by Sandy Taylor
She didn’t answer. Her eyelids flickered every now and then, but she didn’t move. We had to stop at the traffic lights to wait to cross and I leaned down to straighten the blanket, and I noticed, although she was sleeping, that there was the faintest smile on her lips.
Chapter Forty
I didn’t go to the hospital on Friday. Mary’s Aunty and Uncle from Worthing were coming over for the day and Mrs Pickles was worried there would be too many people in the room. And when I turned up on Saturday morning, I wasn’t allowed to see Mary. A nurse I didn’t know was on the desk and she wouldn’t tell me what was going on.
‘Is she dying?’ I cried out and the nurse held her finger to her lips and said: ‘Shhh! You’ll upset everyone!’ and ushered me out of the ward as quickly as she could.
I saw Ralph before he saw me. He was standing in the shade of the big horse chestnut tree, rocking the pram. He was wearing his black jacket, and his hair was longer than it had been, curling over the collar. Most of his face was in shade, but the sunlight was bright on his neck, his ear, his shoulder. He was holding the pram handle with one hand, pushing it forwards and backwards, but he wasn’t looking at Peggy. He was staring at the ground, completely lost in thought.
I sat down on the bench. Eventually he noticed me. We smiled at each other and then he sat down beside me. The leaves were turning from green to brown and the grass beneath the tree was spotted with fallen conkers, the glossy brown nuts spilling from their green cases. He reached across and rested his hand on mine. We stayed like that until it was time to go back to Mary.
I walked through those days. I functioned, but I wasn’t really existing, I was in limbo. I was exhausted but it was hard to sleep. I lay on my bed in the dark, and thoughts of Mary filled my mind. When I did doze off, my sleep was shallow, interrupted by dreams of Mary. I dreamed she was running along the beach, weaving in and out of holidaymakers, waving and laughing. I’d run after her, but I could never quite reach her, and by the time I reached the pier, she had disappeared. There were other dreams, where I could hear her voice across a room, but I couldn’t get to her, because people kept getting in my way. I woke feeling hot and panicky.
I was worried that Mary would die while I was sleeping, on her own. And while the good, grown-up part of me wanted to be there with her when it was time, the frightened, child part of me was terrified of how it would be. I had never seen anyone die. I did not know what to expect. I didn’t really want to be there.
Mary’s little room in the hospital was now the only place I felt at peace. I felt safe there, and contained. My world had become focused on that room, That bed, Mary’s breathing. I felt solid there, stable. I liked the smells and the regimentation of the daily routines. I knew that there, Mary and I were surrounded by people who were used to death and dying. They knew what to do. It did not frighten them and their kindness calmed me. I knew they would look after me as they looked after Mary. The hospital was the place where I belonged as much as Mary.
One evening I was a bit early, and Mary’s family were with her, so I went down to the beach and sat on the pebbles. The sun was sliding towards the sea and the sky was giving its daily light show, changing colour, being glorious. I watched the starlings flocking in their thousands over the Palace Pier, and listened to the city preparing for the evening’s fun and entertainment.
After a while I heard footsteps crunching the gravel behind me and I looked up and it was Mary’s older brother, Wayne.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘Hi.’
Wayne sat down beside me. His legs were very long and skinny in his jeans. He took a packet of Embassy out of the pocket of his leather jacket, tapped out a cigarette, put it in his mouth and lit it.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
‘Fine,’ he said.
‘How’s Mary?’
‘Same.’
I sighed.
‘Doesn’t it seem wrong to you that everything outside the hospital is still carrying on as normal when everything inside is so…’ Wayne said. It was one of the longest speeches I’d ever heard him make.
‘I know what you mean,’ I said.
I could not quite understand how the lights were still reflected in the sea, how the moon still rose in the sky, how people were still going to pubs and amusement arcades and chip shops as normal when nothing could ever be normal again.
‘Is your mum still in with Mary?’ I asked.
