Shona shifted to lie flat on her back, a cushion behind her head. ‘I know the circumstances aren’t great, but this is just like old times, sitting on the floor talking about everything.’ She slanted me a considering look. ‘I’ve missed the whole trauma of Bianca and everything. When you told me you’d gone to look after her, I nearly had a fit. I know you’d have done everything you could for her. But what about Eddie? Did he really care she was dying? And how was he with you being there?’
‘He hated me being there, of course.’ I told her the gory details. ‘And to answer your question. It may be no more than a gut feeling, but I don’t think he loved Bianca that much towards the end. Sure, he was upset. But he went out every day, to the gym, he said, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a slapper or two on the side, satisfying his raging libido.’
She scowled. ‘Bastard. I just bet he did. Hey,’ she said, with a start, ‘I saw Andy and Brigid at the funeral holding hands. Is something going on there?’
‘Brand new in the last few days.’ I grinned. ‘About time, too!’ I filled her in on all the news I could think of. And Shona brought me up to date with her stay in Australia.
She sat with my head on her stomach, stroking my long hair fanned out behind my head. ‘Now I’ve visited there twice, I could live there. Maybe not forever. It’s so beautiful and the weather’s great, I really love it. We didn’t have to spend two months of our miserable winter here; it’s given me a taste for sunshine and beaches. Everything seems better in warmer weather.’
I must have drifted off for a few minutes and found myself in a weird dream about Cal.
‘Rose.’ Shona clicked her fingers inches from my face. ‘Wakey-wakey. You were off with the fairies, weren’t you? I just said you needed to put some weight back on to fit in your bridesmaid’s dress and you shook your head.’
‘Sorry, I was just dreaming about Cal. That has to stop.’ I frowned and sat up. ‘You know what? I have to get away. From everything.’
‘And…?’
‘I called the agency a couple of days ago to let them know I was available again. They said there was an opening in maternity in a couple of weeks in Hawaii. I’m going to ask for that and not the gynae unit in New Jersey. I love Hawaii. The people are friendly, it’s spectacularly beautiful and miles away from our grey rainy days. It’s a long way from what’s happened here and a long way from Cal in Oz. He suggested I get a nursing job in Australia. That’s not going to happen with his girlfriend getting in my face, now is it?’ I hunched over, hugging my knees.
‘That sounds great,’ Shona said. ‘You will come back for my wedding, won’t you?’
‘Of course!’ I leaned over and gave her a hug. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. If I’m able to go to my next job in the next two weeks, I should be in between assignments in June and I can be back here for rehearsals, fittings, last minute arrangements; anything you like.’
‘Good. Cos if you missed my wedding, I might never forgive you.’
‘I’ll be there. So long as you promise me one thing.’
‘Hm…?’
‘Don’t try to set me up with anyone. I’m over men. I’ve had enough of them. Probably for the next ten years.’
She didn’t try and contradict me. We both knew ten years wasn’t a commitment I’d stick to.
Later, when I crawled into bed, I lay on my back, eyes wide open, unruly thoughts focused on Cal. I’d texted him the day after Bianca died. He hadn’t responded. Another text three days later still received no reply. Maybe my messages didn’t get through. Now, more than a week later, it stung. Sleepless, I leapt out of bed and scrabbled in my handbag for my phone.
Sydney was eleven hours ahead of us right now, which made it close to ten in the morning over there. He might be out on the water with surf students. I dialed his number, fingers crossed I’d hear his deep, rumbly voice.
Anticipating voicemail, I was pleased when his phone was answered straightaway. I wasn’t prepared to hear a woman’s voice.
‘Hello,’ said a voice with a cut-glass British accent.
‘Hi,’ I replied, confused. ‘I think I’ve called the wrong number. Sorry, I thought I called someone else.’
‘Maybe not,’ she replied coolly. ‘This is Cal’s phone. He just happens to be asleep. Hang on.’ I heard the rustle of movement and a second later she was back. ‘Sorry, he’s fast asleep. We had quite a party last night. He’s still sleeping off his hangover.’
Oh.
Disheartened, I asked, ‘Who is this?’
‘Jade, and who are you?’ she said, an edge in her voice.
