From Christmas to Eternity

by Caroline Anderson

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HE SLEPT better that night than he’d slept since his operation.

  Amazingly, so did Lottie. Lucy crept out of bed and took her downstairs when she woke at six, put the kettle on, let the dog out of the kitchen and curled up on the sofa to feed the baby.

  A few minutes later she realised that Stanley had disappeared, and she took Lottie upstairs and found the dog installed on the bed, licking Andy’s hand vigorously and trying to look cute.

  ‘Stanley,’ she said warningly, and his tail wriggled guiltily as he slid off the bed.

  ‘Sorry,’ Andy said, looking every bit as guilty, and she shook her head and laughed.

  ‘You’re both naughty. No dogs upstairs. Here, cuddle Lottie,’ she said, and handing his daughter over, she took Stanley back down, fed him and let him out into the garden while she made the tea, then she shut him and his wet paws in the utility room again and went upstairs to find Emily and Megan on the bed, too.

  She went back down, brought them up drinks and climbed back into bed.

  ‘When did we last do this?’ she asked him, and he shrugged.

  ‘Ages,’ he said eventually, and she nodded.

  ‘So, girls, what do you want to do today?’

  It was predictable. Megan wanted to feed the ducks, Emily wanted to play the game Julie had lent them so she could see if she could win, and Lottie had what she wanted. She was busy pulling hairs out of Andy’s chest and making him wince, but he didn’t really seem to care and she thought he probably had what he wanted, too.

  His family, all around him, and for once the time to enjoy them without guilt.

  He looked up at her and smiled, and she knew she was right. If only he could keep it up when he went back to work, she thought, but that was a long way away and in the meantime there were ducks to feed and games to play.

  ‘Can we have bacon and eggs for breakfast?’ Em asked, and Andy looked hopeful.

  ‘Andy, what do you want?’ she asked, not letting him get away with that, and he just smiled knowingly.

  ‘Bacon. Egg. Um—’ He turned his hand sideways and chopped it down, then pressed an imaginary button.

  ‘Toast!’ Emily said victoriously. ‘Daddy wants toast.’

  ‘Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Coffee. And marm...marma...’

  ‘Marmalade!’

  ‘Em, you have to let Daddy say the words,’ she said gently. ‘It just takes him a bit longer. I tell you what, why don’t you say the beginning of what you want, and let him guess?’

  ‘OK. Saus.’

  ‘Sausages,’ he said after a moment, and Emily clapped her hands and bounced on the bed.

  ‘Well done! And tom.’

  ‘Tomato.’

  ‘Mummy, what do you want?’

  ‘Pain au...’

  ‘Chocolat,’ he finished, the hesitation barely perceptible.

  ‘You’re getting too good. You do realise we don’t have all of these ingredients?’ she pointed out, but by the time they’d finished their tea and they’d all washed and dressed, the mini supermarket round the corner was open, so she sent Andy and Emily off with Stanley and a shopping list, and Megan entertained Lottie in front of the television while she laid the table.

  They came back with extras.

  Mushrooms, and another bottle of milk, and, because they had no pain au chocolat, some chocolate spread and croissants so she could make her own.

  He put the bag down on the worktop, came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. ‘Hi, gorgeous,’ he murmured, and she turned her head and beamed at him.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked teasingly, and he raised an eyebrow and grinned.

  ‘Insatiable,’ she murmured, trying not to laugh, and gave him a job.

  * * *

  ‘I won!’

  Andy sat back and folded his arms and frowned at the game. Beaten by his seven year old daughter, he thought in disgust, but then he caught Lucy’s eye and she winked, and he just smiled and let it go.

  He’d get his revenge in time. His speech was getting better by the hour, or so it seemed today, so maybe David had been right and once the inflammation had gone down he’d be back to normal.

  He’d said weeks to months. Maybe it really would be only weeks, and it wasn’t yet two.

  Plenty of time yet, and in the meantime, he was rediscovering his family, and the joy of spending time with them.

