by J. R. Bonham
Jan made the journey to Bristol to see her sister the following week. ‘I must stay strong, if only for her. Try not to show how upset I am at the thought of losing my only sister. Try and be normal.’
Jamie opened the door and gave Jan a kiss and a big bear hug. The flowers that Jan had brought were almost squashed. Jamie took them off her.
“Lovely to see you. I’ll put these in a vase and bring them up to Clare. Coffee?”
“Yes, thank you very much.”
“Go on up, Clare’s in the sitting room, you know where it is. I’ll bring you both coffee. John and Vera are coming over for lunch later. You’ll stay, won’t you?” he asked Jan.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
Their townhouse seemed to be all stairs. ‘Not very easy for an invalid,’ Jan thought.
She knocked on the door to the sitting room – even though she knew it would be OK for family to just barge in, as usual. Somehow this time was different. She put her head around the door and was shocked to see her sister looking like a little old woman. It was just as if their mother was sitting there. Jan hadn’t seen Clare for several months but at least she was quite upbeat.
“Hi!” she said brightly, as soon as she saw it was Jan. She bent down to give Clare a kiss but she hoped she had hidden the shock of seeing her sister looking so emaciated.
“It’s been too long.” Jan kept away from asking Clare how she was feeling. ‘It would be futile to say “how are you?” when it’s so obvious. It’s tragic.’
“I know what you’re thinking! But before you say it, yes, I know I look thin – it takes cancer to look this good!” Clare was smiling as she spoke. “I didn’t need to diet; I’ve just completely lost my appetite anyway!” she explained as brightly as she could muster.
“Oh Clare, you’re so brave,” said Jan sadly. “Why have you got nail varnish only on your left hand?” This seemed a good way of changing the subject to something else.
“Guess!”
“I’ve no idea. Did you run out of varnish?” Jan suggested.
“Nope!”
“I give up.”
“You give up too easily. If I gave up that easily, I’d have died months ago.” This sounded too shocking to Jan. It was the worst thing imaginable to her, the thought that it was inevitable that she was going to lose her sister, sooner rather than later. Absolutely no doubt about it. But she’s too young, she’s only 69. How was Jan going to cope with the realisation? She must cope, for the sake of keeping sane. After all, her sister is coping with it in the only way she knew, with as much humour as possible. Something Jan agreed with, she would probably have done the same. She had the same sense of humour as her sister but she would keep it as light as possible under the circumstances.
Clare continued. “Come on. Why have I only got nail varnish on one hand, and my left hand at that?” she goaded Jan, but in a nice way.
“Someone did it for you and then they ran out of time and they’ll come back later to do the other one?” Jan tried again.
“Nope!”
“Oh, come on. This could go on for hours!”
“OK, I’ll tell you. Kara bought this lovely colour nail varnish for me yesterday. Isn’t she kind? I tried it on as soon as she left but realised my left hand was shaking too much and it would have made a mess if I’d tried to put it on my right-hand nails. So I did my left hand; my right-hand doesn’t shake so much as my left. Jamie just never noticed. Men don’t, do they?”
Chapter 53
“Men don’t what?” asked Jamie cheerfully as he came into the room with Jan’s flowers arranged in a vase. “Coffee’s on its way.”
Clare tried to think fast. “Oh, thank you, darling, you’re a treasure,” she said ignoring his first remark. “They’re fabulous. Please can you put them over here so I can see them.”
Jan noticed how many other vases of flowers there were dotted around and thought that maybe she should have brought something else.
“Men don’t what, darling?” he repeated and then waited for a reply. Clare had had time to think by then and was happy to reply.
“Men don’t half make a good job of looking after women!”
Jamie seemed happy with that and went out of the room with a smile on his face.
“Phew!” said Jan as she smiled with admiration for her sister’s quick-thinking.
“How’s Mike now?” asked Clare. “Is his prostate cancer under control now?”
