‘Pure art,’ I commented.
‘Except that when they’ve mated, the female spider eats him,’ said Fleur.
‘Part of the plan. His body provides food for her young.’
‘Least we don’t have to do that either,’ said Fleur. ‘Having seen this, I reckon we’ve got off lightly.’
I laughed. ‘Maybe that’s why Mum picked this DVD – to stop us moaning about relationships and count our blessings.’
‘Either that or she was saying we need to wear exotic hats.’
‘Probably that, knowing Mum,’ I said.
*
When the programme had finished, Fleur and I went to our rooms.
‘Hello God. Me again. First of all, thanks for Daniel’s recovery, if that was you. But please don’t forget Rose. She needs your help too.
‘I’ve just watched a DVD with my sister and I have to hand it to you. I know I doubt your existence from time to time, but the DVD made me want to believe. There was creativity that, as an artist, I can only dream of, and yet there it is in nature – endless varieties of colour, pattern and beauty. All hail. Churches, preachers, temples and theology leave me cold, but one David Attenborough programme and I’m a believer. But then I switch to the news or think about Rose and my faith deflates. Such horrors on our planet caused by war, anger and hatred, so many people suffering illnesses and in pain. I have so many questions, God, so much doubt, but that wee fish and his perfect sand mandala make me want to believe that there’s something wonderful behind it all. You can’t have a painting without a painter, a piece of art without an artist, so surely not a creation without a creator? But where are you? And where’s Mum now? The evidence all around us in nature indicates that the hand behind it is one of endless creativity and renewal, so why so much pain and sorrow in our human world? No pressure, just get back to me when you can. Thank you.’
My prayer done, I fell into bed and, this time, slept deeply.
31
Dee
Tuesday 16 August
Rose was sitting up in bed when we arrived at the house in Highgate on Tuesday morning. She looked pale but not unwell. It was hard to believe by looking at her that she had an incurable disease. Tucked up on the end of the bed, fast asleep at her feet, was Clifford.
‘You look great,’ said Fleur as we took a seat on either side of the bed.
Rose pulled a face. ‘I’ve felt better. You were always such a liar, Fleur … Talking of which, I guess you’ve heard that Daniel is going to be OK.’
‘Hugh told us,’ said Fleur.
‘And what about you two? Are you going to be OK?’ asked Rose.
‘I’m fine,’ said Fleur and looked over at me. ‘I’m not so sure about Dee.’
‘Hit you hard?’ asked Rose. ‘I’m sorry, Dee. I should have realized that you’d got involved.’
‘You both did your best to warn me off.’
‘We did.’
‘I feel such a fool—’
‘Me too. I feel crap. Off shagging Daniel when you were going through this ordeal and we never knew,’ Fleur blurted.
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘But forget about us. What about you? Are you in pain?’
She shook her head. ‘There have been some side effects from the drugs but it’s been manageable. I’ll have morphine for when it gets bad.’
‘Is there really nothing more they can do?’
‘There are other options. More chemotherapy. We’ve given up on the hormone treatment as that wasn’t working.’
‘So why don’t you try more chemotherapy?’ asked Fleur.
Rose sighed. ‘I’m done, Fleur. I want some time without it. I know it must be hard to understand, but I knew from the beginning that what I had was incurable. I’ve discussed it at length with my doctors and Hugh and I really don’t want to talk about it any more or defend my position to you or anyone else. I just want some time, even if it’s a short time, when I have some quality of life. Drug free, treatment free, even if it’s just for a few weeks. For this last year, I’ve felt like I’ve been trying to hold back the inevitable and it’s beginning to catch up with me. I’m tired. I’ve done my raging at the dying of the light and all that. I don’t like feeling like this, and it isn’t going to get any better. I’m ready. I want to go now, slip away quietly when the time comes.’ She saw that Fleur was crying. ‘Come on, we all have to die of something sooner or later.’
Fleur sniffed. ‘Well that’s cheered me right up.’