‘Are you in bed with him?’ I asked baldly, hoping she’d deny this.
There was a pause before she answered, tone icy. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I am. Who’s calling?’
‘Just a friend. Could you please tell him that Rose called?’ I felt my world tilt. I should have known. I scrambled for coherence. ‘I called to let him know Bianca died a few days ago.’
‘Oh, God, I’m sorry.’ She sounded sincere. ‘Yes, of course, I’ll let him know.’
I mumbled my thanks and hung up.
So there it was. Any lingering hopes were crushed. None of the striking beauties he’d holidayed with in New Zealand. Another woman. Not a friendly woman, either.
Desolation swept over me. I threw myself on the bed and let the tears flow. Tears for Timmy, for Bianca and tears for me. I’d just had the shittiest eighteen months of my life. And now this – Cal in bed with the woman he’d waited for.
The day after the funeral Shona took me out. My thirty-first birthday had gone unnoticed during Bianca’s last weeks. I hadn’t forgotten and neither had she. We lunched in our favorite café in London.
After the waitress had sauntered off with our orders, Shona wore a scandalous gossip expression I knew so well.
‘What?’ I asked, detecting her desire to share. ‘Your nose is twitching. What’s the gossip? I’m ready for something silly and irrelevant.’
She paused, debating with herself. ‘Not silly and definitely not irrelevant.’ She leaned closer, hunkering low over the table. ‘Eddie’s put your old house on the market.’
‘No way!’ My hand flew to my mouth. ‘Already? What, is it money problems?’ Money problems would be a high probability.
‘Could be. There’s more.’
‘Do tell.’
‘He’s having Timmy fostered out.’ She nodded at my appalled face.
‘Why?’ I demanded.
‘Rumor has it he wants to ship out to Australia and teach surfing. He doesn’t want an encumbrance.’
‘What!’ I spluttered, incoherent for a minute. ‘Eddie only had lessons for a few days. Oh my God!’
‘I know. Godawful prick.’
‘He fails on every level to qualify as a decent human being. He doesn’t even have one redeeming feature. Poor Timmy.’
‘You mean, good riddance, don’t you? Timmy will land with someone who gives a shit. He’ll be well rid of his poor excuse for a father, won’t he?’
I sat processing this. ‘I don’t know. He seemed keen enough with little Timmy when I was there.’ A thought struck me. ‘Although, changing diapers totally disgusted him. You don’t think he’d be that shallow, do you? I mean, giving away his son because of that?’
She shrugged. ‘You knew him better than me.’
‘Not really. The depths of deceit he got up to….’ I trailed off, remembering his lies and treachery. ‘Maybe he is that superficial. Without any of us there to help out with Timmy, he’d be too selfish to look after him alone. Even with his mother’s help.’ Disgusted, I shook my head. ‘If it’s true, I hope Timmy gets a proper family.’
I now had two things on my mind for the rest of the day. Cal’s silence and Timmy’s abandonment. And a third, less pressing, issue – Eddie fancied teaching surfing. Ridiculous.
Cal’s ongoing silence didn’t seem like him, especially given his own experience with death. May
be Jade hadn’t passed on my message. Offensive, if true, and enough to feel his choice of girlfriend was less than he deserved.
That night, to salve my wounded feelings, I sent him a text message.
‘Hi Cal, Bianca passed away eight days ago. Her funeral was yesterday. She had a great turnout and would have been pleasantly surprised to see everyone there. Feeling sad, but glad she’s not in pain any more. Love Rose’
There, I thought, re-reading it before pressing send. I’d hesitated over signing it with my love, but decided I was being too petty not to sign it as usual. I felt the message was brief, to the point, and left it up to him how to respond.
I sent a similar message to Leah. My contact with her had tapered off since Christmas, her focus on life with Sean taking precedence.
Ticked off with him I snapped my phone off and crawled into bed falling into exhausted slumber almost before my head hit the pillow.
Later the next morning I turned my phone back on, heaving a sigh of relief when I saw a message waiting for me from Cal.
