by Leah Mercer
‘Die?’ The word leaves me as a whimper, swirling in the air in a mist of fear and panic.
‘I’m not saying that Mark is going to die. But Anna . . .’ Richard swallows, his face tight. ‘I know it’s hard to hear, but Mark does look very ill. Of course, we don’t know what’s wrong, but after seeing him, I’d wager that whatever he has, it’s quite serious.’
‘But you said . . .’ I can barely hear the words over the frantic beating of my heart. ‘You said you were confident the specialists could help him.’
‘And they probably can.’ Richard nods. ‘Like I told you, there have been so many advances. But I do think you need to prepare yourself.’ His face softens, and he reaches out to touch my arm again. ‘It may not be an easy road ahead.’
His eyes hold mine as thoughts clog my mind. I’d hoped – of course I had – that this cancer was one you could just cut out, have a round of chemo and be done with it. And maybe it still is; Richard could be wrong. But even if it’s not, what does it matter? Easy road, hard road, I don’t care. All that’s important is bringing Mark back to me – to us.
I push back from the table and get to my feet, swaying slightly as the room spins.
‘Anna?’
‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ I take in deep breaths until the world rights itself. ‘I just want to go home now.’ So many emotions are whirling inside of me that I can’t even start to think of what to do next. I need to regroup – to gather myself and try to come up with a way to reach out to my husband. To break through the wall he’s erected to protect me . . . from him.
Richard bundles me into a cab headed back to Sophie’s. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’ he asks. ‘Make sure you get back all right?’
I shake my head. ‘No, that’s okay. So I guess . . .’ My voice trails off as I try to figure out what to say next. See you later? Talk tomorrow? The truth is, our mission to find Mark is what brought us together. And we’ve done that: we’ve tracked him down, and he’s turned us both away. It feels like we each need to find our own way to get through to him now.
‘We’ll talk soon.’ Richard pats my hand and tries to smile, but it barely lifts his lips. ‘Goodnight.’
The cab wends its way towards north London, leaving behind the cancer centre . . . leaving behind my husband. It lurches in and out of the rush-hour traffic, but I barely even notice. Even though I’m nearing collapse, I can’t keep still. My feet tap as I replay what happened over and over, my heart painfully squeezing with each loop. I was so sure that once we just saw each other the strength of our emotions would carry us through. And then the baby . . . the baby I never even got the chance to tell him about. God.
My head pounds and I press my fingers to my temples, trying to block out Richard’s words about Mark’s condition – trying to block out tonight. I need to stay strong, I tell myself. I can’t dwell on what happened because I know that if I do, the fear and doubt will swell until I can’t even move any more. And I need to keep moving, need to keep it together – to find a way to tell Mark about the baby. Because once he knows about our child, he will come back to me. Every fibre of me throbs with that certainty.
‘Here we are.’ The cabbie’s voice breaks the silence and I blink in surprise that we’ve arrived already.
‘Thank you.’ I pay the fare, climb from the cab and stand back, watching as it turns and disappears into the black night.
Inside Sophie’s, the kitchen is warm and cosy. Flora is sitting at the table, colouring in a map. Her face lights up when she sees me. ‘Hey, Auntie Anna!’
‘Hey, munchkin.’ I shed my coat, eager to slough off everything to do with this night, then cross the room to give her a quick cuddle. She smells like felt tips, spaghetti and laundry detergent, and tears come to my eyes at the mix of familiar scents from my childhood. ‘Where’s your mum?’ I’m desperate to sink into my sister’s comforting arms, to let the pain and confusion come pouring out and to drink in her reassurance and faith in me and Mark. I need her to boost me up like never before.
For a split second, I consider telling Sophie about the baby, but I shove the thought away. I can’t bear to dilute the moment by telling someone other than my husband first.
Flora tips her chin up. ‘Upstairs.’
I nod, ruffle her hair and then take the stairs two at a time. I don’t trust myself to say any more; emotions clamour inside me, fighting for release. I rush through the half-open bedroom door, but the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.
