by Martina Cole
She laughed with him, knowing the score, as they all did. She knew that he was bluffing her; he was bailed out, whether or not he had a pass, a Get Out Of Jail Free Card, was another matter entirely.
But he would go away for Lance without a second’s thought, and so he should. He was pretending that he was not worried, that Lance’s murder had not been noticed. He had been on remand for a long time. It was only her imminent death that had got him out now. She knew that her illness had made the judge more lenient, that and his sister’s murder. She supposed that, to outsiders, their lives must seem outrageous. The newspapers certainly seemed to think so. Rehashing her husband’s death, and now making the most of poor Colleen’s death, and of course Lance’s. It was as if Patrick had already been found guilty of Lance’s murder; the papers had already convicted him. Poor Pat, he had been on remand for so long, and now he was waiting for a court date, a court date that, thanks to the papers, would find him guilty.
His brother’s death had been a cause for relief for everyone, if the truth was only known. Lance was the nightmare all mothers dreaded; he had been the terror that you couldn’t see. In fact, Lance had been the evil you couldn’t have foreseen. He was every mother’s worst nightmare, and his granny’s little soldier. To think her poor Kathy, her Kathleen, had been in fear of him all those years, when she had thought that his love of Kathy had been his saving grace, the one thing he had going for him, as far as she was concerned. His care of her had made them all believe that, somewhere inside him, a nice person was fighting to get out. Yet, her mother had made it easy for him, made it look normal.
Lily was still coming to terms with that, how someone who was so unstable was her own son; her own flesh and blood. That he could have been capable of something like that.
Pat’s daughter came to sit beside her and Ivana stood behind her, with her hand on her shoulder. It was a lovely sight and Lil enjoyed seeing them. ‘You’re a good girl, Ivana. If he had half a brain . . .’
They were all laughing then. Lil never let a moment go by without mentioning the two of them getting married.
The boys were all near her, and she waved them away from the bed, knowing she had a good while until she was actually on her way out. They didn’t need to see that, they were still young enough not to understand that this would be them one day. They still believed life was long, that they had ages to go before they would need to make any arrangements for their own burials or their deaths.
She was actually looking forward to her death. Was ready, more than ready. But this constant pretence that she was not bothered about it was tiring. It was for her kids’ benefit of course, it was them who weren’t ready. She knew that they would be all right though. They were close, they would look out for one another, and she had to be content with that.
‘Bring me mum to see me. I want to see her tomorrow.’
’Are you sure?’
‘Course I’m sure. I’ve got cancer, not fucking Alzheimer’s. Do what I ask, will you?’
They all nodded in agreement and she wanted to cry for them. They left her a little while later, and she could finally let herself relax; the pain was so bad that she couldn’t even breathe in peace. She took her morphine with a greediness that made her understand the junkies she had always hated, seen as weak. Their pain she knew was mental, hers was physical, and she just prayed for a good death, even though she was hanging on until she finally saw a priest. She knew that whatever had happened in the past, she would only pass properly with the Last Rites.
Death didn’t scare her, she welcomed it. In fact, she felt that it was ordained somehow; it meant she could be with her daughter, her baby girl, her little Colleen.
Her Patrick would be waiting for her as well, she knew that. She didn’t know how she knew that, why she was so convinced of it, but she was.
Death was a great leveller, it was something that no one could avoid. Money, power, nothing could stop it. Death. It was a law unto itself. It was something that you could only do alone. Beggars and kings, as her husband had pointed out, it happened to them all. She had read once that Elizabeth the First had said on her deathbed: ’All my riches for but a moment in time.’
Well, she didn’t want any longer, she was happy to go now. She was happy to die, and to sleep finally without the pain and the burning that told her she was still in the land of the living. Her kids needed to be freed from her sick bed anyway, it wasn’t fair on them. They needed to bury her so they could get on with their lives once more, without her illness taking over everything.
