by Jemma Forte
On Monday I experience the novel feeling of being glad to get into work. Apart from anything else it’s nice to see Jason.
‘All right,’ he says, looking pleased to see me. ‘How are you, stranger? What’s going on in the weird and wonderful world of Marianne Baker then?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ I say, slipping off my jacket.
‘Er, why would I ask if I didn’t want to know? You’re the one who’s gone all quiet and mysterious on me lately.’
‘OK,’ I say, sighing and signalling to him to follow me into the staff room. Once we’re both in, I shut the door behind us.
‘Are you all right?’ Jason says, taking in my serious expression. ‘Seriously, I feel like for ages now you’ve been avoiding me and I want to know why.’
‘I’m fine,’ I sigh. ‘It’s just … I know you think I’ve been mucking you around and being a bad friend but I really have genuinely had a lot on my plate. Basically, in the last few weeks, I’ve discovered that my dad is here, in England, but that he’s dying and only has months to live. Hayley’s been pregnant but has lost the baby and Andy, the guy I’ve mentioned to you before, the one from Thailand, has turned up on my doorstep. Only I don’t like him any more and of course all this is going on under Mum’s roof, and living there is not only humiliating at my age but incredibly hard work and stifling too. Apart from that it’s been quiet,’ I say, mustering up a weak smile. ‘Just your average few weeks really.’
Jason’s facial expressions are struggling to keep up. I register a lot of genuine pity and sympathy for me, along with a huge dollop of shock, all of which threatens to unhinge me completely.
‘But I don’t really want to talk about it all today, if that’s OK. I will at some point bore you with all of it, in detail, I promise, but today I just want to try and forget about it …’ I will myself to keep it together, not wanting to go to pieces just as the first customers are starting to arrive.
Despite having a head full of questions, Jason immediately touches me lightly on the arm in a gesture that’s both comforting and understanding. ‘Don’t you worry,’ he says. ‘It can all wait, and full marks for having the most unbelievable answer ever to the question “what have you been up to”. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not full of surprises.’
I smile back gratefully, not convinced I’ll be able to hold it together if he’s nice to me any more. With that in mind I take a deep breath, turn round and open the door. The salon’s already a noisy hubbub of hairdryers, music and chattering so I decide to set to work cleaning brushes, which turns out to be surprisingly therapeutic. Frankly I have to take these mundane moments where I can because at the moment they’re few and far between. The next set of relationship Olympics are only a day away, for tomorrow evening our dad is meeting Hayley for the first time in years.
The next day, after another mind-numbing yet strangely soothing day at work, I can’t work out who’s more nervous about Ray’s summons to our house. Ray, me, Hayley, or Mum. When I get home she’s already there with Gary, sat round the breakfast bar with Mum. It doesn’t take long for me to notice that they’re surrounded by Sing for Britain paperwork.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Oh Marianne, fabulous news,’ gushes Mum. ‘Hayley’s reconsidered. She’s going to enter Sing for Britain.’
‘Why?’ I ask aghast.
‘Why not?’ Hayley counters stroppily. ‘Just ‘cos you don’t think I’m up to it, doesn’t mean they won’t. I’m thinking of doing a power ballad.’
My heart sinks even deeper into my boots. Meanwhile Gary stands behind her, a silent lump of masculinity. He’s eating a banana, which certainly doesn’t help him appear less like the missing link.
‘Look,’ I say patiently, ‘It’s been a long day and I don’t want to argue. Do whatever you want. It’s your life and I hope you do well.’
‘I can hear you don’t mean that,’ says Hayley who’s back to her groomed self again. Her hair hangs down her back, shiny, blonde and glossy in a way that can only have been achieved at the hairdressers.
Just then the doorbell rings. We all look at each other, panicked.
‘Where’s Martin?’ I ask.
‘Out,’ says Mum. ‘He’s taken Andy and Pete out for a meal at the pub. I thought it was probably best they weren’t here.’
I nod in agreement as the door rings again.
