The Goodbye Gift

by Amanda Brooke

  ‘Could you meet him for me?’

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘I’m not allowed to go to art class any more, and I don’t have his phone number. I didn’t give it to him either because someone told me to be cautious,’ she told Helen pointedly. ‘But you could pass on a message. Tell him I’m sorry and I know it’s all a bit weird with my nan but I still want to see him. Tell him we could meet up after my shifts at the supermarket, assuming he hasn’t been frightened off, that is.’

  Helen hadn’t been convinced and so Phoebe had added, ‘Please, Helen. Talk to him and see for yourself that he’s not some psycho.’

  ‘What, you mean interview him?’ Helen’s eyes had lit up then. ‘It could be a bit like Pop Idol. Yes, Weird Stalker-man with the gorgeous body, you’re through!’

  Phoebe had no idea if Helen had tried her hardest to persuade Paul to see her again, or if his mind had already been made up. The end result was the same and Phoebe could only imagine how different her life might have been, which she did more often than she should.

  Still tempted to make her confession to Helen, Phoebe held her breath, but then a series of thumps rocked the house and she inadvertently released a sob.

  ‘Phoebe?’

  ‘I’m going to spend the next God knows how long trapped in this house, Helen. I know Nan means well, but she wears me down. She has worn me down and I’m scared I’ll never get the chance to build a life of my own. If this is how Mum felt then just shoot me now.’

  ‘Hey, it’s not that bad. Your mum was ill and she needed your nan to take charge of her life, but you don’t. You have options.’

  ‘Do I? Oh, Helen, I don’t know what to do,’ Phoebe said, curling herself up tighter on the bed.

  ‘Do you want me to come and get you?’

  ‘What can you do? What can anyone do? Nan doesn’t want anyone taking care of her and she’s going to hate whoever it is that does. And it looks like that person is going to be me.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be. If your nan is so determined to stay then good luck to her. You can leave though,’ Helen said bluntly.

  ‘No,’ Phoebe said, shocked by Helen’s ruthlessness.

  ‘Look, from what you’ve said she’s got enough money squirrelled away to afford all the help she needs if she does stay at home. She doesn’t appreciate you, so why not leave?’

  ‘I can’t, Helen. Even if she were capable of making all her own arrangements now, there’ll come a point when she won’t be able to make even the simplest decisions. She took me in and cared for me. I owe her.’

  ‘Take it from someone who’s watched from the sidelines, Phoebes, you’ve more than paid your dues. Why didn’t you finish off your design course when you came back to Liverpool? Why weren’t you even allowed to carry on going to night school? I’ll tell you why. Because your nan took over your life and made you afraid to take risks. This is your chance to start with a blank canvas.’

  ‘I don’t know—’

  ‘Of course you know!’ Helen said, having lost patience. ‘I was scared of going it alone too when John left, but I had my friends to support me and so do you. Start believing in yourself, Phoebe, and for God’s sake, stop listening to your nan.’

  Before Phoebe could answer, there was another series of thumps. She stood up and pulled the drape from the mirror. She didn’t like what she saw. ‘I have to go.’

  Whether it had been the creak of the bed or the tone of Phoebe’s voice, Helen knew her arguments were falling on deaf ears. ‘If you won’t leave permanently then you at least deserve a break. Milly’s at home this weekend so how about we have a pyjama party?’ Before Phoebe could throw cold water over any suggestion of leaving her nan alone overnight, she added, ‘You could still be home by midnight, Cinderella.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘No maybes. I want to see you at my house at six o’clock on Saturday. I’ll ask Julia along too and we can order pizza.’

  Phoebe was forced to agree to Helen’s demands if only to get her off the phone, and then immediately scurried downstairs to silence the menacing thump of her grandmother’s walking stick.

  ‘Have you been crying?’ Theresa asked.

  Phoebe rubbed at the smeared make-up under her eyes. ‘No, I was asleep.’

  Her grandmother eyed her with suspicion but didn’t challenge her. ‘I know it’s early but I’ve had an exhausting day, which hasn’t been helped by using this to get your attention,’ she said, lifting the walking stick. ‘Half an hour I’ve been calling you, Phoebe.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear you.’

