Five Years From Now

by Paige Toon

  ‘Yes!’ Dad urges, and from the way Van jerks, I’m guessing he’s squeezing our hands simultaneously.

  ‘Sounds like we have a deal,’ Van says.

  A shiver goes down my spine as I meet his eyes again. Breaking the contact, I turn towards Dad, but I’m not comfortable with the look in his eyes, either.

  It hits me like a tonne of bricks that night. We’re going to lose Dad soon and I’m nowhere near ready.

  ‘I wish I could take your pain away,’ Van murmurs as we sit together on the sofa, me inconsolable.

  I feel as though I’ve swallowed Sadness whole and it’s sitting as heavy as concrete in my stomach.

  ‘What can I do?’ Tears glisten in his eyes.

  ‘Hold me,’ I respond, knowing that, whatever Dad felt about our relationship in the past, he wouldn’t deny me this comfort now.

  Van gathers me in his arms and pulls me close, but it’s not close enough and he seems to realise it, too. He lifts me onto his lap and we hold each other tightly, and somehow we just fit.

  I don’t know how long we stay like that, but when my tears dry up, neither of us makes any attempt to move.

  My heart has unfolded completely and it feels as open and as fragile as paper. It’s as if a whole garden of brightly coloured origami flowers has sprouted to life around it, and they’re as brittle and flimsy and swaying in the breeze.

  I love him. I always have and I always will. I am in love with him. And my dad is dying in hospital and all the old shame and guilt that Van and I felt fifteen years ago is still there, wedged between us.

  At the same time, we withdraw and stare into each other’s eyes. Van caresses my cheek with his thumb and I do the same to him, and it’s a tender gesture, full of love. I know then, without a shadow of a doubt, that he still loves me too. He’s in love with me.

  And my dad is dying in hospital and my dad is dying in hospital and my dad is dying in hospital and there’s nothing we can do about it.

  ‘I love you,’ I say in a small, desperately choked voice.

  ‘I love you, too,’ he replies.

  He cups my face with his hands and my stomach lifts as billions of butterflies take off, our lips coming together in the sweetest, most gentle kiss. Our mouths barely part, we hardly move, but seconds tick by. Then he rests his forehead against mine and we stay like that, tears streaming down both our faces as we’re lost in the guilt and regrets of the past.

  Nick is supposed to be coming the next morning to take Van surfing, but Van cancels.

  ‘I can’t leave you,’ he says as he holds me in his arms in the kitchen.

  I don’t argue.

  He drives us back to the hospital that morning and I turn in my seat to stare at him, my insides a whirling kaleidoscope of love mixed with the deepest sorrow.

  Dad is asleep when we arrive. We sit on opposite sides of the bed, waiting for him to wake up, and once more our eyes are drawn back to each other. It’s the strangest thing, being able to stare at another person, uninterrupted, as minutes tick by. I don’t know how long we stay like that, but Dad’s voice makes us jump.

  ‘Nell…’

  He instantly has my full attention. ‘Dad!’ I stand up. ‘How are you feeling?’

  He lifts his hand and I reach for it, but then I see his finger waggling between Van and me. ‘You…’ he says, ‘two…’

  A lump springs up in my throat.

  No, please, Dad, don’t say it… I can’t bear it…

  ‘I…’ The strain shows on his face. Every word is exhausting him.

  ‘It’s okay, Dad.’ I’m desperate for him to not say the words. If he asks us to stay away from each other – if he makes that his dying wish – it will end me.

  He clutches my hand with even more strength than yesterday. Then he takes Van’s hand, too.

  ‘I…’ he says. ‘Ssssssssorry.’ He brings our hands together on his lap, closing Van’s hand over mine.

  I sink down onto the chair.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dad repeats. ‘You two… Together…’

  He closes his eyes and his hands go limp, the effort too much for him.

  I try to stifle my sobs, but can’t. Through my blur of agony, I see Van’s whole body shaking as he cries.

  ‘We have to take him home.’ Van squeezes my hand so hard it hurts. ‘He would want to be at home.’

  I know Van is right and, days later, we bring Dad back to the cottage. He’s overwhelmed to see that we’ve moved his bed to face the view.

