by Rosa Temple
‘Sorry,’ I said, stopping at the door. ‘Should I have taken off my shoes? It looks so spanking new in here and—’
‘Don’t be silly, Magenta. Come in and take a seat.’ He held out an arm. I noticed straight away the small tattoo of a bird on his inner arm; that was new. Hugo’s T-shirt was loose-fitting, dark grey over grey sweatpants. His feet were bare.
I looked around for somewhere to sit. There was a deep, spinning chair next to a desk that was up against a wall, but it was covered in books and papers. In the middle of the room was a small coffee table with a mug on it. On one side of the coffee table were two cosy-looking armchairs. There was a three-seater sofa opposite, part of which was covered in magazines, and a rust-coloured throw draped over one arm. Just a little to its right the lively television chatted on regardless of our presence in the corner next to a ceramic tiled fireplace.
Hugo dropped into the chair he’d been occupying and sat forward, muting the television with the remote. I sat in the armchair adjacent to his.
One wall in the living room was covered in large, framed photographs of the Amazon and various beaches I assumed were all in Brazil. The desk against the wall had an open laptop on it and a stack of paperwork sat beside it. I could smell coffee and something rather like incense. I sighed and slumped my shoulders, not relaxing backwards but sitting forward in my seat like Hugo, working my coat off.
‘If you don’t mind my asking,’ he said at last, ‘how did you know where to find me?’
‘Stella.’
‘Shit. I knew it.’ Hugo stood up and ran his hands over his cropped hair before pushing them into the pockets of his sweatpants.
‘Please don’t be angry with her. She said you wouldn’t want me to come but once I knew, Hugo, I just couldn’t keep away.’
‘I wanted to keep away from you. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? So why turn up now? Pity?’
‘No, it’s not pity, Hugo.’ I sat back, surprised at how angry Hugo sounded and how fierce his expression had become. I couldn’t find any of the softness in his face that he used to have. He was still as handsome but something hard was set behind his eyes. He was like a stranger to me. This was a mistake. I was kidding myself. I hadn’t known what to expect when I turned up but it surely wasn’t this reaction. I stood up.
‘I can make it short,’ I said. ‘I can see I’m intruding. It’s just that when I saw you at the hospital I was reminded of what Stella said that day she came to see me about you.’
‘Stella had no right.’
‘Please, Hugo. I don’t want you to be mad at her. In her place I would have done exactly the same thing. Besides, you came back to London, so there was every chance I was going to run into you or you me at some point. I mean, the hospital? So it was only a matter of time. And remember, you came to stay here, the area that, as far as you knew, I might still be living in.’
‘I was pretty sure you’d moved on. You have, haven’t you?’ He was slouching, shuffling around with his hands still in his pockets.
‘As a matter of fact I moved to South West London.’
‘With Anthony?’
‘Yes, with Anthony.’
‘I didn’t come back to seek you out, Magenta. London was calling me back somehow. I can’t explain it. I didn’t want to stay up in Cumbria for treatment and have Dad face this shit all over again. Coping with Mum was enough.’
‘Surely that was different though?’
‘You think? First of all he has to watch his wife die and then his son too?’
I was rooted to the spot, a cold wave drenching me from head to toe. So cold I couldn’t even blink, let alone say a word. All I was aware of were tears working hard to escape my eyes and, without the use of my eyelids, I couldn’t blink them away, and neither could I stop them falling down my cheeks.
‘Sorry I used the death word,’ Hugo said. ‘No one likes to mention it, let alone hear it. But there it is. Magenta?’
‘Hugo?’ I swallowed and wiped the tears with the wrist of my sweater only for more to come, and keep coming. ‘It’s Stella… I…’
‘Yes, Stella,’ he muttered. ‘I know, she just had to come and tell you I was dying. Make you feel sorry for me. Make you come rushing back here and start telling me how much you cared for me, etc. etc.’ He sat back in his chair but I couldn’t move.