  ‘Selective hearing more like,’ her grandmother replied and shifted in her seat. ‘I’ve seized up so I need your help.’

  Spurred on by the prospect of being dismissed early for the evening, Phoebe helped her nan to her feet, and once she was up, Theresa used Phoebe and her walking stick for support. ‘You’re a good girl,’ she said surprisingly softly. ‘I know I’m becoming a burden to you and given how I’ve been the one looking after you for most of your life, it must be hard.’

  Phoebe’s response was exactly as they both expected. ‘It’s all right, Nan. Don’t worry about me.’

  ‘But I do worry about you. I worry about what’s going to happen when I’m not here.’ Her grandmother stopped and let go of Phoebe long enough to tap a finger against the side of her temple. ‘Or here,’ she added solemnly. ‘But something stopped me leaving today, and I think it was meant to be. You shouldn’t be on your own, not yet. You’re not ready and I expect you’re feeling relieved that we won’t have to face the prospect of selling this place. I know how much you love this house.’

  The cat followed the two shuffling figures into a room at the back of the house that had been converted into a downstairs bedroom, weaving between their legs and making the task doubly hard. When Theresa eased herself onto the bed, Leonard jumped up next to her and they both watched on as Phoebe flitted here and there. She fetched a glass of water and set it on the bedside table next to her grandmother’s reading glasses and a stack of books, and then laid out a clean nightdress taken from the suitcase she couldn’t face unpacking yet.

  ‘Do you need help getting to the bathroom?’ Phoebe asked. Her grandmother normally managed well enough on her own but Phoebe was making a point.

  ‘I’ll be fine on my own,’ Theresa said with steely determination. ‘Here, take Monty.’

  Leonard’s predecessor, Monty, was buried in a far corner of the garden but Theresa wouldn’t take kindly to being corrected. Phoebe did as she was bidden but as she pulled the cat from the bed, his claws pulled at the brocade bedspread, making Theresa tut.

  ‘Sorry,’ Phoebe said as she unhooked a particularly stubborn claw.

  Her grandmother tugged at the pull in the fabric. ‘It’s all right, I’ll fix it. You go and have some time to yourself,’ she said, and then fresh worry creased her wrinkled brow. ‘You will be all right on your own, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Nan, stop worrying,’ Phoebe said, swallowing back her frustration which scratched at her throat.

  Once she had closed the door to her grandmother’s room, Phoebe let Leonard drop to the floor. She focused her creative mind on summoning up an alternate reality where she could believe she was alone in the house and in control of her own destiny, but unfortunately even Phoebe’s imagination had its limitations.

  19

  The Accident

  In the dead of night there was one heart that beat loudest and demanded the most attention, but this was nothing unusual for Lucy Cunliffe. She was used to the unsteady rhythm of her defective organ, only this time it wasn’t her heartbeat that woke her up but something else. For the briefest moment the remnants of her dream lingered and when she opened her eyes, she expected to find herself in a hotel room in Lanzarote. But she was still at home, lying in her bed in a room bathed in soft light from the streetlamp outside. Despite the familiarity, she felt unsettled and tried to work out what it was that had roused her from sleep and t
hen she heard it again. It was the sound of someone breathing.

  ‘Mum?’ Lucy asked when her eyes had become accustomed to the light and she could make out the figure sitting on the wooden chair by her dressing table.

  Her mum’s chin had been resting on her chest and she had been softly snoring until the sound of Lucy’s voice jolted her from her own dreams. ‘What? Is everything all right?’

  ‘I don’t know, is it? What are you doing in here?’

  ‘Sorry, I must have dozed off.’

  Her mum stood up and stretched her spine.

  ‘But why are you in here?’ Lucy asked, although she could hazard a guess. It wouldn’t be the first time her mum had kept vigil at her bedside, clinging to every minute as if it were the last she would spend with her daughter. It was what her mum was doing now except rather than dealing with the latest medical crisis, she was battling with her daughter’s stubborn determination.