  He looked out of the window, and saw that the rain which had threatened earlier had gone, and the sun was shining weakly through the trees.

  ‘Ducks?’ he suggested, and Megan leapt to her feet, fed up with a game she couldn’t win and wanting to be out and about.

  ‘I’m carrying the bread,’ she said, grabbing the new loaf and running to the door. He followed her, took it away from her and said, ‘No. Old bread. And—coat.’

  She ran back to the kitchen, grabbed the other loaf of bread and was back at the door, one arm in her coat, the other one struggling because the sleeve was inside out. He sorted her out, then put Lottie’s coat on and tucked her in the buggy, by which time Stanley was at his side, tail lashing, whining softly in anticipation.

  ‘She always carries the bread,’ Emily grumbled, but Lucy had appeared with an empty sandwich bag and she split the bread, ending the squabble before it started, and they set off to the park.

  ‘There’s Florence and Thomas!’ Megan yelled, and they ran over to the others, leaving them to follow with Lottie.

  ‘Hi! I was about to ring to thank you for last night,’ Daisy said as they drew closer, ‘so you’ve saved me the trouble. It was really lovely.’

  ‘Yes,’ Andy said, frowning in concentration but still smiling. ‘Great. Thanks.’

  ‘Thanks?’

  ‘For—coming.’

  ‘Oh, Andy.’ She hugged him, her spontaneous warmth bringing a lump to his throat. ‘It was a pleasure. It was great to see you.’

  ‘I want that recipe,’ Ben reminded him. ‘Don’t forget.’

  ‘I’ll remind him,’ Lucy said. ‘Are you heading for the ducks?’

  ‘Yes. Are you?’

  ‘Of course. It was Megan’s turn to choose what to do, and she always wants to feed the ducks.’

  ‘Well, why don’t we feed them together, and then go back to our house for tea? I’m sure we’ve got some biscuits of some sort, and then Andy can realise how lucky he is having a sensible house to look after!’

  Ben just groaned, and Andy slapped him encouragingly on the shoulder. ‘Idiot,’ he said cheerfully, and Ben laughed wearily.

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  * * *

  ‘Nice house, isn’t it?’

  ‘Night—night—um,’ Andy said as they walked away.

  ‘Nightmare?’ she suggested with a wry grin, and he nodded.

  ‘Yup. Nightmare. Nice. But—sheesh.’

  ‘Yeah. See what I mean about ours? Manageable.’

  He grunted, but he had a thoughtful look and Lucy wondered why. Surely he wasn’t contemplating a renovation project?

  ‘You don’t want one like that, do you?’ she asked, and he laughed.

  ‘No.’ Firmly, definitely, no hesitation at all.

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ she said, smiling, and tucking her arm through his, she walked along beside him, keeping a close eye on Megan and Emily who were sharing the lead and holding onto Stanley.

  Bless him, he just walked beautifully along beside them both, as good as gold. It was all down to Andy. He’d trained the dog from day one—but that was before everything had gone wrong.

  She put that thought out of her mind. He was home now, and although he wasn’t back at work, he seemed genuinely different, and he obviously wanted to be with them.


  And hopefully the change would be permanent.

  * * *

  ‘Going to—hos...’ he announced the next day.

  ‘Hospital?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She was getting ready for work, and he’d said he’d drop the girls at school and take Lottie to the nursery, so they were all up and dressed, but there’d been no mention of the hospital.

  ‘What for? Why are you going? Are you all right?’ she asked, going into panic mode a bit.

  ‘Fine. See—Raj and—James.’

  ‘Oh. OK. Have a good time.’ She kissed them all goodbye, then kissed him again. ‘I’ll see you later. You might get something nice for lunch.’

  ‘OK.’

  He dropped the girls off, took Stanley to the park and then home, and walked to the hospital. He hadn’t been there since he’d walked home two weeks ago exactly, almost to the hour, and he felt a shiver of unease.

  What would it be like going back?

