Can't Get You Out of My Head

by Sue Shepherd

  Don tried to respond, but the words choked him.

  Pat continued, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, we were busy and your message …’

  ‘It’s OK. I was all right. Except … her breathing was … Oh, Pat, she kept stopping and I kept thinking …’

  Rubbing his back gently, Pat said. ‘It’s Cheyne-Stokes breathing. It’s quite common.’

  ‘And then …’ Don was struggling to speak. ‘It was the end. She did one out breath and I just knew. Pat, I just knew …’

  Pat’s arms encircled her husband and she held him tight.

  Beth could hardly believe what she was hearing. The only person she’d previously lost had been Mandy, and she had been abstract. Mandy had been a mere concept, a collection of hopes and plans. This was so much worse. Nanna had meant infinitely more. Beth looked at the person in the bed, barely dead half an hour, she was already different. Every last bit of vitality was gone. ‘Can I … kiss her?’

  ‘Of course. She’d like that,’ Don replied.

  Beth approached the bed. Bending over Nanna, she whispered, ‘I love you,’ and kissed her cool forehead.

  She heard Lisa say, ‘I love you too, Nanna.’

  A thought struck her. The last thing Nanna ever said to us was that she loved us. This gave her comfort.

  Turning to her mum and dad, she saw her own misery matched in their faces. They reached out their arms for her and she ran to them, accepting their embrace. The family held on to each other for comfort. A nurse appeared and, offering her condolences, headed off to begin the required process. Beth had never known such sadness.

  Fifty-nine

  One thing Nanna’s death did was to bring Michelle back into Beth’s life. James called her to let her know the news, and she, rather bravely, took the decision to visit. She could’ve opted for a telephone call or a sympathy card. Anything that didn’t involve the possibility of a face to face rejection. But that wasn’t her style. She left her two children with Ricky, and simply pitched up on the doorstep, arriving in the vacant space between Nanna’s death and her funeral.

  James opened the front door, and Beth heard him say, ‘Oh … right. I thought you’d most likely call first.’

  Then came the voice she knew well. ‘I think it’s better this way. I need to see her.’

  Just a second before, Beth had been sitting on the sofa, drinking tea and thinking about hymns. Suddenly, without warning, there was Michelle. Beth wasn’t sure what to make of her visit.

  She rose from the sofa and walked slowly to the front door. Since Nanna’s death, she’d discovered there was something about grief that makes a person ache from head to toe. She often wondered if James had experienced it when he’d lost Shirley, but aware she’d been of little support at the time, she never dared ask.

  James told Michelle, ‘I’ll have to check if she wants to see you.’

  Beth heard Michelle’s response, ‘Of course she will. She’s my best friend.’ Spotting her, Michelle turned her attention away from him. ‘Beth, I’m sorry to hear your news.’

  Beth had to choose her response. She had to decide whether to tell her one-time best friend to go to hell, and continue with her bitter feud, or to invite her in, which would mean she’d forgiven her. A split second to make up her mind. She was still angry that Michelle had kept James’s gambling from her. However, she’d just learnt a valuable lesson. Once someone dies, there is simply no getting them back, no amount of wishing will return them to you. Of course, there was nothing to say that Michelle was going to die any time soon, but nevertheless, she realised in that instant, if she continued to be mad at her, their friendship would become irreparable. How could she carry on living with James after his far more bitter betrayal, and yet banish poor Michelle from her life?

  ‘You’d better come in.’ As Beth said this, she spotted something else – Michelle was pregnant, again!

  Michelle saw the realisation dawn, and flinched.

  Beth appreciated that Michelle had taken a huge risk in coming to see her, she must have known her rounded belly was not something her friend needed to see.

  Michelle stepped inside the house. As they walked into the lounge, Beth saw her take in the television, she must be remembering the day those men had barged in and unceremoniously taken the old one. The last time they’d laid eyes on each other.

  Next, her gaze swept over the mantelpiece and she remarked, ‘You have lots of cards. Everyone cares about you.’

  ‘Yes, people have been very thoughtful.’