He nodded. He offered me the cigarette but I shook my head. He took a deep drag and leaned back his head and blew out the smoke, his hair falling back down his shoulders. The smoke hung in a little cloud above us.
* * *
The children went back to school after the long summer holidays, and the weather turned cooler.
I went to the hospital after work, and arrived just as the tea trolley was going round. It was one of the best times to be in the ward. Patients and nurses were relaxed, and talking to each other. I walked through the ward, and into Mary’s room.
For the first time in days, Mary was propped up against the pillows.
‘What do you think of this, then?’ said Mary’s mum. She looked as pleased and proud as if Mary had just won an Oscar.
‘I can’t believe it!’ I said. I walked over to the bed and leaned down and kissed Mary’s forehead. ‘Hello, you,’ I said.
‘Hello, Dottie,’ she whispered. Her voice was so faint I could hardly hear her.
Mary’s mum stood up. ‘I’ll be off then,’ she said. ‘Ralph’s bringing Peggy up later. See you in the morning, love.’
Mary nodded.
I perched on the bed beside Mary. I could hear a faint, rattly noise coming from her chest when she breathed out. I did not like the sound of that noise. It was only tiny, but it seemed ominous. It was like the change you can feel in the air when a storm is on the way.
I smoothed Mary’s cheek with the back of my hand, very gently.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.
‘Like I want to say something to you.’
She swallowed and rested for a moment. I thought perhaps she might fall asleep, but she opened her eyes again, and her chest rose and I heard the rattle as she exhaled and I wanted to tell her to stop breathing like that. I didn’t want the sound of that noise in my mind.
‘I want you to promise me something,’ she whispered.
‘What?’
‘Promise first.’
‘But what if it’s a promise I can’t keep?’
‘Promise,’ said Mary.
‘Okay, I promise, what is it?’
‘I want you to move away from Brighton, away from the estate. You can do better than Woolworths. I want you to visit the places that I will never see. I want you to lie on golden sands under palm trees. I want you to swim in water that’s as warm as a bath. I want you to be my eyes, Dottie.’
‘Don’t worry about all that,’ I said, reaching for her hand.
She pushed my hand gently away and opened her eyes. ‘I haven’t finished,’ she said. She took a deep breath. ‘And one day, I want you to stand at the top of the Eiffel Tower with the boy you love.’
I didn’t know what to say.
‘Dottie?’
‘Yes?’
‘If that boy is Ralph then it’s okay with me.’
‘Please, Mary…’
‘I want you to know that it’s okay with me… I mean I don’t mind if you want to be together… you know... after.’
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ I said.
‘Oh Dottie!’ she said, ‘We both know that’s not true. I can see it on everyone’s faces. I hear the doctors when they think I’m asleep.’
Tears were running down my face now. I knew I shouldn’t be crying. Mary’s mum said that it would frighten Mary if she saw us in tears, but I couldn’t help it.
‘I don’t want to be with Ralph,’ I said. ‘The only thing in the world I want is for you to be back to how you were and for everything to be normal again, like it u
sed to be.’
Mary blinked slowly.
‘Maybe you don't want to think about that now but you might later on and I just wanted you to know that it’s okay with me… I won’t mind. You are the girl that Ralph loves, not me.’
‘You mustn’t give up, Mary. It sounds as if you’re giving up.’
‘Not giving up, Dottie, just accepting it.’
‘Well, that sounds like giving up to me, and I won’t let you. What about Peggy and your mum and dad and everyone who loves you? And what about me, Mary? How am I supposed to go on without my best friend in the whole world?’
She looked at me and smiled. She breathed out and it seemed to me that the noise in her chest was a little louder, a little more persistent with every breath.
‘Perhaps Heaven will be fabulous,’ she said, and then she closed her eyes.
‘It will be if you’re there,’ I whispered. I held Mary’s little hand and cried as if my heart was breaking.
Mary’s Diary
Dear Diary,
It’s time to go now. I am so tired, so terribly tired. People want me to stay. They hold tightly to my hands, as if by holding me they can keep me here. I want them to let me go.