It’s absolute chaos. Empty drawers are scattered around the room, hangers lie like open traps on the carpet and a huge suitcase rests on the floor. It couldn’t be further from its usual immaculate state. And in the midst of it all is my sister, furiously removing clothes from Asher’s side of the wardrobe and throwing them on to the bed. It looks like a Ben Sherman catalogue exploded in here. ‘Sophie?’ I say carefully, not sure if I should be interrupting her.
Sophie spins towards me. ‘Oh, hi. I didn’t hear you come in,’ she says, then turns away to continue her task. I watch silently as suit after suit comes flying out of the wardrobe to join the pile on the bed. I’m dying to talk, to tell her what’s happened, but . . .
‘Just sorting Asher’s stuff from mine,’ she says in an oddly chipper voice that I don’t think I’ve heard before. ‘He’s rented a flat on the high street and he wants to start moving his things. The sooner, the better.’ The upbeat tone becomes bitter.
My eyebrows fly up. ‘That was fast! I thought you’d just talked about separating a week ago.’
‘I know.’ Sophie nods. ‘But guess what?’ she asks in that same brittle voice. I don’t even try to guess – I stay quiet to let her continue. ‘Turns out the reason he’s so eager to move out is that he has a girlfriend.’
My mouth drops open, and I shake my head as I try to absorb the news. Asher has a girlfriend? It sounds so odd coming from his wife’s mouth.
‘But . . .’ The word dribbles out.
‘Yes, he moves quickly, right? But actually, he’s been seeing her for almost a year now. At least according to him. Who knows how long it’s really been going on.’
‘Oh my God, Sophie. I’m so sorry.’ I try to reel her in for a hug, but she shakes me off, continuing to empty the wardrobe as if her life depends on it.
‘He wanted to tell me now because she’s going to move in with him,’ Sophie says, her mouth twisting. ‘More fool her – she’ll just become the domestic skivvy I turned into. He only wanted to live with her once I vacated the position.’ Finally, she sits down on the bed, running her hands over her face.
‘I feel like such an idiot,’ she says. ‘I was trying everything to make us better. And I guess in the back of my head, even though I meant it, part of me hoped that by telling him I wanted to separate he’d realise that he did want to be with me – that he would try to make it work. Instead, he ran straight to his backup – a backup I didn’t even know was waiting in the wings.’ She rubs her eyes furiously, as if defying them to start crying. ‘I was right all those years ago. There usually is another woman. Why did I even bother trying? What a total fucking waste of time.’ She glances up at me. ‘At least you don’t have to worry about that. At least you know there isn’t someone else. You just need to find him . . .’
A wave of pain hits so hard I can barely stop a cry escaping my mouth. I can’t believe I did find Mark and he wouldn’t talk to me. But then . . . then I remember what Richard told me – why my husband would try so hard to push me away. It’s because he loves me, I remind myself, and nothing else. I need to hold on to that.
‘What happened?’ She notices the look on my face.
I sit down on the bed beside her, wondering if I should tell her about tonight’s events. It’s not exactly the uplifting news she needs to hear right now. Once I explain the reason behind Mark’s actions, though, I’m sure she’ll understand.
‘We found Mark tonight,’ I say finally.
Sophie’s mouth drops open.
‘What? You found him? What the hell are you doing here? Go home, or wherever he is, and be with him!’ She grabs my arms and tries to lever me off the bed, but I manage to shake her off. God, she’s strong.
‘No, no, it’s not that easy.’ I stare down at the floorboards for a second, my reflection distorted in the shiny gloss. ‘He, well . . . he doesn’t want to come home.’ My stomach twists again at the words.
Sophie’s brow furrows. ‘What do you mean, he doesn’t want to come home? He knows that you know about his cancer, right? And that you want to be there with him?’
I nod, everything inside me aching. ‘Yes, his father told him all of that – Richard was the one who saw Mark first. And then I tried to see him when he was waiting for the nurse and he wouldn’t even let me in. But—’
‘You’re sure he saw you?’ Sophie interrupts. She looks like she doesn’t want to believe what happened just as much as me.
I nod again. ‘Yes, definitely. He saw me and he turned away. But listen, Soph . . .’ My voice trails off as she jumps to her feet, resuming her sorting.
