‘I think I’ll go and finish watering the garden,’ she said.
She was standing at the kitchen window now, watching the rain pour down the glass in little zig-zagging rivulets. Before he could stop her, she had reached the back door. He moved towards her, but he could never have been quick enough. She crumpled from the knees up, it seemed, and her head was the last to hit the floor. She hit the tiles with such a sickening crack that James was rooted to where he stood, unable to move at first for the wave of terror that pinned his feet to the floor.
‘Alice!’ he cried, finally down on one knee beside her. He felt for her pulse. Still beating; she was still alive. Frantically, he pulled the mobile phone out of his pocket and dialled 999.
‘Ambulance, please. It’s an emergency.’
*
‘James?’
He recognized Ellen Crowley’s voice at once.
He sat up, lifting his face from his hands. He fumbled for his glasses in his top pocket.
‘You look exhausted,’ she said, kindly. ‘You should go home and rest. There’s nothing you can do here tonight.’
‘Has the specialist seen her?’
She nodded.
‘We won’t have final results for twenty-four hours or so, but I think it’s pretty conclusive. It looks like a massive stroke. She came round for a moment or so, and I got the impression she knew who I was. I spoke to her, and I told her that you and Beth were outside. I hope that’s okay?’
He nodded.
‘God, yes, more than okay. I’ll call Beth as soon as I get home. I know she’ll be over straight away. Will Alice sleep? I mean, is she likely to ask for us during the night?’
Ellen shook her head.
‘I doubt it. They’ve sedated her, to help her cope with the shock. You’d be much better off at home for tonight. If there’s a crisis, I’ll make sure they know to call you.’
‘Thanks. Can I see her before I go?’
‘Of course. She’s down here.’
*
It was ten o’clock when James finally left. Alice had been peaceful, warm and clean, almost childlike in her complete repose. Her hair had been braided neatly, and her face was her own again, despite the downward curve of her mouth. He felt an enormous pity as he looked down at her, shocked by her sudden, childlike vulnerability. He was glad to leave, to make his uneasy escape from the face with the wild white hair that had begun to haunt him.
Automatically, he made his way back to her house. It was the only place that now felt anything like home; besides, it would feel wrong to phone Beth from anywhere else. He felt guilty, too – he should have ignored Alice and let Beth know how things were, at least a couple of weeks ago. But Alice had always managed to get him to do exactly what she wanted, bending his will to fit smoothly into hers.
Twelve hours. He couldn’t believe that she had been reduced to almost a shell in such a short space of time. She’d looked so old suddenly, so fragile. The heavy crack of her head against the tiles wouldn’t leave him, made him feel nauseous, over and over again. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment, his eyes and ears full of her. He knew it was a sound he would never forget.
He sat down again at the kitchen table, cups and saucers, biscuits, milk carton still where he had left them. And he hadn’t even had time to fill the jug for her.
He waited until he was in control again. Then he pulled the phone towards him and began to dial. It was answered at once.
‘Beth? It’s James. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.’
*
‘What is it, Mum?’
Beth hadn’t moved since the phone call. Everything around her was spinning gently, distorting what had once been familiar surroundings. Every feeling she had ever had now seemed to be concentrated in the pit of her stomach.
‘Mum?’ said Laura again. This time, Beth saw her daughter’s pale, delicate face, heard the fear in her tone.
‘It’s Gran, love. She’s had a stroke.’
‘What’s that, exactly? Is it like a heart attack?’
Her eyes were wide, frightened. Beth tried to remember James’s explanation on the phone. But his words were still floating around the room somewhere. She hadn’t quite got hold of them, yet. She had to make an effort – Laura was waiting to understand.
‘It’s more like a brain attack, a sort of seizure, I suppose. Sometimes, people become paralysed on one side, or lose the power of speech.’
Beth’s mind was racing. She had to go home, of course. As soon as possible. She must ring Tony, get him to look after Laura for as long as she was away. And how long might that be? She couldn’t go before tomorrow, obviously, she’d have to organize the office – and, Jesus, she’d a VAT inspection on Wednesday. Thursday, she’d go Thursday.
And what if her mother died in the meantime? Well, she’d have fucked up once again, wouldn’t she? Beth dragged her hair back from her forehead, her head already beginning to ache.
‘Mum? Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine, love – just a bit shocked, that’s all.’
‘Is Gran going to be okay?’
‘I don’t know – from what James said, I think it might be serious.’
‘When are you going over?’
‘I’m trying to work that out, right now. It looks as though Thursday might be the earliest.’
Laura’s eyes widened.
‘Mum – you have to go now.’
‘I can’t go now – I have too many things to sort out, first.’
‘Are you going to ring Dad?’
Beth looked at her watch.
‘Yes – but not now. I’ll ring him first thing in the morning.’
‘It’s not even half eleven, Mum – he’ll still be up. You should go now.’
Beth shook her head.
‘I’d rather wait.’
‘Can I go over with you?’ Laura asked, suddenly.
‘I don’t think so, love – I could be gone for some time. We’ll have to play this one by ear. I’ll talk to James again tomorrow and see what the story is.’