“Yes, thanks. He’s had the treatment. Brachytherapy,” Jan replied
“Brachy… what?”
“Brachytherapy. It’s little radioactive seeds planted into the prostate gland and it kills off the cancer cells. He’s lucky because it was caught in time. He’s very good because he always has a check-up every year and they do a PSA test which checks the prostate for abnormalities. When he was first diagnosed, a friend of his said to him, “‘Oh yes, prostate cancer, my father died of that!’”
“Oh, how tactless!” Clare exclaimed.
“It’s been a year since his treatment and he has to have check-ups every six months. The last one confirmed that his cancer is in remission. Apparently, it can spread to the bones but because it was caught early enough, he’s OK.”
“Lucky him. I wish I had gone to the doctor sooner. It may have been because we were in New Zealand when I first had that awful cough. D’you remember?”
“Yes, of course I do. You were comparing your cough with mine. I know mine is something called bronchiectasis. It’s one up from asthma,” said Jan.
“Oh, yes, I remember you told me that before. Will it get any better?”
“Not really. I shall always have a cough, but it’s controlled with my inhaler. And I take low dose antibiotics to keep my lungs clean, save having too many chest infections to which I was always prone. It’s just a nuisance when I have to cough, especially when I’m playing Bridge and it’s quiet. It seems to catch me out and I can’t help it. My friends know me by my cough! No, I mean they know and understand, hopefully.”
With that, Jamie arrived with the coffee and some biscuits. As he poured he explained to Jan that his brother, Ian, had come over from New Zealand, where he lived, to help him with looking after Clare. He reckoned it would save her having to go into a hospice which he knew she would hate.
“Ian’s coming back from the swimming pool in a minute and then we’re going to make the lunch. John just rang to say they would be here in about an hour, so that will give you two time to have a good catch-up. OK?” He left them then without even waiting for an answer.
“He’s such a sweetie, isn’t he? So kind.” Clare mused.
“Yes, he is. I’ve never met Ian, is he kind too?”
“Oh, yes. They’re so close you would think they were twins. They were the nearest in age and their younger brother is really nice too,” Clare imparted to Jan.
“It’s so good to see you,” Jan said, meaningfully. “It’s a pain living so far away but even if I was still in Devon, that’s a long way away too. I still wish I never left Bristol, all that time ago. Geoff rather forced my hand and I was too weak to say no to him. I was young and stupid, but I know better now!”
Jan reached up for the nail varnish bottle from the shelf where she spotted it. She shook it up and proceeded to take Clare’s right hand and paint her nails to match her left hand.
“This is so much easier than doing your own nails. I’ve never painted anyone else’s nails but my own.” Jan felt that at last she could do something useful for her sister. It might be the last thing she would ever do for her.
“You’ve got really nice nails with a lovely shape,” Clare said as she noticed her sister’s nails. “And we’ve both got our strong nails from Mum. Must be something in the genes I reckon.”
“Yes, I think so. It’s funny you should say that about my nails. Geoff’s mother on
ce told me I had horrible nails. She actually said that to me! She was a nasty piece of work. Someone I used to know, who knew her, once asked her if she had eaten too many acid drops!” Jan couldn’t help having a little giggle as she remembered that and Clare laughed too.
“Horrible nails? But they’re beautiful!” Clare exclaimed.
“Thank you. I thought so too until she said that. Actually, I told Sheila at work at the time because I was quite upset about it. Fancy saying something like that, although that was typical of her. Sheila told me to ignore it because she thought they were fine. Lovely in fact, she told me, and that she had always quite envied them. Not only that, Betty once told me I had a sunken chest! Like a treasure chest sunk under the sea, I suppose! I think she might have been jealous of me. Hoping I would leave Geoff all to herself, I suppose.”
“A sunken chest? What was that all about? It’s perfect as far as I can see. You always had the biggest boobs, maybe she was jealous of them too!”