‘I’m so sorry, Anna.’ Bang. A hanger cracks on to the floor, and I flinch. ‘I really thought you two, well . . . that no matter what, you would stay together.’ Bang. ‘But you just never know, do you? You never know what’s going on inside their heads. Even after years together.’
She turns towards me, fury twisting her features. ‘You know what? Fuck them!’ She slaps a suit down on the bed so hard the mattress shakes. ‘Fuck them both. If they don’t want to be with us, then why should we care? I’ll tell you this much: don’t waste your time trying to convince someone to stay with you. They either do or they don’t. It’s that simple.’
My mouth drops open at her outburst. I draw in a breath and try to stay calm. ‘Look, I can understand why you’re angry at Asher. I’m angry at him, too.’ God, a girlfriend. Poor Sophie – no wonder she’s furious. ‘But Mark’s not Asher. Our situation is nowhere near the same.’ My husband has cancer, for goodness’ sake. And then there’s the baby . . . the baby Sophie doesn’t know about. The baby Mark doesn’t know about.
The baby that will change everything.
‘Richard told me all about Margo and how she died,’ I continue, desperate to make my sister understand – to hear her words of reassurance and support. I know she’s hurting, too, but I can’t even begin to reach out until I calm the storm of emotions inside me. ‘And it’s . . . awful.’ I explain about the anorexia, her struggle to overcome the disease and how Mark found her after the suicide. ‘If I’d gone through that, I might act the same way.’ But even as I say the words, I know I wouldn’t – couldn’t – be that strong. ‘Soph, Mark pushed me away to protect me, to stop me from going through everything he did. He loves me, I know he does. I just need a chance to talk to him – to sit him down face to face and really thrash this out.’ I take a deep breath, thoughts flying through my head. ‘We don’t know when he’ll be back at the cancer centre, so maybe we can focus on finding out where he’s staying. He’ll likely want to be nearby, given all the appointments he’ll probably have. I know we’ve rung those places, but I think it’d work better in person. I’m going to take a picture of him door to door, to every hotel, and see if I can find him and—’
‘Anna.’ Sophie grips me firmly by the shoulders, looking straight into my eyes. ‘You did find him. You – and me and Richard – put everything into tracking him down. You haven’t been at work for weeks, or even in your own home. Your life is shut down, and I understand that. Of course you’d do everything you could.’ She shakes her head. ‘But whatever his reasons – whether it’s because of the past or something else – Mark doesn’t want to be with you.’ She pauses, as if wanting to impart extra emphasis to her next words. ‘You need to stop now.’
I gape at her. ‘Stop?’ She sounds like Mark, telling me to move on. I shake my head in disbelief.
Sophie sinks on to the bed beside me. ‘I know Mark’s ill, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat you like shit. For Christ’s sake, he ran off without even giving you a reason! He must have known you’d try to find him, but he left you nothing, not even a bloody phone number. And after spending all those hours tracking him down, he flat out rejected you.’ I flinch at her words, but I don’t turn away. I won’t let her anger and bitterness batter me down – I can’t.
‘People change,’ Sophie says. ‘Because of illness, life, other women . . .’ She lets out a low laugh. ‘Do you think I ever imagined the man who begged me to marry him would end up cheating?’ She shakes her head. ‘I thought Mark would never hurt you, but look at what he’s done.’ I try to interrupt, but she holds up a hand. ‘It doesn’t matter why. Life happens, illness happens, people do shitty things. We should know that – look at our own family.’ She tightens her hold on me. ‘You need to stop believing now that everything will be all right. Because it won’t. Mark isn’t the man you married. Not any more. And the sooner you accept that, the better. Take it from me.’
I break free from her grip, anger building inside me. Sophie was the one who always told me things would be fine – that Dad would be back; that Mark would be back. Why the hell is she doing this now? I don’t need to hear this. I don’t need to let my doubts and fears balloon. What I need is energy and drive – to be built up, not torn down.
‘Things may not ever be all right in your marriage,’ I say. ‘But Mark and I will be fine.’ I try to keep my voice steady despite the doubts now bleating in my ears. Damn Sophie.