Goodbye Peggy, I love you very much baby girl. I wish that I could have been a better mummy.
Goodbye Dottie, my forever friend.
Goodbye diary.
Love
Mary Pickles
Aged only nineteen xxx
Chapter Forty-One
Ralph came later. He brought Peggy and sat her on the bed beside Mary. She looked down at the baby and she smiled.
As it grew dark outside, I held the baby on my lap and gave her a bottle. And Ralph sat on the other side of Mary and talked to her about his work, and Brighton, and things he had heard on the radio. He made her smile. He made her calm. I realised that he understood her; he knew what to say to her.
He was a good husband to her.
One of the nurses put her head around the door.
‘Everything all right?’ she asked.
I smiled at her, and nodded. ‘We’re all fine,’ I said.
I changed Peggy on the bottom of the bed, and put her nappy to soak in the basin in the bathroom beyond. Then I laid her in her pram, and Ralph and I sat on either side of Mary’s bed, each of us holding one of her hands until she fell asleep.
It was a small room, just room for the bed, and two chairs, and a chest of drawers. It was my world. One hour went by, and then another. It was hardly ever just me and Mary in the room any more. Mary’s aunties and uncles and cousins came in to say goodbye. Sally came in, and the next-door neighbours. When the doctor came in, he didn’t even use the stethoscope to listen to Mary’s chest any more. He just smiled and said: ‘Good, good.’
Sometimes I slept with my head on the bed; mostly I stood quietly by the window so as not to get in the way of Mr and Mrs Pickles and Peggy. I watched the leaves falling from the horse chestnut tree. I watched the wind riffle through its branches, and pick up a handful of leaves, and let them drift amongst the hospital buildings.
I watched the children collecting the conkers.
I was warm in the room, listening to Mary’s breathing.
I was where I wanted to be.
At four o’clock one afternoon, the priest came to Mary’s room. I waited outside in the little corridor. It didn’t take long for him to say what he had to say and then the door opened again, and the priest came out. He smiled at me and said ‘You can go back in now.’ He smelled of peppermint. He said ‘God bless you, child.’
I went back into the room.
Mary’s family and Ralph were gathered around the bed like people in a painting. Some of her brothers were in the room and a couple were in the corridor. Winston had gone outside for a cigarette. Ralph was at the top of the bed. He was looking down at Mary. He didn’t look up at all.
Peggy was lying on the bed beside Mary, sucking her fist and kicking her fat little legs and making happy, gurgling noises. Everyone was looking at Peggy. There were two circles of red on her cheeks, because of the teething. She looked like a doll. And we all watched Peggy, and smiled at her, and none of us noticed, at first, that Mary had stopped breathing. I heard Mary’s mother cry out, as if in pain, and then I knew. Peggy realised too. She must have noticed the expression on the faces of the adults and she stopped gurgling and held up her arms to be picked up. Mary’s father picked up the baby and held her to him, her head cradled in his big hand.
The nurse came in. She said: ‘Excuse me,’ and she made her way through to the bed. She picked up Mary’s wrist and held it between her fingers. She stayed like that for a moment or two, and we all watched her, hoping, I suppose, that she would say something reassuring, hoping she would find a pulse. But then she lay Mary’s hand gently down on the cover again. She said ‘I’ll just get the doctor,’ and she left the room.
‘Why’s she getting the doctor?’ asked William. ‘Can they bring Mary back?’
Mary’s Dad said: ‘No, son. No one can bring her back now.’ He grabbed hold of the boy and pulled him to him with his spare hand and William threw his arms around his father’s waist and sobbed as if his heart were breaking. Wallace had turned his back to the room and was staring out of the window.
I looked up and caught Ralph’s eye. He gazed back at me, for a moment, and then he stepped forward to comfort Mary’s mother.
