by Bella James
Back to my family.
My heart is lifted with the highest joy. I know with certainty that I can return to my life. My wild and foolish, heart-achingly wonderful life.
Part Three
Chapter Nine:
Where We Are
A loud beeping begins to pierce my subconscious and I hear frantic voices around me asking me to open my eyes. I choke painfully as a long tube is pulled from my throat, and I feel as though I am being whisked away from a dream before I am ready to awaken. My last thought before the pain kicks in is of a girl I used to know. I am being pulled further and faster away from her as she calls out to me desperately. Her voice is carried away on the faintest breeze as I draw a deep breath into my lungs.
‘Save Marley for me, Anna.’ Then her beautiful aquamarine eyes are gone.
My next breath is equally painful and I fight the urge to throw up, fearing I may choke as a nurse tells me in what is presumably her most soothing voice to try and breathe normally. If I could have felt my arms I would have grabbed her, but I can only lie motionless with each shuddering breath.
A familiar voice enters the room and I hear Mr Raj tell me to open my eyes. I am reassured by his presence, but my efforts are rewarded with an excruciating beam of light into my left pupil. Utterly enraged, my strength slowly returns, but I am jabbed with a sedative injection before I have the chance to throttle him.
My next awakening is a little less painful, and I open my eyes to see three worried faces: Izzy, Michael, and my mother. I smile at Izzy, offer Michael a look of pure love, and frown crossly at Lillian. They stare back at me before my eyes close and sleep steals me away.
I dream of uncertain creatures, animals that change form from beast to human. I hope I am dreaming as I hear Izzy telling me she has borrowed my Patrick Cox ballet pumps. My eyes squint open a painful crack as she laughs and tells me, ‘Ha! I knew you were listening!’ She presses the nurse call button by my bed. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist; I can’t find where you’ve hidden them.’
I cannot speak but I can smile inwardly. When I found out I had cancer I hid my favourite shoes in the attic so she would never get her hands on them if I ever did kick the bucket.
I open my eyes again, feeling incredibly unsure of what was happening to me. The tube was thankfully removed from my throat and my head pounded.
‘Anna!’ My mother comes rushing into the room and holds my hand, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.
There is a little bit of commotion as two nurses fuss round me, and the next person I see is Mr Raj.
‘Well, Miss Winters,’ he smiles proudly. ‘Did I not tell you that you were in safe hands?’ He shines the light in my eyes again and continues his fondness for ridiculous questions.
‘Can you tell me your first name?’
‘Anna.’ I think the word with certainty but they do not reach my mouth. I have not forgotten my name, but I have forgotten how to speak.
‘How many fingers?’
I frown as I look up at his hand, but all of his fingers are blurred, and even if I could talk, I could not possibly distinguish one from another.
‘Miss Winters, can you blink once if you can hear me.’
I blink to show him I understand and a frightened tear escapes as I slowly open and close my eyes. My mother tightens her grip on my hand just a little. She looks to Mr Raj.
‘Don’t worry, dear. We are very pleased that you have woken up. We had to keep you heavily sedated after I operated on your tumour. Yesterday we removed sedation and were delighted that you were breathing without support. You will feel very disorientated for a while as your brain and body adjust to normal function, but your CT scan was very promising.’ He leans forward and I feel calmer as I can now focus on his kind brown eyes. ‘Very promising indeed.’
I hear my mother ask him anxiously, ‘She will be all right, won’t she? You said everything went well despite her collapse.’
I widen my eyes to signal my alarm and Izzy appears next to them. ‘You collapsed at home before they could operate, but the tumour has gone now, Anna. You just need to rest and get better so we can take you home.’ Her lovely eyes are full of tears and I am glad she is there. Izzy is always so certain where Mother is questions and constant worry. I do not want to hear the details and held on to Izzy’s confident words. ‘The tumour has gone.’