  They headed for the kitchen and Beth began making tea. She watched as Michelle’s eyes settled on the kettle and toaster.

  Once they were sitting in the lounge with two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits in front of them, James silently excused himself and headed upstairs.

  Looking towards Michelle’s bump, Beth asked, ‘When’s it due?’

  Michelle’s hand moved to her belly. ‘Fourteen weeks to go.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You and Ricky really are … incredibly fertile, aren’t you?’

  ‘It would seem so, yes. Did James tell you? We had a daughter, Ava. She’s ten months old.’

  ‘No, he didn’t. Well, to be fair, he did try to tell me, but … I wouldn’t let him. So, this withdrawing idea is working a treat!’

  ‘This will absolutely be our last one. We plan to be much more careful in future. I think it’ll be the snip for Ricky.’

  Beth found it absurd that whilst she would give anything to be pregnant, others were having to be ‘careful’ to avoid it happening.

  Michelle continued, ‘I was upset to hear your IVF didn’t work out. Sorry.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Beth knew she should tell Michelle about the £4000, about the fact that James had stolen away her second chance at IVF. But it was just too much. Losing Nanna was the worst thing that’d ever happened to her, and there was no room left in her heart or her head for what James had done. Besides which, Michelle would join Lisa in expecting her to leave him. And she simply wasn’t strong enough to do that right now.

  Michelle interrupted her thoughts. ‘I know how hard it is for you to see me like this. But I had to come. I couldn’t just ‒’

  Stopping her mid-sentence, Beth said, ‘It’s OK. You don’t have to make excuses. I’m glad you came.’ It was true. As much as it hurt to see her friend pregnant, she felt, in the words of Nanna, that she had bigger fish to fry.

  ‘You’re glad?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve … I’ve missed you.’

  Michelle’s voice croaked, ‘I’ve missed you too.’

  On impulse they stood and rushed towards each other. Meeting in the middle. As they hugged, Beth was acutely aware of Michelle’s beautiful round bump pressing against her own flat middle.

  Once they sat back down, Michelle delved into her handbag and produced a tiny velvet bag. ‘I didn’t know what to get you. I thought maybe flowers or a card … but in the end, I decided to make you something.’ She handed Beth the velvet bag.

  ‘Thanks.’ Beth reached inside, and her fingers closed on some threads. Lifting them out, she revealed a homemade friendship bracelet. It was three different colours, emerald, turquoise and white.

  Michelle said, ‘You would not believe how hard that was to make. I’d almost forgot what to do.’

  Beth shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen one of these for years.’

  ‘I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me.’

  Too emotional to reply, Beth simply nodded.

  ‘I should’ve told you about James. I should’ve told you right back in Bondi. The first day, when he came rushing into our room, spouting off about how he couldn’t stay at the racecourse. I allowed myself to be persuaded by him that it was best if I didn’t tell you. I don’t even know why I agreed. He was just so convincing, he was …’

  ‘Charming?’

  ‘Yes. I realise that now. He played me. He had me down as an absolute fool
. He manipulated me, and I nearly lost my best friend. Can you forgive me?’

  Beth nodded again. Still struggling to find her voice.

  ‘And it’s awful about your nanna. I know how much you all love her.’

  ‘At least you haven’t called the whole thing tragic!’

  ‘I would never belittle it. It’s so much worse than that.’

  After an hour or so, Michelle made a move to leave. ‘I’d better get back to Solomon and Ava. Ricky’s a great dad, but …’

  ‘Yes. Of course. Thank you for coming.’

  ‘Thank you for the second chance.’

  ‘I’m sorry it took me this long to offer it.’

  ‘I think we both know the blame doesn’t lie with you.’

  ‘I’d like to come and see Solomon, he must be big now.’

  ‘Of course. And you need to meet Ava.’

  ‘Yes.’ Beth’s voice wobbled. Seeing the children was going to be difficult, she knew that, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. For now, she had her best friend back and that was amazing.

  They stood at the front door for another hug.

  ‘Will you let me know when the funeral is? I’d like to come.’

