Gerald is sitting in his chair beside the bed, facing the French window. Vanessa pictures the view through his eyes: the dusky outlines of the trees that circle an area of lawn, the spindly limbs of the pergola that the nurse said was still covered with roses in September, the summer house at the top of the garden, dark against the twilit sky. Perhaps he doesn’t see any of that, but is lost in a reverie, locked somewhere she can’t reach him. All those years spent apart. So much she doesn’t know. How many Carla Scotts were there?
‘Gerald.’ She puts her hand on his shoulder, and leans forward to brush his lips with hers.
For a moment, his eyes are blank. The whites seem to have a film over them. Then he blinks. ‘You made it. Thank you.’ His tone is coolly polite, as if she’s one of the professionals he has to endure doing things to him. Perhaps it’s been a bad day. They’ve been adjusting his medication since he came in.
She moves a chair and sits down next to him. ‘What have you been doing?’
‘Occupational therapy.’ He points to a little figure standing on his locker. She reaches over and picks it up, turning it round and round in her hands. It’s made from something like coat hanger wire, about six inches high, its head huge in comparison with its short legs and arms. The wire forming the back is bent at an angle of forty-five degrees: the figure looks as if it might topple forward at any moment.
‘Did you make this?’
‘Yeah, it’s a self-portrait.’
The figure makes her want to cry and she returns it to the locker. ‘It’s great,’ she lies. ‘I bet they were impressed. Did you tell them you’re a sculptor?’
‘Christ, no! Once you’ve got cancer, that’s what defines you.’
‘It’s not like that in here. They’re always saying, illness is not a disease.’
‘Load of crap. And what’s the point of telling them? I was a sculptor. Was. I haven’t done anything worthwhile for ten years or more.’ He returns his gaze to the garden.
‘What’s the matter? Has something happened?’ Before today, she’s been surprised he’s accepted the cancer with such good grace. The old Gerald would have raged against the injustice. This evening she can hear him, see a flash of him in his eyes.
‘I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with a miserable shit like me. Go and get a real man, some one like that Charles Miller.’ His mouth twists as he says the name.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Those voicemails and texts you’ve got saved up. Must be kind of special.’ He lets his voice linger on the word.
‘What’s it got to do with you?’
‘Sorry. It’s obviously absolutely sweet FA to do with me!’
‘Exactly. So how do you know about them?’
‘You left the phone on the side when you went to talk to the doctor last night.’
‘You checked my phone?’
‘Too right. I’m an invalid, not an idiot.’
All day she’s been yearning to see Gerald. Imagined slipping her hand into his, running her fingers over his cropped head, hoarding memories against the famine to come. Now she can hardly look at him. It was supposed to be different this time. He wasn’t the one with the power, but he’s listened to her messages, challenged her right to receive them. She snatches up her bag from the bed. ‘I need to get out of here.’
In the corridor, she leans against the wall. Supper is being dished up and a smell of fish hangs in the air. She pushes her hands in her jacket pockets. The nails dig into her palms. She can feel a rough patch on one of her fingers. She takes her hand out of her pocket and examines it. There’s some broken skin round the cuticle. She chews at it, until blood oozes out. She scratches at the cuticle of the next finger and tears off the loose skin. All the progress to independence she’s made, the distance she’s travelled since those days when he could reduce her to tears with a raised eyebrow. And she’s standing snivelling in this drab mustard tunnel with the stink of fish up her nose.
She storms back into the room.
Gerald flinches as the door bangs against the wall. ‘Nessa, I’m sorry.’ He spreads his hands in front of him in a gesture of defeat. ‘I didn’t mean to make you angry – ’
‘I’m glad you have!’
‘Don’t take any notice of me.’ Gerald shakes his head from side to side. ‘I’m a jealous old fool.’
‘If I want Charles as my friend, it’s nothing to do with you.’
‘I know.’
‘I can’t believe I was so stupid. I thought you’d changed.’
‘I can’t talk with you standing over there.’ Gerald taps the chair next to him. ‘Come and sit here again.’