  Difficult, was the answer. He went to the Neurology clinic and asked to speak to Raj. Well, he managed his name, but not much else, which wasn’t really helpful, and because the receptionist didn’t know him and he couldn’t explain, she was reluctant to disturb him.

  ‘He’s consulting,’ she said. ‘When he’s free I’ll see if he can fit you in. What’s your name?’

  ‘Andy. Andy—Gall—Galla...’

  Raj came out of his consulting room at that moment, and he saw Andy standing there and came straight over. ‘Andy, how are you? How’s it going?’

  He sighed with relief and frustration. ‘OK. Not—not great.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that. Come on in.’ He took him into his room and sat him down. ‘I’ve had a report from David Cardew, and I would say you’re doing well. It sounds as if it was pretty extensive.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. But—slow.’ Hell, he was worse, because he was trying to pass on precise information, not just chat, and it was much more challenging. ‘Speech—slow.’

  ‘He said you had speech loss after the op, but he’s very confident it’s transient.’

  ‘Good. Doing—head in,’ he said, stumbling over every word, and then laughed wryly. ‘Raj—thank you.’

  ‘You don’t need to thank me. I’m glad I was able to help. Have you been down to the ED yet? They miss you.’

  ‘Ben—said.’

  ‘Ben?’

  Oh, damn. He couldn’t remember his name. ‘Um—babies,’ he groped, and Raj nodded.

  ‘Walker.’

  ‘Yeah. Ben Walker. Going—now to ED.’

  ‘Good, they’ll be pleased to see you. How’s the SLT going?’

  He nodded. ‘OK. Slow. All slow.’

  Raj smiled. ‘You’re too impatient, Andy. Enjoy the holiday. Have fun with the kids. They grow up all too fast.’

  He nodded again. They did. It seemed like minutes since Lucy had told him she was pregnant, and Lottie was eight months old now. Eight months old, and could say ‘Da-da’. That was worth all of this. He just needed to remind himself from time to time.

  He said goodbye to Raj, and walked over to the ED.

  And was mobbed.

  He didn’t need to speak. They probably all knew he couldn’t, really, but it was amazing to see them, and he was hugged and kissed by nurses who under normal circumstances would have given him a wide berth, and slapped on the back by the lads.

  And then James, the clinical lead, dragged him off to his office and gave him a coffee and told him how much they missed him.

  ‘We want you back, but we know it’s going to be a while,’ he said.

  ‘Want to come, but—’ It was pointless trying to say any more. Those few words were enough to underline quite clearly his inadequacy. ‘How—locum?’

  ‘OK. Good. Not as good as you, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ he repeated drily, if a little slowly.

  They swapped grins, and then James’ pager went off, so he followed him and stood outside Resus looking in and feeling swamped by frustration. He could see from here what was wrong, what was needed, knew exactly what to do, he just couldn’t tell anyone.

  And until he could, he’d be a danger to his patients.

  James glanced up, and he smiled at him and lifted his hand and walked away, leaving them to it.

  * * *

  There was no sign of him when she got home with Lottie, and the dog was missing.

  It might have meant nothing, but she had a bad feeling about it. Apart from anything else, he’d said he’d pick something up for lunch for them, and so she’d been expecting him to be there. She scoured the house for a note, then realised he probably couldn’t write her one.

  He’d gone to the hospital.

  Had one of his friends dragged him off to the café for lunch? Unlikely. They all seemed to be too busy for lunch, but Lottie was getting grizzly, so she opened the baby a jar of food and was spooning it into her when she heard the utility room door open.

  ‘No!’

  He followed the sodden, muddy dog into the kitchen with an apologetic wince. ‘Sorry. Door open.’

  ‘That’s OK. Are you all right?’

  He ignored that, stared at her and swore softly. ‘No lunch. Sorry.’

  There was something wrong, she knew it now. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll go to the pub. I’m just giving Lottie something, and she can come with us and have a nap in her buggy. They won’t be busy.’

  He nodded, but he didn’t look overjoyed, just took the dirty dog back out to the utility room and came back a few moments later without him. ‘Muddy.’

