Fault (Define Book 3)

by Nicola Hudson

  “Is she going to get out?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know when. It could be a few years away,” I admitted.

  “Obviously I hope it’s soon, but we’re doing all right, Grace, aren’t we? Without her, I mean?” That was when I appreciated the full irony of the situation. Josh was a happier, better version of himself when he wasn’t around the person who was supposed to love him the most. Lauren was wrong—love wasn’t always worth the price we paid.

  After Josh had left, I picked up my Kindle and went to bed. It opened automatically to Great Expectations, the last book I had been reading, and I finally let myself give in to the emotions of the day.

  DESPITE RINGING EVERY day, the hospital refused to tell me how Max was. Gambling that Noah would still go to work on Monday, I parked outside the hospital and checked that Max was still in intensive care. I stopped at the nurses’ station at the ward entrance and asked if he had any visitors with him, grateful when I was told he was alone.

  Even though I had seen him in that bed the week before, I couldn’t stop the emotion I felt when I saw him lying there. The quiet hiss and wheeze of the machines surrounding him were a reminder that he wasn’t fully with me. I sat next to him and wondered what to do next. Could he hear me? I told him about work and some of the antics of the kids in my new acting class. I didn’t want to talk about the flat and moving out in case he could understand what I was saying.

  As I was sat, all too aware of the smallness of my new life, I noticed the familiar copy of Great Expectations on top of the bedside cabinet. Picking it up, I opened it to the bookmarked page. Pulling the chair as close as I could get to the bed, I started to read aloud. Reading about Joe’s visit to London brought back memories of my trip with Noah less than a week, but more like a lifetime, earlier.

  “Do you think Pip will ever realise how wonderful Joe is? That he will see past money and understand that Joe is the one person who has truly loved him?” I knew Max couldn’t answer, but I hoped that one day he would, that one day the three of us would be reading it together again.

  Replacing the bookmark, I put the book back exactly where I had found it. “I’d better go now. Get better soon, Max.” I leant down and kissed his papery cheek. “I love you.”

  “I KNOW YOU’RE going through a lot at the moment, Noah, but we can’t cope with missed deadlines. You know the impact that has on the company. There are financial penalties built into almost every contract.” The fact that Nigel’s words didn’t even bother me said much about my attitude to work lately. I’d gone in each Monday since Dad had been in hospital, and had dutifully picked up jobs. My laptop was used to being propped up on the side of Dad’s bed, usually in standby mode as the few minutes of sleep I seemed capable of were hardly helping the creativity flow. I’d missed several deadlines and, worse still, had my last two pieces of copy rejected.

  “I’m sorry but I’m struggling—”

  “Can I offer you a solution?” Did Nigel have it in his power to turn back the clock and rewind my life to the last time I’d been happy? No, but I shrugged my shoulders out of politeness. “Why don’t you take a sabbatical? You’re a valued member of the company, Noah, and we don’t want to lose you. However, carrying on as things are isn’t good for you or us. A sabbatical will give you time to focus on your father, to do what needs to be done. Your job will still be here when you’re ready to return.”

  For the first time in weeks, I felt a surge of something positive. “How long will it be for?”

  “An open sabbatical could be reviewed at a time we agreed on. Three months, six months—the choice is yours. You could return at that point or extend it again. I’ve been in your shoes and know that work isn’t the priority right now. Let this work for you. What do you say?”

  “Yes,” I said, knowing I wasn’t being given that much of a choice but grateful they weren’t just firing me. “Can we start with three months?”

  There was some sense of relief when I returned to the hospital. I didn’t need to pretend to work anymore. The only thing I’d properly been capable of writing had been my column, not that they’d want six months’ worth of desperation instead of the humorous pathos I normally aimed for. There wasn’t much to find funny about Dad lying there, time ticking us closer to a decision I didn’t want to make.

  At the end of the initial ten days, the consultant had pulled me into a private room and told me what I already knew. Dad hadn’t made any progress. They were going to pull him out of the induced coma and see what happened. I sat by his bed, preparing myself for the worst.

  But nothing happened. Dad still lay there. The machines still hissed and beeped.

  A week later, the same consultant had pulled me into the same private room and told me what I already knew. Dad hadn’t made any progress. He was in a permanent vegetative state. This was now his forever. For as long as I decided it would be.

  However often I’d wished that there was more than just him and me in our world, I’d never wished it more than when faced with the enormity of that decision. Why couldn’t someone else decide? The hospital had offered me a counsellor, but that wasn’t what I needed. I needed someone else who knew him, who loved him.

  I had pulled up Grace’s number so many times I’d lost count. I knew she visited Dad each Monday, one of the nurses confirming my suspicion after I saw the bookmark had been moved. But there was no other sign of her existence. If there had been one iota of contact from her, I would have been on my knees begging for forgiveness. And love. And support.

  When I had returned to find the house empty, my first thought was to worry about where Grace had gone. Who could she call on? But I knew I no longer had the right to ask, to know.