She doesn’t move from the doorway.
‘I shouldn’t have looked at your phone,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry.’
Typical. He thinks he can say sorry and she’ll melt in his arms.
‘I was a child when we met, Gerald, but I’m not now. And I won’t have you controlling me.’
He sighs. ‘The last thing I want to do is upset you. Especially when we’ve got so little time left together.’
‘Don’t say that!’
‘It’s true.’
‘It’s emotional blackmail.’
He pushes against the arms of the chair, as if he’s going to get up. But the effort seems to be too much, and he falls back into the seat. ‘It’s too late for games.’ He stares out of the window again into the twilight.
She goes to sit beside him.
He gives a small smile. ‘If it wasn’t for you, Nessa, I’d be ready to go. Now Cordy’s been to see me, there’s nothing to hang on for. Well … ’ He slides his hands along the arms of the chair as he used to when he was weighing up the merits of a piece of wood. ‘I was hanging on to see if I could finally persuade you to marry me, but I’ve given up hope now.’
Vanessa chews her lip. The pain distracts her from the tears she can feel at the back of her nose. She’s known Gerald in so many different moods, but never so desolate. If only she could give him …
She’s aware of the door opening behind her – there’s a squeak of the hinges, and she sees Gerald’s eyes turn – but she doesn’t look. The nurse does a drug round about now, and Vanessa would rather she didn’t see her wet eyes. She’d be kind, and Vanessa’s front would crumble.
‘Yes, can I help?’ Gerald asks.
‘I’m looking for Gerald Blackstone.’
‘You’ve found him.’
‘I want to talk to you.’
The voice. It’s … Vanessa gets up and turns to the door. ‘Jake! What on earth are you doing here?’ She steps forward, ready for a hug.
Jake ignores her outstretched arms. He’s breathing heavily and his face is shiny with sweat. He must have run all the way from the station.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asks.
He jerks his thumb towards Gerald. ‘There’s stuff I want to ask him.’ His head juts forward, and his fists clench and unclench.
The sight of him scares her, but this is Jake, her beautiful, sunny Jake. What is there to be scared of? She takes his arm. ‘This is not the right time.’
He shakes off her hand.
‘Let’s go and get a coffee. There’s a visitors’ lounge. We can – ’
‘It’s okay, Vanessa.’ She hears Gerald’s voice behind her. ‘Let him come in if he wants to.’
She turns to Gerald. The skin round his mouth has gone white, and his lips are tight, but otherwise he looks calm. Their eyes meet, and she detects a warning in his: don’t stop him. Let him say what he’s come to say.
She looks back at Jake.
He’s standing at the end of the bed. He unhooks Gerald’s chart and studies it.
‘This is pretty good, Mr Blackstone,’ he says. ‘Temperature – 38, slightly raised, but not significantly. Pulse – 70. Blood pressure – up, but okay for an old boy.’
He returns the chart to the rail at the end of the bed
.
‘That’s private information,’ Vanessa says. ‘What do you want to ask Gerald?’
Jake folds his arms and stares at her, head on one side. ‘That’s not very friendly.’
‘I don’t get the impression you’re here to do friendly. What have you come to say?’
‘There’s no need for it to concern you.’ Jake’s tone is suddenly conciliatory. ‘You look tired. Why don’t you go? I’ll keep Mr Blackstone company.’
‘Don’t keep calling him that.’ Vanessa’s legs are trembling. ‘His name is Gerald.’
‘Okay. I’ll keep Gerald Blackstone company. You get off home.’
‘I’m not going anywhere, Jake.’
‘Look, why don’t you both sit down?’ Gerald says. ‘It’ll be easier to talk.’
Vanessa sits on the bed. She realises she’s still clutching her handbag, and she lets it drop to the floor. She intended to leave the chair for Jake, but he moves over to the window. He seems to tower over Gerald. She wishes she’d stayed standing, but it will look silly if she gets up again. It’s almost dark outside, and Jake’s face is in shadow. She reaches out to the lamp on the locker.