It would probably be better to wait for the test results, anyway. As long as her mother was unconscious, there wasn’t really a whole lot she could do. And besides, she should have a clearer picture of everything by the middle of the week.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
Laura was standing by her mother’s chair, her small face filled with anxiety. Beth hugged her.
‘Thanks, love, but I’m going to pour myself something a lot stronger. I can’t think straight at the moment.’
Her brain felt waterlogged. All the ifs and buts and maybes were swimming around the inside of her head, panic-stricken. She could make no sense out of anything James had just told her. Her mother was only seventy-six: that was still young, these days. She couldn’t be snuffed out, just like that. They had too many things unfinished between them.
‘Why don’t you go on up to bed – there’s nothing we can do tonight, really. Don’t you have to be up early for band practice?’
Laura nodded.
‘Yeah, but I don’t want to leave you on your own.’
‘I’ll be fine – in fact, I think I need to be on my own right now.’
Beth wanted her daughter gone: she wanted to sit in silence and loosen the grip of anxiety that was coiling around her insides. She needed a drink.
Laura bent and kissed her.
‘Sure you’re okay?’
‘Sure. We won’t know all the test results for twenty-four hours, anyway, so I have some breathing space.’
She could see by the look on Laura’s face that that was not the point. God, she was so like her father. And she didn’t push it, either.
‘ ’Night, then.’
‘ ’Night, love – sleep tight.’
Beth waited until she heard her daughter’s bedroom door close. Then she bent down to the drinks cabinet. Nothing but whiskey. It would have to do. There was nothing she could do to help, really. James had sa
id their mother was more or less unconscious; the hospital had even sent him home. She’d make her way through this, a day at a time. Let’s see what tomorrow would bring.
*
Finally, on Thursday evening, she rang Tony. He came over immediately.
‘I’m sorry, Beth,’ he said, his hand carefully on her shoulder. ‘Your mother’s a great lady. I really hope she pulls through.’
‘Thanks,’ she said automatically, not able to shake the feeling that they were talking about someone else, someone who had been her mother only briefly, occasionally.
‘When’s your flight?’
She had her back to him, spooning coffee into the cafetière.
‘I haven’t booked yet. I want to talk to James again, first.’
She poured the boiling water carefully.
‘What on earth are you waiting for?’
His tone was astonished, verging on angry. She was taken by surprise. She’d always been the one with the short fuse. When Beth didn’t answer, Tony spoke again, this time more quietly.
‘How long have you known?’
‘Just since Monday night. I’ve had a whole lot of stuff to sort out – I can’t up and go, just like that, you know.’
‘Why not? That’s wasting three whole days for heaven’s sake! You’ve an office full of people to do your bidding! Use your mobile tomorrow if you must keep in touch – you’re only going to Dublin, not outer Mongolia.’
She became angry, then. He was backing her into a corner, leaving her no option but to face what she desperately didn’t want to see.
‘I’ll drive you to the airport, right now. I’ve brought my stuff – I think it’s better if I stay here, with Laura – less of an upset for her. You don’t need to wait any longer. Are you packed?’
‘No,’ she said, furiously.
‘Come on, Beth,’ he said, his tone more gentle now. ‘You’re suffering from shock. That’s why you’re not thinking straight. Throw a few things into a case, and I’ll get you a flight. You can ring James on the way. Go on.’
She walked stiffly into her bedroom, and closed the door. She still felt as though she were moving through quicksand. The last three days had crawled past, in a mist of unreality, punctuated only by phone calls to and from James. He had been very good about keeping in touch with her, calling twice a day, telling her the same things over and over. He hadn’t hurried her, hadn’t bullied her. What gave Tony the right? Had Laura said something to him, something she shouldn’t have? But even her anger wasn’t real; it trickled away as, mechanically, she folded clothes and filled her suitcase. She could keep James company, she supposed. At least that would be a useful thing to do.
Tony was waiting, Laura beside him in the hall.
‘Can I come with you to the airport, Mum?’
‘Of course,’ said Beth.
But she’d been put out, just for a moment, when she’d seen the two of them standing so close together. There was the whiff of conspiracy in the air.
‘Have you done all your homework?’ she asked.
Laura nodded, looking surprised. It was years since her mother had asked her that.
‘Okay, then, let’s go,’ Tony said, picking up the suitcase.
Beth shrugged on her winter coat.
‘I’m ready,’ she said.
*
Alice was moving in and out of the darkness. Sometimes, she felt that she could break through to the brighter light which was just out of her reach, just on the other side of the surface. But the effort was too much. She felt awake from time to time, conscious inside her head, alert behind her heavily closed eyelids. Those were the times when she knew that James was beside her. His voice was soothing, he always took her hand.
Once, to make sure he was really there, she pressed his hand with hers. She was aware of his closeness then, as never before. She made a huge effort and willed her eyes to open. He was looking at her, his face poised just above hers.
‘James,’ she said softly.
She wanted to raise her hand, to stroke his face, but her hand was too heavy to lift. Her eyes closed again almost immediately, and she allowed herself to drift away again on the stream of bright water. Floating like this was so much easier than wrestling with the weight which so often pressed against her.