Once she died, they could live their own lives at last, and remember her as she was, strong and vibrant, looking out for them all, instead of seeing her as she was now, a tiny woman in constant pain, and wishing for death as she had once wished for life.
Kathleen would be all right, as would Eileen; in fact, they looked better already. Lance’s death had frightened Eileen, stopped her drinking, made her realise that there was more to life than her bloody problems. And Kathleen was free of him, the bastard. Kathleen and Eileen were once more a duo, once more closer than close.
She could go now in peace, she had done all she could for them, and the last thing she could give them, the last thing she could do for them, was let them see a happy death. Their father’s death had been so violent; Patrick had been murdered with such hatred and so much blood. She wanted them to feel she had gone from them without any kind of fear or guilt whatsoever. They needed to say goodbye to her, and then go on with their lives. She understood now, that, as a parent, it was the most important thing you could give your children, you just wanted them to feel peace of mind.
She wanted the Last Rites now, even though she had not been to Mass for the longest time. This close to meeting her maker, she knew she wanted to see the priest, needed to make her last confession, receive her last Communion. The priest was due to come in the morning, she was looking forward to it.
God was good in his own way, he had given her the life she had lived, and she knew now, staring death in the face, that if she had been taught anything, it was that when all was said and done, life was for living, and no matter how bad that living might seem at the time, it was far better than the alternative.
Patrick came back into the room then, with her MST, and she grabbed her son’s hand tightly, saying, ‘Bring me my mother, bring her tonight, darling. I don’t think I have as long as we thought.’
’Are you sure, Mum, sure you want to see her?’
She sighed once more. ‘Oh, please, Pat, I can’t go without seeing her, even you know that!’
He hugged her gently, knowing how painful her body was, knowing the cancer had crept everywhere, into her bones, and also knowing that she had let it happen. Knew that she had known for a long time that the cancer had returned, and she had decided to forego any treatment. Had kept it secret. She wanted to go, and he respected that, even as he hated her for it.
‘Bring her, will you? I’m so tired, Patrick. Not of the cancer, but of the rest of it! I know you’ll all survive without me, and I also know you’ll look after the little ones. You’re a good kid, Patrick, you were always my favourite. I trusted you, and I’m trusting you now. Bring me my mother, let me do this last thing before I go.’
He was nearly in tears, and she said with a forcefulness she didn’t know she had in her, ‘Oh, stop it, let me go in peace. I can’t be sorry for you all, or I’ll hang on, Pat, and, if I hang on, you lot will only remember me dying, you won’t remember me as I was. The things I did to make life easier for you will be forgotten, all you lot will remember is me dying, and that is not what I want.’
‘We don’t want you to go. The doctor says you can still have chemo . . .’
‘I don’t want chemo, another few months or weeks, I just want to be me again, Patrick. Just me back in charge of my own life. I want to go, and you have to make sure it happens nicely, without anyone being hurt or worried. I’m ready to go, son, and I want to go while I am still lucid. I don’t
want my kids to remember me as nothing more than a bag of bones and a fucking rotten smell. I want them to remember me alive, so stop talking shite and bring me my mother. The only thing I need now is to talk to her, nothing more.’
He nodded then. ‘OK, but I am staying with you, all right?’
‘Of course! You can be there and you can earwig, just don’t interfere.’
He laughed again, a loud and boisterous laugh that she knew was as phoney as Ivana’s blond hair. ‘Oh, Mum . . .’
‘Oh, son! Patrick, please, I am so tired, darling, just bring her, will you, and let me do this one last thing before I go, please?’
Annie was thrilled that her daughter wanted to see her. She had heard how ill she was and she wanted to make her peace with her. She was being ostracised by everyone, and she couldn’t stand that; she needed the family around her and hoped that Lil would guarantee that happened. Annie had completely wiped out Lance and what he had done, what she had caused, and what she had hidden. It was like none of it had ever happened.