Light seems to propel energy through Jake. He bounces from foot to foot, like a runner on the starting block. ‘So, are you sitting comfortably?’ he asks.
‘Get on with it,’ she says. ‘Why have you come?’
‘I want to know what happened the day this bastard killed my father.’
Vanessa takes a gulp of air. She had a bad feeling about this the minute she saw Jake in the doorway, but now that the words are out, she wants to gather them up and stuff them back in his mouth. She doesn’t dare look at Gerald, but her eyes fix on his knuckles, as his fists close over the arms of the chair.
‘I’ll tell you what happened that day,’ Gerald says. ‘If you’re sure you want to know.’
‘I’m waiting.’
‘It would be easier if you sat down.’
Jake doesn’t move. ‘Like I said – I’m waiting.’
‘Your father came out with me that day to tell me to fuck off.’
‘Gerald.’
‘He’s come for the truth, Nessa.’
‘Go on,’ Jake says.
‘I didn’t blame the guy – Christ, he was fighting for the woman he loved – but he wasn’t the one I wanted in the passenger seat.’
‘Just get on with it!’ Jake punches out each word.
Gerald hesitates. ‘I own up to it. I wanted your mother. I was determined to take her away from Andrew.’
‘Even if that meant killing him?’
‘It’s true he wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t come back.’
‘For Christ’s sake!’ Jake slams his fist against the wall behind him. ‘Say it. I want to hear you say it.’
‘You asked me what happened. I’m trying to tell you,’ Gerald says. ‘I was jealous as hell of your father – he had everything I wanted. Everything I’d thrown away. But I didn’t kill him.’
Vanessa’s insides twist. Don’t lie, Gerald. Please don’t lie on top of everything else. She wants to jump up. Clamp her hand over Gerald’s mouth. Smother the lies.
Jake reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a sheet of paper. It’s crumpled and ripped in places, as if it’s been studied over and over again. ‘I’ve got the report.’ He holds the paper up and begins reading: there was a car coming in the opposite direction on our side of the road. It was going fast. It was going to hit us. I yanked the wheel to the left and hoped for the best. There was an almighty bang, and the sound of glass shattering. I closed my eyes. And then it was completely silent. I opened my eyes and my lap was full of splinters of glass. I put my hand to my head. Blood was pouring from it. I looked to my left. Andrew’s head had gone through the windscreen. I tried to get out, but the door wouldn’t budge. There was a tree trunk wedged up against it.’ Jake stops reading. Carefully folds the paper and puts it back in his pocket. ‘Your evidence: sounds conclusive to me.’
Vanessa waits for Gerald to answer. She stares at him, but his face is blank. You did it: the accusation sits in her throat. You killed Andrew.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Gerald says, his voice barely audible.
‘You mean you lied at the inquest?’
Gerald nods.
Jake shakes his head disbelievingly.
Gerald clasps his hands in his lap. He sits erect, staring fixedly ahead. ‘Andrew and I argued. He said Vanessa didn’t want me, didn’t love me and I’d never have her. I told him that was a load of bollocks. She loved me, not him, and one way or another I was going to get her back. He went mad. Shouting and swearing – ’
‘This is all fucking lies!’ Jake’s fists tighten.
‘Andrew caught hold of the steering wheel.’ Gerald’s voice is a monotone, as if he erased the emotion from the words a long time ago. ‘We fought over it. I tried to get his hands off, but he was surprisingly strong. Forced the wheel out of my hands. He was yelling – you’ll never have her … if I can’t have her … neither of us will – and he suddenly wrenched the wheel to the left, and the last thing I saw was the tree coming towards us.’
The noise and the movement come at the same time. Vanessa hears a roar, and Jake’s jacket hits her in the face as he springs at Gerald. ‘Cunt!’ he screams. ‘Fucking cunt!’ He clutches at Gerald’s arms and drags him forward on the chair. He lifts him to his feet, but Gerald buckles at the knees and hangs from Jake’s hands like a puppet. Jake bends forward, until his face is level with Gerald’s. ‘You deserve this fucking illness!’ He spits out the words. ‘Cancer infects everything. Spreads its poison. Just like you.’