Occasionally, she was aware of being turned, of feeling warm towels rubbed all over her skin. She was sure she heard voices then, indistinct, bubbling, as though trapped under water.
Why didn’t Elizabeth come?
Once, her eyes opened fully, without her willing it. She had got a strong sense of being in a different place, that things had shifted. All around her was familiar: this was a place she knew. Instantly, James was at her side.
‘Welcome home, Alice,’ he said, and stroked her hair back from her forehead.
She wanted to say ‘Thanks’. Her sense of relief was enormous, filling the whole room. Home. She wanted to say it out loud, but her mouth kept sloping away from her, refusing to form the word. She felt that she had patted his hand, instead. She hoped so.
*
Now she could feel the struggle to the surface begin all over again. She had felt a different touch, a lighter one. This was what she had been waiting for, saving her energy for. She turned her head to where the light appeared to be strongest. Suddenly, everything seemed to come into focus.
‘It’s all right, Mam, I’m here.’
She felt her eyes flicker open, and there she was. There was Elizabeth. Alice felt the silence all around her fill up with joy. She made a tremendous effort and pressed her daughter’s hand as hard as she could. She had something to tell her, something that couldn’t wait. She felt her fingers merely flutter.
‘Letter,’ she whispered urgently, making her mouth do as she willed it.
Elizabeth was smiling down at her.
‘Of course I will. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.’
Alice felt trapped inside a body that would not behave as her own. She hadn’t made Elizabeth understand her. She began to grow angry.
‘Letter,’ she whispered again, with a fleeting return of her old energy. For a moment, she could feel her face move, could see by Elizabeth’s eyes that she had finally made contact.
‘Don’t worry. I will. It’s all under control, I promise you.’
She heard her daughter’s words, felt her hold her hand close. Exhausted, she gave herself up to the river again, and floated.
*
Jack was busy planting.
‘Clematis jackmanii – this one’s after me!’
Alice heard the deep, black crunch of spade against soil as Jack dug a trench against the garden wall.
‘This one grows like wildfire. It’ll cover the wall in no time.’
‘What colour are the flowers?’ she asked, raising her face to the warm sunshine of an Indian summer. She had plenty to do inside, but she liked being out here with him, chatting as he pottered his way around the huge garden. She loved the way he really connected with the soil, the way he delighted in getting his hands in deep under the plants, settling them, covering them, being protective. He took the watering can from her and drenched the area he had just planted.
‘Purple-blue,’ he said, ‘and they’ll bloom from July to September.’
‘I’m beginning to feel left out,’ she teased him. ‘Elizabeth has the rhododendron, James has the water-lily, and now you’ve got the clematis named after you – what about me?’
He grabbed her by the waist and kissed her suddenly, theatrically, on the mouth.
‘This one’s for you – don’t go spoiling the surprise.’
‘You found one called Alice – really?’
She was delighted. It had become a game between them. He’d promised to find her the one that suited her best. He pointed to his wheelbarrow.
‘Better again. See this?’
He lifted out a bushy plant, prettily-shaped.
She nodded. In those days, she could never bring herself to t
ell him that, to her, every young plant looked the same as the next one. He was the only one with the green fingers then, the one who coaxed each small beginning into its full glory.
‘This is called hebe speciosa. Know why I chose it?’
She shook her head, waiting.
‘Its English name is Midsummer Beauty. Just like you.’
He smiled at her in the same way as the night he’d arrived at Abbotsford, her engagement ring hidden nervously in his jacket pocket. She fell in love with him all over again now, in their own garden.
There was the faint trace of a childish voice that Alice couldn’t quite make out, coming from the west-facing wall of the garden. She tried hard to focus, but her attention was distracted by a strange feeling in her hands. A soothing feeling. At the same time, a little voice was telling her of a teddy bear, one with a glorious red ribbon around his neck. Alice sighed. She could feel her eyelids flicker, and she tried once more to move her head towards the light.
Suddenly, Jack was gone and she was standing alone by the garden shed, the patch of wildflowers before her swirling into a delicate maze of shape and colour. She heard his voice tell her all over again how wildflowers thrived in poor soil; you could kill them with kindness, he said. The less pampering they got, the more vigorous they became. A bit like us. And she could hear the smile in his voice, see the bright gleam of mischief in his blue eyes. The day had gone silent again; a bright sun filled the huge sky.
Jack’s garden seat was empty. She was surprised. She was sure he had come there to wait for her. She needed to sit down. Gratefully, she turned her face to the light, and closed her eyes.
She sighed deeply, and rested.
SEVEN
Holding on
‘GOODBYE, MRS MCGRATH, thank you for coming.’ They saw the last of the neighbours out, and closed the front door gratefully. There had been a constant stream of people all day: Beth had been amazed at the extent of her mother’s small world. She and James, Keith and Gemma, and, from time to time, Olive, had spent the past fourteen hours boiling kettles, making sandwiches, pouring drinks. There had been no end to the kindness of people, who arrived with covered plates and dishes, a steady army of tin-foil offerings, like some ancient tribal tribute.
Walled Garden Page 23