Isabel's Healing

by Maggie McIntyre

  Bryony looked very like she had the first day, not panic stricken or exhausted, but Isabel looked far better than she had dared hope. There was a pink blush to her cheeks and she had gained a little weight. Her frown lines looked less pronounced, and her eyes were no longer strained and red. Whatever regime the girl had devised for her was obviously working.

  Claire was more relieved than she dared say, because on the journey home the previous Friday, Edward had voiced huge misgivings about leaving his sister in the sole care of an anonymous girl, medical student or not. It wasn’t Bryony’s competence he had questioned, but his sister’s erratic bouts of fury, wicked tongue and very short fuse. But here she was, apparently quite content to sit in her wheelchair in the morning sunshine and have the girl apply sun block to her face, neck and even her one bare leg, in its light sandal.

  “Vitamin D is so good for Isabel’s healing, but this will protect her from too much sun damage,” she explained. “You could reapply it after lunch if you both sit out here for most of the day.”

  “Hey, I’m here, and I can speak, you know,” Isabel broke in, and all three were reminded of her protests from the week before.

  “I’m sorry. Of course you are and of course you can.”

  Bryony had the keys to the Citroen in her hands, and her haversack over her shoulder. She and Isabel stared at each other, and she had a terrible temptation suddenly to kiss her employer before she left her.

  It suddenly seemed the most natural thing in the world to do, but of course it wasn’t, and wouldn’t be at all appropriate, even more so in front of a third party. So she just briefly touched her shoulder, and retreated to the car, giving them a cheerful honk on the horn as she left the property. Isabel and Claire watched her progress as the car descended out of the gate and took its time going down the valley.

  “Now then,” said Claire, “I’m dying for a drink. OK if I reheat the coffee in a pan on the Aga? I want you to tell me how things have been all week, how they’ve really been. I can’t imagine it’s been as plain sailing as you made out on the phone. Can you really stand having her here for the next seven weeks?”

  ***

  Bryony negotiated her day as methodically as she had planned it. On the Monday before she had already found a parking space near to the station where she could leave a car for a full day at low cost, and she bought her return ticket using a student railcard which cost very little. She sat on the train as it carried her south to the University City twenty miles down the Welsh coast, and had that same little thrill from childhood at her first glimpse of the sea from the train window.

  Isabel would enjoy this, she thought, and resolved that one day she would definitely pack them up a picnic and take her down to the nearest coastal resort. In fact it was only as the train drew into Aberystwyth station that she stopped thinking about Isabel, and all they had to achieve the following week. She caught the bus from the railway station up to the main University campus where she could access the main library with all its access to academic and technical periodicals. She thought eight days of desk-based research, coupled with her case study of Isabel would be just the right balance for her final year dissertation.

  Medicine wasn’t taught at Aberystwyth University, but her priceless student card would give her all the online resources she would need, and she was allowed to sit in the main University library and focus on her research. She registered as an external reader, and located a quiet section where she could concentrate in peace.

  At lunch she left the seat she’d chosen, and went out for a walk to the student cafeteria to grab a sandwich. The campus was quiet, but there were several cohorts of summer school participants, some learning the Welsh language, others studying the fascinating culture of medieval Welsh literature and all the legends and heritage stories. She was sitting on one of the benches eating her cheese roll, having decided not to cheat on Isabel’s vegetarian regime, when a group of American students approached her, seemingly wanting to meld her into their party.

  “Hi, we just wondered. Do you speak Welsh? We need all the practice we can get.”

  Bryony’s south English accent revealed her origins. “Sorry, I don’t. I’m sure I’m worse than you. Are you here on a course?”

  Two of the girls hitched themselves up onto her table and a boy sat beside her. They were as friendly as a group of enthusiastic puppies.

  “Yeah, for the summer. We are part of an exchange program with the University of South Carolina. We’re doing a unit on Celtic Studies. What are you doing?”

  “Oh, I’m a medical student, working in the area for the summer, but I can use my University of London library reading card. I’m doing some personal research.”

  “Gee, sounds cool,” one of the girls replied in that bland, non-committal politeness well brought–up Americans had perfected. She obviously did not want to ask any further questions but she looked at Bryony’s physique with un-disguised appreciation. “You work out, you look well-toned.”

  Bryony couldn’t decide if it was an American characteristic to address personal remarks to a total stranger, or whether the girl was just exceptionally friendly.

  “Thanks,” she grinned in response. “I haven’t had time to work out at all this week, but my job is quite physical. I’m caring for someone who is recovering from an RTA.”

  “RTA?”

  “Sorry, road traffic accident. She has multiple fractures and can’t move her arms at all right now. Her ribs and lower leg are also smashed up and she needs 24/7 care.”

  “Ugh. I don’t think I want to hear any more. How can you face doing that all day? You know...I couldn’t face all that yuck.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s only physical. She’s still a whole person, one I’m privileged to work for. “

  Bryony felt herself rising in defense of Isabel. The girl’s comments were all too common for people who had no personal experience of being injured. There was such an emphasis in the social media culture on physical so-called perfection. Isabel might well fully recover, but supposing she didn’t, supposing she’d lost an eye in the accident, or had her face smashed in? The way people would view her might change forever. There was a strange almost atavistic aversion in the human species to disfigurement or even ‘difference.’ It was something else Bryony added to her list of things worthy of research in connection with her proposed topic for her dissertation.

