Then we get whisked away by other people on a tide of good wishes and I surprise myself by actually enjoying it. We then all link arms and sing Auld Lang Syne and I find myself opposite Ben. We laugh at each other and his eyes twinkle through the pub’s low light.
“Why the hell do we all sing this every year?” he shouts over the now even louder music. “Ridiculous song, isn't it?”
“Mad, but it wouldn’t seem right without it, would it?”
“You’re right! Do you fancy a dance? They’ve cleared a space …”
By this time, I’m quite light-headed – euphoric even. The combination of all the drink, the friendly atmosphere and a good-looking forty-five year old taking an interest in me, combines to make me feel almost desirable again. I shout, “Sure!” above the music and he grabs my hand and forces his way through the throng. “Tonight’s gonna be a good night” is playing and forgetting past inhibitions I dance, not caring what people think of me, for a change. Ben’s a surprisingly good dancer (I see David dancing suddenly – he was never very good, but we always had a laugh and messed around).
“Are you okay?” Ben shouts.
“Yes, Fine! Why?”
“You suddenly look … sad.”
“Do I?” My memory must have surfaced to my face and I try to smile. “Sorry … just thinking …”
“Don’t think,” says Ben. “Just enjoy the beat!”
And he’s so right. Enjoy the beat. Don’t think. That’s the way.
We dance to several more songs and then we go over to see Gaz. Ben rests his arm round my back again, as he ushers me through the people. Gaz is splayed flat out, looking for all the world as if he owns the fireplace.
“I think I better take him home, Ben,” I say, making Gaz my excuse.
“Really? The night’s still young …”
“No … I think I better …” I say, not really knowing why I want to escape.
“Okay, I’ll walk you back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of letting you walk home alone.” He gets my coat and helps me put it on. “I think I’ll call it a night too, if you’re going.”
As we walk back, the city encircles us; it’s a clear, cold night, the stars are shining brightly through the amber glow of the city’s air pollution and the odd firework pops and sizzles above us. Ben takes my arm and we amble slowly, taking it all in. Gaz limps by my side and I feel an anxiety I haven’t felt before about him. I look down. “Come on old chap, nearly home now,” I say.
At the door, I hesitate slightly. I can’t find my key, but then find it, buried in one of the many little interior pockets of my bag.
“Thanks for tonight, Ben. Thanks for suggesting it,” I say, as I put my key in the lock.
I turn round and Ben puts his arms around me and we hug each other. “It’s been a great evening, Anna,” and he squeezes me hard. He pulls back and still with his hands on my shoulders, he leans forward and gently kisses my lips. They feel warm and soft on mine, but I don’t respond. I pull back.
“Sorry,” he says, looking directly into my eyes.
“No … don’t be … I’m just kind of surprised, I suppose,” I say, “you’re younger than me …”
His eyes stare into mine. “Does it matter?”
“No … I suppose not … I don’t know …”
He hugs me again. I like the feel of him, the warmth of another human being.
“Look,” he says, “let’s just see how it goes … I like you, Anna. You like me, I think … I hope. I love your dog!” He reaches down and strokes Gaz’ head. “Let’s go on a date.”
My stomach does a small little flip of excitement. Am I really being asked out on a date by this man? “Okay … you choose,” I say. “Surprise me.”
He kisses my lips again and says, “I’ll text you,” and walks away down the path. I open the door and we wave.
I close the door and lean back on it. I can remember his lips, as clearly as if they are still on mine. I try to remember David’s lips, but I can’t.
Can we go to bed now? asks Gaz. It’s way past my bedtime.
Chapter Seventeen
“So, how was your New Year’s Eve?” says Holly. I’m lying on the bed, still in my pyjamas and it’s already midday.
“Really good. Surprisingly good, actually. What about yours?”
“No, you tell me first …”
“Well, the pub was full and the atmosphere was great and …”
“ … and, and, what about this Ben, though? Was he there?”