‘Hi Rose, I’m so sorry about Bianca, although glad her suffering is now over. I can imagine how difficult this has been for you and for Eddie. How is he coping? I hope he’s been grateful for all your love and care during those last weeks. From the briefness of your message I would guess you were done in and ready for a well-earned first night of real sleep. I tried calling after your text message, but your phone must have been switched off. Love as always, Cal.’
Hm. Jade hadn’t passed on my message. Bitch! Still, she was there in his bed and no matter that his text said, ‘love as always’, I knew our friendship had run its course and I must truly let him go.
Chapter Thirty
The next day I woke to leaden skies, heavy with threatening rain. The air was still and a fine mist hung over the denuded winter trees in the back garden, light seemed to have seeped away outdoors, rendering it black and white and various shades of dull grey. Even bright lights inside the house felt dreary. I felt as dull and lifeless as the outdoors, as if color in my life was leaching out of me.
I needed something to occupy my time before Hawaii, otherwise I’d go stir crazy.
Lingering thoughts of Cal were quashed whenever his face intruded. He’d made his choice and that was that.
Dejected, I padded into the kitchen, aware it was a weekday and my parents had gone to work. Nine o’clock and I was at a loose end. Restless, I flicked on the TV and channel surfed. Ten minutes later I called it quits. There were a number of soaps, re-runs of various comedies, talk shows and not much else. Even Oprah, a staple when I’d been home early from school, was into the re-runs – bless her for retiring a few years ago, I’m damn sure I, too, would have retired early if I had that much money to enjoy.
Out of sorts, I flopped on a sofa in the snug.
Bianca remained in my thoughts. I’d been avoiding my own reaction to her death. Off kilter and detached I couldn’t seem to grieve. A typical symptom of underlying depression. Given an overwhelming kaleidoscope of emotions over such a sustained length of time, I shouldn’t be surprised at depression.
What would make me feel better? I sifted through ideas, rejecting a long walk – not in this gloomy weather. Reading a book held zero appeal. Shopping? I had a healthy bank balance. I hadn’t spent any money during my time with Bianca.
Except lunch out with Cal. Shut him out, I commanded my brain.
Shopping, yes. Just what I needed, retail therapy.
I shopped in Cambridge, ducking in and out of shopping centers, between Marks and Sparks, boutiques and various bookshops, stopping first for coffee and later for lunch. I had a great time, feeling quite buzzed by the time I’d had enough. The weather offered torrential rain and drifting mists when I drove out of the car park. Miserable.
With an Evermore CD loud on the rental sound system, I drove cautiously, headlights on, watching out for less careful drivers. Even so, I couldn’t avoid a car pulling out of a side road right in front of me. I slammed on my brakes, and watched, helpless as my car aquaplaned straight into the driver’s door and slammed to a standstill. A sound, like a gunshot tore through the car, followed a split second later by another car ramming me from behind.
Something hit my face and I passed out, waking to smoke filling the car. Trapped and terrified, with pain in multiple spots, shaking, I fumbled for my seatbelt, fingers unable to find purchase. As smoke cleared, my terror receded marginally. The airbag had deployed – smacking me in the face. No fire, just smoke from the airbag deploying. It deflated away from my face and chest. Shakily, I lifted my right hand to my face, only to find my fingers wouldn’t respond to my brain’s command. In slow motion I turned to see my wrist bent at an unnatural angle, snapped and useless.
I hyperventilated, gagging as residual smoke filled my lungs. Coughing increased the pain in my head and chest a hundredfold, tears trickled unchecked over super-sensitive skin. My face was injured, but how much was a mystery. Forcing my brain to focus, I tried to look around.
Through the shattered windscreen I could barely make out the car I’d hit. The crumpled damage to the front of my car obscured nearly everything and drenching rain poured through the broken windscreen. I coughed again. Searing pain in my chest suggested broken ribs.
Dazed, I remembered another car crashing into me from behind. My left arm appeared to be working. I lifted it, fingers unsteady, fumbling to adjust my rear vision mirror. I could just make out the figure of a man flung across another crumpled hood. Vision dimming, I thought about helping him.
I couldn’t move.
He might be dead. I should do something.
Stupid, not to wear a seatbelt. Stupid.