  ‘I just wanted to …’ Her mum’s words trailed off and there was a catch in her throat before she continued. ‘I just wanted to watch you sleep, that’s all.’

  Lucy could have cried. She could have crumpled along with her resolve and told her mum that she had come to her senses and yes, it was foolish to take such unnecessary risks. But Lucy couldn’t bring herself to do that, not even for the amazing woman who had held her hand for the last twenty-four years and was refusing to let go. Instead she smiled and gave a soft laugh. ‘Well, you didn’t do a very good job. You woke me up with your snoring.’

  Leaning over, her mum planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘Then I’d better leave you in peace. Sleep tight, my darling. Tomorrow’s a big day.’

  The palpitations in Lucy’s chest were a regular occurrence, but only very rarely was it excitement that made her heart race. ‘I know, Mum, and I can’t wait.’

  Pausing at the door, her mum looked back and stared at Lucy as if committing the image to memory. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ she said.

  ‘I will come back, Mum,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m going to be the bane of your life for a long time yet.’

  ‘Promise?’

  A saying came to mind, one her mum had scolded her for using once when she was a child. She couldn’t cross her heart and hope to die. That would be up to someone else if Lucy were ever to keep her promise to her mum.

  20

  As Julia waited for Helen to answer the door she felt a surge of nostalgia. Life had become too complicated of late and a part of her wished she were back in her teens, about to spend the evening babysitting two troublesome girls and pretending she hated every minute of it. Helen and Julia’s parents had done everything together and, as young parents, they thought Saturday night was their chance to kick loose while the kids stayed at home, but in truth, their daughters had claimed it as their own. Julia and Helen loved having the house to themselves, even if the age difference meant they had opposing views back then about what to do with their freedom. By rights, Phoebe shouldn’t have been there, but she always was. She and Helen were inseparable, just as long as Helen didn’t have to spend too much time at Phoebe’s house with her scary grandmother and unpredictable mother, and Julia didn’t mind looking after Phoebe – she was never the troublemaker.

  ‘Don’t stand there like a dummy. Get in,’ Helen ordered when Julia struggled to emerge from the reverie and was a little dazed to see her friend as a fully grown woman.

  Helen hadn’t been joking when she said it was a pyjama party and had answered the door wearing a Winnie-the-Pooh vest top and shorts, paired with what could only be described as novelty slippers.

  ‘Your feet could do with a shave,’ Julia said, stepping into the hall and slipping off her coat. She was wearing a jersey dress that was a little more forgiving than the jeans she had originally tried on.

  ‘You look nice,’ Helen said.

  Julia wasn’t sure if it was the dress or her newly acquired curves that Helen was admiring but took the compliment anyway. ‘Some of us like to make the effort,’ she said before slipping past one friend, to be confronted by another. Phoebe had poked her head out of the living room and her eyes widened in fear when Julia added, ‘And I have a bone to pick with you.’

  ‘Why? What have I done?’

  ‘You didn’t tell me what was going on. I had to wait for Helen to fill me in. You should have called an emergency meeting.’

  ‘I said that,’ Helen agreed.

  ‘I didn’t want to bother you,’ Phoebe said, still looking flustered. ‘And besides, Helen couldn’t leave Milly.’

  ‘I could have met you,’ Julia said.

  ‘And I can look after myself. Mum’s done it before,’ Milly said. She had squeezed past Phoebe to greet the latest arrival. Helen’s daughter was wearing similar-styled pyjamas to her mum and identical monster feet slippers.

  ‘I heard you had one of those Facebook parties last time and trashed the place,’ Julia said.

  Milly rolled her eyes. ‘No one uses Facebook any more.’

  ‘Yeah, Julia,’ Helen said in a childish tone, ‘you must be really ancient if you still use Facebook.’

  ‘At least I know how to send a text message,’ Julia said, directing the comment at Phoebe.

  She wished Phoebe had gone against her natural instincts, that she had been selfish for once and bothered her friends. If nothing else, it would have given Julia some reassurance that her recent neuroses hadn’t damaged their friendship.

  Phoebe gave Julia an apologetic look. ‘I really am sorry, Julia.’

