by J. R. Bonham
John and Vera met up with them nearly every year and then they would send Jan a few photos by email. Every year that went by Jan looked forward to receiving more pictures of her grandchildren so she could see how they were growing up so fast. She would print off the best ones and put them into frames and place them all around the house. She felt comfort in doing this and if anybody asked, she was proud to say they were her grandchildren. Only close friends knew the truth about how much she wished to meet them.
As Jan continued to make many friends and acquaintances in Clayfold, she noticed that a lot of them were becoming grandparents themselves. She would show interest at first, but when the photos started to emerge, she felt like she could scream. She understood that, of course, they were very proud grandparents but she just didn’t want it rammed down her throat.
Most of Jan’s friends knew her predicament with her estrangement from her family and were well aware of not talking too much about their own grandchildren. Jan was interested up to a point, but because she couldn’t compare or compete, she felt better not talking about them at all. Ostrich syndrome.
She felt a permanent emptiness in the pit of her stomach. She tried very hard not to show her disappointment for the sake of her happiness with Mike. For happy with him she was and she knew there was nothing she could do about it apart from keep on writing to her children hoping for a reconciliation.
The party for Jan’s 60th and their 10th wedding anniversary went off without a hitch and it was enjoyed by many of their friends. Several came from far away as well as newer local friends like Gerry and Vicky. They left for their long holiday, three weeks later. Australia, New Zealand, Sri Lanka and India.
They stayed at the same hotel in Sri Lanka where they married, but it had been partly destroyed by the 2004 tsunami. The duplex apartment that they had been upgraded to for their wedding night had been washed away. Only the tiled floor remained intact. They also heard that three people from the hotel had been killed at that time. Mike and Jan were so sad that the whole place was in such a sorry state. But at the same time, they were happy that some of the locals and staff there remembered them.
“I’m so glad we went back,” Jan said to Mike. “They have obviously had a hard time since the tsunami.”
“From what I hear, I’m not sure how long they are going to stay open. There have been so few guests staying I just don’t think they have the money to keep going. They need more people like us to support them and stay there.”
Whilst staying at the hotel they met an English couple from Suffolk. George and Eleanor were a little older than Mike and Jan but they found they had a lot in common. George was reminiscing about times he had spent there when he was a child with his parents. They had already done a tour of Sri Lanka and he was happy to show his wife, Eleanor, for the first time, places he frequented over sixty years ago.
They spent several days together and left as good friends, promising to meet up again in England.
Mike and Jan were away until the new year. Jan was really pleased not to have to spend Christmas at home – it was the worst time of year for her as she missed her children and she felt so much sadness. Being away helped her.
George and Eleanor invited Mike and Jan to stay with them soon after their first meeting. Mike and Jan reciprocated and it was to be a wonderful friendship for many years, even on some occasions spending Christmas together when both couples were in the country. Eleanor was well aware of how Jan had felt over Christmas time without her family and helped her through the bad times whenever she could. She was Jan’s salvation and became a mother figure.
Jan was feeling philosophical one day when talking with her friend, Vicky.
“Although I don’t have my family anymore, I have a great set of friends here. When I was in Devon, I had virtually no friends at all. One or two I played tennis with, but I found Devon people very insular and small-minded. I know I shouldn’t generalise; that’s just how I saw things but I know my problem was mostly with Geoff. I knew this place was special as soon as I set foot here. That’s all thanks to Gerry for introducing us to here and to you, of course!”
“Well, I’m glad he was useful for something!” Vicky laughed. “I’m surprised you fitted in so well here, so quickly. You do loads of things, you’re so lucky. With Gerry still working, we can’t take months off at a time to go travelling, like you do.”
“No, I suppose not. As soon as Mike retired we’ve had some fabulous holidays. I’m the luckiest girl alive! I really am.”
“You two are the perfect couple. I’m so envious! Even when Gerry does retire next year, I don’t think he’s interested in going away for long spells. I think he thinks that just being retired will be like a long holiday. He wasn’t able to take early retirement as Mike did, he was so lucky. Gerry will be 66 when he retires and I think he’s more than ready for it.”
“That’s one of the things that attracted me to Mike in the first place – his keenness to travel. My first husband, Geoff, just wasn’t that interested. It’s something I’ve hankered after since my sister went overland to Australia in the early seventies. I got married and started having kids far too soon. I was only 19 when I got married and I was so jealous of Clare being able to just go off on her travels. She came home and had her family much later, so she was able to have it all. At the time, I said to myself that with having my family young, it was perfect because I’d still be young when they were grown up. Well, I was young, but the thought of spending the rest of my life with my husband at the time filled me with awe and trepidation. Then, of course, I met Mike. At an ideal time, although there’s never an ideal time to leave your kids. Not that I left them, I left my husband. You don’t divorce your children! Mike’s changed my life completely. I have him to thank for everything. It’s been a really special time in my life. So, with the loss of my kids and grandkids, I’m afraid that’s the price I’ve had to pay. Am having to pay, still.”
