Chapter 49
The next day in the gallery, I couldn’t help smiling when I thought of how happy Nat had looked last night. I was dying to see her to hear how her night had gone after. I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea. I came out and sat down at the desk. I switched on the computer and, while I was waiting for that to start up, I pressed the button on the answering machine to listen to the messages. Instantly Dad’s hesitant voice filled the air
“Eh . . . Kate, it’s me, Dad . . .” I was just about to press the delete button but there was something about his tone that made me listen to the rest of his message. “Look, I’ve been trying to get you all day on your mobile and I didn’t want to leave a message for you in work like this . . . but eh . . . it’s your gran – she’s not well. She’s been rushed to hospital. We think it might be a stroke. Give me a ring me when you get this, yeah?”
I picked up the phone on the desk straight away and tried phoning Dad back but his phone kept ringing out.
I rang Ben next. Luckily he wasn’t yet in class so he hadn’t switched off his phone. I told him what had happened, the words spilling out of me like I was watching the situation from afar. I couldn’t think straight about what I needed to do to get back to Ireland and be with Gran.
“Right, Kate, get in a cab and I’ll meet you back at home, okay?”
On autopilot I locked up the gallery and went out to flag a taxi.
When I got home and saw Ben, it all hit me and I fell apart. I tried Dad again but I only got his voicemail. I rang Patrick and Seán’s phones too but neither answered. Ben did a quick search on his laptop to see which airport had the next scheduled flights. He reckoned Stansted was our best bet – there was a Ryanair flight to Dublin leaving soon. The flights to Knock, which would have been closer, had already departed for the day. He ran around and put a few things in a bag for the both of us then I followed him down the stairs and into the car. We drove to the airport in silence. My mind was whirring with worry. I felt so guilty when I thought back to the last time I was home in Gran’s kitchen when I was mean to Aoife. Is that what had caused the stroke?
Occasionally Ben would reach across and rub my hand and tell me it was going to be okay. But I wasn’t so sure.
Chapter 50
It took four sets of traffic lights, one overtaken bus, three loops of the multistorey car park, one queue at the wrong ticket desk, one queue at the right one, two tarry coffees, five cartons of UHT milk – and one embarrassing scene where I tearily begged a flight attendant to let me board without a doctor’s letter before Ben and I were sitting on a flight bound for Dublin.
I prayed even though I’m not religious. I bargained with God. I would take the stairs instead of the escalator every day for the next month. Year. I would stop swearing. Whatever it took, I would do it. I would visit home more often, I would ring Dad weekly without fail, I would even try to make amends with Aoife. Whatever it took to keep Gran with us, I promised that I would do it.
As we descended into Dublin, my heart started up again. The man beside me had claimed our shared armrest so I sat with my elbow leaning on the left and my head resting against Ben’s shoulder. I looked out the window as we made our descent into Dublin.
We caught a thermal stream coming down and the plane jolted before steadying again and then we were down on the ground. The sounds of the engines roared as we landed, the wing flaps popping up to slow us down.
As we hadn’t checked on any baggage we were able to go straight through to security and then out to the Arrivals hall. I tried Dad again as soon as my phone picked up the Irish network but there was still no answer. The not knowing was horrendous. Horrible scenarios were spinning around inside my head.
“They’re all probably at the hospital,” Ben offered, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “They probably have to switch them off in case they interfere with any of the machines.”
I nodded. I belatedly texted Nat to tell her what had happened because I knew she would be worried when she arrived at work to find the gallery closed.
Ben followed the signs for the car-hire desks and I followed behind him. We were given a Fiat Punto with an apologetic smile from the woman manning the desk and we set off.
As we drove along the M4 I continued my bargaining with God – I would be nicer and more patient with people. I wouldn’t watch television for a whole year.
Finally Dad phoned me back. She was in intensive care but stable. They were still waiting to hear from the doctor.
It was nearly six o’clock in the evening by the time we pulled up in to the hospital car park. I felt my blood run cold when I thought about the last time that I had been here. I hated this place. Everything about it reminded me of Mam. The grey pebble-dashed walls, the hospital-perfect neat grass verges. The way people spoke in low hushed tones. The sterile smell. The orderly politeness of the other people you met there – the forced camaraderie because you were all in this together. Like everyone was trying to be on their best behaviour. The anxious relatives you met in the corridors as they waited on their loved one to come out of surgery or the lucky ones smiling as they came through the doors, ready for home.
“You okay?” Ben said, turning to me as he took the key out of the ignition and turned off the headlights.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s go inside,” I said sighing. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car. I walked up to the sliding doors and went up to the reception where they directed me to her room.
I met Dad, Patrick and Seán in the corridor outside. They were all standing around clasping polystyrene cups.
“Kate, Ben!” Dad exclaimed when he saw us. “You got here!”
I nodded hello at Patrick and Seán.
“How is she?” I asked.
“Well, she’s come round and she knew who we were but we won’t know the full extent of its effects until they assess her tomorrow. They said that if Aoife hadn’t noticed the signs and acted so fast, things could have been very different.”