They both dissolved into gales of laughter at the thought of that. Betty was always a very petite woman. She had small hands and small everything, so the thought of Jan’s boobs on her was very amusing to the two of them. It took several minutes for the laughter to die down.
“Do you see Anita at all these days?” Jan enquired as she was finishing off with the last strokes of the varnish brush.
Anita was a girl at Clare’s school that she was friendly with, but not a best friend. They became more friendly at college. Jan met her at hospital when they both had their babies at the same time, just after Clare had gone off on her travels. Anita was a few years older than Jan, being of similar age to Clare.
Anita had her baby boy a week before Jan produced Louise. Anita’s son, Robin, was born with the condition called hæmophilia. They met up every week to exchange notes about their babies and for some friendship and camaraderie. Anita was glad of some company in Jan and they lived quite close to each other. Jan had never heard of this condition but soon learnt of all its complications. Anita had to be very careful that Robin didn’t have a fall or hurt himself.
Anita learnt that she was a carrier of hæmophilia. As this was a complaint only for males, when she became pregnant again she had to have a scan. She learnt she was expecting twin girls so it was decided that a termination was not necessary.
Unfortunately, Robin contracted the Aids virus via the Factor 8 blood-clotting protein transfer in the mid-1980s when he was only 15. He subsequently died from complications, at the age of 21.
When Jan left Bristol she didn’t see Anita again, although they occasionally wrote letters and cards to each other so Jan kept up to date with developments but eventually they lost touch.
“I speak to her on the phone occasionally,” Clare told Jan. “Did you know she remarried? An American, and they lived in the USA for some years until that marriage failed.”
“No, I didn’t know all that. I lost contact with her years ago. I knew she got divorced from her first husband. That was even before Robin died. That was so tragic wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was. Whatever happened to your old school friends? Are you still in touch with any of them?” Clare asked.
“Well, yes I was, but only with one of them now. D’you remember Marian?” Clare nodded so Jan continued. “She went to Thailand, married a Thai chap, Kai. She had a wobble in her mid-30s, thought she was going to leave him but realised she would have lost everything as it’s very much a man’s world there. She would have had to walk away without her children – and they are everything to her.”
“Yes, I suppose they are. Whatever happened to your other friend, Paula.”
“Well, it’s interesting you ask about her. Because we lived so far away I hardly ever saw her but we spoke on the phone and wrote letters for years and years after I left Bristol. Then when I met Mike it was the time that she was going through a bad patch with her husband, Stuart. They eventually split and divorced and she was very bitter about it all. Then she couldn’t hack the fact that I was so happy with Mike. She didn’t like to hear about what a good time I was having, even after all the years I put up with Geoff! She just cut off all connections with me, didn’t want to know. Even changed her email address!”
“A bit like sour grapes then?”
“I suppose so, yes. It’s such a shame because I’ve lost her friendship, one of my oldest friends. Marian is so far away in Thailand, I don’t hear from her much although we email with news occasionally. It’s not the same as having her close though.”
“Do you still not hear anything from your kids?” Clare asked.
“No, ’fraid not. It’ll be twenty years this year since I left! They are always going to make me suffer for leaving. Well, I didn’t exactly leave them, I left their dad. They have never forgiven me for that. I can’t understand it, but never mind about me.”
“No, I want to talk about you because otherwise it’s all about me – and you can see the state I’m in! So, have you still not met your grandchildren?” Jan shook her head sadly. “I can’t believe how cruel they’re being in not letting you even meet them. I’ve met them several times and I have to say that they’re great kids, a real credit to Louise and Steven.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Jan demurred.
“But I don’t know why your two are being so curmudgeonly in not letting you even meet your own grandchildren. That’s mad.”