Waves of blackness swept over me, I fought them, desperate to remain conscious. In slow motion I swung my head to the right, and cried out in pain. Intermittent, unintelligible noises reached me in surges. Moments, or even minutes, I jolted awake, nearly jumping out of my skin, when my door was wrenched open and an anxious face peered in. the door clanged sideways onto the road with a thud. A hundred miles away a man seemed to ask me if I was okay.
Did I look okay? Woozy, I shook my head, pain shooting up my neck. Hot and cold, I registered pins and needles from the top of my head all the way down my spine. That wasn’t good. Shit. Immediately alert, I checked for spinal injuries, attempting to wiggle my toes. I felt nothing. No response, no sensation. Although, now I felt pain; agonizing pain in my right leg. My left leg was numb and lifeless. I passed out again.
I resurfaced to the sound of sirens, drifting in and out of consciousness, mumbling incoherent answers to the paramedics as they cut me from the wreckage. I heard one of them mutter “we have a broken leg here”. My mind, in time-lapse mode, gradually worked out he meant my painful leg. I wanted to ask about my left leg, but although my mouth drifted open, I couldn’t form any words, just a few useless whimpers.
When I regained consciousness again, I was being lifted from the car onto a stretcher, my neck in a brace and my body immobilized. I couldn’t feel my toes in either foot and I knew my spine was at risk. I tried wiggling my toes again. Nothing. I wanted to ask if my back was broken, but an oxygen mask was in the way. I vaguely noticed the crowd of onlookers, many of them holding umbrellas over the paramedics as they hoisted me up. Had anyone died? The thought came from miles away.
When I next woke up, I was being unloaded from the ambulance, and wheeled into A&E, a saline bag held above me. Sluggishly my brain understood it was attached to me. My head hurt like hell and the jerky gurney movements compounded pain everywhere. I drifted into blackness again.
Later, minutes or hours, I had no idea, I was aware of a penlight torch being flashed into my eyes stinging like needles driven into my retinae. A voice asked if I knew my blood type. I tried to nod, mumbling A positive. They took off the mask and I repeated my answer. I wondered who the blood was for, only gradually realizing it would be for me. Did I need a transfusion? Where was I bleeding from? There were half a do
zen staff surrounding me, busy with a variety of tasks I knew well, but couldn’t absorb what they meant. I’d need surgery, but precisely why eluded me.
X-rays would have been taken, but I had no memory of that. Vague thoughts of checking for spinal fractures filtered through. Nurses and doctors in surgical scrubs examined x-rays, but I had no sense of why. An operating theatre? I could make no sense of anything. Had the bleeding stopped? My neck still immobilized, my eyes swiveled up, searching. Yep, there was the bag of blood. Shit, I must have lost a lot of blood. The pain of moving my eyes proved too much, and I blacked out again.
Hours later, or it might only have been minutes, I was being wheeled somewhere on a hospital bed. When had they transferred me from the ambulance stretcher? I passed out again. Next thing I knew, an anesthetist searched for a vein in my left arm. That’s a plus, I thought. My left arm must be okay.
After that I drifted into a chemically induced coma. When I half-woke, I lay in a hospital bed with machines beeping away, monitoring vital signs. The oxygen mask over my face hurt like hell. Throbbing pain in my head was unbearable. I heard the cardiac monitor speed up. Seconds later a nurse was at my side. Old school, I thought vaguely, competent and calm.
‘Calm down, love,’ she said from a million miles away. ‘You’re in hospital. You were in an accident.’
I nodded, wincing at the effort. At least my neck was out of a brace. Good. I tried to speak.
Hand gentle, she removed the mask.
‘The mask hurts,’ I whispered, trying to lift my arm and failing.
‘Sorry, ducks, your face is a bit of a mess. The airbag, you know. Let me change the mask for a nasal cannula now you’re awake.’
I raised terrified eyes to her. What had happened to my face?
‘Don’t worry, it’s just a few nasty scratches, ducks. It’ll soon mend. Now, are you feeling any pain?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered, as she slid the nasal prongs in situ.
‘We’ll soon fix that.’ She added a syringe of painkiller to my drip’s port. I craned to look. The blood transfusion had gone. A good sign.
Promises Made- Promises Kept Page 39