Vanessa manages to break free of her paralysed shock. She leaps to her feet. Grabs at Jake’s waist, trying to drag him away. ‘Leave him, Jake! Let him go!’
‘I hope you suffer.’
Her cheek is pushed against Jake’s back, and the sound of the words vibrates in her ear.
‘I hope it takes a … long … time … to … kill … you.’ Jake enunciates each word, as if he’s teaching Gerald a foreign language.
Vanessa’s lungs feel as if they will explode. There isn’t enough air. She settles her feet on the floor, and tightens her hold on Jake’s waist. He jabs his elbow back; it catches her in the chest. She’s winded, knocked off balance. She pushes forward again, this time between the two men. She clutches Jake’s hands, prising his fingers from Gerald’s shirt.
‘Leave him,’ she pleads. ‘This isn’t going to solve anything.’ She senses the tension in Jake’s body ease. He lets go, almost throwing Gerald to one side.
Gerald staggers, and she catches him as he sways towards her. She steadies him and lowers him into his chair.
She leans over him, stroking his cheeks. ‘Are you okay?’ she asks.
He doesn’t answer. His head is back, his eyes half closed. His face is grey.
‘Gerald, are you okay?’
His eyelids flicker, and a whispered yes comes from between his lips.
Vanessa looks across at Jake. His shoulders are slumped, his arms dangling at his side.
‘He’s so weak,’ she says. ‘You could have killed him.’
Jake shrugs.
‘Don’t you care?’
‘About him? No.’ His voice is flat, and his eyes have lost the scary glittering expression.
‘What did you think would happen?’
‘That you’d come to your senses. Get shot of the bastard.’
She goes over to Jake and takes his hands in hers. His skin is hot and clammy. ‘It’s complicated,’ she says.
He stares down at her. ‘The way I see it, it’s simple. He killed my dad. Now, he’s collecting his prize.’
She sighs. ‘You make it sound as if it’s all about them.’
‘Isn’t it?’
She lets go of his hands. ‘What about me? I’m not some prize to be collected.’
‘Then don’t let yourself
be.’ Jake runs his hands over his head. ‘Forget you ever heard of Gerald Blackstone.’
If only she could take Jake in her arms, hug him close, kiss the hurt away. But the anger that exudes from him locks her out, barricades him in. ‘I love you more than you’ll ever know,’ she whispers. ‘Nothing will change that. But don’t ask me to choose between you and him.’
A movement at the door makes them both turn. A nurse Vanessa hasn’t seen before is standing there.
‘Hi, I’m Julia. Everything all right in here?’ She moves past them towards Gerald. ‘Oh dear. Has he gone to sleep on you?’ She takes his wrist in her hand and feels for his pulse.
‘Wait for me outside,’ Vanessa tells Jake.
‘Come with me now.’
She gestures towards Gerald. ‘I want to check he’s all right.’
Jake lowers his head and looks at her from under his brows, just like he used to when he couldn’t get his own way as a child. Then he turns and goes out the door.
‘How is he?’ Vanessa asks, crossing the room to Gerald’s side.
‘Pulse is racing,’ Julia says.
‘He got upset at something we were talking about,’ Vanessa tells her.
‘Probably no harm done. I expect he’s tired.’ Julia leans over and pushes the buzzer next to the bed. ‘I’ll get some help.’ She looks at Vanessa. ‘Are you all right? You look exhausted.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Sure?’
‘I’ve had a busy day, that’s all.’
‘Your lip’s swollen. Let me look.’
Vanessa puts her fingers to her mouth. When she takes them away, they’re stained red, and the metallic taste of blood sits on her tongue. Her lip starts to throb. One of Jake’s buttons must have cut it when he lunged forward. ‘I think I bit it,’ she tells the nurse.
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