‘Is anyone actually going to get that then?’ asks Gary, looking mildly amused by the situation, which is pretty mean considering there isn’t anything funny about it as far as we’re all concerned.
‘I’ll get it,’ I say, wanting the first face my father sees to be a friendly one.
‘Oh my god,’ I hear Hayley gasp as I wander through to the hallway. ‘I’m about to meet my dad. How fucking weird is that?’
‘Language Hayls,’ I hear Mum say followed by, ‘But you’re right, it is weird.’
I open the door.
‘All right,’ says Ray, hands thrust deep into their pockets.
I can’t help myself, I find myself looking over his shoulder, checking to see whether he’s brought Matthew with him. Not that there’s any rational reason why he would. Still, I’m almost a bit disappointed when I realise he’s definitely not there. I made sure I look half-decent tonight, just in case I got the chance to rectify Matthew’s opinion of me after the clown debacle. Silly really.
‘All right, you OK?’
‘Yeah, yeah, just you know … bit …’
I nod, demonstrating that I know exactly what he means, trying to ignore the butterflies that are in my own belly at this precise moment. ‘Come in then.’
As Ray follows me through to the kitchen I feel rigid with nerves and hardly dare turn around to see whether he’s OK.
‘Hello,’ I hear him say to everyone.
Mum sort of melts into the background, her face hardening a bit as soon as she sees him. Gary finishes off his banana, and Hayley remains rooted to the spot on her bar stool, two high, pink patches colouring her cheeks.
‘It’s good to see you,’ says Dad, tentatively looking directly at his eldest daughter. ‘Thanks for agreeing to see me.’
I will Hayley to give him something to work with. Hello would be a start, but she just stares at him, her expression impassive. Clearly he’s going to have to do all the running and when I really stop to think about it, that’s probably fair enough. He did abandon us. And yet I have progressed so much from the place my sister’s in now, that being so brittle and cold seems like a waste of time really. I want to speed things up to the bit where she stops trying to punish him for what he’s done and accepts the fact that she can’t change the past but can improve the future.
‘Do you want us to leave the room?’ I ask over-brightly, turning to both Hayley and Dad. ‘You know, if you want a bit of privacy.’
‘Anything he’s got to say he can say in front of everyone,’ says Hayley, and her voice is scathing.
‘Well, what do you want to know?’ tries Dad. ‘I mean, I’m sure Marianne’s filled you in on what’s been happening, and it goes without saying that I’m so sorry for not being around. I wish things had been different. With hindsight I wish you girls had always known the truth, though the fact you didn’t was partly your mum’s decision.’
At this Mum looks utterly indignant. Eyes narrowed, she exclaims, ‘Don’t you dare go pinning this on me Raymond. How dare you? I wasn’t the one who went to prison.’
‘All right, all right,’ says Ray, holding his hands up in defence. ‘I’m not saying you were. I’m just trying to point out that things aren’t always as black and white as they seem.’
I cringe. This approach isn’t going to work well with Hayley. I know my sister and a bit of begging for forgiveness is probably more the kind of thing she’s after, and yet Ray’s coming across as prickly, probably due to nerves. Even I can see he could do with being a bit more contrite.
He falls silent and looks at Hayley expectantly.
Once again I find myself staring at her, willing her to say something, anything, even if it’s a burst of angry vitriol, which would at least demonstrate she cares. The silence becomes awkward. I frown at her but she pretends not to see and folds her arms across her chest. I don’t know what she’s expecting him to do.
Ray clears his throat and turns his attentions to Gary. ‘So, you must be Hayley’s husband then? Good to meet you. When did the pair of you get hitched?’
‘Nearly three years ago now,’ says Gary pleasantly enough, and Hayley shoots him an evil.
‘Fantastic. I wish I could have been there. Bet you looked a picture, Hayley.’
‘She did,’ agrees Mum frostily, refusing to look in Ray’s direction. ‘Stunning she was. Martin was proud to give her away.’
It’s a cheap shot. I glare at Mum but she glares back.
