That Elusive Cure 50

“Kath, it’s Wendy.”

I’d been out in the garden, watering flowers and deadheading when the phone rang.

“What’s wrong?” Did I really need to ask? Did I want to ask? The answer was no both times, and yet I asked anyway.

“Sally isn’t well. You should probably come to the hospital.”

“I’m coming.” Tossing my gardening gloves on the side, I shouted into the living room where Jimmy was watching the football. “I’ve got to go to the hospital.”

He appeared in the doorway as I changed my shoes. “Need me to come?”

I thought about it for a moment as I laced my trainers. “No, don’t come. If it’s what I think then the room will be full enough. I imagine Wendy’s got the kids there.”

Jesus, this sucked. Poor Peter and Lucy. I imagined them by the bedside trying to make sense of the shell that had been left behind. And their mother, once such a vibrant woman, now relying on machines to keep her alive. Everything about this was wrong.

I got onto the ward easily. Seems if a patient was close enough to death then visiting hour rules no longer applied. I’d given up wondering if the pod would have fixed her. With two days to go before the damn machine finished producing stupid nanoparticles, and Sally having apparently run out of time, the entire matter was moot. The whole situation fucking sucked.

Wendy had Lucy in her arms and Peter stood next to her. As I arrived, Lucy squirmed out of her aunt’s arms and onto the bed. She snuggled up against her mother and was rewarded by a faint smile behind an oxygen mask.

Wendy looked up as I entered the room. She moved Peter to the other side of the bed. “Why don’t you hold your mum’s hand while I talk to Auntie Kathy, okay?”

With the two kids flanking their mother, Wendy took me to a day room.

“It’s not looking good,” she said. Wendy looked so tired, I wondered if she’d slept. “I remember the day dad passed. Did Sally tell you how he died?”

I did remember, in far too much detail. But I knew what Wendy needed and shook my head.

“I found him. He’d done it in behind his shed. I was sixteen years old and had come home from a date with this boy called Ronnie. He was my first love. Ronnie from Greasby. He was tall and dark and handsome and he treated me like a princess.” She stared wistfully over my shoulder. “Ronnie had kissed me for the first time and I wanted to tell Dad. Dad and I were close, really close to the point where Mum was jealous of our relationship. Mum was in the house looking after Sally. She was just a baby at the time, not even a year old. I went out to the garden and couldn’t find him in the shed. Then I heard this strange bumping-banging sound coming from behind the shed.”

She stopped speaking and pressed a damp tissue against her eyes.

“He’d hung himself from the apple tree. It was a windy night and the noise was his feet bumping against the shed. Mum had the apple tree cut down a few months afterwards. I cried more after she cut that tree down then after I found Dad. I think the tree had started to represent Dad. I’d go there after school and sit down beside the spot where he’d died and talk to him.”

I took Wendy’s hands, squeezing them gently. Sal had told me their dad had hung himself, but I’m not sure even she’d known that Wendy found him. All these years Sal had been angry at Wendy and her mothering when really it seemed what she was doing was trying to protect her little sister.

“What’s going to happen to those children?” Wendy asked me. “She wants you to have them, you know.”

I did know. There was a will detailing the arrangements and what little money Sal had was to be used to raise them. When Cass was little she’d been named as guardian. When Peter and then Lucy were born, I’d been named as theirs.

“I don’t want to lose them. They’re all the family I’ve got.”

“You think they should live with you instead?”

“I think that we should honour her wishes.” She patted my hands.

“Wendy, I realise there was something going on between you and Sal that I don’t really understand. But I’ve seen you with the kids. There is nothing wrong with your mothering instincts.”

“You’re kind, Kath. You know what you’re doing and you’re young. I’m nearly sixty. Looking after the children has near enough killed me these past few weeks. What I brought you in here to say was that she wants to make sure you’ll have the children. Don’t argue with her. These are her last moments. I want them to be as happy as possible, if not for her, then for the children. They will never forget these moments, not for the rest of their lives.”

I nodded.

“Let’s go back in,” Wendy said.

We walked back in to the room, hand in hand. Lucy was still snuggled up against her mother. Peter stood by the window, staring out at the park. Dog walkers were out, and a group of four dogs were bounding around on the grass while the owners stood on the path nearby.

“Hi Sally,” I said, going around to the far side of the bed.

I tried to smile at Lucy, but it was so hard. The little girl squeezed her eyes closed and refused to acknowledge me.  

Stroking Sal’s hair, I tried to arrange it so it looked nice. Who wants to die with bed head? I glanced up to see Lucy had found a hair brush. She handed it over to me and I carefully tidied and smoothed her mother’s dark hair under the little girl’s watchful eye.

The day started to draw to a close. Sometime after lunch I’d sat in a chair on one side of the bed. Wendy was in another chair on the opposite side. Peter had curled up and gone to sleep on the still empty third bed. Lucy lay next to her mother, silent tears wetting her cheeks.

I thought Sally was asleep, and was surprised when her hand touched my arm. She pulled the mask off her face and smiled at me. “You’ll have the kids when I’m gone.”

“Of course I will. We agreed.” I stroked her hair finding it hard to look her in the eye.

“They should call you mummy Kath. None of this auntie business. They need a mother.”

I nodded. “Yes, I’ll make sure they do.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was weak. “I don’t plan on dying tonight. You should all go home and get some rest.”

Sal fell back into a coma-like sleep. Despite her telling us to go, we stayed until the summer sun gave way to a purple-blue twilight. A star appeared and I picked up Lucy and went to the window.

“See that? You can make a wish on the first star that appears each night, did you know that?”

Lucy shook her head.

“If you see it before the other stars appear you have to say a poem to get the wish. Would you like me to teach you so you can make a wish?”

Lucy nodded and stuck a thumb in her mouth.

“Okay, here goes. Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”

Together we stared at the star.

“Did you make a wish, Lucy?”

The little girl nodded.

“I did as well. Let’s hope our dreams come true.”

In unison we looked back at Sally. Two more days. I just needed her to survive two more days.