Mr Raj continues his examination and I have to blink in response as he checks I have sensation from my head to my feet, more shining light into my pupils and then he retreats with his colleagues, ordering me to rest. I look over to my mother’s pale face and try to manage a smile. I am so tired I feel I could sleep for a thousand years until my thoughts turn to one focus, Michael. But the sound is jumbled and comes out in a soft moan. I try again but Mother irritatingly keeps shushing me and tells me to rest. I close my eyes crossly to shut her out, and when I next open them, I am overjoyed to see him beside me.
‘Hello, darling.’ Despite being half dead I almost leap up at the sound of his voice, and manage what I hope is a pretty smile.
He strokes my head tenderly and offers me a drink from a glass with a straw. ‘They say you need to have lots of fluids. I’m going to take care of you.’ He helps me sit forward slightly and I sip some water. The icy cold liquid tastes so foreign in my mouth but soothes my throat beautifully. I take big gulps for Michael, wanting him to take care of me. I lie back against the pillows and wished I was wearing lip gloss.
He smiles at me and says, ‘Do you remember when I’d had my operation?’ I nod happily, remembering falling in love. ‘I woke up so confused I thought you were a nurse till I saw your headscarf. You wouldn’t leave me alone, making sure I ate and drank and did my exercises.’ I smile again as he tells me it is his time for revenge.
‘I won’t let an hour go by without fussing about with protein shakes and orange segments!’ He leans forward and kisses my brow. ‘I have to go and fetch your mother; she made me promise to as soon as you woke up.’ I frown and try to tell him not to be crazy, I am happier when it is just the two of us, but he is up and rushing excitedly out of the door before my lips whisper one tiny sound, ‘Michael.’
After initial concern regarding my speech, Mr Raj is regretting his competent success, as by week two I am shouting at him once more.
‘I look like bloody Frankenstein!’ The hand mirror shows ugly criss-cross stitches across the left side of my head.
‘Anna!’ My mother sounds suitably shocked. ‘Do not speak to the doctor like that after all he has done for you.’ She shakes her head crossly and I look like I may kill her as she goes on to say, ‘And Frankenstein was the creator, not the monster!’
Michael thankfully steps between us and tries to calm me as I have been raging for an hour. He wipes tears from my eyes with his thumbs. ‘Your hair will cover the scar in no time. Remember that your chemo and radio are done, angel, and your hair will grow back quickly so no one will ever know there was a scar there at all.’
His soothing voice works. He has never called me ‘angel’ before, which I rather like. Although I avoid Izzy’s eyes as I know they will be dubious at his term of endearment.
I slam down the mirror on the table in front of me and let out a dramatic sigh as my mother replaces my favoured head scarf from Dr. Braby. I cannot wear a wig until the swelling and scarring has healed.
‘There,’ she says as I smack her fussing hands away. ‘Do you want me to take you to Physio or should Michael do it?’
I roll my eyes and beckon Michael to bring over the wheelchair. Despite the operation being a success, I have a long road ahead of me, and although my speech came back quickly, I have to learn to walk again gradually. I hated the stupid wheelchair and only allowed Michael to push it. Izzy refused after I insisted on wearing a sheet over my head the first time I had to be wheeled to the Physio department, as I was too mortified to be seen.
‘You realise you look like a bloody ghost?’ she had shouted at me last week. ‘How can
I push you around like that without dying of humiliation?’
The disabled ghost had sat silently and stolidly until her sister had continued wheeling her to the lifts, burning with embarrassment and muttering, ‘Never again.’
I had since been coaxed out of the sheet but still frowned with my chin tucked into my chest as Michael laughed and wheeled me down the never-ending corridors.
Chapter Ten:
A Step Too Far
Lillian is humming softly as we drive the winding roads to Elm Tree. I look out of the window at the picture perfect snow, settling softly on the pine trees that line the country lanes, then turn to my mother.
‘What’s that song?’ I ask, thinking I might like it.
‘It’s not a song, darling, it is Chopin.’ I roll my eyes and look at her suspiciously. Is there an air of victory about her as she carefully manoeuvres the bend in the road that leads to our driveway?
