Whatever it takes, p.37
Whatever It Takes, page 37
‘The ward’s quiet tonight,’ commented Mark. They’d thought about having her moved into a private room but then decided that having other occupants might provide a stimulus for her. There were five other beds in the ward and over the past few days generally three or four had been in use at any time. Tonight there was only one other patient; a woman in her late fifties, who was in the corner bed, diagonally opposite to Margaret’s. Eloise knew that lady was in for a hysterectomy because they’d swapped a few words this morning and that was the sort of info people confided in Eloise after a few words. Tonight her daughter was visiting; they were talking in low murmurs and doing their best to give Mark and Eloise some privacy. They gave sympathetic glances which were a little more like winces. No doubt, the lady having the hysterectomy had found Margaret’s presence disconcerting today. The staring and silence, the absence, could be disturbing. Eloise wished she had the energy to tell them how heroic her mother-in-law had been, how funny, caring, patient and skilled she used to be; she’d like to convince them that, before, they would’ve loved to have counted themselves in amongst her many acquaintances and friends. But, frankly, she didn’t have the energy to convince strangers this was the case; it was all she could do to remind herself.
Eloise and Mark settled down in the bedside chairs. Fifteen minutes went by and neither of them could think of what to say beyond, ‘She’s got a bit more colour today, don’t you think?’
‘Yes. I think maybe she has.’
‘Her charts say she’s taken plenty of fluids.’
‘Well, that’s good, then.’
El wondered whether their time would be better used at home with the girls and Ray, rather than sitting by Margaret’s bedside while she slept, but she found it impossible to make this suggestion. She sensed that Mark needed to be here. Close to his mum.
‘Do you want a coffee?’ asked Eloise.
‘Not really.’
‘No, nor me,’ she admitted. Eloise was sick of trying to suck the warmth out of insipid, tasteless beverages. ‘I blame myself, you know.’ Eloise finally said what she’d been thinking for a week. ‘I shouldn’t have gone to London.’
The icy-blue fact had sat between them for days and Eloise knew she had to deal with it. The guilt and regret slit through her flesh like a knife every time she glimpsed Poppy hobbling on her crutch or struggling to cut up her food, every time she looked into Margaret’s dead eyes and saw nothing. The pain wouldn’t stop.
‘This is not your fault,’ Mark said firmly but kindly. ‘You can’t look after her every moment of the day. You were doing so much, probably too much, and you did try to set up alternative arrangements. Everyone blames themselves, El.’ Eloise was grateful that Mark wasn’t holding her responsible, but she didn’t feel any better. He continued, ‘The supply teacher blames herself for allowing Poppy to go with Margaret, but how could she have known any better? Arabella blames herself for taking Margaret’s word that you were nearby. Ray blames himself for going fishing. But you called them all. You did everything you could.’
She hadn’t called him. They both knew it.
‘It wasn’t enough, though, was it?’
‘What is? Everyone blames themselves,’ Mark repeated with a sigh. Eloise wondered what Mark blamed himself for but she didn’t dare ask. They fell silent again. Eloise pulled the bed covers up over Margaret’s shoulders. It was unnecessary; no doubt she was perfectly comfortable as she was, but Eloise couldn’t fight the need to do something for her mother-in-law.
‘Do you think she knows? At least, knew, I loved her?’ Mark asked suddenly.
‘Yes, Mark. Of course.’ Eloise reached out and took his hand in hers. He clamped his other hand on top, grasping her as though she might slip away.
‘Because, you know, I’ve been a total bastard since she told me about the adoption.’ So that was what he blamed himself for, thought Eloise. ‘I abandoned her. Left her. She never left me and I left her. This last year, I walked away from her.’
‘Obviously you struggled with everything, but you didn’t abandon her. You took her to lots of her hospital appointments. You did a whole load of the practical stuff.’ Mark stared at his wife, wanting to be calmed and bolstered but doubting he could be. ‘You invented that system to keep all the items she uses daily within easy reach and you cleared out the dangerous substances, the cleaning fluids and bleach and things. You checked that electrical wiring and appliances were safe throughout the house. You were very thoughtful and thorough.’