  I missed so much about her. Practical things were enough to fill me with emotion: seeing the bathroom shelf empty of the bottles that had gradually spread across it; finding the washing machine filled with the sheets she had laundered before she left, depriving me of the chance to fill my senses with her one final time. Every day, in silences at the hospital, or in the hours I spent pretending to sleep, it was the details that haunted me. The quiet humming noise she made when lost in a good book. The velvet skin of her stomach. The taste of her kisses. The way she said my name. God, I would have given anything to hear her tell me that she loved me again.

  Yet I couldn’t be that selfish. Her silence told me all I needed to know. She had moved on, and I had to let her.

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE what I had heard. “Really? That would make my hours almost full-time.” Lauren’s offer was welcome but unexpected.

  “Yeah, babe. I can’t fill all of the hours the schools want and sometimes they want two coaches at the same time. It’s regular work—well, during the term-time—but we have the additional clubs in the holidays anyway. Mack helped me to put together a business plan and it’s all good.” Lauren had been self-employed as long as I had known her, running the performing arts classes and working in schools, but I didn’t know she was this successful.

  “But what if—”

  “There isn’t a ‘what if’ here, Grace. I’m not taking any risks. This work is already lined up, as long as I can get someone to help me. And I want that person to be you. So what do you say?”

  I put my arms around her and squeezed. “I say yes!”

  “Great but you can let me go now. I find breathing is pretty important. I’ve got something else to ask you too.” I released her and stepped away for the next question, uncertain whether the security she had just offered was going to slip from my reach. “Mack has asked me to move in. Permanently. Do you want to rent my flat?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’ll need to speak to the landlord first, but I don’t think he will want the hassle of sorting another tenant if he doesn’t have to. I was thinking of moving out properly for the first of next month. What do you think?”

  I squeezed her more tightly than before. “I think I’m bloody lucky to have you in my life. Thank you!”


  “Okay, breathing, remember?” Lauren pulled away, but I could see the size of her smile. “Now, you’ll need to come with me to St. George’s School on Monday. It’s an all-day booking. We’ll have thirty kids at a time. Music and movement on the theme of nature. Okay?” I couldn’t do anything but agree after all Lauren was doing for me, but my heart sank when she mentioned Monday. It would mean I couldn’t see Max. “Right, I’m off. I’ll see you eight thirty on Monday.” She left, taking her smile and my momentary happiness with her.

  AFTER TWO MONDAYS without seeing Max, I was getting desperate. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, ring Noah, so I called the only other link I had. I left a message for Bob at the newspaper office and was glad when he returned it that evening and suggested we meet for a drink at a pub close to my flat.

  “How are you?” He placed a glass of cider in front of me and sat opposite before taking a sip of his beer.

  “I’m fine. The flat is fully mine from tomorrow and I’ve got enough hours at work to pay my way. I’m now officially independent.”

  “That’s good, but not what I meant. How are you?” He deserved my honesty.

  “I’m functioning and that’s about it. I miss them. I’ve been going to see Max.”

  “I know. Noah said.” He knew? “He also said you’d stopped.” What must he be thinking?

  “I have to work on Mondays now so I can’t go to the hospital when Noah is at work.” My voice caught when I said his name for the first time in weeks.

  “He’s not at work at the moment.” My heart fell, wondering what had happened, wondering how much worse things could get for him. “He’s taken a sabbatical for a few months. It means he can spend more time with Max.”

  “How is he?” Please tell me he’s okay, that he’s getting better.

  “Which one?”

  My wishes were the same for both of them. “Either. Both. Start with Max.”

  As Bob updated me on Max, I was glad that he’d sat on the side of the table facing the rest of the pub. “Is there no hope?”

  “It’s gone on too long for there to be any hope left. It’s not a matter of what, just when.” My shoulders shook with the idea of Max’s life being over, with the position Noah was in. Life was so unfair sometimes. Bob handed me a tissue across the table.

  “How is Noah coping?”

  “As you’d expect. Clinging to non-existent hope so he doesn’t have to make the decision as to when to say enough is enough. He’s alone and lonely, Grace, and that’s the worst place to be.”

  I knew what he was telling me, but I couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. “I can’t, Bob. I can’t. I’m just not strong enough.”

  “I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. That boy needs you, and there will come a time when you wish you’d not walked out that day.”

  That time came most nights as I struggled to sleep.

  “I didn’t just walk out. He blames me for it all, for everything. The last thing he needs is me reminding him of how it could have been different.” Noah’s words haunted me every time I looked at his number on my phone, aching to hear his voice. I gave myself time targets between re-reading old messages or looking at photos but missed most of them, unable to stop feeding my anguished heart.

  “People say terrible things to those they love the most because they know nobody else could forgive them for it.”

  Maybe other people were stronger than me.

  “I’m sorry, Bob.”

  “It’s not me who needs to hear you say that, love. Please think about it. About him.” I did but every time the tidal wave of losing him threatened to drown me.

  “I will.” I stood and reached out to shake his hand.

  He came to my side of the table and gripped me in a bear hug. “Look after yourself, Grace. I’ll let you know if there’s any change.”

  It was another night of crying myself to sleep.