  ‘Mum and Dad would appreciate you being there.’

  ‘Do you plan to get in touch with Charlie? I’ll bet he’d like to pay his respects.’

  Beth shook her head. ‘Oh no, no, no, I don’t think he’d like it.’

  ‘No one “likes” a funeral, silly. I just think he’d want to know that she died. You know where he lives, right? If not, I can get you his address. He bought a flat when he came back from Singapore. It’s ‒’

  ‘Thanks. I know where he lives. I think the funeral will be small, though. Just what’s left of her old friends, and immediate family, that kind of thing. Which means you too, of course.’

  ‘Right. OK. Well, I’d better be off.’

  ‘Thank you for coming. For taking the chance, I mean. It was brave.’

  ‘I had to come.’ Michelle placed her hands on either side of Beth’s face. Taking a good hard look at her friend, she moved her thumb slightly. Gently touching one of the scars on her chin, she whispered, ‘You’re such a numpty! But I do love you.’

  Sixty

  The first festive period without Nanna was never going to be easy. But both Don and Pat seemed determined to give it a go. As well as the obligatory Christmas Day arrangement, Pat had invited Beth and James over for a New Year’s Eve celebration. Beth had grudgingly accepted their invitation.

  ‘Why did you say yes, if you’re dreading it?’ James asked.

  ‘They want to try to move on. It’s not my place to tell my dad he should still be grieving instead of seeing the New Year in.’

  ‘They do have a point, though. I mean, you need to move on. It’s tough, but … well, I had to do it after my mum died.’

  What could she say? In her head she was sure there was no comparison between the loss of Shirley and the fact that she would never see Nanna again. But she knew she couldn’t voice that opinion.

  ‘If your mum and dad feel ready to celebrate, I think we should join them.’

  Beth took a deep breath. ‘James, I just told you I’ve accepted their invitation, didn’t I? I can’t help it if I’m not looking forward to it. I’ve only ever spent one New Year’s without Nanna, and that was when we were in Bondi.’ She automatically peered at the photograph on the mantelpiece, her and James sucking on lemons.

  ‘It might be OK. Sometimes you just have to face these things.’

  Again, Beth secretly wondered to herself if James had ever experienced this awful raw pain? If he did, he hid it well. He rarely spoke of his mum. ‘I think it’s just worse somehow, because … well, you know how she adored New Year’s.’

  ‘Because of your Grandpa?’

  ‘Yes. He loved Hogmanay and, from what I can gather, his enthusiasm was infectious. Nanna looked forward to it every year. And Christmas and New Year are everywhere at the moment. On the TV, the radio. She would be so excited.’

  As it turned out, James and Beth were too ill to go to Pat and Don’s anyway. Three days before Christmas, they both began to ache. One minute Beth was cold and shivery, the next she was stripping off layers and sweating buckets. She was sent home from work. James was just as bad. By Christmas Eve they both had hacking coughs. Whatever the virus was, it swiftly took them down. Beth couldn’t remember ever being so ill, except, perhaps, when she’d had her ear infection. They took to their bed and there they stayed.

  She called Pat and explained. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. We’re not going to see anything of Christmas and I have my doubts about New Year’s Eve.’ Her teeth chattered throughout the conversation.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Loads of people are suffering. We’ve had an onslaught of elderly people in the hospital. This bug is a bad one.’

  ‘Are you and Dad OK?’

  ‘We seem to be. Goodness knows how I’ve managed to avoid catching it.’

  ‘It’ll just be you two for Christmas dinner.’

  ‘We’ll be OK. I didn’t expect it to be a laugh a minute.’

  ‘I feel awful, Mum. It’s like I’ve been hit by a truck.’ Every few words, Beth’s breath was stolen by a hacking cough.

  ‘You do sound bad. Can I bring you anything?’

  Beth assured her mum there was nothing. The last thing she wanted was to pass this horrible virus on to anyone else. She promised they’d keep their fluids up and take paracetamol as often as was sensible.

