiting until Margret had the courage to put him down. Seemed my list of possible patients was growing ever longer by the day.

“If you need help with Buster, you know, as you make arrangements for Mark, I’d be happy to babysit him for you.”

Margret put a hand on my knee. “You’re such a lovely girl.” She smiled at me, her expression bittersweet. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.”

I put my number on a pad by the phone and told her to call me, no matter the time, if she needed anything. We embraced, Dad giving her another those shoulder hugs he always did when he felt uncomfortable.

“I had no idea she even had a husband,” he said once we were back in my car.

“Some people don’t like to make a fuss, do they? They just want to get on with life and try to feel as normal as possible.” I thought of me and my battle with that horrible disease. I’d gone underground, quit work, barely left the house, stopped talking to all but a few of my friends. Everyone coped in the best way for them.