  “I’m sorry; she didn’t mean to be rude.” The first girl’s friend had lingered behind while her mates had peeled themselves away to return to class. She was blonde and tanned and overweight in a rather cuddly sort of way. She virtually snuggled up to Bryony.

  “That was kind of insensitive of her, I’m sure, but she’s just never lived in the real world. My name’s Melanie, by the way, but folks call me Mel. What’s yours?”

  “Oh, Bryony. But I’m afraid I must get back now to the library.”

  “Do you come here every week?”

  “This is my first time, but I expect to be here for the next seven Fridays if all goes well.”

  “So I’ll see you, same time next week. Cool. Bye!”

  Melanie or Mel shimmied away, her backside definitely sashaying in a siren like message to Bryony. What on earth had just happened? Had the girl just made a date with her, a complete stranger, on the back of two sentences? Well, maybe one of her aims in Wales was to get laid, and she hadn’t even noticed Bryony was straight. It was all very bizarre, but Bryony couldn’t get her wriggling rear-view out of her mind. She returned to the library, “Mel, Bel, oh hell, too much to think about. Back to the computer and the periodical library files.”

  ***

  Twenty-five miles north, Claire and Isabel had also taken a light lunch. Claire had tried her best, but she was much more awkward and embarrassed than Bryony had been about all the little physical inconveniences of Isabel not being able to use her hands. Taking her to the bathroom was as far as she could see herself going. She had made tomato sandwiches
though, and cut them into little slippery segments, which she was pushing towards Bel’s mouth at irregular intervals.

  “So what is she doing down in Aberystwyth all day?” she asked about the absent caregiver.

  “She’s doing desk-based research...on recovery from trauma. The idea is that it will help her give me even better care, and promote healing. It will make an interesting topic of study for her.”

  “You’re going to let her use you as a case study? Is that wise. Bel? You’ve always been so reticent about discussing private matters.”

  Claire was making an oblique reference to what she herself had always been reticent about talking to Bel about, her ‘unfortunate’ lesbian tendencies and lifestyle.

  Of course she wasn’t prejudiced, she had told her so years before, but maybe it wasn’t something to necessarily bring up in casual conversation with strangers or their Cheshire friends.

  The fact that Isabel had lived with a woman for eleven years, and that they had been planning a totally open and wonderfully celebratory wedding before Carrie had died, was an inconvenient truth she never thought to dwell on. It was one area of her sister-in-law’s life she just didn’t empathize with. She felt sorry for Bel in her bereavement, but she showed no comprehension just how deep the pain had gone, or how longstanding it had been. It surely hadn’t been as all-encompassing or profound a grief compared, for example to losing a husband. She was sure she would never have soldiered on like Bel had, if she’d lost Edward. Gay people just didn’t understand.

  Isabel chewed her tomato sandwich and felt it stick in her throat. At that moment she could read right through Claire’s pleasant homophobia and out the other side, and wondered just why she had counted her a close friend all these years. Maybe she needed to replace her as her right hand woman from now on with an out and out lesbian. She would call Jane and invite her up to stay for the following weekend. Then Bryony might have a whole day and a night away, and they wouldn’t have to bother Claire again.

  Claire wandered happily off into the garden with her knitting after Bel claimed she really needed to rest for an hour or so. Sitting in the chair would be fine, but maybe Claire could dial a number for her on the phone and set it to speaker phone?

  She listened to the dial-tone, and then her old friend picked up.

  “Bel! Your name came up and reminded me you aren’t dead yet! Where are you? More to the point, how are you?”

  Jane had a very strong voice. The girls where she taught PE more often called it a fog-horn. She could be heard from one end of the hockey field to the other, even in an adverse wind.

  “I’ve been better. But I’m on the mend. I have an excellent caregiver. Listen Jane, are you still teaching? You couldn’t get away for a weekend and come up here could you? I’d value your help, and company.”

  Jane pushed the phone onto her other ear and took her feet off the staff room table.

  “Term ends next Tuesday. It’s chaos of course, but I have no plans for the following weekend. Of course I could come. But tell me where on earth you are. I know about the smash. Rotten luck. Do you need some support?”

  “Yes, I really do. I don’t want to work my caregiver into the ground, and I‘ve imposed too much on my family already.”

  “Hmm, am I on speaker phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “’Nuff said then. So tell me where you are.”

  Isabel told her the address, and even remembered the postcode, so Jane could put it into her satnav system in the car.

  Jane was head of PE in a large Bristol Comprehensive High School. It wasn’t so far along the M4 and then up to west Wales and it would be a very pleasant drive. She’d come Thursday night and leave Sunday. All settled.

  Isabel felt pleased with herself for sorting it out. It meant that Bryony would be free to go away for Friday and Saturday nights, and sort things out with the boyfriend. She’d be very pleased, she was sure.