Yesterday, I was gleefully packing my belongings with Izzy and Michael, as Mr Raj had granted me the all clear to go home. I had been pestering him for days to be free of the stifling hospital, and finally (with a little persuasion from Dr. Braby) he had conceded to my discharge in time for Christmas.
Michael looked at me shyly and asked if I wanted to spend Christmas at the ranch with him. I had yet to meet his father and step-mother; I hadn’t wanted to be introduced until I felt I looked more respectable and was feeling better.
I saw Lillian catch her breath and heard Izzy’s heart stop beating. I knew they would go along with anything I wanted, but I also knew they were desperate to take care of me themselves. I had even been getting along reasonably well with my mother of late.
I smiled at Michael and thanked him. ‘I would love to, but I can’t expect these two to manage Christmas without me. She …’ I gesture my thumb behind me towards Izzy, ‘couldn’t decorate a tree if her life depended on it. And she …’ I point at my worried-looking mother, ‘can hardly cook a baked bean never mind a turkey!’
They both clapped their hands delightedly and Izzy ran up behind me with a big bear hug. ‘Anna, we’ll have the best Christmas ever!’ I caught my mother’s eye and we shared a rare and loving smile.
So perhaps this was the reason she still seemed rather pleased as the familiar crunch of gravel announced our arrival onto Elm Tree Lane.
I could have cried with happiness as I saw the fairy lights twinkling in our namesake tree. The dusk had crept upon us quickly, just in time to showcase the starry lights. I saw the front of the house was also lit with Christmas decorations and guessed it was for my benefit, as never before had home looked so welcomingly festive.
‘I love it!’ I cry out, and am out of the car before it’s barely stopped moving. Izzy is hot on my heels and boasts proudly that they had spent most of the night making sure everything was perfect. I uncharacteristically love Christmas, and it’s one of the only occasions where my father and I ever conflict. He cannot abide what he describes as ‘gaudy tributes to a misplaced tradition,’ and always made us stick to wreaths of holly and a solitary pine in the corner of the entrance hall. He was usually quite generous with his gifts (or at least Leona was), but there was never any tinsel to admire or glittery crackers to pull.
I laugh delightedly as I see the twinkling reindeer by the front door, and spin round to look at my mother. ‘Father will go crazy! He’ll tear it down as soon as he lays eyes on it.’ I stand protectively by Rudolph.
‘Oh, leave him to me, Anna. I want this Christmas to be extra special. Anyway, Scrooge won’t be home until the twenty-third so we have three days to enjoy it by ourselves.’
My jaw drops involuntarily as she calls him ‘Scrooge.’ Izzy and I look at each other and while we carry my bags through the front door the three of us twitter and giggle like schoolgirls.
‘Oh … my … goodness.’ I turn in awestruck circles at the transformation of Elm Tree House. The tree in the entrance hall almost touches the ceiling and is covered with tinsel, baubles, cherubs, and snowflakes. I reach out with delight and touch the wrapped chocolates and candy canes. As I run through the house, every room is decorated beautifully with mistletoe, holly, and scented candles that remind me of the cinnamon mulled wine Grandma Beth used to make. We dance around, singing, jumping from one Christmas carol to another, until my mother claps her hands and orders us to rest on the sofa as she lights the fire. She heats some mulled wine and fresh mince pies with huge dollops of brandy cream and I sigh contentedly. I can’t remember ever feeling so happy.
***
Despite the fact I won’t see Michael until he comes to visit on Boxing Day, my euphoria continues to glow right up until Christmas Eve. My father had been delayed so it is with a little trepidation that Izzy and I wait for him in the kitchen, sipping a Baileys for Dutch courage.
‘Izzy, do you think he’ll be mad?’
My sister nods her head. ‘Considering the house looks like Santa’s Grotto meets Las Vegas, then yes, I’m quite sure he will be furious.’
As if on cue, we hear the crunch of gravel as Father’s Land Rover pulls up in front of the house. It is quarter past five so he will have already seen the outside illuminations in all their splendour. He looks suitably perplexed as he steps into the overwhelmingly festive entrance hall. I walk towards him and to my delight he opens his arms for me to fall in to.