‘She never told me that,’ I whispered, not able to turn and look at him.
‘Never told you what?’ he said. I could hear him sitting back in his chair, putting his feet back up on the foot stool. Finally the rest of my body found movement. Taking slow steps I found myself at his chair and dropped to my knees beside him.
‘Stella said you were staying here while you were ill. I thought when I saw you at the hospital it was because you needed to attend that particular hospital. Thought they were specialists.’ I sniffed. I had managed to stop crying.
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘They are specialists. So you see, I didn’t come back for you.’
‘Stella never said.’
‘Said what, Magenta?’
‘Th… that you’re going to die.’ I blinked hard, making sure I was still able to move. ‘For God’s sake. Is it true? You’re dying, Hugo?’
Instantly the softness of his eyes returned. His eyebrows arched. He leaned towards me, grabbing for my hand and clasping it to his chest.
‘Magenta. I… I just assumed she… I thought Stella told you the whole story.’ He got to his feet, pulling me up with him and holding me in his arms as I cried, helplessly, clutching at the sleeve of his T-shirt as if that could keep him there. Keep him alive.
Minutes went by. Eventually Hugo stepped back, holding my upper arms in case I passed out. I had cried for so long I could feel all my strength falling away.
‘Maybe she wanted you to tell me,’ I said, looking into Hugo’s eyes. The harsh greyness of them had blended into the soft blue I’d always known. The whites of his eyes were tinged with red; he’d obviously been on the verge of tears as well.
‘Maybe she did,’ he said with a nod. ‘I wished she’d told me she’d seen you. I would have been prepared. I wouldn’t have blurted it out like that.’
‘I thought the worst was that you had cancer. I didn’t go to that place, you know? That you might be dying. Not for one minute. I thought you came for treatment and afterwards you’d go home again.’
‘Of course you thought that. You’re Magenta Bright. It’s almost as if your name prevents you from going to dark places. You always think positively. You’re for ever the optimist.’
‘And weren’t you at one time? I mean, have you been down all the avenues? Explored all the treatments you can get these days? I mean, lots of people survive cancer, Hugo.’
‘I know. But I’m not one of them. Neither was Mum. You remember she died a few years back?’ Hugo had never gone into detail about his mother’s death; all he’d said was that it happened out of the blue. I didn’t think to question it at the time. Didn’t seem right somehow.
With his head bowed, Hugo told me his mother had died of a form of pancreatic cancer. It was one that was hard to detect and in most cases discovered so late treatment was impossible. As in the case of his mother. She’d lost weight suddenly, her skin became jaundiced and she was in agonising pain until the end.
It never occurred to him to check out whether he might contract it too.
‘Usually it happens to people over the age of sixty-five and usually it isn’t hereditary. Turns out I had a faulty gene.’ He grinned at me as if having a faulty gene was like having been awarded a prize. I shook my head.
‘But where you were, in the rainforest, aren’t there any secret plants or ancient herbs they use? Something?’
‘You think I didn’t ask?’ He laughed. ‘I went straight to the biggest, badass witch doctor in the heart of the jungle and he told me to go to a hospital.’
‘It’s not funny, Hugo.’ I shook my head, flopped onto the sofa on the other side of the coffee tabl
e and wrapped my arms around myself. ‘It’s not funny at all.’ I looked at him, watched him move slowly towards me and take a seat close beside me. He stroked my hair.
‘I didn’t even offer you anything,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some rum I brought back around here somewhere. Stacks of tea Stella bought.’
I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine eating or drinking anything.
‘Where’s Stella now?’ I asked.
Hugo shook his head. ‘With friends I assume. At some stage she might go back to Brazil. Not sure. I told her not to stay until the end. It gets nasty but it happens very quickly.’
I looked away from him. ‘She’ll stay, I know she will.’
Hugo stopped stroking my hair.
‘That’s not what I want you to do, Magenta. I don’t want you around for all that, okay?’
‘That’s mean, Hugo. Don’t think you can shut me out like that.’