“It’s their loss too, of their mother and grandmother. I’m sure when the grandkids get older, they will come looking for you.”
“That is if their parents haven’t poisoned their minds against me. I wouldn’t be surprised. But I still don’t know what I did to make them hate me so much. I feel so sad about it. One day they might come to their senses, but I’m afraid it might be too late. At my funeral probably, so I’ll know nothing about it.”
“Crikey, that’s getting a bit deep. Do you ever worry about being alone?”
“I’ve never been on my own! I went from my parents’ home to a bedsit with a friend to being married to Geoff. Then to Mike. I had one night on my own when I first came to Surrey. Mike waited to see that I would come to him, but he didn’t tell his wife until I was here. We both took huge gambles on each other, but I think I took the biggest gamble. I gave up everything. He gave up his wife and house but he still carried on living in Surrey and carried on with the same job. Mind you I was glad to leave Devon and I’m so happy to live in Surrey. It’s fantastic. The answer to your question is yes. I do worry about being alone. If anything happened to Mike and I was left on my own, I don’t know how I would cope. Best not to think about it. They say time flies when you’re having fun. ‘Tempus Fugit.’ Ain’t that the truth? The last eighteen years have gone by in the blink of an eye. I lived in Bristol for twenty-two years, then Devon for twenty-two years. Where do you think I should go in four years’ time? Scotland? No, I’m joking. I’m going nowhere. I love this place.”
“I’m so pleased for you. We’re just boring compared to you two.”
“No, you’re not!” Jan exclaimed. “Actually I’m quite envious of people who have stayed together and are happy as I think you two are. I’m envious because they have a history. My history is with Geoff. I knew him when I was only 13, married him when I was 19 and had my kids with him. So we were together for thirty odd years – 13 to 43, yes that’s thirty years! Heavens, that’s a lifetim
e in itself,” Jan said with feeling.
“Gerry and I have been together forty years nearly. Our ruby wedding anniversary is in a couple of years.”
“Congratulations! That’s fantastic. Geoff and I made twenty-five years – just. In fact, it was twenty-five years and three weeks, although the cracks were showing long before that! I remember sitting on the stairs of our old house when Louise was only about six or seven. I was crying. Steven must have been about three, too young to understand. Geoff had been nasty to me before he went off to work. My crying upset Louise but I don’t remember any more, just that Louise saw me crying and didn’t like it. She hugged me, which was sweet of her. Maybe the cracks were starting to appear around that time but I knew I was trapped. I couldn’t go back to my parents because they would say ‘I told you so’.”
“That’s so sad. That’s a long time to be stuck in a marriage that’s not working well.”
“Yes, it certainly is. Probably nearly twenty years too long!”
“Are you going off on another trip anytime soon?”
“Well, it’s funny you should ask! We were only talking about that the other day. Next year we’ll be away from the end of November until the new year. I prefer to be away for Christmas; I always feel so down at that time of year when I think of the kids and what I’m missing with them.” Jan proceeded to tell Vicky all their holiday plans.
“That sounds absolutely fabulous! You lucky things! I wish I could get Gerry enthused about doing something like that.
“You’ll have to find yourself a new husband! No! I’m joking, really.”
“So, do you have any other ambitions?” Vicky enquired.
“Only to have a long, happy and healthy life, what we’ve got left of it. It’s sad to know that we’ve lived over half our lives already. They say that in your 60s you are middle aged. I always thought we were racing towards old age. After all, none of us are going to live to 120 odd! I don’t mind being old as long as I have my health and I can keep on doing things – like playing tennis. But my back is playing up and I get so much pain when I play. If I have to give it up, so be it – as long as the rest of my health is good. I do try to keep healthy – it’s the most important thing. You can have millions in the bank but if you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.”
“How true is that!” Vicky agreed.
Chapter 52
The ‘big trip’ did, in fact, happen the following year. They enjoyed a two-week tour of Chile followed by a very interesting tour of Easter Island, learning about the famous statues called Moai. They spent Christmas in New Zealand with Ray and Daphne again as they had done in the past. They also spent a few days with Clare and Jamie between Christmas and New Year. It was probably the most time Jan had ever been with her sister since they were young. It was nice for her and Mike to get to know Jamie better too. Clare and Jan went off to play tennis while Mike and Jamie had long chats together for the first time ever.
While Clare and Jan played tennis, Jan noticed that Clare was coughing quite a lot. Jan herself was asthmatic and had a permanent cough, controlled with medication. Clare used to be a smoker when she was younger but had given up cigarettes many years before. She had developed a nasty rasping, dry cough, probably a few months before.
“You must get yourself to the doctor,” Jan suggested before they left. “I’ve heard that if you’ve had a cough for more than three weeks it needs to be checked out.”
Clare was worried then because she knew she had had her cough for a lot longer than she had let on to Jan. Jamie gave Clare a knowing look, like ‘I told you so!’
The time came for Jan and Mike to take their leave from Clare and Jamie.
“It’s been really great to see you both,” Jan hugged her sister. “Don’t forget to go and see the doctor about your cough.”