“He was, actually, and if you must know, he’s asked me out on a date!”
“Oh my God, Mum, that’s brilliant. I can’t believe it!”
“Oh charming,” I laugh, “you can’t believe your old mother’s capable of getting a date?” I catch sight of myself in the dressing room mirror. I look a bit rough, but decide I don’t look so bad for my age. Nothing a good layer of make up wouldn't improve.
“No, I don’t mean that at all – what I meant was, you’ve only been in Bath two seconds and you’ve already been asked out. This change of location has obviously worked wonders.”
“He’s ten years younger than me … does that seem wrong?”
“No … why should that matter?”
“That’s what he said. Anyway, I said I’d go …”
“Go for it, Mum. What have you got to lose?”
“Yea, you’re right, as usual. Anyway, he’s going to text me – I probably won’t hear from him ever again. So, how was your evening? How’s the lovely Jed?”
“Fantastic! We went to watch the fireworks, met up with loads of his friends and then went back to his place. I’m still there now. He’s just bought me a cup of coffee in bed.”
I can hear muffled talk and giggles in the background. “Sorry, Mum … I was rather distracted!”
“Lucky you. Gaz and I are waiting for someone to bring us one. Talking of which, poor old Gaz is limping badly. I’m going to take him to the vets first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Oh dear. Give him a kiss from me. What do you think it is?”
“No idea,” I say and as I don’t want to worry her, I add, “I’m sure the vet will sort it out.”
*
I don’t hear from Ben on New Year’s Day. I don’t know what I was expecting – a bunch of roses on the doorstep, a text declaring undying love? But as I go to sleep, I decide it’s all too stupid. Why would I want to go out with someone so much younger than me, when I still yearn to be with you, David?
What did you do this evening? Did you kiss Suzie on the lips and say how the next year was going to be amazing, now that she is in your life? Did you both talk about the possibility of Suzie having your baby? Was it just the two of you, snuggled up in our house together? Did you tell each other how lucky you are, how you don’t need anyone else to celebrate with?
Do you remember last New Year’s Eve? Adam was with his friends, sleeping over, and we decided that we had no desire to go out. I cooked us a special meal and you bought us an expensive bottle of champagne. We watched Jools Holland, saw the countdown and the fireworks and kissed each other at midnight.
It was a peaceful, contented night … or, that’s how I saw it.
Perhaps you were already wishing you were somewhere else …
*
I consider going back to our vets back home (yes, I still call it ‘home’) but then decide there must be plenty of good vets in Bath. I google ‘vets’ and find there’s one just very near.
This morning, Gaz stays in his bed longer than normal and is only enticed to get out, with the offer of food. He sucks it up in his normal hoover-like fashion and then goes and flops on the sofa, not wanting to go out.
I ring for an appointment and they give me one at 4 pm. I feel as if I’m just filling in time until then, but I start googling flights to Australia and after much deliberation, I book my tickets. When I press ‘Buy tickets’ my heart’s thumping – I check e
verything about ten times, to make sure I haven’t booked to go to a place called Adelaide in some place I’ve never heard of before. No … Adelaide, Australia. Definitely. Jane had said I could go any time, so I don’t check with her before buying them. They are a good price and I just want to get on with it. I print everything out and stare at the A4 pieces rolling out of the printer. I’m really going. On my own. To Australia. My heart’s still thumping.
I email Jane with my dates and ask her if there’s anything she wants me to bring out from England. Then I message Adam.
Hey! Guess what? I’ve booked my tickets. 4th March to 10th April. Emirates, via Dubai. So excited. Do hope we can see each other, but don’t worry if it doesn’t fit in. How was your New Year? I went to a local pub and it was fun – probably not as fun as your night! Haven’t seen any pics on Facebook recently – are you too busy working or something? Hope all’s well? Love you, Mum xx
Although I say ‘don’t worry if it doesn’t fit in’, I’m really hoping he’ll come. I couldn’t bear the thought of going all that way and somehow not seeing him.