“Where’s Aoife?”
“She’s sitting with Gran. We just came out here to get a cup of tea and stretch our legs for a few minutes.”
“Can I go in?”
“Of course. We were just going back in ourselves.”
I pushed open the door and we all filed quietly into the room.
I got a shock when I saw Gran lying on the bed looking so frail. She was sleeping. I watched her chest rise and fall in shallow beats. She seemed to have shrunk since last weekend. Her shoulders had narrowed and the blue hospital gown dwarfed her. Aoife was sitting up near her head, stroking her hand. She was pale and darkness shadowed her face.
“How’s she doing?” I said to Aoife.
She turned to look at me and turned back towards Gran again. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked wretched.
“So you were able to come then?”
“I got here as fast as I could –”
She cut across me. “How many times did Dad have to ring you before you phoned him back?”
“Well, I –”
“Dad rang you yesterday evening, Kate – yesterday evening – and you only bothered to call him back today! And yet he still makes excuses for you ‘Oh, Kate’s very busy in London’ or ‘She has a lot on her mind with a baby on the way, y’know’. Gran could have been dead and you would have been oblivious to it because you’re too far stuck in Kate Flynn world. Well, I’m sick of it – everyone pussyfooting around you like you’re the bloody Queen of England returning home and we should all roll out the red carpet because Kate Flynn has decided to grace us with a visit!”
“That’s enough now, Aoife. This is not the place.” Dad stepped in. “This won’t help your gran. You’ve had a rough day. I think you should go home and get a few hours’ sleep – you’re exhausted.”
“Don’t worry, I’m going.” She stood up and kissed Gran gently on the forehead before storming out of the room.
“I’ll go after her,”
Seán said. He bumped into a nurse on his way out the door.
“What’s going on in here?” The nurse looked at him and then to the rest of us for an explanation.
We all avoided eye contact with her.
“You can be heard out in the corridor!”
We stared down at the floor.
“Well, whatever it is, it certainly isn’t doing Josephine any good – it’s very important that she gets her rest. I think she has had enough visitors for today.”
I instantly felt guilty.
“Sorry – we’ll go now and leave her in peace,” Dad said.
The nurse nodded. “Visiting time tomorrow is between twelve and two.”
“Right so. Look, sorry again about that.” Dad said getting up from the chair and putting on his coat. “It’s been a long day – I think we’re all a bit tired.”
She nodded.
We got outside the door.
“We should all head on home and get some rest, yeah? There’s nothing more we can do here,” Dad said.
We walked down the corridors until we were back at reception. We went back through the sliding doors and out into the cold evening air. We stood chatting for a few minutes under the amber glow of the car park lights before we said our goodbyes.
“We’ll see you back at the house,” Dad said.
We followed Dad’s car back to Ballyrobin. We went across back roads that I wasn’t too sure of. I would definitely have got us lost.
It took almost an hour before we turned in our gate. We followed Dad into the kitchen where he automatically turned on the kettle. He had left the radio on in the kitchen as usual – he never bothered to turn it off when he was going out.
I felt my stomach rumble and then I remembered that I hadn’t eaten anything all day.
“Do you want a cuppa?”
“No, thanks,” Ben said.
“No, thanks, Dad, not for me. I might just grab a slice of toast if that’s okay?”
“Of course it is. There’s bread in the press. Sorry I haven’t anything organised for dinner with everything going on.”
“Don’t worry about it, toast is fine.”
“So how was the flight?” Dad asked as I pushed two slices of bread down into the toaster.
“It was fine – a bit bouncy on the way down though.”
“Well, you were lucky to get on a flight with such short notice.”
I went to the fridge and took out the butter.
“She’s going to be okay, isn’t she, Dad?”
“Well, they said, we got her to the hospital in time so hopefully she’ll be alright but she is nearly ninety, Kate, and this will take a lot out of her. Luckily Aoife was there with her and noticed something was wrong – if she had been on her own, well, I don’t even want to think what might have happened.”
I felt a shiver run through me at the thought.
The toaster popped and I took out the bread and started to butter it. I offered Ben a slice but he declined. He had eaten a sandwich on the plane but I hadn’t been able to.
“I didn’t have a chance to make up the bed for you with everything going on.”
“Don’t worry about that, sure I’m just glad to have a bed to fall into. I’ll get fresh sheets in the hot press.”
“Well, try and get some sleep, you’ve had a long day.”
We said goodnight and then Ben helped me to make the bed.
The weight of my body sank into the soft mattress. I lay there and stared at the shadowy ceiling. Even though my bones were aching with tiredness, my head was buzzing. The day just started to hit me and I felt wired. I tossed and turned but sleep wasn’t coming. I heard Ben snore softly beside me. Eventually, knowing there was no chance of me sleeping, I gave up and got out of bed. I threw on a jumper over my pyjamas and went along to the kitchen.
I was surprised to see light filtering out from under the doorway. I opened it and saw Dad sitting at the table with his head in his hands. At first I thought he was asleep but then he raised his head up to look at me.