Annie was now, as far as she was concerned, without stain.
As she walked into her daughter’s bedroom, she could smell the cancer, smell the hopelessness, and the medication that was keeping her daughter alive. She sat by the bed; she had not seen Lil for a while, and the change in her daughter was shocking. She was so thin, and her face, that lovely face, was all eyes and cheekbones. Her hair was still intact, but thinner, and up close she could see her daughter’s scalp. It was cruel, upsetting to see her like that.
‘Hello, Mum.’
Annie, for the first time in her life felt someone else’s pain, saw her daughter’s predicament, knew she was dying and knew she was lucky that she had this chance to make amends.
‘Oh, Lil, how are you, love?’
For the first time in her life, Lil could hear genuine sorrow in her mother’s voice. Knew that she really meant what she said. Actually cared that her daughter was so ill.
‘I am all right, Mum. I am ready to go, really I am. I am glad my time is up. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, why I asked Patrick to bring you here.’ She smiled at her eldest son as he sat down in the chair by the window.
Annie nodded. She was pleased at her daughter’s request, relieved that she would see her before she died. She had prayed for this moment, and God had answered her prayers.
‘Did you sort out Lance’s funeral?’
Annie sighed once more. Bless her heart, Lil did care for him. At the end of the day, he had been her son, so she still wanted to make sure he was taken care of properly.
‘I made sure he was buried properly, love, don’t worry.’
Lil laughed gently. ‘I am dying, Mum, do you realise that?’
Annie nodded, and grasped her daughter’s hand.
‘I wanted to talk to you before I went, before I go. I needed to say a few things so I can go in peace. Give my kids peace, you know.’
‘Oh, Lily. My girl . . .’ Seeing her daughter dying made Annie realise what she would actually be losing, see what she would miss, understand how much Lil had been a part of her life.
No one had called her Lily in years and hearing it felt strange, felt wrong. ‘Mum, I have to tell you this, all right?’
Annie nodded, and Lil could see the relief in her eyes, feel the reassurance that she had been hoping for.
‘I know, darling, but you don’t need to tell me anything.’
‘Oh, but I do, Mum. I ain’t got long, and that is not a problem. I am looking forward to the next step, the next life, you know. But I need to tell you how I feel before I go.’
Lil took a sip of her drink; the straw in her glass was bright pink, and she sipped at it as if her life depended on it.
‘I hope, Mum, that you die, screaming, of cancer. Alone and unaided, I pray that you are left to rot, and that you never lose the gift of consciousness. That you know exactly what is happening to you. I pray you never know a happy day again. That is my last wish on this earth. I wish you dead, but not until you finally realise that no one wants you, no one cares for you and I pray that you die alone and in agony, and no one finds your body until you’re rotten, you’re fucking putrid. Now, fuck off, and don’t come near me or mine ever again.’
Annie was devastated, and she looked down at her only child, her daughter. ‘You don’t mean that, Lil, you can’t mean that . . .’
‘Oh, I mean it, Mum. I hope you never know another happy day, I pray that you sink lower and lower into your own fucking hatred. That’s me prayer, and God is good, you know, he pays back debts without money. I might be dying of cancer, but you’ll die of guilt and hate and no one will care. That will be your punishment, as it was Lance’s. I hope you live for years and years, and no one comes near or by you. I hope you never know any kind of peace, or any kind of rest. I hate you so much it has to leave some kind of mark on you. Now, get out, and stay away from me and my family.’
Annie was crying, her sobbing loud in the room.
‘Get her out of here, would you, Pat, and make sure she never comes near me again?’
‘Please, Lil, let me make amends, let me show you how much I regret everything . . .’