  ‘He is. Where did you go?’

  He frowned. ‘Trees,’ he said, when the word he was looking for evaded him. So frustrating. He was ready to punch the walls, but it wouldn’t help.

  ‘The spinney?’

  ‘Yeah. Spinney,’ he repeated, trying to rebuild the memory for that word, but it didn’t work like that, he knew.

  ‘Right, little monkey, let’s clean you up and you can have pudding in the pub.’ She made a bottle quickly, threw it in the changing bag with a pot of apple and mango puree, and pulled on her coat. ‘Coming?’

  He’d taken off his coat, but it was his dog-walking coat and she saw he was swapping it for a thick fleece. He put the buggy in the boot, then automatically went to the driver’s side of the car. She saw him grit his teeth as he went back to the passenger side and got in, and she wondered what had happened, because he’d been fine that morning.

  ‘How did you get on at the hospital?’ she asked him when they were settled by the fire in the pub.

  He stared out of the window at the sea surging against the breakwaters off the prom, and sighed. ‘OK. Saw Raj.’

  ‘Did you thank him?’

  He nodded. ‘Saw James. Everyone was—nice.’ More than nice, but how to say it?

  ‘And?’ she prompted, sensing more.

  ‘So stupid,’ he said softly, his voice taut. ‘Watched them—Resus—know everything, but just—can’t.’

  ‘Oh, Andy. You will be able to. Darling, it’s only two weeks tomorrow since the operation. You’re much better than you were. The words are starting to come, much better. And your hand’s fine now. It’s such early days. Just enjoy it—treat it like a holiday.’

  ‘What Raj said. Holiday. But not, is it? Not holiday. And—what if...?’

  ‘Andy, no. Don’t start thinking like that. Just take each day as it comes. Starting right now. Lottie needs pudding. I think the ideal person to give it to her is the only person whose name she can say.’

  And she handed the pot and the spoon to him, and went off to order their meal.

  ‘Da-da-da,’ Lottie said, smacking her hands on the tray of the high chair, and he stared at her, this miracle
that was their child, and gave up. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he should just enjoy the holiday, take it day by day and have fun, and let his speech take care of itself.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said, ripping the foil top off the dessert and dipping the spoon in it. ‘Open.’

  She opened her mouth, like a baby bird with a gaping beak, and he spooned yellow gloop into it and felt glad to be alive.

  * * *

  Well, something had changed, she thought, threading her way back through the tables.

  Lottie was beaming and covered in pudding, and Andy was smiling at her and laughing and scooping the drips off her chin with every appearance of enjoyment.

  ‘Da-da,’ Lottie said, and he grinned, and she smiled.

  That was it. Bless her, Lottie had charmed him out of his grumps and made him smile, and she could have scooped her up and hugged her, but she was covered in yellow slime and Lucy was wearing one of her few decent jumpers.

  ‘Have you two spread that quite far enough?’ she asked mildly, plucking a baby wipe from the packet and swiping it over her face. Two minutes later she was clean as a whistle, out of the high chair and snug in Andy’s arms, having her bottle, so Lucy settled back and picked up her fizzy water and watched them.

  It was good to see him with Lottie. He’d spent far too little time with her, and she adored him. Maybe there was truth in the saying that absence made the heart grow fonder.

  ‘I ordered you fish and chips.’

  He shot her a smile. ‘Good. Brain—food.’

  She laughed. ‘Not when it’s in batter,’ she said drily, but there were times to worry about Omega 3 and times to have fun, and today was definitely the latter.

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ she remembered. ‘I saw a man today—a Mr Darby. He said you treated his mother two weeks ago in the ED, and she died. It was on the Sunday of the storm, just after we got home from my parents, I suppose, the day Raj saw you. He lost both his parents when a tree fell on their car, his father in the car and his mother in the hospital later. He recognised the name and asked if we were related, and I said yes, and he told me he’d wanted to thank you, but you weren’t there. He said he’d been told you’d gone off sick, but that you’d apparently worked really hard on her.’