“Ah, Kate! Can you not sleep?”
I shook my head.
“Me neither. What a day, eh? It’s only starting to hit me now.”
I pulled out a chair and sat opposite him at the table.
“Do you reckon Aoife was all right after?”
“I rang Seán a while ago and he said she’s fine. She went straight to bed when she got home.”
“Does she normally flip the lid like that?”
“Honestly? No. I’ve never seen her lose her temper like that before. She’s just tired and the stress of the last twenty-four hours is taking its toll on her.”
“She’s right though.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I did avoid your calls. Only that you left that message at the gallery, I wouldn’t be here . . .”
He looked across at me.
“To be honest, I was so mad at you for not giving me the letter after Mam died like you were supposed to.”
“I figured as much. So you read it then?”
I nodded. “Why did it take you so long to give it to me?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I just never really thought the time was right.”
“Well, what about the time when you were supposed to give it to me? After Mam died?”
“I’m sorry, Kate – but you were so angry, I was afraid it would make everything worse or you’d tear it up or something!”
“Things couldn’t have been much worse than they were, Dad!”
“I know, Kate, I know,” he sighed. “There just never seemed to be a good time. I’ve been waiting for years to give it to you. After she died, I was afraid you would destroy it without opening it or do something you would regret with it. Then you left home and, well, I suppose it just didn’t happen. And then the years went by and I didn’t want to drag it all up again for you, especially when you seemed to be making a new life for yourself over in London. But I thought . . . well . . . now that you’re in the family way yourself that the time was right.”
“Well, it was mine – it was meant for me. You should have given it to me when you were supposed to.”
“I know, Kate, I’m sorry, love. I really am. Do you think if I had given it to you earlier, it would have helped?”
“Probably not if I’m honest. It still wouldn’t have changed what she did.”
“Your feelings haven’t mellowed to her at all after all these years, have they?”
“Well, have yours?”
“Staying angry with her about her decision won’t change anything, Kate.”
“So you’ve forgiven her then?”
“I can see you’re still angry – Lord above, so am I, but it won’t change anything now. She made her decision. She did what she thought at the time was best and we can’t undo that now, can we?”
“I guess so. I have something to tell you, Dad.”
“Oh – what is it?”
“Well, I was mugged a few days ago –”
“You were not! Are you okay? You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“Sure can’t you see yourself that I’m fine? But the letter – it was in my bag. It’s gone, Dad. The police have been checking for CCTV or something in the area but there’s nothing.”
“Sure it wasn’t your fault.”
“But I feel like I’ve let you and Mam down – you’d only just given it to me.”
“You haven’t let me down at all. It was your letter – your mother wrote it for you.”
“I’ve tried to write down the bits of it that I remember but it isn’t the same – it’s not her voice.”
“Look, you know what your mother was like – she wasn’t one for the sentimental stuff.”
“She was great, you know . . . she had a real wry sense of humour.”
“She did, love.”
“Do you miss her, Dad?”
“Every day. Every single day when I come in the door I always think how empty the house feels without he
r – even after twenty years.”
“Me too. It was so unfair, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “I still get angry about it all, to be honest, Kate, and when I feel it coming on me I take off into the fields and it helps to calm me down again. This sounds silly but when the wind is swirling around my ears it’s like I can hear her voice wrapped up inside it telling me to cop myself on and to stop being a bleddy eejit!”
“That’s exactly what she would say!” I said, laughing. “What was it like at the time, Dad – was she scared?”
“Well, I suppose she was – it’s only natural. Although she didn’t let on . . . she was a desperate woman for putting on a brave face. When they first found the mass, she was sure it would all be grand – she never thought for a minute that she was in any danger. And you have to remember it was nearly twenty years ago and things weren’t as advanced then as they are now. But after Aoife was born and we knew things weren’t looking good for her . . . then, I think, yes . . . she was a bit frightened by what lay ahead. And angry too. I said so many Novenas and had asked Father Ball to mention her in his Masses but they all went unheard. I think the way she saw it was that it was her job to get Aoife here safely and then she would start her treatment and get better for all of us . . .” He let out a heavy sigh. “But it didn’t work out that way . . .”
“I regret so much not talking to her during her last few weeks.”
“I know you do and, don’t worry, she knows it too – that’s why she wrote the letter for you. She didn’t write one for any of the others, by the way. You were a teenager – she knew that it was hard on you. But you know your mother thought the world of you, don’t you, Kate?”
I smiled at him. “We were very close in our own way – I know we fought a lot but I always think that if she had lived longer and I had outgrown my awful teenage years and stopped being such a bitch then we would have been best friends.”
“Your mother knew you were just being a headstrong teenager.”
“If it were now things might be different,” I said.
“Who knows?” Dad said. “But I’m sure medicine has moved on a lot from those days. God, it was a horrible thing, that chemo – it killed everything in her body – the bad stuff and the good stuff with it. Thank God nowadays it’s a lot more targeted. Your mother would be so ill after her sessions but she put a brave face on it.”
The Last Goodbye Page 26