“I will,” Clare promised. “It’s such a shame you have to go but I’m so envious of where you’re spending New Year’s Eve! I’ve only seen the Sydney fireworks once but that was from the shore. You lucky things to see them from a boat.”
Mike and Jan boarded the plane for the short hop over to Australia. They stayed at a lovely central hotel near The Rocks area in Sydney. They had booked the boat trip with dinner in Sydney Harbour while watching the fireworks on New Year’s Eve, many months beforehand. It didn’t disappoint them.
Mike had arranged with Richard to meet up with them for a meal at their hotel just after New Year’s Eve, before their return. He travelled up from Melbourne where he had settled after he left New Zealand.
“How’s the new job going?” Mike asked Richard.
“Well, it’s only a stop-gap, it’s not a brilliant job,” Richard admitted without saying exactly what it was he was doing. “I’m actually writing some travel journals which is quite well-paid. It’s great because they pay me to go to different countries and then all I have to do is write about them. I love it, it’s my passion. Meanwhile I’ve also been writing a novel but it’s difficult to get published. I’m still trying though. It would be lovely to be a published author to get me on my way. Meanwhile the call centre pays the bills,” Richard finally told them what his stop-gap job was and which he actually hated.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Mike asked.
“I don’t really have much time for socialising at the moment but don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know!”
They promised to keep in contact via email.
Jan thought the whole trip was the most fabulous they had ever had – and culminating with watching the Sydney fireworks was such a fitting end. She felt so lucky.
Clare went to a local doctor who did a few tests where nothing sinister showed up. They came back to England the following April when she was able to have more tests done because her cough had become much worse. A few months later she was diagnosed with lung cancer.
“I’m sure if Clare and Jamie hadn’t gone to New Zealand for such a long time, she would have gone to a doctor here and been diagnosed a lot sooner,” Jan said to Mike one day. “I reckon she’s had that cough for nearly a year. It’s so sad, but the sooner she gets treatment the better. She says she’s been offered chemotherapy and will have the treatment very soon.”
“I agree with going to the doctor as soon as you notice anything different. I’m going for a ‘well man’ overhaul soon, including the old prostate test. It’s something we men have to put up with. A bit like when you ladies have to feel for lumps and bumps in your breasts.”
Mike went to the doctor and had a blood test. When it came back he was recalled back to the doctor immediately.
“I don’t like this at all. Your PSA has risen quite sharply. We’ll have to keep an eye on you,” the doctor told Mike.
He had many subsequent tests which eventually showed that he had prostate cancer. He told a good friend of his at his Probus Club who promptly said, “Oh yes, prostate cancer. My father died of that!” This upset Mike but he kept positive, hoping it had been caught early enough.
Clare was having chemotherapy in Bristol, while in Surrey Mike underwent a different type of treatment called brachytherapy. This entails tiny radioactive seeds being planted into the prostate gland, giving a high dose of radiation to the tumour over a short time. He was told that this would be the right treatment for him. Jan tried to keep positive for both of them.
Clare had chemo for several months which made her feel very queasy and she lost all of her hair. She bought a couple of wigs which made her feel better in herself as she hated the sight of her bald head. Jan visited her a few times and was shocked at how thin she was and how different she looked from the time they were together in New Zealand. Jan didn’t like to tell her that Mike’s treatment was so much easier and to all intents and purposes, his cancer was in remission with his treatment.
After the chemo Clare was offered radiotherapy – but she had a subsequent scan and it showed t
hat the tumour was still there. The doctors were trying out a new pill treatment whereby the tumour should shrink in time. Her hair grew back and she was feeling a lot better in herself. After another scan, it appeared that the tumour had shrunk slightly. But it was still there. She was offered more chemo but she turned it down. After so many months of treatment, she had had enough. She was too tired. She was ready to face the fact that she had terminal cancer together with the inevitable outcome.
“I don’t see the point in prolonging this any longer,” she told Jan on the phone one day. “Chemo will only give me a few more months. What’s the point of feeling so sick all the time for just a few more months?” She had resigned herself to her own mortality. There was nothing that Jan or anybody else could do to convince her otherwise.
Jan was so sad. The thought of losing her own sister at some stage was just the worst thing to bear. She tried to put it out of her head because the more she thought about it the worse she felt.
A few months later, Clare sent Jan an email out of the blue. The family were never ones for talking on the phone or emailing, unless there was something specific to say, not being particularly close. The email was all in capital letters which puzzled Jan. Clare explained that she couldn’t really type properly on the computer with both hands. She put it into the block-capital mode and then typed with one hand as best she could. She was beginning to find doing a lot of things more difficult. Things that would normally come naturally.
In the email, Clare asked Jan if there was anything she had done to upset her. Jan thought this was odd, although it had been some while since she had been in contact with her. She thought she must go and visit her sister, talk things through and put things right if there was anything to be put right. Jan wasn’t sure what, but at least they could talk – better than an email. There must be something bothering her. ‘Yes, obviously something bothering her, she has terminal lung cancer!’ It had been ages since she last saw her, so definitely a visit was overdue.