  “HE NEEDS TO SEE you, Mum. It’s been three months. That’s a lifetime in teenage boy years!” The hint of a laugh at the other end of the phone made me smile. “I’ll make sure he knows what to expect. He’s not a child anymore.” I let the pause linger.

  “Okay. I’ll send a VO form with both of you on.”

  “Thanks, Mum. I love you.”

  “I love you too. And Grace?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’ll always be children to me. See you next week.”

  I’d spoken to Josh’s school and explained why he needed to miss the afternoon. One of the so-called benefits of living in a small town is that everyone knows your business, so I hadn’t had to give them much background. As soon as I’d said my name, the receptionist knew me and her half of the conversation had mainly comprised of sympathetic cooing.

  On the way to the prison, I’d told Josh about the security arrangements and what it would be like in the visitors’ room, trying to remember the details that had got to me on my first visit. Chris had said he would take us, which saved us from Beth’s nosey chitter-chatter and he left us at the gate with a promise to be back at the end of the allotted ninety minutes.

  Putting my arm through Josh’s, I led him to the door. “If you change your mind, or want a break, just let me know. I only stayed for a little while the first time,” I confessed.

  “How? I don’t want her to think I want to leave her.” I understood what he meant.

  “What about a signal or a code word?”

  “You mean like a safe word?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Urgh! I don’t want to think you know anything about stuff like that. No, a code word. A word that is the code to go. Forget it. Just say you want some fresh air, okay? I’ll know what you mean.” He smiled, and I punched him lightly on the arm. “Seriously. Safe word?”

  Our smiles disappeared when the first security guard greeted us, and we went through the usual screening. I took Josh’s arm again as we walked into the visitation hall, and I felt more than heard his intake of breath when he saw Mum for the first time. She looked better than she had on any of my previous visits, but it was still a shock to him.

  But by the time we got to the table, nobody, especially Mum, would have known. Josh was charming company and filled the time with funny stories and easy banter. It wasn’t even like the old days; I couldn’t remember a time where we had been so much at ease together. The time passed quickly and our goodbyes were hurried. When I handed over my usual parting gifts, Mum leant in and whispered so only I could hear.

  “Thank you, Gracie.”

  I blinked away tears and led Josh out.

  “I’m so proud of you,” I told him as we waited for Chris to pull up.

  “Why? It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

  “That’s because you were there. She was so much happier than normal.” I hoped that seeing Josh and spending time together would help to motivate her over the next few weeks before the trial.

  “Well, what can I say? I’m a regular little sunbeam.”

  I mock-punched him on the arm again, the only way an older sister can keep a younger but taller brother in check without bursting into tears about how proud she is of him.

  “CAN YOU REMEMBER Iceland? I never said anything at the time, but those communal showers at the Blue Lagoon were etched in my memory for years. It was the first time I’d seen a naked woman in the flesh, so to speak. The fact that it was a woman in her fifties and grey all over wasn’t exactly how this twelve-year-old imagined it would be!” I flicked through the photo album, stopping at a picture of the two of us standing in front of a giant waterfall. “I can still hear the roar of that waterfall as we got soaked from standing too close to it. We’ve had some amazing holidays, haven’t we?” I looked at him, even though I knew better than to expect a response.

  Once the decision had been made, spending time with Dad had somehow become easier. We’d discussed enough news stories about euthanasia in the past for me to know that he wouldn’t view being kept alive by machines as living. The d
octors’ sense of relief was palpable when we set the date and Dad had been moved to a small room to give us both the privacy we would need over the coming days. There were two things left to do before I said goodbye: revisit each of our holidays and finish reading Great Expectations. Every day I took in a different photo album and talked through the memories we had created together. Vietnam. Italy. Peru. And, as Pip was comforting Magwitch in his final hours, so was I with Dad.

  “Knock, knock,” Bob said before coming in. “How are you, mate?” From our phone call the night before, Bob knew this was the last time he would see Dad. “Still flirting with the nurses?” I wondered if Dad could hear the telltale quiver in his voice.

  I stood so he could have the seat closest to Dad’s head. “I’m going to get a coffee. Do you want anything?” Well, other than the privacy I was keen to offer him.

  “No, I’m good. Take your time.” I clasped him on the shoulder and left him to say whatever he needed to say. Bob had been his friend longer than I had been alive. How did you distil that many years, that many words, into one goodbye?

  When I returned, Bob was still there, talking to Dad. I knocked and looked in to gauge if he was ready.

  “Come on in, kid. It looks like my time is up, Max. Remember what I said. No telling those angels any of your mucky stories, you hear me?” Taking Dad’s hand in his, he brought me to tears. “And remember what I promised? I’ll make sure he’s okay. Don’t you worry. ‘Night, mate.” After one long look at Dad, he caught my eye. “Got a minute?”

  I followed him out of the room, wondering what else he had to say.

  “Thank you, Noah. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Now, it’s not my place to tell you what to do, but I think you need to give Grace the same chance.” He held up a hand before I could interrupt. “I said the same thing to her too. You’re both being too bloody stubborn and you’ll end up regretting this. Call her.” He pulled me to him in a man-hug. “Let me know when he’s gone.” With a loud sniff, Bob walked away.