I miss him like crazy.
I’m going to tell David he’s got to look after Gaz for me when I’m away. There’s no way I’m putting him in a kennel for that long and I think it’s the least he can do.
*
Gaz and I walk slowly round to the vets. As he doesn’t know this vet, he walks through the door quite happily, but the moment he’s inside, he knows. It must be like us and hospitals – the smell gives it away.
I sit in the waiting room with him quivering at my feet; it’s a big practice and there’s more than one consulting room, so there are several waiting patients: a cat that continually meows in its carrier; a springer spaniel who leaps about like an excitable child; a dachshund, sitting quietly on its elderly owner’s lap and a rabbit in a cage, which even Gaz keeps glancing at.
After about fifteen minutes, we’re called forward by a girl that looks younger than Holly. I can’t believe she’s old enough to be a qualified vet and wonder if she’s the veterinary nurse. My rather sexist and ageist notion is immediately dispelled, when she welcomes us into her room and is obviously the one in charge.
She’s really sweet with Gaz, who’s cowering in the corner, shaking. She gives him a treat out of her white coat pocket and he pushes his nose in for more. I explain his symptoms and his past problems and she spends a good five minutes examining him thoroughly. She’s won his trust, by not putting him up on the table and continuing with the bribery – he gives into the process with calm resolution. She doesn’t say much while this is going on and I find my heart is beating in my ears, waiting for the verdict.
She stands up and faces me, speaking quietly and seriously. “Could you bring him back tomorrow? We want to get to the bottom of this, don’t we, Gaz? I’d like to give him a scan. I can’t find any obvious reason for him being so uncomfortable.”
Here we go again, I think. My heart sinks at the thought and what it may reveal. I thank her, she gives him one last little biscuit and we leave the room. I make the appointment for 8.30 the next day.
*
Hi Mum – glad you had a good New Year’s Eve. That’s amazing about your tickets – I’m going to talk to the guy in charge here and ask for a few days off around the beginning of April. It’ll be really good to catch up with you. I don’t think Jake’s going to come.
I’ve heard from Dad quite a bit – he sent me some money too! It’s so weird to think of him at home, but not with you. I can’t get my head round it, but I suppose it’ll sink in, eventually. I feel so detached from real life here – I’ve almost forgotten what England looks like. I know I’ve got my uni place waiting for me but … I’m not sure what I want to do any more. I need to talk to you when you come out. I love it here so much and I feel I can be myself.
Love, Adam
I’m pleased when I read that David and he are communicating properly again and that it wasn’t just a one off, but I wonder what he means about uni. Is he thinking of not going now? What would he do if he didn’t go … and what does he mean when he says ‘I can be myself’? Why’s Jake not coming, too?
I resolve not to question him on the internet and wait until I see him, in person.
I drop Gaz off at the vets as planned and wander home. For some reason, I feel depressed today and I go back to bed. I have hours to fill before I can go back there and I’m overcome by tiredness. I snuggle down under the duvet and try to forget …
I must have slept for three hours; I’m woken by a ping pong as a message arrives. Groping bleary-eyed for the phone I read: Message from Ben.
Hi, sorry I haven’t been in touch. Grace has dropped a bombshell and I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I know I said about a date, but do you fancy just meeting me at the pub for a drink this evening? I need cheering up! Ben.
I worry what this bombshell is – obviously something about Daisy – poor Ben. The trouble is, I don’t know whether I’ll want to go out later, if it’s bad news. I text back:
Hi Ben. So sorry to hear about the bombshell, whatever it is. Gaz is at the vet having a scan at the moment, so I’m not sure whether I’ll be up for the pub. Can I text you later? Anna
I get up and shower and decide I’ll go for a walk. I need something to occupy myself and feel that fresh air might be the answer.
It feels odd walking without my constant companion, as if I’ve lost something, but I try to power walk and not dawdle, as usual. I pass a leisure centre and go in to have a look at the pool and discover when I could go lane swimming. There’s a session at two, so I go back home and collect my costume.
