And it is this beautiful, love-filled, haunting memory that is painfully shattered by the incessant, sharp tone of a ringing telephone.
4
“Sarah? Sarah? That you?” My best friend Nic, typically harried, barks at me down the phone. That’s what a demanding husband and three kids does for you.
“Yes hun, it’s me. How you doing?”
“Great, great. Just ringing on the run to make sure you are still coming tonight.”
“Of course, wouldn’t miss it. Eight o’clock and I’ll be there,” I promise.
“There’s no ‘Of course’ about it,” she argues. “You said that for the last two get-togethers and then never bloody showed up.”
My nose wrinkles in shame. Nobody likes being called on being a bad friend.
“Well, I’ll show up this time, especially as it’s for my birthday,” I try to adopt my most convincing, reassuring tone.
“Well, good.” A pause. Nic always does this, harangue first then feel bad almost immediately afterwards. As predicted her tone softened markedly.
“It’s just that we haven’t seen you properly in ages. You know what it’s like trying to get the four of us together with all of our commitments. Becky was only saying last week that it’s been over a year since she saw you last. You can text and update your Facebook status as much as you like, but it’s not the same as a good old-fashioned chinwag.”
I agree, then promptly tell her to bugger off so I can get in the shower, or I’d end up being late. The last thing I hear is her laughter as she hangs up the phone.
Three hours later the holiday clothing from the loft is in the laundry, I’m showered, changed and head out the door. It’s just a short cab ride to the Italian restaurant that we’ve agreed to meet at, and when I arrive I’m the first there. Bloody typical.
I’m shown to our table and order a large glass of red to soothe my starting-to-become-frazzled nerves, when Nic and our other friend Paula arrive. The first few minutes are spent in happy greetings, hugs and exclamations about clothing, new hair-cuts and weight loss. Two more large glasses of red are ordered and we settle into our seats.
Nic and Paula have been friends since university, and despite my best efforts at supremely pissing them off in the past five years, they resisted my best efforts at becoming a virtual recluse and just refused to let me go. Something for which I would never be able to thank them enough.
“Becky’s running late,” Nic explained, seeing my questioning look at the fourth chair, “but she’s definitely coming.”
“I think the littlest one has been a bit poorly today,” Paula added.
We sink into a long overdue catch up, and I deliberately focus the attention on the two of them; families, work, old friends, dubious soap-opera plotlines and books that we have all been meaning to read, but never seem to get round to. Finally Nic sees through my ploy and settles her all-seeing, all-knowing gaze on me.
“So, you’ve been to see Blod?” she asks.
I nod as I gulp from my second large glass of red.
“Oh, I love Blod,” waxes Paula. “How is she doing?”
I smile and tell them about my recent visit, and the difficulties Blod has had since retiring.
“She’s just bored,” I comment. “I keep telling her that she should write her memoirs. It’s more fantastic than fiction, believe me!”
“That’s a great idea,” exclaims Nic. “Why the hell doesn’t she?”
“She keeps saying it’s to protect the not so innocent,” I wryly respond. “I think that includes her.”
Paula shakes with laughter and Nic inadvertently sprays red wine as she snorts.
I feel like now is the time to come clean.
“You’re not going to believe what she bought me for my birthday. She’s only gone and paid for a three week diving trip to Thailand, to Ko Tao. And sorted the leave out with work. Bloody woman!”
Nic and Paula gaze open-mouthed.
“Are you serious?” Nic’s chin is almost on the floor.
I nod firmly, mouth once again around the rim of my wine glass.
“And you’re going to go?” Paula asks, her tone clearly showing she was convinced of the contrary.
“I am.” A statement that no-one was more surprised about than me. Up to that point there was a part of me that still wasn’t entirely sure I’d be brave enough to get on that plane on my own, but there was no going back now. I think Nic and Paula would have carried me to the airport gate and thrown me on the plane if I’d said I wasn’t going.
Nic and Paula squeal with enthusiastic support and generate a huge group hug. It’s this scene that greets Becky as she finally arrives at the restaurant.
“Oi, oi! What’s going on here then?” she shouts, only to be dragged in to the female melee, now attracting a large audience of other restaurant goers.
We each re-take our seats as Nic responds.
“We’ll tell you in a minute, but we need to order first as I’m bloody starving.”
The smell of the cooking food from the kitchen was making me supremely hungry; garlic, tomatoes, various herbs, fresh bread. I can sense each of us salivating and we take a few minutes deliberating over our menus. When choices are made and waiters informed, we finally return to the reason for our naked extroversion.
“Bloody hell, that’s great!” Becky was clearly in agreement with the others that I needed this holiday. “So, where is it that you’re going?”
“Ko Tao, in Thailand.” I smile at Becky’s blank face. “It’s great for diving and snorkelling.”