‘Is that love?’ Mark asked warily.
‘I think it is, Mark. I really think it is,’ said Eloise kindly.
‘Will she?’ Mark stared at his wife with an honest intensity that shocked her. He thought she had all the answers. He needed her to have at least some of them.
‘Yes, no doubt.’ Eloise paused. ‘But that’s not what’s important. It hardly matters what I think or even what Margaret thought. You’re the one that knows for sure. Did you do it for love, Mark? Did it feel like love? If it did, you’re OK, no matter what.’
The ‘no matter what’ in this case was the chance that Margaret might never again acknowledge anything he said. His opportunity to communicate with her, in the usual way, might have gone for ever. He was going to have to trust in himself. He was going to have to know he loved her and she loved him and the mistakes of this past year were not important in the grand scheme of their relationship.
‘Would you know I loved you, if it was you lying there?’ he asked abruptly.
‘What?’ Eloise couldn’t understand why he’d veered off.
‘I wish I could undo the last year, Eloise. I’ve made such terrible, terrible mistakes. My reaction was off-the-scale wrong.’ Mark couldn’t look at Eloise. He looked at their hands, still linked. He shook his head, drained. ‘I’m so ashamed of myself. I got it so wrong. I didn’t see how good everything was. I didn’t trust in what I had.’
‘Hey, shush now. This isn’t helping.’ Eloise pulled him into an enormous hug. He rested his head on her tiny shoulder.
‘It was such a shock, you know. An enormous shock to find out that she didn’t give birth to me.’
‘I know.’
‘Then the Charlie thing—’ Mark broke off. ‘I thought I was losing you too. It was the most appalling thing.’
Eloise rubbed his back. ‘Hey, this is ancient history. Why go over it now?’
‘I’m really so sorry, Eloise, because I let you down.’
‘Well, you were a bit silent for a while and very focused on the search, but we’re OK. We’re through it,’ she reassured him.
‘I truly messed up. I was so lost and devastated that I wasn’t theirs because I really, really wanted to be. You know? I want to be theirs. I want to be hers.’
‘You are, Mark. She adored you. She’s adored you all along.’
Mark uncurled from his wife and turned back to his mum. ‘I wish I had more time. Time to tell her I love her. We’re going to tell our girls every day. OK?’
‘We do, actually,’ Eloise pointed out.
‘And we’re going to make them tell us.’
‘Make them?’ Eloise smiled gently.
‘Yes,’ said Mark firmly, not seeing a flaw in his plan to hold them close.
‘OK.’
‘Eloise?’
‘Yes?’
‘I love you.’
‘I know, and I love you too.’ The words slipped out with easy familiarity. Eloise knew he loved her and she loved him. It was a given. A certainty.
‘I am so sorry I messed up.’
‘Yeah, you said.’ Eloise wanted him to stop now. It was not a good idea to keep going over all this. She picked up the local newspaper and asked, ‘Shall we have a go at the crossword?’
But instead of answering, Mark said, ‘Eloise, are you having an affair?’
Her first reaction was to laugh, it was such a bizarre thing to ask, but then she caught sight of his face, dejected and serious. ‘No. Why would you think that?’ she replied, bewildered.
‘Why were you in London?’
He’d never asked. Now he had, Eloise wondered what she should say. She decided not to lie but to offer no more than she needed to. She couldn’t get into the whole Sara debacle now. ‘I was seeing a friend who’d just had a baby. That’s why the phone was off, because I was in a hospital and they make you turn them off.’ Her voice fluttered. Did he believe her? How could he think she was having an affair? Was it the stress? He wasn’t thinking straight.
‘I’d forgive you,’ he said carefully.
‘If I was having an affair?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, thanks, I think.’ Eloise hesitated. Was that the ultimate compliment or the ultimate insult? ‘But I’m not having an affair.’