Swimming, as always, soothes my mind and as I swim up and down, I begin to convince myself that the news will be good and that Gaz will have many more years ahead of him. He’s a strong old boy …
I like the pool and as it’s so near, I join the swimming scheme which means I can go as often as I like, for a monthly fee. They have a good selection of costumes in the reception area and on a whim, I buy myself a new one.
When I try it on, I stand if front of a long mirror in the ladies changing area and look at myself. Without realising it, I’ve lost weight. Even though I haven’t been exercising much at all, my body looks less podgy round the middle and my hips don’t look so wobbly. I realise that ever since David told me his wonderful news, food has lost its joy. I eat when I’m hungry now and don’t really think about it, like I used to.
At school, I was always cheering myself up with bars of chocolate or eagerly accepting doughnuts that some kind soul had brought into the staffroom. David and I would plan menus and cook together; we’d look at recipe books together and shop for the right ingredients. I would also reward myself for any attempts at exercise, with a large piece of cake, immediately putting on the all the calories I’d burnt off.
Now it’s just fuel …
The costume is black with bright turquoise and white stripes; it has flattering, secret panels which ‘support’ you in all the right places.
I look at myself and can’t quite believe the transformation.
*
It’s time to go back to the vets and despite my efforts to be positive, my stomach feels twitchy and nervous and I feel sick. I try to read the receptionist’s face, but I can’t – she smiles and asks me to sit down in the waiting area.
To fill the time, I don’t sit down, but go and stand in front of their notice boards. I look at the adverts for dog walkers, dog groomers, catteries and pet artists. I see one for ‘professional, dignified pet cremation’ and find my eyes brim over with unexpected tears. I look away and go and sit down, staring at the wall.
Soon, my nice young lady vet comes out of her room and ushers me in. Gaz is nowhere to be seen.
“Where is he? What’s happened?” I say, unable to keep the panic out of my voice.
“He’s just through there,” she says, pointing to another door, “I’ll get him in a minute. But first …” I notice her eyes look aw
ay from me, her whole demeanour is awkward. “But first we need to discuss the result of the scan, Mrs McCarthy. I’m really sorry but … but we found that Gaz … that Gaz has an aggressive form of cancer.”
Her words fall into the air like shrapnel, hitting me from all angles. I can understand the words, but my mind shuts off and even though the pain is cutting through my mind like a sharp knife, I feel numb.
“Mrs McCarthy, are you all right?”
“Can I sit down, I feel …”
“Yes, of course, here … sit down.” She waits for me while I sit, and I look at her. Even though I’m not functioning properly, I can tell she’s hating what she has to say.
“The cancer has spread … he’s limping so badly because …”
“So … what are you saying?” I almost shout. “Can you operate?”
She pauses for what feels like a lifetime and then says gently, “I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. It would be kinder to put him down now, before it gets worse.” She looks embarrassed and turns away.
The words float around my head. Put him down? Put my Gaz down?
“He must be in considerable pain,” she says “and it’s only going to get worse, I’m afraid. Obviously, it’s your decision, I can only advise you.”
I’m now openly crying and the vet hands me a box of tissues which she has conveniently on the side, for just such moments. I wipe my eyes and blow my nose loudly. Who can I speak to? What shall I do? Once again, I realise I’m totally alone and it’s my decision. Mine only.
“What would you do, if he was your dog?” I say. “What would you do?”
“I think I would see that to put him down would be the kindest thing to do … but … it’s got to be your decision. Is there anyone you would like to ring?” she asks.
“No … yes … maybe. Could you just wait a moment?”
“Of course. I’ll give you some time to yourself.” She leaves through the other door. I get my mobile out and dial Ben’s number. He’s the only person I can think of. I can’t burden Holly with this and David is the last person I want to talk to. Ben’s in Bath. He loves Gaz. He’ll know what to do.
Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect Page 15