‘I’m tired of fighting, of being strong. I would never have chosen this thing but it is happening. I know, hard to understand, but I’ve had a year of it, time to come to terms – as far as anyone ever can. It’s new to you, you’ve barely had time to take it in, but I want to give in to it, to let go. Let me go.’
I reached out and took her hand. ‘What can we do, Rose?’
‘We want to be here for you,’ said Fleur.
Rose grimaced. ‘I was thinking about that. What can you do? The nurses are wonderful. They can do a lot but it’s afterwards that I worry about. Could you, would you stay in touch with Hugh and Simon and Laura?’ Her voice cracked and she grew tearful when she said their names. ‘They’re the hardest part. Knowing that I will miss so much. I won’t be there on their big days, their graduations, their weddings, the birth of their children, my grandchildren,’ she took a sharp intake of breath, ‘so would you be? Be there for me, my sisters, their aunts to represent me. Keep an eye on them. Invite them to your houses. Be family.’
‘Of course. I’d be glad to,’ I said.
‘Me too,’ said Fleur. ‘Anything. But what about you? What can we do for you?’
‘The nurses will be here to take care of me when I need it, and Hugh is taking leave from work.’
‘But surely we can do something?’ said Fleur.
‘I know what we could do,’ I said. ‘Mum’s list.’
‘The kicking the bucket list?’ said Rose. ‘What are you suggesting? We get Beverly over? Another colonic? No thanks.’
‘No, not those parts, but other parts. We could take care of your food, maybe not Ottolenghi every night but I can cook. We could get you whatever you want.’
Fleur got the idea immediately. ‘And I know some of the best masseurs in London. If you felt like it, I could book them to come over. Reflexology, head massage, whatever you want. I’m sure it would be nice to have a different kind of touch to—’
‘I know what you mean Fleur.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe that would be nice. I feel tired, more and more every day, but what I dread sometimes is in my mind. It might be nice to have distractions so it’s not all about this thing that is taking over and slowly destroying my body.’
‘We could take you out if you can manage it, a visit to a garden, somewhere lovely. You tell us and we’ll do it.’
Rose gazed out at the garden. ‘Maybe.’
‘Or we could bring a garden to you if you’re not up to it,’ said Fleur. ‘We’ll bring flowers.’
‘Let us look after you, Rose,’ I said. ‘Let us do whatever we can to ease things for Hugh, Simon and Lucy and the nurses. We can cook and care for them too.’
‘“Love in action,” as Martha said,’ Fleur added.
Rose sank back in her cushions and looked out of the window. After a while, she turned back to look at us. ‘Do you know, I think I’d like that.’
*
And so we did. We cooked for her and her family. We fed Clifford the cat, who spent most of his time close to Rose, her constant companion. We organized relaxing treatments. We burnt healing oils on a burner so the room smelt clean and not of sickness. We played her music. Fleur even had the idea to send her quotes from time to time, like Mum had, but Rose threatened to shoot her if she continued, so we gave up on that one.
Some days, she was bright and bossy as ever. Other days, she slept. As the weeks went on, she slept more and more and her appetite was like a bird’s.
Tuesday 30 August
A letter c
ame from Mr Richardson addressed to Rose, Fleur and me. I ripped it open to find a note from the solicitor saying that Daniel had left for the States to run the Heaven on Earth centres over there. He had asked that a letter be passed on to us. I called Fleur and we took it up to Rose’s room.
‘A letter from Daniel,’ I told her. ‘Apparently he’s gone to live in the States.’
‘And no doubt conquer another bunch of gullible women over there,’ said Fleur.
‘Can you read it out?’ Rose asked.
‘Of course,’ I said and began.
Good day Rose, Dee, Fleur.
I’ve had four attempts at writing my side of the story but I don’t seem to possess the skills to express the depth of emotions that have floated through me this year.