  He didn’t want to be a burden, which is why he never asked for this himself, but of course he wants to spend his remaining time here, in the place where he grew up and never left.

  The hospital team have arranged hospice care and a lovely woman called Kerrie helps us to get him settled, reassuring us about everything we need to do to keep him comfortable.

  No one knows how long Dad has, but it may only be days. He’s been sleeping a lot and he’s drowsy when he’s awake. His breathing is shallow and he’s lost his appetite, refusing to eat or drink. Kerrie assures us that all of this is normal in a person’s final days, and shows us how to keep his mouth moist with a sponge and how to massage his hands, which are cold from reduced circulation.

  Luke keeps asking if he can see Grandad. Tomorrow is his fifth birthday.

  ‘What do you think, Dad?’ I ask when he’s lucid.

  I know he hated the idea of Luke coming to the hospital, but here at home, in his own bed, Dad could almost pass as normal.

  ‘We’d keep the visit very brief. I thought we could sing him happy birthday and do his cake here, then Nick said he’ll take him to Flambards for the rest of the day.’ That’s the theme park not far from here.

  Dad nods. ‘I would like that.’

  While Dad’s asleep the next morning, Van and I quietly fix some balloons to the curtain rails in the annexe. Dad wakes up while we’re doing it.

  ‘Bring the paintings out, too,’ he urges.

  ‘Mum’s paintings?’ Van asks.

  Dad nods. ‘Yours, too. Brighten the place up.’

  We dutifully carry the canvases out from the wardrobe and lean them against the walls, and I stick Van’s sunset picture next to Luke’s one from a few days ago. After calling my mother and filling her in, she sent the most enormous bunch of flowers yesterday, so the room looks and smells lovely. She was actually very sad to hear what was happening – I’m not sure it fully sank in last time, but then, Dad pulled through, so maybe she didn’t appreciate how hard it had been.

  Dad’s eyes rest on the sandcastle painting for a long time, before he nods off again.

  When Nick and Luke arrive, our little boy is more restrained than usual. I don’t know if Nick has warned him to be careful, but he’s very gentle as he climbs up onto Dad’s bed and kisses his cheek.

  ‘Hello, Lukey,’ Dad says surprisingly cheerfully, grabbing his hand. ‘Happy birthday.’

  ‘I made you a card,’ Luke says, showing him the colourful painting on the front. ‘This is you and this is me.’

  As he talks Dad through his picture, Dad’s eyes keep opening and closing slowly, but his smile remains in place.

  ‘It’s fantastic,’ Dad says warmly.

  I leave them, going to the kitchen to fetch the cake, and taking a minute before returning with the candles alight. We sing happy birthday to Luke and then Dad falls asleep.

  In the middle of the night, he wakes up. I’m sitting by his bed, keeping vigil, his hand in mine.

  ‘Ruth,’ he says.

  ‘No, it’s Nell, Dad.’ My eyes fill with tears.

  ‘Nelly,’ he says. ‘Where’s Vian?’

  ‘Van’s asleep. I can go get him? He’s on the floor in the living room,’ I feel compelled to add.

  His face creases with pain. ‘Nelly, I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘You. Van. It’s okay.’ Every word is laboured.

  ‘Please, Dad, don’t worry,’ I beg.

  ‘I love you, Nelly. So proud of you.’

 
‘I love you too, Dad. And I know you are.’

  He reaches down and pats the bed.

  ‘What is it, Dad?’ He’s still patting the bed. I can barely speak for the lump in my throat.

  ‘Scampi,’ he murmurs.

  I turn my face away and cry my heart out, my whole body racking with silent sobs.

  When I look back at him, he’s slipped into unconsciousness.

  He never wakes up, and the following day, we lose him completely.

  It seems as though everyone my father has ever known comes to his funeral. The church pews are packed with his old friends and colleagues from the National Trust properties where he used to work. Steven and Linzie, the farmers, and friends and acquaintances from up in the village come, plus Ellie’s and my other mates’ parents – even Ellie and Brooke make the long journeys home from Newcastle and London for it.

  But the most surprising of all of those who come is my mum. She sits beside me on the front pew, with Van at my other side. Nick, Theresa and Christopher are looking after Luke in the pew across from us so I don’t have to worry about losing it in front of him.

