I felt a little bit hurt by his question but also relieved. He obviously had forgotten about his lack of an iPhone and also was happy to have Della here. If he was happy, the twins would follow suit. I could leave them without guilt.
“She will probably be here around lunchtime. Okay?”
The twins clapped their hands and began making the strangest sounds. They mooed and baaed and giggled. Rob was smiling at them. An indulgent smile, as if he was their doting grandfather. I often suspected Rob had lived many lives before and that he was a very old soul.
“Della’s taking us to the pet farm,” he said. “Alpacas live there too. They’re from South America and they have three tummies and woolly coats.”
This sent the twins into another fit of laughter and me into a mini-tantrum. Della had told the children about the farm before checking with me if I wanted them to go there. And I did, but not with her. Like painting Anna’s nails, it was one of the things I had planned on doing later. When I had time. When Ben had a job. When the salon was making a profit. When the moon was blue.
“It’s a long way away,” Rob said.
It was 15 kilometres. Definitely a long way with three small children in tow. Della would cope though. I had no worry on that front.
“It’s not that far, Rob. Just a small spin. And you will all have a wonderful time. Ask Della to take pictures so that I can see the animals too.”
But I promised myself that I would talk to Della. Ask her to check with me first before organising anything for the children. No! I would tell her, not ask.
I sighed as I stood up from the table. I was fooling myself. I had no space in my head now for analysing my relationship with my mother-in-law. I had too much to do, was too afraid of upsetting Ben, was too beholden to Della for all she had done for us. I was, I supposed, too much of a coward.
***
Della went to Reception before going up to the first floor of the hospital. She never again wanted to set foot in St Joseph’s Ward unless she absolutely had to.
“I’m visiting my son,” she told the bored-looking girl behind the desk. “Ben Parrish. Could you tell me where he is, please?”
The girl scrolled through her monitor.
“Take the lift. First floor, Turn right. Room 5.”
This was conveyed without lifting her head. Della didn’t care. Obviously her stream of phone calls and complaints had worked. Ben was in a private room.
“Thank you so much,” she said to the girl, who had already turned her attention to paperwork on her desk.
The lift was crowded. It was a relief to arrive at the first floor. Della turned right, as instructed by the grumpy girl at Reception. She tapped on the door of Room 5 and tiptoed in.
Ben’s breakfast tray was pushed down to the end of the bed, the food untouched. He was asleep. She stood there, looking at the plate of congealed scrambled egg, and she fumed. Why had they not woken him? Made sure he had some nourishment. He needed it. He had the gaunt appearance of someone who had been suffering a long-term illness, despite the fact that he had been here just a few days. This was totally unacceptable. First she would find whoever was in charge of this section and then she would insist on seeing a member of the administrative staff. Make sure her complaint reached the highest possible echelon of hospital bureaucracy. They had better know they were dealing with Della Parrish, and she would not allow her son to be so disgracefully treated. Mistreated.
Fired up by her mission, she turned on her heel and walked towards the door, forgetting to tiptoe. She put her hand on the door handle.
“Mum.”
When she turned, he was sitting up in the bed. He had the haunted look she had seen so many times in the past and had hoped she would never see again. She walked towards him, quelling the urge to run to him and hold him in her arms. He had sent her away yesterday. She knew she would have to tread very carefully.
She took off her coat and sat on the chair beside the bed.
“Good morning, Ben. I was just about to order some fresh breakfast for you. Pity they didn’t wake you.”
“They did. I’m not hungry.”
“But you must eat. You –”
She stopped talking as he leaned towards her. She was mesmerised by his eyes. Deep, deep brown. They sparkled when he laughed or was angry, but they became clouded and dull when he was sad. Like now.
“Get this,” he said. “I’m thirty-six years of age. I have a wife and three children. While I’m very grateful for all you’ve done for me, it’s long past time I stood on my own two feet.”
Della barely allowed herself to breathe in case he dismissed her again. There seemed to be a new determination about him. She nodded for him to continue.
“I know I’ve messed up, Mum. And I appreciate that you’ve always been there for me. But I must handle things my way from now on. For a start, I should never have kept secrets from Leah. I told her yesterday about cutting my wrist with the Swiss knife. I should have told her before we married. Given her the choice whether to accept me as I am, or not. I can change that now by telling her the rest of my sorry history. Being honest with her.”
Della was shocked. Leah had not given any hint last night about Ben’s confession. She would not have credited her daughter-in-law with discretion. Nor did she now. Leah was obviously waiting for the right moment to use her new-found knowledge to her advantage. Despite her earlier caution, Della could not stay quiet while Ben destroyed all the work that had gone into allowing him to lead a normal life.
“Have you thought through the consequences of dragging all that history into the daylight now?”
“The consequences for whom? You? Mother to a suicidal son? How shameful is that! What about the consequences for me? Carrying all that shit inside my head and believing I would disgrace the family if I ever spoke about it. Do you know how fucking heavy that burden has been? I breathe in sadness every minute of every day and I never breathe it out. It stays inside, choking me, draining every ounce of energy from my body. It’s a parasite, Mom, feeding on my life. I can’t cope with it anymore.”
