The Goodbye Gift

by Amanda Brooke

  Paul turned his head even while his eyes remained on the road. ‘Babysit?’

  ‘Yes. Why not?’

  ‘Because maybe you’re still a bit too young,’ Julia said. ‘And I’m pretty sure it’s against the law to leave a baby with a child of your age.’

  ‘I’m not a child, I’m eleven!’ When neither Paul nor Julia looked reassured, she added, ‘Well, how old do I have to be then?’

  Julia shrugged. ‘A lot older and by that time, babysitting will be the last thing on your mind. I should know, I got landed with your mum and Phoebe when I would have much preferred to be out with my friends.’

  ‘Boyfriends, you mean,’ Paul teased.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Julia said, not afraid to take the bait. ‘You have to play the field, Milly.’

  ‘Erm, no, she doesn’t,’ Paul said quickly. ‘Milly is going to be locked in her room until she’s at least twenty-one.’

  Milly had been making various retching noises to demonstrate her own repulsion at the idea. ‘I wouldn’t want a boyfriend even then!’

  ‘You don’t want to get married when you’re older?’ Julia asked.

  ‘No,’ she snorted, ‘and I definitely don’t want babies. I don’t know why you’re so mad about trying to get one.’

  The pause was long enough for a lump to form in Julia’s throat. ‘You might change your mind one day,’ she managed to say.

  ‘Hey, look,’ Paul said, ‘there’s the sign for Martin Mere. Right, Milly, I need you to be my navigator – you know how hopeless Julia is, so could you watch out for the signs for me?’

  While Milly kept her eyes peeled for the signposts, Paul reached over to squeeze Julia’s hand. She kept hold of it for as long as she could and resolved not to let fears for the future interfere with their enjoyment of the day. It wasn’t as hard as she expected because Milly’s excitement was infectious.

  ‘Feeling inspired yet?’ Paul asked after they had taken shelter in one of the bird hides that lined the mere. The temperature outside was hovering just above freezing and the vague white orb of watery light in the sky offered little hope for improvement. The wooden hides were only marginally warmer and despite wearing padded winter coats, woollen hats and thermal gloves, they were all shivering.

  ‘I might take some photographs rather than sketch,’ Julia said. ‘There’s no way I’m taking my gloves off for more than a few seconds.’

  ‘How about you, Milly? Are you going to be put off by a little frostbite?’ Paul asked, having to raise his voice above the cacophony rising up from hundreds of swans and geese gathering expectantly at the water’s edge.

  Milly had her hands over her ears but her eyes were wide with wonder. ‘It’s amazing!’ she said and then gasped at the sudden thunderclap created by countless wings thrashing against wind and water. One of the keepers had appeared with a wheelbarrow and began flinging shovelfuls of grain into the air. Feeding time.

  Amidst the geese and swans, seagulls and shelducks took to the air and fought for their share of the bounty. Julia began clicking away with her camera but the flock was moving fast and it would be sheer luck if she captured individual birds in flight without chopping off heads in her photos. The sights and sounds were thrilling and no one spoke until the noise had died down and Milly checked the guide to choose their next stop-off point.

  ‘Can we go and see the otters now?’ she asked, grabbing hold of Paul’s hand and pulling him away.

  ‘Hold on, what about me?’ Julia’s words were muffled by the glove she was holding in her mouth while adjusting the settings on her camera.

  Paul and Milly were already on the move and although Julia was quick to follow she didn’t rush to catch them up. She was happy to watch her husband being led by the little girl with masses of auburn hair, colouring she had inherited from her father but made it possible for Julia to pass Milly off as her own. Judging by the way Paul was holding her hand, you would think him the doting father.

  Julia lifted her camera to eye level and made no apologies for capturing an image she could hang her dreams on. Paul turned and waved at her and then Milly did the same. Soon they were posing for the camera and pulling faces until Julia couldn’t hold the camera steady for laughing. She gave up and went to join them.