‘Good. That’s good,’ he said simply, but he still didn’t look very happy.
OCTOBER
55
It was wonderful to have Margaret home but Eloise was concerned that Margaret would no doubt have forgotten that Halloween was a custom passed down from heathen superstition, based on the idea that ghosts, witches and monsters were somehow funny, rather than sinister or scary. She might very well find a night of trick or treating an ordeal but the girls were bouncing with excitement over the treasures lying in store for them. Free sweets! So it was agreed that Mark would go out trick or treating with the girls and Ray and Eloise would stay with Margaret. One of them could answer the door and dole out mini Mars bars while the other could soothe Margaret and explain (no doubt several times) why there were so many people knocking.
Poppy made a virtue out of her bandaged arm and dressed as a mummy, Erin opted to dress as a little devil which meant red jeans and jumper and discreet horns and Emily wore orange and black tights (that she’d ripped) and a skimpy black dress (that Eloise was pretty sure she’d last seen in her own wardrobe about a decade ago). It was very short indeed; Emily’s cloak only just fell below the hem, which caused Mark some distress.
‘She’s twelve, nearly thirteen,’ laughed Eloise. ‘Just be grateful it’s you she wants to trick or treat with – next year it will no doubt be some pimply youth.’ Mark looked aghast. ‘That’s a good look, you don’t even need make-up to look horrified,’ joked El. ‘Now go and have fun.’
The girls posed as she took a few more snaps on her phone; each one edging the others out of view. Eloise left a box of sweets outside their own door. ‘I hope they last and we don’t get egged or flour thrown through the letter box,’ she said as she set off for Margaret and Ray’s and the others set off in the opposite direction.
‘Love you,’ Mark shouted.
‘Love you back.’
She heard him prompt the kids and then with varying degrees of enthusiasm they shouted/mumbled, ‘Love you, Mum.’ Eloise smiled. It was all a bit gooey but she was glad Mark was keeping to his mantra.
As it happened, Ray, Margaret and Eloise had a lovely, peaceful evening rather than the fanatic one – up and down to the door – which El had anticipated. She assumed that most of the local kids had been told not to disturb Margaret (that, or Margaret genuinely terrified them in a way that plastic masks couldn’t), because they only had four trick-or-treaters all evening. The three of them sat in front of the TV and gorged on the spare mini Mars bars. Eloise and Ray talked about holidays. Eloise and Mark both thought it might be a good idea for Ray to go on holiday at some point next year. Nothing too adventurous but maybe a long weekend’s golf trip with his pals. The break would do him good as he was still bearing the brunt of most of Margaret’s care. He was reluctant to relinquish his post, even for a few days, but he was sensible enough to know that he’d need a rest from his responsibilities at some point. Mark thought it might take several months to convince his dad to go, but El knew Ray’s interest was piqued when he suggested nipping to the pub to chat to Bob and show him the brochures Mark had sourced.
‘Mind you, Bob will have to get the nod from his Mrs, and I’m not sure how easy that will be.’ Ray cast a glance at Margaret. Eloise knew he’d pay a king’s ransom for her to be clear-sighted enough to ban him from a boys’ weekend away.
‘You go and have a pint,’ Eloise encouraged. ‘I don’t think we’re going to get any more trick-or-treaters and we’re fine here, aren’t we, Margaret?’
‘Fine,’ said Margaret.
Her speech was returning to her. A few words here and there. Nothing that suggested she was once witty and articulate, a lively chatterbox and a wise confidante, but enough to make sure that no one fed her soup when she wanted beans on toast, that no one took her to the bathroom when she just wanted to sit in the garden.
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘Certain.’
Ray started to hunt around for his hat; it was a cold night. He and Eloise shared a smile when Margaret said, ‘Table,’ which turned out to be accurate – his hat was on the kitchen table.
‘Thanks, love,’ he called as he pulled the door behind him.