‘Fine.’ Sophie jumps to her feet and crosses to the wardrobe, chucking shirt after shirt on to the bed. ‘You continue living in la-la land. But, Anna, I’m out. I’m not going to help you any more. I can’t help you find Mark, then watch as he rejects you again. Because that’s exactly what will happen.’ She pauses, her hand twisting the arm of a suit as if she wishes Asher was in it right now. ‘And . . . did you ever think that for once I need your help now?’
‘You need my help?’ I stand and face my sister, furious at her certainty that Mark will turn me away once more. Instead of calming the storm, her words have whipped it up to an even greater ferocity. ‘You were the one who asked Asher to leave, Soph. You put an end to your relationship. Sure, he has a girlfriend, but . . .’ I take a deep breath, rage sweeping through me. Unlike my sister, I’ve had absolutely no say in my life these past few weeks. I’ve been completely powerless, and never have I felt feebler than at this moment. ‘You chose to make him leave – you made that decision. So what exactly do you need help with?’ The words fall from my mouth before I can stop them and – judging from the pained expression on Sophie’s face – they’ve certainly hit home. I freeze for a second, my anger restrained by an urge to throw my arms around my sister and tell her I don’t mean it – that of course I’ll help her.
But then her voice rings in my head, saying that Mark will reject me, and my fury returns even fiercer. I won’t stay here with her a second longer – I can’t. She clearly doesn’t grasp the strength of Mark’s resolve to protect me. I’m not even sure I did, at least not until Richard’s story tonight. And she doesn’t know I’m pregnant, either . . . thank goodness. I shake my head, just imagining how strong her tirade against Mark would be if she did. For the first time my sister doesn’t get my life at all.
But so what? I don’t need her help. I’ll find Mark on my own.
I rush from the bedroom before Sophie can respond to my attack, every bit of me vibrating with emotion. I grab my things from the spare room, throw them in a bag and then thump down the stairs and through the kitchen, anger tunnelling my vision as I rush towards the door. I need to get out of here. I need to go back to our flat – our home, with Mark beside me . . . once I find him – where we will be a family.
‘Auntie Anna?’
Flora’s voice floats through the air behind me.
I turn, pasting a smile on my face. ‘Sorry, I forgot you were there!’ I take a few steps back into the kitchen then lean down to give her
a quick goodbye hug.
Flora pulls back from my arms. ‘Is Uncle Mark okay?’ She bites her lip, her eyes locked on to mine.
My heart drops, and I wonder how much Sophie has told her. ‘Well, he’s a bit poorly,’ I say, my mind flashing back to that terrible image of Mark’s hollowed cheeks. God.
‘But he’ll come back again soon, right?’ she asks. ‘It’s just I have this new game on the tablet I want to show him, and Daddy said he would take a look, but he’s really . . .’ Her voice falters. ‘I’ve been waiting ages to show Uncle Mark.’ Her blue eyes search my face eagerly, as if she knows I’ll say yes – as if there really isn’t any other possibility.
I take a deep breath. She’s right, this niece of mine. There isn’t any other possibility.
‘Yes,’ I say, my resolve growing by the second. ‘Yes, he’ll come back again.’
‘Good.’ Flora grins, her little face crinkling, then she climbs back on to the chair and resumes her colouring.
I head off into the night, pausing to turn and gaze up at the house, light streaming from the bedroom where my sister is surrounded by the detritus of her marriage. I picture the pain on her face and I waver for a second, remembering how hard she’s tried to find Mark . . . and how little I’ve done for her – how I brutally batted away her request for help. I’ve never spoken to my sister that way, but then she’s never refused to help me.
She’ll be all right, I think, anger reigniting as I recall her words. She’s always been the strong one, and now I need to match that strength. The light flicks off inside the bedroom and I turn and walk away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Mark
It’s over a week – I think – since I returned to my B & B that night from the cancer centre, and over a week since I left my room. The doctor said it’s normal to feel so tired – my body is undergoing an assault on all sides – but just hobbling to the loo seems like a major journey, never mind pounding the streets to somehow find Grace.