  ‘Paul said those two swans over there are in love,’ Milly said, pointing to a pair of dazzlingly white birds as they drifted effortlessly across the aptly named Swan Lake, oblivious to the clamour that had so recently erupted from the mere. They had eyes only for each other.

  ‘Mmrph, hurumph …’ Julia said.

  Paul took the glove from her mouth. ‘And in English, please.’

  ‘They might just be the inspiration I need,’ she said and spent the next few minutes taking long shots and close-ups of the swans while Paul sat with Milly at a nearby picnic table to tick off all the different birds they had spotted so far.

  ‘I don’t know about you,’ Julia said as she struggled to replace the lens cap on her camera with numb fingers, ‘but I’m ready for something to warm me up. How about we get some hot chocolate?’

  ‘But what about the otters?’ Milly whined, clearly not feeling the cold as much as her older companions.

  ‘They’ll still be there in half an hour,’ Paul said, agreeing with his wife.

  ‘OK,’ Milly said brightly before darting off in the direction of the café.

  Julia was shaking her head and laughing again. ‘That took a lot of persuasion, but then of course she’d do anything you asked of her. She idolizes you, Paul.’

  ‘Oh, I’m just a stand-in,’ Paul said, looking uncomfortable. ‘And I just hope John doesn’t lose sight of what he already has when the new baby arrives.’

  ‘I may not be John’s biggest fan, but I don’t think he will. Besides, how could anyone ignore that ball of energy?’

  Paul had somehow been left carrying Milly’s backpack and swung it absent-mindedly from side to side. ‘But even with the best will in the world, she will get her nose pushed out.’

  ‘And when she does, we’ll all make an extra special effort to make her feel wanted and loved.’

  The backpack knocked against Paul’s thigh as he walked with his head down. ‘I hope it’s enough.’

  Julia kept her eyes fixed on Milly who was waiting at the corner of the visitor centre for them to catch up. ‘There’s only so much we can do, Paul. She’s not ours.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I was thinking …’ she said and could quite easily have left her opening remark hanging. There was only ever one subject that occupied her thoughts, especially now they were no longer actively trying for a baby, as far as Paul was concerned at least. Julia had reluctantly agreed that they wouldn’t resume their efforts until they knew it was all going to be worth it in the end, and there was only one way of finding that out. ‘Maybe we should make an appointment with the GP sooner rather than later to get a referral to the fertility clinic.’

  The backpack that had continued to swing against Paul’s leg stilled. ‘How soon?’

  ‘I could phone up on Monday?’ she said.

  ‘Right.’

  Unsure if he was agreeing or simply acknowledging her intent, Julia asked, ‘Right as in yes you want me to?’

  Paul’s posture straightened as he flung the backpack over his shoulder then slipped an arm around Julia’s waist. ‘You really need to ask? Yes, Julia. Most definitely, yes.’

  5

  The Accident

  Anya eventually made it back to the surgical ward to resume her shift, but it was hardly back to normal with the ward dealing with multiple crash victims who had needed operations. Other than a snatched cup of coffee she had yet to have a break and was feeling distinctly light-headed.

  ‘Go and get something to eat, Anya, before you keel over,’ the ward sister said when she spotted her stopping halfway down a corridor and putting a hand against the wall to steady herself.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Anya insisted, aware that she wasn’t the on
ly one who had been working flat out.

  ‘That wasn’t a suggestion. Go on your break, have a cup of strong, sweet tea and eat something.’

  ‘I was just on my way to check Mrs Richardson’s obs; I’ll go after that, I promise,’ Anya persisted. ‘She’s just arrived from theatre and is a bit unsettled. She’s been drifting in and out of consciousness.’

  The sister raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. ‘Is she talking yet?’

  ‘Nothing that makes sense.’

  ‘Keep trying, but don’t take too long. You’ve got your break to go on, remember.’

  Anya made her way to the side ward where there were eight beds, seven already occupied and the remainder waiting for yet another patient to return from surgery. Julia Richardson was in the bed nearest the door and looked as if she were in a deep sleep, but when Anya slipped the blood-pressure cuff around her arm, Julia opened her eyes. Her lips began to move but she failed to form coherent words.