“Curmudgeonly! That’s a good word! But it’s quite apt and certainly correct. No, they had always said that I wouldn’t meet my grandchildren, and that was before any of them were even born! Before either Louise or Steven were even married. It was at the time that I had left and then made the mistake of going back because Geoff was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I had to go back to sort things out. Call it ‘duty’ if you like. I didn’t want to go back but felt the kids needed me. They couldn’t cope with their dad. He was doing all sorts of weird things. I felt so guilty at the time. It wasn’t what I wanted, of course, because I wanted to be with Mike. All my friends thought I was daft. They told me, ‘life isn’t a dress rehearsal’. They said I must follow my heart and do what’s right for me. Louise and Steven are all grown up and will leave home soon anyway. Then they would get married and live their own lives. They wouldn’t give a damn about me then, anyway. And Geoff found someone else within six months of me going, so he got over me leaving pretty soon afterwards. I think his mum had a lot of influence over my two. You wouldn’t think one person could have so much influence, would you?”
“No. That’s incredible! I know I knew all that, but I didn’t really understand why the kids decided to say, even before their own kids were born, that you wouldn’t meet them.”
“No, I know. I never understood it myself. At the time I left, the second and final time, I mean, when they knew I definitely wouldn’t be coming back to them, apart from them saying I wouldn’t ever meet my grandchildren, Steven said I would die a lonely old woman. And Louise once asked me, when I rang her a while ago, ‘has he left you yet’, then she laughed at me when she thought he had, but was cross when I said no.”
“That’s awful, poor you.”
“Louise has always been very intolerant and stubborn. Once she gets something into her head, it’s very difficult to budge. Her oldest, Jake, will be 17 next year. I’m going to write to him to let him know, at least, of my existence and interest. I can’t really wait until he’s 18, in other words an adult, because he might have left home. At least I know where he is now, still at home studying for his ‘A’ levels. I’ve been putting some money aside for him every year on his birthday, since he was born. When I write to him I shall tell him that. Then it might be a good way of actually getting to meet him.”
“Oh, how clever,” Clare enthused.
“Someone I know, a friend of Mike’s, told me that he had done that for his estranged grandchildren. I thought it was a brilliant idea, so I d
ecided to do it myself.”
“Yes it is and I hope he appreciates it. I don’t know if my two are ever going to give me grandchildren before I go. I wish they would, but you can’t rush these things. Did you know that Danny and Tania are expecting?” Clare asked. John and Vera’s son, Danny, had married Tania two years before, just before he reached 40. Tania was a year younger.
“No! Oh, at last. It was such a shame when she miscarried the first time. Of course, they are quite old as first-time parents. Let’s hope all goes well.” Jan was pleased for her nephew and his wife.
“I’m surprised that you didn’t know. She’s nearly eight months gone already!”
“No one tells me anything! It’s like I don’t exist sometimes. It’s because I live so far away; I’ve become persona non grata!” Jan said sadly. She had had this feeling for a long time.
“Well, sorry about that. Although it wasn’t my place to tell you, at least you know now. They know it’s going to be a boy, but they are keeping his name a secret. I’ve asked them to tell me, but they’re not sure if they should let me know. I told them I wouldn’t tell anyone else.” Clare didn’t exactly say she would take it with her to the grave, but Jan got the gist of what she meant.
“D’you remember when we used to share a bedroom?” Clare asked, and Jan nodded. “I couldn’t wait for you to be old enough to have your own bedroom. After all, we had enough to choose from. I don’t know why they put us in together in the first place! D’you remember when you were little and you couldn’t say your R’s?”
“Do I? How could I ever forget? It’s etched on my brain forever! You were so cruel to me, you and John,” said Jan as she remembered when she was a young girl.
“That was his idea to tease you, not mine. He thrived on it. I didn’t really want to go along with it. But he was a bit of bully and made me,” Clare stated.
Jan thought back to the time when she was about three years old. She pronounced every word that had an R in it as W. ‘Tomowwow’ and ‘twy’ and ‘thwow the wacket’. John and Clare would suggest to Jan that she said ‘ree-ree,’ which of course turned out to be ‘wee-wee’ and then they would both roar with laughter which upset Jan.