Each flower has its own beauty: remember your mother wrote that to you? I saw that. Each of you, individual, beautiful in your own way. Am I to be blamed because I saw that beauty and couldn’t resist?
I was not who you thought I was and regret if that caused you pain. I reflected back to you your needs and desires at the time and became what each one of you wanted.
I have long been fascinated by the mystery of the feminine, the goddess within each woman. I have always thought that women have more to offer the world than the male linear solutions, and I can’t help but stand at the altar and worship that goddess in her many shapes and forms. And you were three such goddesses, each so vibrant in her own way.
I know Dee and Fleur may say, no, Daniel was just a horny fellow with no self-control – and who could blame you? Maybe there’s some truth in that, but you chose me as much as I chose you. Women are and continue to be a mystery to me and I wanted to find out more about you all, to consume all I could and be consumed, to be what you wanted me to be.
By the time you get this letter, I will have gone, and you will probably think good riddance. But let me say this: you all have influenced me greatly and for that I am grateful. To have met you and spent time with you was a gift, and in that I include your mother, Iris. I hope, in time, you can forgive me and go some way to understanding that, in different ways, I loved you all. You are amazing strong women I am grateful to have known. Rose, so cerebral, a thinking, strong woman. Fleur, visually so beautiful and fun to be with. And Dee, gentle soul with such a big heart and so much love to give. I felt honoured to have spent time with you.
As you probably noticed, words were never my strong point, and I have no more to say except goodbye, thank you, and may you each find your peace, especially you Rose.
With love
Daniel
Fleur, Rose and I looked at each other.
‘What a load of complete and utter bollocks,’ said Rose.
We all cracked up laughing and it felt really good. As I watched them, I realized that I’d never felt closer to either of them, or loved them both more. And there it was, at last, the moment that Mum had wanted us to have, I thought.
Fleur took the letter and looked it over. ‘And can you believe it? He’s put an email address on it.’ She turned to me. ‘Dee, you mustn’t contact him. Understood?’
I saluted her. ‘I’ll put it in the bin.’
I got up and went down to the kitchen where I put the letter in my bag. I wanted to read it again. Maybe I would reply. To have heard his side wasn’t enough. I wanted closure.
September
Rose’s decline accelerated. Most of her days and nights, she spent sleeping, rarely talking, and it got to a point where she was so weak that she could barely leave her bed. Fleur and I tended her as well as we could in between visits from the Macmillan nurses, washing her, preparing simple meals, just being there holding her hand as she slept.
‘What’s it like in there?’ I asked her one day when she was doped from the morphine.
‘Quite nice,’ she slurred and squeezed my hand.
‘Floats them out with the fairies sometimes,’ said the nurse when I spoke to her later.
*
Rose died peacefully on 28 September at three in the morning, with Hugh by her side.
32
Dee
Saturday 1 October
On the train back to Cornwall, I gazed out of the window.
I thought about Rose. How she’d finally let Fleur and me into her life and the three of us had grown close. It was sad that it took her having cancer to bring that about, but at least we’d been there to say goodbye, tell her that we loved her and mean it.
I thought about my daughter Lucy. So far away. In her last text, she’d said she was sorry I’d had to go through so much on my own but, in the end, it hadn’t been like that. I’d had Fleur. Lucy had no sisters, but she did have me, and although our relationship hadn’t been close, that could change. When she was growing up, Andy had always let her do what she wanted when she had visited him, whereas I was the one she’d lived with day to day. I told her to get up for school, do her homework, be in by eleven. No wonder she rebelled against me. But we were older now. I had enough money now to visit her more often, and also to pay for her to come back to the UK whenever she wanted. Mum’s list and legacy had shown how deeply she cared. I wanted to show Lucy the same, let her know she was cherished, always had been. That thought gave me comfort.
I thought about Mum. Her loss still felt as raw as the day it happened. I was coming to accept that it always would. In some cases, time does not heal, it’s too deep a wound, but perhaps I would get used to living with it.