‘I’m so sorry, darling, I couldn’t be home sooner. I’ve been worried sick, calling the house every five minutes but your mother never answered.’
Izzy pipes up behind me, ‘We were barely ever here, Father. We were at Anna’s bedside.’
I turn to look at her crossly. I do not want her to spoil things by trying to make him feel more guilt for not being here sooner. She had said on more than one occasion, ‘Surely he could have gotten home by now?’ Now she just raises her eyebrows at me and heads back to the kitchen.
‘I’m so glad you’re home, Father. Do you like my surprise from Mother and Isabel?’ I ask him this innocently, gesturing towards the tree and the fairly lights.
‘Not my style at all, Annabel,’ he says tersely. ‘But who cares about all that as long as you are home and well?’ He lifts my chin and smiles warmly, until the moment is entirely ruined as the motion-activated Santa suddenly starts singing and wiggling his ample hips. My father visibly stiffens and heads for the drinks cabinet as I curse myself inwardly. Izzy had warned me the singing Santa was a step too far.
***
He disappears upstairs to unpack as Izzy and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least the decorations have not been ordered down. Mother does not look as confident when she arrives home a little while later with shopping.
‘He’s home then?’ she asks nervously, shooing our prying eyes away from the parcels.
‘He was fine about it,’ I say smugly, as though there was never any doubt. ‘All he cared about was that I was OK, so as usual you have been fussing and fretting over nothing.’
I manage to grab a Terry’s Chocolate Orange from the top of an open carrier bag before she has time to swipe them away. I throw it to Izzy and we run back to the kitchen, leaving Mother to head upstairs with her shopping.
Father comes back downstairs first, freshly showered, with rather glassy eyes from his generous whiskeys. He sits in front of the fire as I fetch him another.
‘Does Mother want a drink with us?’ Izzy asks as she pours me another miniscule Baileys, rationing my alcohol consumption as subtly as she dare.
‘She will, most likely, but I think she’s had enough.’ I must look confused as he goes on, ‘Had a few glasses of champagne while shopping, by the looks of her. She’s only gone and slipped in the bath and hurt herself.’
Izzy jumps up but he motions her to sit still, and I feel further perplexed because she looked fine, and would never drink then drive.
I pat my father’s arm reassuringly, ‘Christmas does funny things to people, and she might have found the shopping centre too manic and needed a little refreshment.’
Lillian comes into the room shortly after, dressed in a cream robe and her hair wrapped up in a matching towel. Izzy and I both gasp at her face and despite our father’s glares, rush over to her.
‘God, Mother, you’ll have a black eye for Christmas Day!’ I reach out to touch the already discoloured shading around her eye as she flinches away. ‘Why have you tried putting makeup over it? We already know you’ve gotten yourself pissed and slipped over!’ I revel in the chance at telling her off for such reckless behaviour and Izzy cannot resist either.
‘You’ve split your lip! Mother, what on earth were you thinking, drinking through the day?’
She looks over at my father as he stands up to lead her to the sofa in a caring manner. ‘Leave her alone, girls. I’m sure she feels quite ridiculous enough. I told them you’d a few champagnes while shopping. Won’t be repeating that again for a while, eh?’
My mother says nothing as he pours her a brandy. ‘Get that down you for the shock.’ Izzy and I laugh as he does an impression of her staggering around drunk, while my mother stares straight into the fire, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
***
I enjoyed Christmas Day but as usual Lillian’s dour face put a cloud over the festivities. I think she and my father must have argued over her drinking debacle, as she barely spoke during dinner, although she did try to make sure that Izzy and I had fun, and bought us some lovely gifts.
I opened my present from Michael while they all pretended not to watch, and was annoyed with myself for being a little disappointed with the book about American horses. But I didn’t dwell on it, and was comforted by the fact that he wanted me to learn about them as I would be visiting his stables in Northampton soon.
I smiled remembering how cross he gets when I call his ranch ‘stables’, but it seems so strange to have an American-themed facility in such demonstratively English countryside.