‘Between you and Stella, seems like I don’t have a say in how I want my life to be. Or my death.’ I froze. ‘I’m sorry. The word freaks people out.’
‘I’m not squeamish, Hugo. It’s not that.’ I faced him and laid a palm on his thigh.
‘What is it then?’ he asked. ‘Could it be that you still love me?’
Our eyes locked. I blinked slowly several times before answering.
‘If I said yes, would you understand what I meant?’ I asked him.
‘That you love me like a brother? A friend?’
‘No. It’s not that,’ I said. ‘I just… I just love you, Hugo. It never went away. But…’
‘I know. You’re not in love with me. I get it.’
I nodded. ‘But you know who is?’ I said with a slight smile. ‘Stella. That woman loves you to bits. Surely you knew?’
Hugo looked genuinely surprised.
‘But I’m not in love with Stella. She knows I’m not. We’re more like friends with benefits than anything else. It’s what works for us.’
‘Maybe that’s what works for you, but that’s not what she wants from you. You must have seen it.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see it. Something or someone was always in the way.’
We held each other’s gaze for a long while. I shifted slightly away from Hugo before I spoke again.
‘So when you were at the hospital did they offer you any treatment?’ I broke the silence.
‘Some radiation. They said radiation might clear some of the cells and if that happened they can think about trying to remove the tumour.’ He held up a hand when he saw me brighten. ‘Don’t get carried away. The emphasis is on "if", "might" and "try". No certainty at all and the doctor showed me the X-rays. It really is beyond hope now. Stella and Dad talked me into giving it a try. I’ll put myself through the misery of radiation treatment just to please them.’
‘I’m glad you’re at least going to do that. If it worked…’ I smiled at Hugo but he turned away. He knew it wouldn’t. Maybe it was something he could just feel and, on some level, even optimistic me had a feeling he was right.
‘They really don’t hold out any hope, Magenta. There’s the radiation and a drug I take intravenously. I’d just had a course of that drug when you saw me. The radiation starts soon. The drug just leaves me washed-out for the most part. But I go through the farce for Stella and Dad because they… they…’
He couldn’t finish the sentence. I stared at him as he just looked down at the wooden floor.
‘How… how long?’ I whispered. ‘How long have they given you?’
‘The doctors in Brazil said up to eleven months. That was eight months ago.’
‘And did you tell anyone about this eleven months ago? I mean your dad or Stella?’ I imagined Hugo being brave for everyone and giving them less time to be in any pain or distress over him.
‘Well, Stella figured it out when she clocked all the witch doctors I was seekng out. You know how long the waiting list is for some of these people?’ He laughed again, but without looking at me. After a while I got up. Picking up my bag and coat I walked to the door.
‘I’m on the same number as before,’ I declared. ‘Call me when you get your first appointment for radiation treatment.’ I was pulling my bag over my shoulder, being pretty matter-of-fact about accompanying Hugo to the hospital once he knew the start date.
‘No you don’t, Magenta,’ he said coming over to me.
‘What?’
‘You’re not coming with me. I’m doing this on my own. I’m only going through the process because Stella and Dad insist. I know it’s hopeless so I’m not dragging you into the charade.’
‘Hugo, please.’
‘No, Magenta. This is mine. My life, my death. You chose a life apart from mine, didn’t you? You can’t start calling the shots now.’
‘But can’t I ever come and see you?’
‘If Anthony is all right with it.’
‘Why wouldn’t he be?’
‘Won’t he want to know why you so desperately want to be at my bedside when you haven’t seen me in years? Won’t he get the wrong impression?’
‘How could he? That’s silly.’
‘So he knows you’re here now?’
‘Well, no, because…’
‘Because you can’t tell him. He won’t like it. I know I’d be uncomfortable about my girlfriend bringing grapes and a bedside manner to the man she’d once lost her heart to.’
‘But this is different.’
‘Well, try him. Go and tell him you’ve seen me and see how he reacts.’