  On Christmas Day they opened a large bar of Toblerone that Beth had bought as one of James’s stocking presents. Placing triangles of chocolate into their mouths, they allowed them to slowly melt, it hurt to swallow.

  Everyone knows the week between Christmas and New Year is odd enough at the best of times, but Beth found that, as they spent the days in bed, not eating and feeling incredibly rough, she totally lost track of time. They dozed their way through the week. Waking each other frequently with their collective snores, sneezes and coughs. The house lay dormant, gathering dust. Each day they took it in turns to stagger down to the kitchen and make tea or Lemsip. Every drink was accompanied by another chunk of life-sustaining Toblerone.

  Before they knew it, New Year’s Eve was upon them. They’d agreed that at the very least they ought to get out of bed and watch TV. Beth thought it would be nice to see the fireworks at midnight. She figured Nanna’s favourite, Jools Holland, could ease them into the next year. But they were still too unwell.

  At about 10 p.m. she asked James if he wanted to head downstairs to watch some TV, and maybe have a drink.

  He blew his nose and examined the contents of the tissue. Then, in a voice which was nothing like his own, he stuttered, ‘I donn thing I can make it, love.’

  She needed no persuasion to stay in bed. In an equally nasal tone, she replied, ‘OK, les stuy here.’

  They were both asleep in minutes.

  Beth awoke with a start to hear Lisa calling her name. A quick check of the bedside clock told her it was eleven fifty-nine. She lay in the dark, waiting. The illuminated second hand crept round.

  Lisa whispered, ‘How excited would Nanna be?’

  ‘Do you think she knows? That it’s the night she always waited for.’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope so, but …’

  ‘Do you think she’s with Mandy?’ Beth wanted that to be true.

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’ Even though Lisa was, to all intents and purposes, dead, she seemed to have very few answers.

  The second hand passed the twelve. It was midnight. The dawning of a new year. Beth could hear fireworks going off around the neighbourhood, and people rushing outside to celebrate. ‘Happy New Year’, ‘Happy New Year’ the words echoed around the estate. She was reminded of her best New Year’s, back in Bondi. The boats tooting, all her friends together, snogging the face off the handsome, young James. Simpler times. If I knew then what I know now!

  Her heart
ached for Nanna. The weight of grief crushed her.

  James didn’t wake up. He lay next to her, snoring, his bunged-up nose restricting his airflow.

  Nanna’s dead, and we still have no children.

  Beth called out to Lisa in despair, ‘I’ve never felt this desperate. I don’t think I can bear it.’

  Lisa was rarely sentimental, but somehow she managed to think of something nice to say. ‘We’ll bear it together.’

  Sixty-one

  It was quiet in the Garden of Roses. Although Pat and Don had offered for Beth to visit at the same time as them, she’d chosen instead to come alone. Only Lisa accompanied her.

  ‘It’s nice and peaceful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Very calm,’ Lisa agreed.

  ‘I think Nanna would be pleased she’s here.’

  ‘Hmm … maybe.’

  ‘Why only “maybe”?’

  ‘I think she would prefer to have been scattered somewhere a little more … lively.’

  Beth laughed. ‘I take your point. She was a busy bee.’

  ‘She lived her life to the full. That’s for sure.’

  ‘But still, I think she’d be happy here. This is where Malcolm was scattered too. Right over there.’ Beth pointed to a large yellow rose bush. ‘Before we were even born. She used to come here a lot when she was younger.’

  ‘Do you think they’re together again?’ Lisa wondered.

  ‘I don’t know. This whole heaven, and life after death thing is tricky.’

  ‘I think we have a slightly more skewed take on it than most.’

  Beth agreed. ‘We certainly have. But even we can’t explain our own situation.’

  ‘And … what about Hamish? What do you think happened to him?’ Lisa obviously had a vested interest in the demise of Malcolm’s vanishing twin.

  Beth shrugged. ‘I don’t have a clue. Sorry.’ She reached into her bag and took out a photo of Nanna. It was taken many years before.

  ‘I love that photo of her.’ Lisa sounded emotional.

  ‘Yes, she looks very young.’

  ‘And happy. That red dress suits her.’