And then Daniel. There had been no goodbye, so all I was left with were memories that were tainted in the light of his lies. What happened with him felt unfinished. I thought about what I’d have liked to say to him if I’d had the chance, so got out a scrap of paper and started writing. When I was satisfied with what I’d written, I got out my laptop and transferred my words on to an email.
I summon you to the highest court
The court unseen
Where the law is unspoken
Love reigns supreme.
This court for you
No divorce or alimony
From our liberated age, twenty-first century
For your damage is not apparent
Your weapon was not seen
Yet it broke a spirit
And maimed a trust
So an innocence lost
Only a fleeting sadness in the eye
Symptom of a deeper sorrow
To show we’d ever touched.
I summon you to this highest court
I pray that it will grant me healing
I pray that it will show you its law.
PS: Please don’t reply. Dee.
I took a deep breath and pressed Send.
I walked through the ticket barriers at Plymouth and out into the grey, damp afternoon. Returning home felt bleak. I would buy my house but it was a hollow victory. I felt sad there would be no one to share it with.
There on the pavement outside the station was Michael Harris. He stepped forward when he saw me.
‘Are you waiting for someone?’ I asked.
‘Yes. You. I hope you don’t mind. Anna was going to come but something came up so I said I’d meet you. Car’s this way.’
Despite my mood, I was glad he was there, a decisive presence to take over and get me home. I followed him to the car and he held open the door for me.
‘I … Anna and Ian filled me in on recent events,’ he said as we drove away from the station. ‘Some of them anyway.’
‘Don’t lie. I know Anna. She’ll have filled you in on everything.’
‘She’s a good friend and cares about you very much.’
‘I know.’
‘First let me say how sorry I am about your sister Rose. That’s why I wanted to be here, for someone to be here. Anna was going to come but her car was in being serviced and wasn’t ready. I asked if I could take her place.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘Have you eaten?’
‘Not much of an appetite lately.’
‘Anna’s cooking something for when you get back. She’s missed you.’
‘And I her.’
Soon we were on the road heading for the Torpoint ferry and back to Kingsand.
‘I had a thought when I was driving to meet you,’ said Michael. ‘I wondered if you’d like to go up to Rame Head on the way back. I remember you telling me what peace you find up there.’
I thought about it for a moment then nodded. ‘I think I would. Thank you.’
We drove on in silence the rest of the way and, when we got to Rame, he parked the car and we made our way up to the top. Michael helped me up the last steps, then we went and sat at the front of the church and gazed out to the horizon. Like the first time we’d been up here, we didn’t say anything, and I was grateful for that. So much had happened. So much loss in a year: Mum, Rose, Daniel. Mum’s sweet and kind plan to set me up on the road to happiness. Mum and Rose both gone to that place where I cannot follow.
Out in the distance, a peregrine falcon flew into sight, hovered, then soared in front of us. After a minute, it was joined by another. They swooped, rose, floated on the air currents, swooped again – an aerial ballet on an astral plane, Mum and Rose, dancing in space.
Then they were gone and there was just sky and sea, sky and sea, sky and sea. Tears came, brimmed over, fell. Dear God, I prayed quietly, wherever they are, wherever you are, look after them.
After twenty minutes, I looked over at Michael. ‘Hey, I’m freezing.’
He turned and smiled. ‘Me too. Let’s go.’
I got up and he came over to stand beside me.
‘Thank you for this,’ I said.
‘You’re welcome Dee. You’ve had a tough time of late. Just let me know if I can do anything.’
I took his hand. It felt warm and reassuring. After a few moments, he let go of my hand and put his arm around me. I leaned into him and we stayed that way for a further few moments. In the distance, storm clouds were clearing, a ferry blew its horn. We turned and walked back down the hill.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
With many thanks to:
My agents, Christopher Little and Emma Schlesinger, for their continued support, encouragement and invaluable guidance.
The Kicking the Bucket List Page 29