  Jane and Bel had known each other more than thirty years, since they had started grammar school together. They had instantly recognized each other as gay, before they had even learned all the words for it, and had been inseparable as best friends.

  Jane was extremely active in the LG community all her adult life and was absolutely fearless and outspoken about sexuality. Only Bel's constant travelling and her partnership with the crazy woman Carrie had caused them to drift apart in the last decade, but they could always pick up where they had left off. They were easy together. Jane remained Bel’s oldest and best friend. There was very little she could not discuss with Jane, and knew she’d get a sensible answer.

  Chapter 13

  By the end of the afternoon, Bryony had almost begun to have double vision, so long had she been concentrating on the library monitors. But she had achieved a good first list of relevant articles which she wished to pursue and felt the dissertation was taking shape. She gathered up her notebook and papers and pushed them all into her haversack. She walked all the way down to the railway station as she felt she needed the exercise, and caught the train back to Machynlleth just after 6 pm. The long summer evening still stretched ahead of her.

  After picking the car up, she called briefly at the shops to buy Isabel a packet of the dark chocolate biscuits she liked, and a large bottle of full fat milk, then started north. She knew the route well by now, and realized how much she was looking forward to seeing Isabel again. It was quite silly; just how much she had missed her. She only hoped Claire and she had enjoyed the day together, and that Isabel wouldn’t be in pain when she returned. As she drove the Berlingo through the gate, she could see Isabel in her wheelchair out in the front garden, pretty much where she had left her. She seemed irritable for some reason.

  “There you are!”

  “Yes, here I am, back safe and sound.”

  Isabel sniffed. She really wanted to say, “I’ve missed you,” but the words sounded pretty stupid inside her head, let alone how they would emerge from her mouth. “Productive day?”

  “Very. How have you been?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Please push me back inside. Claire will need to get home.”

  She didn’t say, “Thank you for catching an early train.” Nor did she say she’d been anxiously watching the road approaching the cottage for at least half an hour. But she had. The very act of wasting so much time had irritated her, but what else could she do?

  Claire and her topics of conversations had quietly faded by early afternoon, and they had simply turned on the television since then and watched programs about a monkey sanctuary. Claire had cooked egg-plant Parmigiana for tea. She was a good cook, Bel had to admit, and there was plenty left for Bryony. Apart from that the day had been strangely empty.

  Claire was too polite to say it, but she now looked very much ready to get away and drive home to Edward and Gardener’s World on the TV. It was supposed to include a section on soft fruit, which she especially wanted to watch. She had already loaded her knitting and a fresh thermos of coffee into the car.

  “I’ll be off then, and I look forward to seeing you both on Monday, after the fracture clinic. You must come by for lunch and to give me a progress report. You’ll feel so much better when you have the use of your arms back.”

  By what Claire had not said outright, but inferred, Bryony guessed that Isabel had been rather fractious and grumpy. The older woman looked at her with some degree of sympathy as she walked out to the car with her.

  “Now dear, are you sure you’ll be all right? You’ve survived the first week, and from Monday it will be so much better. I think Bel has organized something anyway with an old friend, so you can get away for the whole weekend next Friday. You’ve done wonders already. She looks so much better.”

  After Claire left, Bryony went back inside, not feeling very happy. She knew it was totally irrational, but she didn’t want to get away for a whole weekend. She had missed Isabel more than enough, parting from her for just one working day, and she also didn’t want to break up her new
routine of studying down in Aberystwyth.

  As she sat at the table and ate the supper Claire had cooked, she broached the subject. “Um, is it true that you’ll have a visitor coming next weekend?”

  Isabel nodded. “Yes, so you can have more than one day off. My old friend Jane Walkley will come and care for me. She’ll arrive Thursday evening and leave Sunday.”

  “But...”

  “It means you can arrange to go to visit your boyfriend.”

  “It’s too far. I can’t afford the train fare.”

  “Oh, I’ll cover that. Don’t worry. I think you should go.”

  Bryony had an insane desire to burst into tears, but her face remained calm. Isabel had been thoughtful and done this for her. Aiden had already texted her three times to try to arrange a face to face chat, but did she really want to go all the way down to London, just to give him very bad news? The answer was a big fat ‘No’.

  “I...I thought I might Skype him first. It would be free. If your friend comes I can still have some more free time, but up here. I need to go to Aberystwyth to the library, and I could take a long hike on my own on Saturday. Please don’t send me away.”

  “My dear girl, what do you mean? I’m not sending you off like a bag of dirty laundry. I seriously thought you would value the time alone, or with Aiden. Is he really not so important, not your significant other?”

  Bryony just stared at her and didn’t know how to respond. Then she just silently shook her head. Isabel tried to read her, but failed.

  “Oh, well, not to worry. I’m looking forward to seeing Jane, but you can still stay here if you want to. Jane will need your bedroom, but you can sleep on the sofa if you don’t mind.”

  “No, of course not.”

  The girl seemed oddly pleased she wouldn’t get as much time to herself as Isabel had offered. Maybe she just wanted to focus on her project.