I didn’t know what to do, my first instinct was to get out of that room, but I knew that wouldn’t be right. Everyone around me was crying but I just felt numb, I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. I felt breathless and dizzy. I leaned against the wall for support. I had never fainted in my life but I would almost have welcomed it, just to get away from this terrible emptiness. My head was telling me that my best friend was dead. Mary Pickles was dead, but my heart could not accept it. I could hardly breathe, it was as if my body had forgotten how to. I should be crying – why wasn’t I crying? I almost envied the others the release that I knew their tears would bring.
Just then a doctor came into the room followed by the nurse. He walked over to the bed. I looked away. I hadn’t been able to look at Mary since the moment she had stopped breathing.
‘She was a very brave young girl,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He left the room.
I wanted more; this was too final. We had been watching Mary dying for months, and now there was nothing left, there should have been more. Didn’t that doctor know how important this was? Didn’t he know that we couldn’t go on living? He was a doctor; he should have told us how we could go on living. I wanted more.
The nurse walked over to Warren. ‘Would you like to take your mum and the family into another room and I will bring you all some tea.’
Warren nodded his head, he was glad to be able to do something. ‘Come on, Mum,’ he said gently, and then he took her arm and guided her out of the room. The others followed but I couldn’t move. I felt as if a part of me was missing and if I tried to walk I would fall. Ralph looked back at me.
‘Dottie?’ he said.
‘I’m coming.’
I was too frightened to look at the bed. I walked across to the window and looked out on the street below. It had started to rain. The leaves on the horse chestnut tree were glistening and water was trickling down the window pane. Mothers pushing prams were hurrying to get their children home. A man was holding a newspaper over his head. They didn’t know that Mary was dead. I watched Wayne as he walked over to Winston who was sitting on the bench in the little garden. I watched as he looked up at Wayne then put his head in his hands. I turned away from the window, took a deep breath and looked across at Mary. I wasn’t frightened any more.
I stepped forward, closer to the bed. I leaned over and kissed her cheek.
‘I’ll keep my promise,’ I said. ‘I’ll go to all those places, just like you want me to and I’ll carry you with me every step of the way.’
I looked at Mary’s lovely little fa
ce.
‘Thank you for being my friend,’ I said. I gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘You look fab,’ I whispered.
A nurse came into the room, she handed me a book.
‘Mary asked me to give you this,’ she said.
I took the book and walked out of the room. Mary Pickles wasn’t there any more, and I needed to find her.
I hurried along the seafront towards home. The rain was now a soft drizzle that cooled my face. I cut through Kemp Town and on towards the estate, then I started to run, I ran until I was at the top of the alley. It was only then that I felt her near me, and it was only then that I allowed myself to remember the way we were, me and my friend Mary Pickles. I could almost hear us calling to each other.
‘Mary.’
‘Dottie.’
‘Mary.’
‘Dottie.’
* * *
I opened the book at the first page and began reading.
This book belongs to Mary Pickles
46 See Saw Lane
Brighton
The world
My eyes filled with tears. I closed the book and put it down on the ground.
I sat on the top bar of the railings and held on tight, and then I closed my eyes and slowly let myself slide backwards. ‘You’d better be watching!’ I shouted, as I let go of the bars and suddenly I was hanging by my legs. I opened my eyes and for the first time in my life, I was seeing the world from an upside-down sort of a place.
Epilogue
There are 674 steps to the second level of the Eiffel Tower. I know because I counted as I climbed and I dedicated each step to my friend Mary Pickles.
It was a bitterly cold day, February. Paris was ice-cold, stone-cold, everything grey and hard, even the pigeons that fluttered from the eaves were grey, as if they had been carved from concrete.
After I left the hotel that morning, I walked through the city streets, along wide grey pavements, weaving amongst people wrapped up in coats and fur collars, hats pulled over their ears and scarves wrapped over their mouths and noses. It was a cold unlike any cold I’d ever felt in Brighton. There was something exhilarating about it. It was different. Everything was different in this city of dreams.