‘There’s a photo somewhere,’ pipes up Gary, mouth full of his last bit of banana. ‘Do you want to see it?’
‘Oh yeah,’ says Dad affably, pointedly ignoring Mum’s dig. ‘That would be great. I’d love to if that’s OK.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ shrieks Hayley suddenly, giving us all a heart attack. ‘What is this shit? Why are you talking to him like everything’s normal? You killed someone,’ she shouts. ‘You killed someone and then disappeared out of our lives completely.’
‘I know,’ says Dad quietly.
‘So don’t expect me to sit here making chit-chat with you about my wedding,’ she snarls. ‘Which obviously you would have been at had you bothered to have anything to do with us our entire lives. As it is I couldn’t give a shit about what you have to say and I only agreed to see you so you’d get that into your thick head.’
I gasp, shocked by my sister’s aggression. Gary, who’s shifting from foot to foot, looks mildly embarrassed and even Mum looks uncomfortable, which seems to win out because next she says, ‘Hayley, maybe cool it a bit sweetheart.’
Dad shoots her a surprised but grateful look, as do I. Maybe what Hayley said is warranted? Maybe even deserved? Yet surely, taking into account the exceptional circumstances we’re all aware of, she could water things down a little? Only Hayley could manage to make Ray be the one everyone feels sorry for in this situation.
‘Look, I know I’ve made massive mistakes in my life,’ begins Ray calmly. ‘And I’m not expecting things to be like the bleedin’ Brady Bunch within minutes of meeting each other, but shouting like that ain’t going to solve anything.’
‘Are you OK?’ I ask suddenly. I notice he’s sweating a little and he looks ever so unsteady on his feet.
‘Yeah,’ he says, not wholly convincingly. ‘Any chance of a glass of water?’
‘Yeah course,’ I say, rushing to get him one.
Ray walks forward and sits at the table.
‘Are you really OK?’ says Mum, who I know wouldn’t be enquiring after his health to be sociable. I can’t be imagining things then. He must look a bit dodgy.
‘Yeah,’ says Ray, looking distinctly pale now and wan. ‘Just give us a minute.’ He bends forward and puts his head between his legs. I assume he must be feeling faint.
I glare at Hayley who’s looking mildly discomforted, but only mildly. I realise in that moment that him feeling ill probably contributed to his slightly odd manner earlier.
‘See what you’ve done,’ I accuse.
‘Oh fuck off,’ she snaps back. ‘Don’t go laying this shit on me. He’s probably only pretending, to make himself look better, anyway.’
At this Dad looks up momentarily but is clearly in too much of a state to respond to what she just said. He’s looking really ill now and my heart begins to race with stress.
‘Dad, what can I do?’ I say, handing him the water and helping the glass to his mouth. He must be feeling too weak or too lousy to cope with it though because feebly he flaps my hand away. I feel totally helpless. ‘Shall I phone someone, an ambulance or something?’
‘Nah. There’s no need,’ he manages to say, but he’s taking deep breaths and looks like he’s feeling really dizzy.
‘OK, just take a deep breath Dad.’ Bizarrely, I’m very conscious that I’m calling him Dad, not Ray like I usually do.
‘I think maybe call one anyway,’ pipes up Mum in a quiet voice.
‘Really?’ I say, searching her face for clues, trying to surmise what her take on the situation really is. She looks deadly serious.
‘OK, I’m going to call 999,’ I say tearfully.
‘Since when did you give a shit about him?’ Hayley yells at Mum, who sighs and refuses to answer. So I do instead.
‘Since she can see that in this case she should rise above her personal feelings and be humane!’ I cry, feeling really emotional now as my fingers stab wildly at the numbers on the phone.
‘Oh don’t be such a drama queen,’ snaps Hayley. ‘You’re always …’ She doesn’t get much further though, because seconds later Ray slides to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Mum screams. I don’t know what to do and feel like I’m about to have a heart attack but am jolted back to the here and now when a voice on the other end of the phone says, ‘Which service do you require?’