“No, I know about Ko Tao,” Becky glances at the others on the table in vague bewilderment. “Does this mean what I think it means? Are you going after her?” A huge smile spreads across her face. “Oh Sarah, have you finally come to your senses? You’re going after her?”
A dark sense of dread spreads slowly from the bottom of my stomach. A part of me is desperate not to ask the question, but I know I must.
“Going after who, Becky?”
“Well, Hope, who did you bloody think I meant?” she asks. Then seeing the blood drain from my face and me slump in my seat, springs from her chair to stoop in front of me.
“Oh God, Sarah. I’m so sorry. I thought that you knew.”
She looks at the other two faces on the table, now sharing concerned glances. Becky moves slowly back to her seat and we sit in silence; I know they are waiting for me.
“How do you know she’s there?” I ask. I didn’t think any of my friends had kept in touch after the split. They all thought Hope had deserted me in my hour of need, not realising how far I had been to blame. A deception I was not at all proud of.
“You know her sister was training as a Barrister, well she did her training year at Edward’s chambers. I didn’t want to mention it at the time, none of us wanted to talk about her until you were ready, but he found out that’s where she is now. Owns a diving school I think.”
I glance at Becky’s horrified face; wonderful Becky who always saw the best in people. I loved her for that. She had been kind enough to think me brave enough to track down the love of my life. Courage like that seemed a far distant dot on my particular horizon.
This quiet and pensive scene is disturbed by waiters bringing our forgotten food. I silently encourage the others to eat, and attempt a little myself in spite of the churning sensation causing a feeling of nausea in my stomach. The enforced silence allows me to think, to plan. A silence broken a few minutes later by a desperately curious Nic.
“So, are you still going to go?”
“I don’t know hun, I just don’t know.” I shake my head in confusion, bewilderment and now disappointment. Earlier that evening I had taken the leap and decided to go, in spite of fear and trepidation. I’d started to look forward to it, allowed myself to even start getting excited about it. Now all plans seemed ruined.
“Maybe you won’t see her.” Becky offered.
I smile wryly.
“I don’t th
ink Ko Tao is sufficiently big enough for me to spend three weeks there and not see her. It’s possible, but not probable. Anyway, the question is, if I was there would I be strong enough to stay away? And if I can’t stay away, am I strong enough to deal with whatever I find?” As I ask the questions of myself, I voice them aloud. I look at the still concerned faces of my three friends; none of them with an answer. I take another deep gulp of wine and decide to adopt a practical approach.
“There’s only one thing for it. I’ll change destinations. I’ll just go somewhere else.” My three friends look carefully back at me, then at each other, their relief clear. I pick up my fork an encourage them to carry on eating their lukewarm food.
“It’s no biggie. I’ll just have to speak to Blod.”
5
“What do you mean, you knew she was there?”
“Sarah, if you’ll just calm down and give me a minute then I’ll explain.” Blod was using her best soothing tone, but this time I just found it patronising.
“Don’t try to calm me down, Blod. You of all people should understand how big a deal this is for me. How difficult this would be for me.” Overwhelmed by the evening’s events, and having to confront long repressed memories and emotions, I burst into tears.
“Oh God, Sarah, please don’t cry. I feel just terrible. I should always remember that the road to hell is bloody paved with them.” I hear the genuine remorse in Blod’s voice and struggle desperately to regain control of my emotions.
“I know you probably meant well Blod, but it’s been nearly five years. She’ll have moved on.” I sob repeatedly at the thought of Hope with someone else, something up to now I would not allow myself to even contemplate.
“You haven’t.” Blod’s quiet observation jarred me out of my tears.
“That’s different,” I whisper angrily.
“How is it different, Sarah?” I hear her take a deep breath before continuing, and I know that what I hear next will hurt.
“When you and Hope split it wasn’t because you didn’t love each other anymore, was it?” I didn’t respond, understanding the question to be rhetorical.
“You split up because of circumstance, not lack of feeling. You allowed your mother’s death to come between you, and as much as I love you, as much as I will always support you no matter what, I felt at the time that it was the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.” Another deep breath; more pain.
“You had a wonderful love, and a wonderful life, and you loved each other more than anything. Anyone who saw you together could see that.” Another pause illuminating more of my sobs. “Even your mother could see that.”
“Mum didn’t know I was gay until the end,” I argued.
“Yes she bloody well did, and your Dad did before he died. Your mother just chose to ignore it, shut it out in the hope it would go away. And that was her issue, not yours. When she died you made it yours, and you should never have blamed yourself for her death in the way that you did.” I heard Blod stifle a sob. This uncharacteristic level of honesty must have been as hard for her as it was for me. I felt the least I could do was to be honest in return.
“I didn’t blame myself at first,” I whisper quietly. “I blamed Hope.” The deep shame that came with that confession tore at my heart.
“I behaved like a child, Blod. I told her that I would never forgive her for pushing me to tell mum about us. I told her that mum crashed the car because she was upset, thinking about us, trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m gay. I’ve no way of knowing that really.”