  ‘Well, we’re here now.’

  ‘So let’s get this party started,’ Helen said, grabbing her daughter’s arm and dragging her towards the kitchen. ‘You two make yourselves at home while we get things ready.’

  ‘Do you get the feeling we’re a little overdressed?’ Julia whispered.

  Phoebe tugged anxiously at the soft lamb’s wool jumper she was wearing which had ridden up above her waist, exposing her midriff.

  ‘Pastel colours really suit you,’ Julia said. She had also wanted to tell Phoebe that she looked stunning but knew from experience that such a compliment would never be accepted and would only serve to embarrass her friend.

  ‘I was going to wear something black – I know, for a change,’ Phoebe said, beating Julia to it. ‘Something to match my mood.’

  ‘Come on.’ Julia put an arm around Phoebe and gave her a gentle squeeze as they slipped into the living room. ‘Tell me what’s been happening.’

  Phoebe flopped down onto an armchair while Julia poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle that had been left amongst a pile of DVDs on the coffee table. They were all Disney movies.

  ‘I refuse to bring the mood down,’ Phoebe started, ‘so let’s just say that all of Nan’s things are unpacked and she’s now of the view that we’ve both had a narrow escape. There, enough about me, tell me what’s been happening with you.’

  Julia stared at the glass of wine in her hand and felt a familiar sense of disappointment in herself. If she knew for certain that refraining from the odd glass or two would get her the baby she craved, if it were that simple, then she wouldn’t touch a drop. But the last two years had taught her that there were no simple solutions and no guarantees in life. ‘Now that would definitely bring the mood down,’ she said before taking a sip of wine.

  ‘Still problems between you and Paul?’

  ‘No,’ she said a little too defensively. ‘Or at least we’re not at each other’s throats, far from it. But it’s not going to be easy until we know what’s ahead of us, which is why we’ve been making an extra effort to do more fun things together, and that’s why he’s not been able to help with your driving lessons lately.’ Julia winced. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘If there’s a problem with Paul and me,’ Julia continued, ‘it’s that we’re trying too hard to convince ourselves that we could be happy without kids. And while I think we could … God, I’m not ready to accept that as an option, not
yet.’

  Julia could easily have said more, but the smell of freshly popped popcorn heralded the return of Helen and Milly. She turned to the door in time to greet them with a smile and in a lighter tone added, ‘And in the meantime, it’s my adoptive daughter who’s going to fill the breach.’

  Milly ignored the stares as she placed the bowl of popcorn on the table and proceeded to sort through the DVDs, making a good act of being oblivious to the question mark hanging over Julia’s statement.

  ‘Are you sure you want to watch cartoons?’ she asked them. ‘We could stream a movie from the Internet. Something a bit more grown-up?’

  ‘Oh, no, I want to revert to my second childhood,’ her mum insisted.

  ‘Second childhood?’ Julia asked.

  While Helen poked out her tongue at Julia, Phoebe was more interested in the DVDs Milly was sorting through. ‘I see you’ve got The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Helen, but have you got—’ Her eyes lit up when she saw the next one come into view. ‘The Little Mermaid! I used to love watching that.’

  Helen began laughing. ‘Mum used to have it on standby whenever she knew you were coming over. I think you wore the first video out.’

  ‘Video? As in old-fashioned video tapes?’ Milly asked. ‘I suppose it was in black and white then too.’

  ‘Less of the lip, young lady,’ Helen replied. ‘You’ve heard our selection, now come on, set it up.’

  ‘What? Am I your servant tonight, or something?’

  Helen started to speak, then stopped, but only briefly because she went on to say it anyway. ‘I might as well make the most of you while I can.’

  The rebellious streak her daughter had been displaying vanished in a moment and it was a young girl with a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks that switched on the DVD player.

  When the film started, Milly looked for somewhere to sit. Julia made a space between herself and Helen on the sofa and Milly launched herself between them. When she chose to cuddle into Julia, Helen folded her arms, but Julia felt only a small twinge of guilt as she enjoyed the small victory. It didn’t matter where Milly lived, Helen would always be her mum, but Julia needed moments like this.