‘Ambulance,’ I reply and as I rattle off details of what’s happening, our address and so on, I look straight at Hayley, who to be fair is looking pretty stricken with guilt right now, especially when I say the words, ‘It’s my dad. He’s got terminal cancer and he’s just collapsed.’
The next few hours are intense and stressful. The ambulance staff are amazing though. They arrive within minutes and as two people check my dad over and stretcher him out to the ambulance, a third crew member fires questions at me about his medication and all sorts of other things I don’t have a clue about. I feel ashamed that I can’t be of more help and petrified in case this is it. You see I’m counting on having a few months with him and I need every single one of those and I know he does too. To have anything less would feel like we’d been swindled. After hearing the news in March that he was going to die it took him two weeks to come and find us at the beginning of April. Now we’re nearly at the end of the month already, but there should still be five months to go. Maybe more. You often read about people who manage to keep going for years, against all the odds, but right this second I’d settle for a few more months. Anything less is too awful to contemplate.
Of course there isn’t time to voice any of these thoughts but as I clamber into the ambulance I vow that if he comes through this, I will find out everything I can about what the next few months are to entail, about his treatment, everything. If I’m going to be of any use to him at all I need to know and, on a selfish level, want to prepare myself psychologically.
The last thing I see before they close the doors is Mum waving sadly at me from the pavement. Her expression is something I’ll never forget. She looks so freaked out. I can tell she’s worried about me of course, but more than that I know that seeing Ray, the man she once loved, going through this, has been really frightening and has played havoc with her emotions. Curiously I feel glad. I’ve been feeling really annoyed with her recently. Mostly for having played her part in keeping Ray away for all these years but also for being so bloody nice to Andy when she can see I can’t stand him. But her reaction now is a needed reminder that despite her faults she’s a kind person, unlike Hayley, who I’m livid with. Why couldn’t she have been a bit calmer? As the ambulance whips through Chigwell at high speed, blue lights flashing, sirens blaring, for the first time in my life I find myself praying hard. Ray has to make it. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Plus, if he did die tonight, Hayley would never forgive herself and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
As soon as we arrive at the hospital Ray is taken off for a battery of tests, but thankfully we don’t have to wait long for some answers. I say ‘we’ because half an hour after I arrive, Mum and Hayley turn up. I’m grateful for the support.
‘Hi, you must be Mr Baker’s family,’ says an approaching doctor.
/> ‘Yes,’ I say, though the irony of that statement isn’t lost on any of us.
‘OK,’ he says, taking a seat next to us. ‘Well firstly, let me say that Mr Baker is in a stable condition and that he’s going to be all right.’
I burst into quiet tears.
‘Why did he collapse, Doctor?’ asks Mum.
‘We ran some tests and found that his blood count was exceptionally low. In fact so low that we’re giving him a blood transfusion right now. He’s too weak to answer many questions, but with cancer of the colon there’s always a chance he’s been bleeding a lot rectally, which would explain the severe drop in his haemoglobin levels. Has he seemed particularly tired to you?’
The three of us look at each other helplessly but eventually I recover enough to say something. ‘He was fine on Sunday. I mean, if anything he seemed well, but I thought he looked really tired earlier. Sort of weak and shaky.’
The doctor nods. ‘He would have felt very weak indeed and he’s been a bit vague about what he was doing exactly at the time of collapse but anything unusually stressful, either emotionally or physically, may have proved too much.’
Hayley’s cheeks flame red with shame.
‘Are you going to keep him in?’ I ask tearfully.
‘Yes, for a couple of nights. He’ll need the rest, but hopefully after that, having had a transfusion he should feel much better again.’
‘Are you his main doctor?’ I ask.
‘No. His oncologist is Mr Clarkson, though if you have any questions I’ll be happy to answer them.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, quiet tears sliding down my face.
The doctor turns to go but as he does Hayley suddenly pipes up, ‘So, er … is there definitely nothing you can do Doctor. You know, to cure him,’ she says, and though her tone is brusque, her anxious face betrays her, telling us all she cares very much indeed about the answer.