Della sat back, subconsciously distancing herself from the anger being directed at her. It was best to allow him vent. It was right that she should bear the brunt of the curse she had passed on to him through her genes. Her brother, George, had lived, and died, under the same cloud as Ben. Not even Gavin knew about George. Perhaps he should have. Then he might have understood his youngest son.
“Are you listening to me, Mom? Being honest with my wife can only be positive. I know Leah. She won’t judge me. Or be ashamed of me. Or try to pretend I’m something I’m not.”
Della knew he needed to purge himself of all that angst. The bile. The resentment. But certainly not by telling Leah. For at least two reasons. One, it was likely that she would talk outside the family. To her employees maybe, or friends. Not the Parrish way and ultimately detrimental to Ben’s employment prospects. Not that any employer would admit discrimination but, the fact was, they would not give him a job. Two, there was a risk that Leah might reject Ben once she knew his full history. He would get over separation from Leah. He would have to. But not from the children.
“Ben, about the position with Zach Milburg in the US –”
“Mom! That was a pipe dream. Yours more than mine. And I’m really, really sorry I’ve disappointed you again. I’m tired now. I need to sleep.”
He was exhausted. She could see that. She stood and put on her coat. She reached out her hand and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Her baby! Where, oh, where had that happy little toddler gone?
“I’ll leave you to rest, Ben. I’m taking the children to the pet farm this afternoon.”
“They’ll love that. Especially Rob. He has a thing about alpacas.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He didn’t answer. Della walked to the door. She stood there, her back to him, thinking about the things he had said. Knowing that he was putting all his trust in Leah. She was sur
e that he must not. As his mother, she would protect him to her last breath, no matter what he said.
She remembered the medicine cabinet in Cowslip Cottage. How reluctant she had been yesterday to open it, feeling she was intruding, but her headache had been severe. When she was putting back the Paracetamol packet, she noticed something protruding from the top shelf. Enough so that she suspected what it was. She checked it to be sure and confirmed her suspicion before putting it back exactly as she had found it. The box was unopened but obviously Leah had use for it. Just as obviously Ben did not know. He would definitely have told her. And he should know.
She turned back to look directly at him.
“Do you really believe, Ben, that Leah has no secrets from you? Are you one hundred per cent sure about that?”
“What are you hinting at now?” he asked “Leah never hides anything. She is the most open, honest person I know. Just go, Mom, please!”
She heard it in his voice, not in his words. The suspicion that what she had said might have substance.
Satisfied that she had planted the seed of doubt, Della opened the door and left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
From the instant Della arrived at Cowslip Cottage on Monday afternoon, I could see she was in a snooty mood. I assumed her hospital visit to Ben that morning had not gone too well. The children were giddy with anticipation of visiting the animal farm. Knowing that she would calm them down, and they would cheer her up, I left them to find their balance.
I had intended going straight to the hospital but, as I approached the salon, I decided it would be just as well to get the stocktaking done. The first thing I did when I opened up was to take down the note I had so hastily pinned up in the early hours of Saturday morning. I shivered as I read it.
Closed due to illness
Apologies for any inconvenience
I scrunched it up and threw it in the bin. At least I now knew that Ben had survived hypothermia and a heart attack. After that, we could probably cope with anything.
I did a quick stocktake. Thankfully the order was small as we had been closed on Saturday, which would have been our busiest day. I ordered what was needed and then sat in one of the swivel chairs and looked around my little empire. I thought how strange it was that, up to Friday night, the salon was the focus of my days. Running it, building up a clientele, every day trying to improve the service and keep the bills paid. Today, its only importance for me was as a source of income for my family. At least until Ben was back on his feet. Until he was mentally, as well as physically, fit. Until he could get back to work. If the economy ever picked up again. Realising I was thinking myself into despair, I locked up and headed into town.
It was only as I headed towards Room 5 that I allowed myself to consider what he might tell me today. There was more than the Swiss knife incident. Hugh’s message on Ben’s phone implied that. I also suspected that Della’s very subdued mood earlier was connected to Ben confiding in me. Tough luck, Della, I thought. Ben would tell me his secrets and I would tell him mine.
I was smiling as I tapped on the door and pushed it open. It was a nice room. Airy. Bright. Ensuite. TV on the wall. But no Ben. I had to be in the right room because the children’s drawings were on the bedside locker. I checked the bathroom. He wasn’t there. My pulse raced. Had he had another heart attack? Been wheeled off to Intensive Care again. I rushed down the corridor to the nurses’ desk. It was unattended. I saw a nurse in the nearby ward. She was writing in a chart at the end of an elderly lady’s bed. I went over to her.
“Excuse me. Ben Parrish. Room 5. He’s my husband. He’s not in his room. Do you know where he is? Is he alright?”
She attempted a smile but I could see I was annoying her.
“Just give me a moment, please, and I’ll be with you.”