  I’m very tearful when Dad’s former colleague gets up to talk about how loved and respected he was at the gardens, and how proud he was, not only of me, but also of Van, who was like a son to him.

  Mum reaches across and takes my hand. Her fingers are cold and her grip unfamiliar. I long to hold Van’s instead, but I don’t. It’s as if she needs me, her daughter, right now.

  Her hand soon warms in mine.

  The Castors hold the wake at The Boatman and tell me not to worry about a thing. I’m incredibly grateful. I have no idea how people manage to stay on top of everything when they’re drowning in grief.

  I’ve cried so many tears that now I feel strangely numb. People keep coming over to talk to me about Dad, but all I want is to be curled up on the sofa at home with Van. Luke is a good distraction, as is Mum. Everyone keeps commenting on how alike we look – even those who said the same thing at my wedding a few years ago. We’re both slim and about the same height, but she’s wearing heels. It’s strange to know that I must be marginally taller than her these days. She looks very attractive in a smart navy-blue skirt suit, her still-golden-blonde hair styled up in an intricate topknot.

  Luke is sad about his grandfather, but he doesn’t really comprehend his loss yet, so he’s quite perky. Theresa has been keeping him entertained for most of the afternoon and I catch Mum looking over at them often.

  ‘Do you want me to go and get him?’ I ask when we have a moment alone. Van is currently talking to Nick and Ellie and I’ve been aching to go and join them. But Mum’s car is coming soon to take her to the airport hotel – she’s flying home first thing, so this is the last I’ll see of her for a while.

  She tears her eyes away from my mother-in-law and her grandson. ‘I don’t think he really likes me.’

  ‘Of course he does, Mum,’ I reassure her. ‘He just doesn’t know you that well. But there’s still time.’

  ‘Why don’t you come and see us more?’ She sounds accusatory, which winds me up.

  ‘Why don’t you come and see us?’ I retort.

  ‘I’ve never felt that welcome,’ she replies.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You and your dad. You’re so close.’

  My nose prickles at her use of the present tense. I fumble in the pocket of my black shift dress for a tissue, while she stares at the floor, downcast.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she says flatly. ‘You and your dad were always so close. I’ve felt like a spare part over the years.’

  ‘You were never a spare part,’ I mumble, blowing my nose. ‘But yes, we were close.’

  ‘I’d like to see more of you – and Luke,’ she says.

  ‘You’ll always be welcome here with us, and we’ll try to come and see you more. It’s just the money. It’s always been tight.’

  ‘I can help with that.’

  ‘We’ll be okay. But thank you.’

  ‘It would be the least I could do,’ she persists.

  ‘Thank you, Mum.’

  Her car arrives soon afterwards, so I retrieve Luke and we both go outside to see her off.

  ‘Give Grandma a hug,’ I prompt, leaning Luke towards her.

  He wraps his arms around her neck and she smiles and closes her eyes.

  ‘Did you say thank you to Grandma for the Playmobil fire engine she sent you?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Luke replies dutifully.

  ‘Thanks, Mum, you always get him great gifts,’ I add.

  ‘I’ll keep them coming,’ she promises with a smile, pinching my delighted son’s nose.

  ‘We’ll try to see you soon,’ I vow.

  ‘Okay, dear.’ She gives me an awkward hug while I’m holding Luke and kisses me on my cheek, then she turns and climbs into the taxi. I wait and watch until the car disappears from view, feeling a pang when it does. I hope it’s not too long before we catch up again – she’s the only parent I have now.

  Cuddling Luke close, I return inside and make a beeline for Van, Nick and my friends.

  ‘You okay?’ Nick asks, putting his arm around me and pressing a kiss to my temple.

  I feel Van’s eyes on us as I nod. He’s wearing a suit – one he had to go to Falmouth to buy. I’ve never seen him dressed so smartly and my eyes keep drifting back to him.

  ‘When do you fly home?’ I hear Brooke ask him.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Van replies. ‘I’ve already changed my ticket once, but I’ll stick around for a bit longer.’

  My heart curls in at the edges. I know how desperately he’s missing Libby. He must feel unbearably torn, because he wants to be here for me, too, and I selfishly want him to stay for as long as possible.