‘I thought Mark and the girls might have come by to show you their costumes,’ Eloise mused to Margaret. ‘Would you like to see them? I’ve photos.’ Eloise put her hands gently on the sides of Margaret’s face so that she could capture Margaret’s full attention. ‘The girls have dressed up for Halloween, would you like to see the photos?’
Margaret looked excited and Eloise briefly wondered whether Mark had been right after all. He’d wanted to take Margaret trick or treating. Maybe she would have enjoyed it. He wanted to take her everywhere with him nowadays, since the incident at the cove. He believed that Margaret must live life to the full and experience what she could, whereas Eloise was more careful, perhaps timid. The situation reminded Eloise of when the girls were babies. Mark would throw them high into the air and they’d squeal with delight but with every hurl Eloise’s heart would skip a beat. She was always terrified that he’d drop them but he never did. He was the one who urged the girls to climb a little higher up the tree, while El nervously called, ‘Be careful!’ He encouraged them to go deeper, faster, higher, wilder. Eloise had always appreciated that the girls needed the balance; his encouragement, her caution. No doubt Margaret needed the same, it was just a matter of getting the balance right. However, El was delighted that Mark wanted to do so much with Margaret, that he was engaging with her, and all of them, so thoroughly once again. It was only a matter of time before he’d be body popping at parties once more.
Eloise flicked through the photos on her iPhone. Margaret giggled appreciatively at the pics of her granddaughters pulling gruesome faces and silly poses to showcase their costumes. Whether or not she actually recognised Emily, Erin and Poppy was anyone’s guess, but still it was fun. Eloise went into the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea; she was touched to see Ray had bought a box of Halloween cupcakes. Usually Margaret baked chocolate cakes in the shape of cats or witches’ hats. Ray was doing his best to keep up traditions. Eloise was feeling a bit queasy after eating so much chocolate so didn’t eat one, but she made a mental note to send the girls around to eat them tomorrow. They wouldn’t need much persuading.
When Eloise took the tea tray back through to the sitting room, she found Margaret looking at the photos again. Margaret was concentrating on the snaps as though they were works of art, although they were the usual stuff: pictures of the girls beaming (or refusing to) at parks, near castles and at the beach.
‘Oh, Mark. Lovely!’ enthused Margaret suddenly. Eloise carefully lowered the tray on to the table and peeked over Margaret’s shoulder. She was looking at the photo of baby Cooper. Eloise had forgotten she’d taken one.
‘That’s Cooper.’
‘Coo-per?’ Margaret looked perplexed.
‘I know, strange name, huh? It’s Sara and Charlie’s baby.’ Eloise felt slightly weird saying their names aloud. She hadn’t thought of Sara since the day Cooper had been born. She’d set them adrift. She’d had more than enough to occupy herself with since.
‘Not Charlie’s baby,’ said Margaret calmly and clearly. Eloise was shocked. It was odd that Margaret had stumbled on a truth through her confusion. ‘Mark.’
Eloise felt the words in her gut before she could think about them in her head. ‘You’re getting it all muddled up, Margaret.’
‘Mark,’ Margaret insisted and then she dashed out of the room, leaving Eloise with the image of the baby on her phone. The baby with strong thighs and a mop of thick, black hair. Margaret returned within a few moments, and even before she looked up, Eloise knew what she’d fetched back.
Margaret handed El the baby photo of Mark, the one his birth mother had taken when he was a day old. Eloise held the two images side by side. Excepting that one was a slightly faded 1970s print and the other was a 5-megapixel digital image, they were identical.
Both babies were lying in exactly the same position. A fluke? Both babies were free of swaddling so that their body shapes were exposed. They both had big thighs, they looked strong and able. Their eyes were wide open and they were both staring at the photographer. Wrinkly and startled was universal. The same hair colour and hair line might be a coincidence, but the shape of the lips? Eloise stared at Cooper’s lips and she knew they were lips she was familiar with. Lips she’d kissed a million times. They were her girls’ lips. They were her husband’s lips.
‘Lovely baby,’ said Margaret and she kissed the screen of the iPhone.