I stood outside the ward, heart thumping, wondering just how many more things could go wrong. And then I saw him. Being pushed on a wheelchair down the corridor by a porter, a nurse walking alongside. They were chatting, the three of them. Ben seemed more animated than I had seen him for a long time. I walked towards them. He saw me and smiled. Time rolled back eight years, to when we had first met. It was a cliché. Our eyes met across a crowded bar. I had gone there with friends from work, celebrating an engagement. I had left with the man I would marry eighteen months later.
“Ben Parrish!” I said. “You gave me such a fright.”
“Don’t worry, Leah. No more drama. I was just having a scan.”
With Ben safely back in his room, the porter trundled off with the wheelchair and the nurse settled him into bed. When we were alone, Ben patted the bed.
“Sit beside me, Leah. How are you?”
Scared, confused, disappointed, angry. All of those answers would have been true. But I was hopeful too. And grateful that we could be sitting here talking just a few days after Ben had been fished out of the cave.
“I’m good, Ben. Missing you, of course. What was this scan about?”
“CT on my lungs. And before you start worrying, the results are good. So was the ECG on my heart this morning. I think I might be ready for home soon. How are the children?”
“Good. Very excited today because your mother is taking them to the pet farm.”
“She told me.”
“Rob is over the moon. He can’t wait to see a real live alpaca. I wonder why he is so fascinated by them? Apart from the fact that they’re cute and furry.”
Ben laughed and then he got a faraway look in his eyes. “I was obsessed with hummingbirds when I was his age. I gathered facts about them, like Rob is doing with alpacas now. Did you know their wings flap at fifty to two hundred times per second and they must eat every ten minutes? That’s the equivalent of a human being eating a fridgeful of food every day. I saw one, a real live hummingbird that is, in San Francisco. I was grown up by that time but it was a thrill anyway.”
It wasn’t hard to imagine Ben as a little boy. From photos he looked exactly like Rob did now. When had the contented child become a troubled man? What had happened when he was sixteen? I didn’t want to bring his mood down but I knew we must continue the conversation we had yesterday.
“So how did you get from hummingbirds to Swiss Army knives, Ben?”
Even as the words left my mouth I knew they sounded glib. Ben obviously thought so too, judging by his change in expression.
“If I knew the answer to that, Leah, I probably wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in now.”
I reached for his hand and held it in mine.
“I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I’m just trying to understand. Maybe we should work backwards. Friday night. I need to know what happened then and you need to talk about it. Agreed?”
He squeezed my hand. I took that for assent. So I waited. And waited. He was remembering. I saw his eyes grow darker, sadder. I was out of my depth. What if he really had just gone for a run on Friday and accidently been cut off by the tide? He would be angry at me then for thinking he . . . He what? That he had been devastated by Ellen Riggs’ departure for London? That he had meant to go into that cave and not leave it until the tide had swept him out to sea? That he had thought of nobody but her and had forgotten about the children and me?
“Ellen Riggs,” I said.
Her name shimmered in the air between us, just like the beautiful woman herself.
Ben nodded. “She was the trigger. I thought we were friends. It turned out that we were not. I didn’t even know she was married. To a very successful plastic surgeon.”
I had wanted the truth but I was finding it hard to hear now. If I questioned him about the depth and breadth of their friendship, he could lapse back into silence. The need to know and the jealousy were bitter in my gut but I manged to stay quiet.
Ben must have read my thoughts.
“It was just companionship, Leah. An adult to talk to at the school gates. The children also liked her and Finn. And I suppose I felt she was, exotic, different. A glimpse of
the world we had left behind when we came to Paircmoor. Or, should I say, the world that left us behind. That’s all there was to it.”
It was enough. He had told me a lot already. He had thought Ellen exotic, the children liked her, and Paircmoor was only tolerable when she was there. So while I had been cutting, shampooing, conditioning, doing free French plaits for Viv Henderson, and working my fingers to the bone, he had been weaving fantasies around the beautiful Ellen. Even as I burned up with jealousy, I realised that she had been nothing more than an escape from reality for him. An adolescent crush.
“I understand that you would be disappointed about a friend leaving, Ben, but smashing the vase she had given us? Running out the door into a storm without even a coat? There had to be more going on.”
“There was, Leah. So much more. And it all crowded on top of me that night. I had just admitted to myself that my big plan, to manufacture and market scale models of historic Irish buildings, was a farce. A failure. A stupid, useless idea that I had pinned my hopes and dreams on. It was to be our future. I would export to the US where a Ben Parrish scale model of Blarney Castle would become a must have for the rich and famous. How fucking pathetic!”
Guilt took over and gave me a painful shove. I had known little and cared less about the project he had been working on since we had come here. That wasn’t exactly true either. I didn’t have the time to worry about it, but I could have shown some interest.
“It is a good idea, Ben, and I’m sure your work is superb. It’s just that the time is wrong. Maybe when –”
“Don’t say it! If I had a euro for every time someone says, ‘when the economy picks up’, I’d be rich. Anyway, Mom had kind of boxed me into a corner about this interview she was trying to set up with Hugh’s mega-rich brother-in-law. I had tried to go along with her enthusiasm, but last Friday night, that awful night, I knew I would be setting myself up for another failure. A very humiliating one.”
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