Of course I wasn’t really sure how Anthony would feel about Hugo and I being back in touch. During my conversations with Anthony, which were becoming few and far between, I had never once admitted I’d found out the mystery of the tanned girl who kept coming to the shop and looking in. It might be a bit hard to tell him now, after the fact. Perhaps I could keep it to myself and never tell Anthony. I didn’t want him to take my concern for Hugo the wrong way.
‘That’s between me and Anthony,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I should go. But I want you to at least call me, update me on what’s happening.’
‘You mean like how much hair I lose? When the funeral is?’
‘Hugo, stop being morbid. That just isn’t you.’
‘You’re right.’ He nodded and softened. ‘My number is the same too. But I’ll call you. I want to manage this my way.’
I nodded and went to kiss Hugo’s cheek but he grabbed my shoulders and kissed me full on the lips. I didn’t pull away but eventually he did.
‘I’m sorry,’ he breathed. ‘Couldn’t resist that. It’s amazing what dying people can get away with.’
We both laughed, lightly, as Hugo walked me to the door. He helped me on with my coat. I gave him a hug before I made for the concrete stairs to street level. I turned back one last time.
‘Call me?’
Hugo nodded and I quickly left.
Chapter 13
How to stay sane when you discover your ex-boyfriend is dying, you can’t tell anyone and you’re about to embark on one of the biggest challenges of your life? There is no YouTube video for that, is there? And no, I didn’t search for one but I did a lot of reading online about pancreatic cancer. It was pretty much as Hugo said. Why I thought I could google a cure I have no idea but I was falling to pieces and trying not to let it show.
‘Aren’t you getting ready?’
Riley’s voice from the doorway of my office made me jump. She might well have been talking to me for ages but I was completely engrossed in scientific websites and new trends in cancer treatment. I had had to go into the office to take an important call from a department store in New York about shipping out a few of our ranges with a view to having them available in several of their outlets around the US. It was my first attempt to sell physical bags outside Europe and a wonderful opportunity I didn’t want to pass up. After that call, though, and after ending the conversation on a very hopeful note, I was back to trawling the worldwide web for cures for Hugo.
>
‘Sorry, what?’ I said, looking up and feeling confused.
‘Magenta!’ Riley was incredulous. ‘It’s the shop’s unveiling this afternoon. Remember? BBC Radio London confirmed their journalist will be at the shop at half past four. You still look vague.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes, you do. They’re broadcasting the whole name reveal during their Drive Time show?’
Of course. It was Thursday. A big day in the Grand Opening celebrations. It all came crashing back into the parts of my brain that dealt with short-term memory. How could I forget something so crucial?
The idea of getting coverage for the opening of the shop had occurred to me after listening to the Drive Time programme on one of my mercy missions to Anya’s house. She’d still been in full-on recluse mode at the time and the article on the radio was about local goings-on in London streets and how they affected local residents. At the time I was sitting in traffic while they interviewed the owners of a group of archway shops and restaurants that had been threatened with closure in Balham. Another time they were discussing a new wholefoods bakery that a couple of brothers from Wanstead were opening up. I didn’t think they’d want to know about the shop opening but I spun it so it became an unveiling of the shop name with early looks and discount purchases after the unveiling of the new baby-changing bags as modelled by Anya Stankovic, who would be cutting the ribbon.
Up until that point, no one knew what the shop was going to be called and I had been on standby for confirmation a reporter would be coming along. Once I’d got the green light it was all systems go and my plan could go ahead. For the more exclusive event for my celebrity guests from the fashion and film industries the following evening I’d had the guest list, reporters, photographers, fashion journalists and bloggers agreed for a long time. The whole affair was being catered for by Rhythm ‘N’ Brews. Of course Jaime and Zac were well rehearsed for the official opening on Saturday morning when the shop opened its doors to the public.
‘I’ll be popping home to change,’ I told Riley as I left my seat and started gathering up my bag and coat.