  ‘Hello there, Mrs Richardson, there’s no need to worry. You’ve had surgery on your legs and you’ll still be feeling the effects of the anaesthetic. I’m guessing you’re feeling a bit woozy at the moment?’

  Julia nodded and directed her gaze down the length of her body. Her stare intensified despite the drugs.

  ‘You’re fine,’ Anya assured her. ‘Broken bones, but nothing to worry about.’ She pursed her lips before she had the chance to add the word hopefully.

  ‘The others?’ Julia managed, her speech slurred and broken.

  ‘They’re receiving the best care we can give them,’ Anya told her, although she didn’t have a clue who Julia meant. It was as much as they could do to identify the victims of this morning’s accident, let alone their relationship with one another. Next of kin had been notified and until they arrived, Anya could offer only feeble reassurances that those Julia cared for most were alive and well. There had been fatalities and for others the next twenty-four hours would be critical.

  6

  Phoebe stood outside the Tate Liverpool, buffeted by strong winds that had picked up speed across the Mersey before slamming into the Albert Dock. Meeting up at the waterfront had been a good idea earlier in the week, but the weather had taken a turn for the worse and winter was making a wet and wild start to the festive season. While Phoebe was relatively snug in the oversized duffle coat she had picked up at a vintage fair, her friend appeared to be faring less well. She watched as Julia trudged towards her with the remnants of an umbrella hanging at her side. Her long auburn tresses had been pulled from a silver clasp and were now plastered across her face.

  ‘Wet?’

  ‘Can we get inside?’ Julia replied, her teeth chattering.

  The lunch date had been Julia’s idea, although Phoebe had been about to suggest the same thing. They were eager to visit the Andy Warhol exhibition and because they both worked in the city centre, they had opted to combine it with a lunch date. The friends still shared a love of art and one of Phoebe’s fondest memories was sitting at the dining table in Helen’s house while Julia played teacher. She had been as surprised as Julia at her ability to transform blank pieces of paper into vibrant worlds full of colour and excitement with relative ease. It had been Julia’s nurturing that had stimulated a natural flair in that timid little girl which might otherwise have gone unnoticed, even by Phoebe.

  In her teens, Phoebe had briefly studied fashion design at a sixth-form college in Manchester but she had abandoned her course to return to Liverpool after her mum died. She could have transferred to a college in Liverpool, and perhaps she might have done if her grandad had still been alive, but her nan had recently been widowed and she wanted Phoebe to start earning a living and learn how to provide for herself rather than waste time on some half-baked idea about being an artist. Phoebe’s argument that she was learning a trade and hoped to be a fashion designer one day had fallen on deaf ears, and her current career path had begun as a cashier in the local supermarket, but she had refused to give up on her dream completely. She had attended art classes at night school for a while until that had also ended abruptly, like so many other things in her life.

  Phoebe didn’t have Julia’s drive to take her gift and make a career out of it. The nearest she came to being creative in work was helping out occasionally with the window displays at Debenhams, and even that might be coming to an end soon.

  ‘So how long have we got?’ Julia asked.

  ‘I have to be back in an hour,’ Phoebe replied, but then checked her watch. ‘Make that fifty minutes less the ten minutes it’ll take to get back, so …’ She winced. ‘Sorry, did you need longer?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about it. Let’s have a walk around the exhibition first and if there’s time we can grab something to eat. If not, we’ll have to make do with eating a soggy sandwich on the way back, if that’s all right with you?’

  ‘I really don’t want to rush you, Julia. I could always leave you here so you can have a proper look around,’ Phoebe offered. She didn’t want her friend to curtail her own enjoyment just for her.

  Still dripping wet, Julia was too bruised and battered by the wind to hide her frustration. ‘I want you to get the most out of this too. How about we concentrate on what you want to see and then if I’m desperate to hang around afterwards, I will. But let’s make time to sit down and at least have a coffee before fighting gale-force winds again.’