  Luke wriggles out of my arms and gets down, running over to Theresa.

  On autopilot, I take two steps towards Van before coming to a sudden stop. I was about to put my arms around his waist – I wanted him to hold me, like he’s been doing at home. I stare at him in a daze and his brow knots with confusion. Then I realise that all of my friends are looking at me and I spin on my heels and walk away.

  I instantly regret it – I’ve just drawn even more attention to myself – but I panicked. One of Dad’s former colleagues lifts his hand to get my attention, but I can’t do it, I can’t do any more small talk. Bolting up the stairs to Nick’s apartment – which was also once mine – I let myself in with the key I still have.

  Nick finds me there, in floods of tears, on his bed.

  ‘Hey,’ he says gently, lying down beside me and gathering me in his arms. I’m crying so hard. My heart is aching. It wants Van. ‘What was that about?’ Nick asks. ‘Why did you run away? You looked at Van and then took off.’

  Oh God, everyone noticed…

  I cry even harder.

  ‘Nell…’ he murmurs, stroking his hand soothingly across my hair. ‘It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m so sorry, baby, but it’s going to be okay.’

  ‘I’m in love with Van.’

  The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I pull away from Nick and stare at him with disbelief.

  He cocks his head to one side, his mind ticking over. ‘Do you mean…’ His voice trails off, but he’s still regarding me contemplatively. ‘You’re in love with him,’ he states.

  ‘Since I was fifteen,’ I whisper.

  He breathes in sharply.

  My eyes plead with him to understand.

  ‘Does he know?’ he asks carefully.

  I tell him everything. I purge my soul. And he listens, taking it all in, not once giving me the impression that he’s judging me. I couldn’t stop talking, even if I felt like he was.

  ‘It all makes sense now,’ he says eventually. ‘That’s why you went off Drew.’

  His comment actually makes me laugh, but I’m far from entertained.

  ‘Christ, Nell,’ he mutters, dragging his hand across his face. He looks grave.

  ‘
Are you disgusted?’

  He reels backwards. ‘Come on,’ he scoffs. ‘You’re not brother and sister, for pity’s sake. You were kids when you lived together. I can’t believe you’ve been carrying all this shit around for years.’

  ‘Dad—’ I start to say, but he cuts me off.

  ‘Your dad was doing what any father of any teenage girl would do – trying to prevent a guy from shagging his daughter!’ he erupts. ‘God rest his soul, but he should’ve told you sooner that he was okay with you being in love with each other.’

  ‘When Van was last here, I was with Joel,’ I try to explain, feeling defensive of my poor late father. ‘And when I went to Australia, I’d started seeing you and Van was with Sam.’

  Nick sighs heavily. ‘Yeah, sure, so maybe your dad didn’t feel it was worth dredging up the past. Have you really never told anyone about it?’ He glances at me sideways. ‘Not even Ellie?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘You should tell her,’ he says firmly. ‘She’ll say the same thing as me. Jesus, Nell, get it out. Stop feeling guilty. You’ve had enough to deal with.’

  I need another cry after all of that.

  By the time we make it back downstairs, most people have left. Ellie regards me with concern and holds out her hand to me.

  ‘Are you okay, hon?’ she asks.

  I nod, my eyes flitting to Van’s. His expression is unreadable. ‘I will be,’ I reply to Ellie. ‘When are you going back to Newcastle?’

  ‘The day after tomorrow. Would you like me to come over for a cuppa in the morning?’

  Nick slaps Van’s chest before I can answer. ‘Tomorrow morning. Surfing. We’re doing this, bro. Ellie is keeping Nell company.’

  I smile at Nick and then at Ellie. ‘Yes, that would be good.’

  Van nods, too, agreeing to Nick’s plan.

  I really want to take Luke home with us, but Nick dissuades me.

  ‘You should talk to Van,’ he says in my ear as I hug him and our son goodbye.

  Van drives, but neither of us says a word in the car. Despair and nervousness are battling it out in my stomach as we take to the sofa.

  ‘You were upstairs with Nick for a long time.’

  What does he think we were doing?

  ‘I told him everything,’ I whisper. ‘He understood.’