“You were grieving your mother love, you can’t be expected to be rational at a time like that.” I could always rely on Blod for a way out, but this time I had to be a grown up.
“No Blod, you have no idea how awful I was to her in the weeks, months even, after mum died. I completely withdrew and she comforted me. I got angry, threw plates, threw glasses, broke furniture, and you know what she did. She said nothing and just cleaned up after me. I said some awful things Blod, not least of which that I could never love her in the way that I had, not after mum, and that there was no life together for us anymore. I made it impossible for her to stay. I think finally the hurt of being with me, of hearing those things day in, day out just became too much and she left. And I don’t blame her.”
Blod remained silent at the other end of the phone, waiting for my sobbing to subside.
“So you see Blod, there’s no going back. There’s no way she can ever forgive me for what I did. I think I just hurt her too much.” This heartfelt confession was followed by a deep sigh of resignation. But some small part of me felt some relief in finally admitting to someone that I had been the source of our pain, our heartbreak.
Blod sighed deeply in return.
“Sarah, I’ve never told you this, but I had a love like that once.” Blod’s admission jolts me firmly back into the present. “A man I met when I was working for the paper. He was a foreign correspondent, always off in some war zone or other. I hated it. It’s funny, because Nain always used to moan at me that she worried about me all the time because of my job and I used to brush it aside. Then the shoe was on the other foot, and I hated it.” I stayed silent, knowing that Blod was herself now reliving painful, almost forgotten memories.
“The crux came at the start of the first Gulf War. He was asked to go and cover it for the paper, and I went mad. I told him it was either the job or me. I can’t believe I actually gave him that ultimatum, but I did. Love does strange things to us sweetheart. He left and did his job, but made it clear that it was the ultimatum he was rejecting and not me. My pride got in the way and I ended it anyway. I walked away from the man I loved out of mistaken arrogance and stupidity. I’ve had to live with that regret ever since. I bought you that trip because I don’t want you to live with the same regret.”
She sighs deeply once again, and my heart contracts in sympathy for the woman who had recently been so much like a mother to me.
“Go to Thailand, Sarah. Go and at the very least ask the question. Don’t assume anything.” She chuckles darkly, “Because assuming makes…”
“An ass out of you and me.” I finish for her, grateful for the attempt at light-heartedness, however corny. We stay silent for a minute to digest, to process, then Blod continues.
“When you split up I stayed in touch with Hope because I just needed to know that she was okay. You’ll know what the break-up would have done to her, and I just needed to know that she was okay.” Her emphasised repetition made me realise just how bad she felt for deceiving me.
“Blod, I get it, you don’t have to explain. Hope was part of your life for six years too. It’s natural that you would have been concerned.” I genuinely didn’t begrudge her this deception. Her caring heart wouldn’t have allowed her to abandon Hope in the way that I had.
“Well love, we’re not in contact very often. Occasional e-mails, that’s all. But about a year after your break-up she told me she was leaving for Ko Tao.”
“To buy a diving school, I know.”
“No, Sarah, she was an instructor first. She bought the school about eighteen months ago with some savings and money from her parents.”
“I see.” I felt numb. I wasn’t sure just how much more I could take in.
A pause and then the question I dreaded.
“So you’ll go?”
“I’m not sure Blod. I’m so tired now. Will you please just let me sleep on it?” For the first time that night I realised just how exhausted I was, and I had reached the end for today.
“Of course I will, and Sarah?”
“Yes.”
“I love you, you know.”
“I know, Blod. I love you too.”
6
I’m once again back in the cold and dark. The same tight broad strap still presses painfully across my chest. The same trickle of blood slowly makes its way back down my forehead and onto my cheek, and it is with a strong sense of foreboding that I once again painfully brush it asi
de. I turn to face the driver’s side of the car, and once again have to deal with the grief and pain of seeing my mother’s lifeless body strapped into the mangled wreck of a car.
But this time something is different; I’m not alone. Someone else is with me.
I twist and look up to the smashed passenger side window, placed directly above me by the impact of the crash. A silhouette appears, surrounded by a halo of fluorescent orange. The shadow moves forward, and I see that it’s Hope; hair and skin soaking wet from the still pouring rain. She mouths something at me, but I can’t hear her; there’s nothing but eerie silence. I try to shout back, to tell her that I can’t hear her, when the familiar sense of panic and shock begins to overwhelm me once again. I look back at Hope, and see that she is now shouting, her face contorted in grief and desperation. I shake my head and cry with frustration.
The next time I look up Hope has gone, and I am once again left alone with the pale, still body of my mother.
7
I settle myself into my narrow seat and smile uncomfortably at the stranger next to me. Economy class really didn’t make allowances for personal space. In an attempt to take my mind off my approaching destination and a seemingly inevitable meeting with Hope, I reach forward and begin a vacant stare at the instruction card for emergency landings.
Hope Page 2