‘If I needed a kidney or a bone-marrow transplant and you were the only person who could do that for me, I would rather die. I will wait for you, Mum. You’ll hang on like the creaking door, and you’ll die alone, with no one near you, and not one person who’ll care. And that knowledge is what will make my death so much easier. My poor Kathleen was destroyed by you and Lance. That girl was tortured, and my little Colleen was served up, so you and Lance could play at grown-ups. But even when I die, and that won’t be long, I’ll still be standing at your shoulder; I’ll make sure I am near enough to you, so you’ll never know another happy day. My kids hate you, and that won’t change, and I’ll leave this world all the happier because I know you’ll die alone.’
‘I loved you, Lil . . . Whatever you might think.’
Lily Brodie looked at the woman who had borne her, who had given her life, and had then made sure that her life was unendurable, and then she looked at her son, her eldest son, and she said nastily, ‘Get her out, will you? I never want to see her again as long as I live.’
She laughed then and said to Annie, ’And that, Mother, is not long. But at least I will go with my family around me. I will die knowing I was loved, and if I never achieved anything else in life, I will always know that I had that much.’
Janie Callahan was washing her friend, and she knew that Lil was dying painfully. As she washed her, making sure she was clean and tidy for any visitors, she knew that it would not be long before she would be gone.
‘Thanks, Janie. I appreciate all you are doing for me.’
Janie smiled at her and, sitting on the edge of her bed, she held on to her friend’s hand as if her life depended on it. ‘I’ll miss you, girl, and you know it. We go back so long. I loved you and I always will. You’ve been good to me. Whatever happened in the past, me and you have always been close. I hated Lance, and what he did to my girl, but I could never blame you, Lil. He was not a part of us, and you knew it, like I knew it.’
‘I’ll miss you, too, Janie, and I don’t want to leave my kids, but I must. Do me a favour, go home and enjoy the rest of your life . . .’
Janie was sad, so sad at the words, but Lil understood her reaction.
‘Listen, life is short, even at its longest, it’s short. I just want to be with my kids now, for the end. But I hope you’ll always remember our friendship.’
Janie went home, crying her eyes out for the life that was coming to an end, and for the woman she loved and admired.
Patrick was sitting beside Lil, as always. She felt him holding her hand, and she squeezed it as tightly as she could, but she knew he wouldn’t feel it. She had no strength left, she was as weak as a kitten.
She was dying hard and, now it was really happening, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go. The life force was a very powerful thing. She didn�
�t want to leave them all, was frightened they would not cope without her.
‘Patrick, always remember I loved the bones of you. Of all of you.’
He kissed her hand gently. ‘I know, Mum, and I have loved you always, I still do, more than anyone or anything, we all do, darling.’
‘Get the priest in, Pat, I’m ready. I want to see my Colleen again, I want to hold her in my arms.’
She closed her eyes then, and her children knew she was making herself ready for her maker.
She looked peaceful when the priest gave her the Last Rites, and she looked ready for the last journey.
They stood by her bed, and all watched her with fear and trepidation, because the woman who had been such a big part of their life was really going now, was leaving them. Jambo was holding one hand, and Patrick was holding the other. The twins, Shamus, Christy and Shawn, her children were all around the bed and the priest was still praying.
Then Lil Brodie opened her eyes and said happily: ‘Look at my Patrick, he’s at the end of the bed, and he’s calling me. He’s calling me.’
Then she was gone, it was so quick, too fast for such a momentous occasion. She just closed her eyes and left them.
Kathleen and Eileen were in bits and, as they cried, young Shawn said seriously, ‘I hope he did come for her, don’t you? I hope he was there.’
Patrick Brodie said sadly, ‘Oh, he was there, all right, and he was calling her, no doubt about that, they were closer than any two people I ever knew.’
Shawn grinned then and, looking at his family standing around the bed, he said happily, ‘We’re all close, Pat. Closer than most people, closer than even poor Mum ever realised.’
Patrick laughed then.
‘She knew that, mate. We are close because of her. She made sure of that. Now we have to live up to her expectations, look after each other; at the end of the day, we are all we’ve got.’
‘Do you think we’ll survive her death, Pat?’