  ‘This could be our one and only chance to see this exhibition. I’m sorry we couldn’t have arranged it for the weekend, but I’ve been signed up for Saturday shifts from now until Christmas and I have to take Nan to church on Sundays and then there’s the shopping. I wouldn’t have had time to get into town. Sorry,’ she said again.

  They had taken the lift to the fourth floor and as soon as they stepped into the gallery, Phoebe came to a stumbling stop, overwhelmed by the sight of works of art she had spent so much of her life admiring. She had often drawn inspiration from the thought-provoking images, and the dramatic colours used by Andy Warhol had become the palette for so many of her own designs. While she stood in awe, Julia wandered off towards another piece of the exhibit and Phoebe hurried to catch her up. They found themselves in a darkened room that pulsated with throbbing music to accompany a disturbing mix of film clips projected onto the walls. Phoebe was mesmerized once again, but after only five minutes, Julia was on the move again.

  ‘Sorry, I am making you rush, aren’t I?’ Phoebe said.

  Julia let out a deep sigh. ‘If you apologize one more time, Phoebe, I swear I’m going to have to take one of these paintings and hit you over the head with it, giving visitors a new display to ponder over.’

  ‘Who rattled your cage?’

  ‘Concentrate on the artwork,’ Julia instructed, making a point of peering at the printed description of one of the exhibits.

  Phoebe knew better than to argue and leaned in for a closer look. ‘I wish I had the imagination to come up with something like this,’ she said. ‘Something that takes the accepted view of the world and turns it on its head.’

  ‘Have you done any painting lately?’

  ‘God, no, I can’t remember the last time I locked myself away in the garage and threw paint at a canvas.’

  ‘But you are still making clothes?’

  Phoebe wanted to say yes, but it would be stretching the truth too far and it had been a long time since she had been able to get away with lying to Julia. ‘I’m still sketching designs now and then and I’ll happily make a start at sewing things up, but I never seem to complete anything. You know what it’s like. Whenever you get the time, you don’t have the inspiration and when inspiration does strike, you’re too busy doing something else,’ Phoebe said and then stopped as she did a reality check. ‘Oh, sorry, that’s just me, isn’t it? So how’s this amazing commission of yours going?’

  At first Julia seemed reluctant to show off but in the next moment she was pulling out her phone to show Phoebe photos of the designs she had been working on. ‘I w
as at Martin Mere last weekend and as inspiration goes, it was perfect. I came up with a few options which I’ve already sent through to the client but this is the one he loved – which is a relief, because it was the one I wanted him to pick.’

  At first glance it looked like two interlinked hearts, but the abstract design had been based on a pair of swans, their curved necks and wings creating the heart shapes. The sketch wasn’t as simple as it looked and Julia pointed out the subtle references to the brief she had been given, such as the individual feathers that represented the couple’s family.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Phoebe said. ‘I’d love to see it when it’s completed.’

  ‘I’d love you to see it before then. It would be good to have another artist’s perspective while I’m working on it.’

  Phoebe sighed. ‘I’d hardly call myself an artist.’

  ‘It’s going to be a great loss to the art world if you never get to apply your talents, Phoebe. You could be the next Andy Warhol, or Banksy, or maybe even a budding—’

  ‘Budding? I’m almost thirty, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘And? You talk as though you’re the same age as your nan. Remember that conversation we had the other week? You said your life hadn’t started yet. It’s not too late, Phoebe, and the first step is telling yourself there’s still time. Plenty of it.’

  ‘But that’s it, I don’t think there is time, or at least not enough to scrap one career and start again,’ Phoebe said. ‘I applied for a promotion the other week.’

  ‘And you got it?’

  Phoebe laughed. ‘This is me you’re talking to, of course I didn’t.’ When Julia looked confused, she added, ‘It was an assistant manager post and while I’ve got the experience, there are plenty of others with more qualifications than I have.’

  ‘OK,’ Julia said, letting her words stretch to give her some thinking time. ‘When one door closes, another one opens. Use this as the push you need to go back to your studies.’