by Rosie Blake
‘The right one, front one, that one,’ Eve said, pointing at the nearest leg to her.
Greg was extending and feeling along the leg, waiting for Marmite’s reaction. Marmite could not have looked more relaxed if he had whipped open some doggy cigarettes and stood there puffing.
Karen looked at Eve. ‘Doesn’t look like he’s in pain,’ she said, eyes narrowed as if she were about to pull a torch from her drawer and shine a light in Eve’s eyes.
Greg’s frown disappeared and he scooped Marmite into his arms. ‘Karen, I am just going to examine this dog very briefly. I won’t be long,’ he said, turning to the other clients who, so bowled over by his smile, started nodding and chorusing ‘no problem’.
‘Eve, why don’t you go ahead?’ he said, indicating the door with his head and following her inside.
The consulting room was a plain square, a silver table in the middle, a stool on either side. Greg popped Marmite onto the middle of it and Marmite decided to walk up and down along it as if he were on a mini Dog Fashion catwalk.
Greg’s mouth was twitching. ‘So the leg, um… seems to be coping pretty well.’ He raised an eyebrow at Eve, who felt her whole face was burning.
‘Hmm,’ she said, pulling herself back as if she had been underwater. ‘I really thought he might have damaged—’
Greg had started chuckling softly. ‘There’s not really anything wrong with his leg is there, Eve?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said through gaps in her fingers. ‘Oh God, I am never going to be able to face your receptionist again. She is terrifying. It’s like getting an appointment with the prime minister.’
Greg laughed, his face splitting open and his eyes brightening. The strip lights overhead showed up the bags under his eyes and she wondered whether he was getting ill, he looked tired beneath the grin.
‘I actually made you something and I just didn’t want to leave things as we left them and, well, here,’ she said, thrusting the container in front of him, not wanting to make him feel any worse, so relieved to see him again and feel that maybe nothing had changed, she hadn’t ruined anything.
‘Oh. Well, that’s kind,’ he said, staring at the container he was holding in two hands.
Eve was now feeling suddenly silly. She had come to his place of work, clients with sick animals were waiting in the chairs outside and she was showing him a cake she had made.
He peeled off the lid and lifted it up. ‘They smell amazing,’ he said, his face impressed, so Eve felt a rush of gratitude.
‘Gingerbread,’ she said. ‘I kept it simple.’ Then felt her palms slippery as she wondered whether he would remember his advice.
‘Well, thank you so much,’ he said, clicking the lid of the container back on and placing it on the table.
‘Would you like to come for dinner or something?’ she asked.
‘Why don’t I take you to dinner somewhere?’
Their questions had clashed and Eve continued babbling.
‘Oh no, I didn’t want to force you to—’
‘I’d love to,’ Greg cut her off. ‘I’ve got hockey tonight but I can do Thursday? I could come to the boat just before eight? Does that suit?’
‘Yes, brilliant, lovely, that would be great.’
‘Right, I probably do need to see my clients now.’ He indicated outside with his head.
‘Oh yes, of course, yes,’ Eve said, seizing Marmite from the table and nodding. ‘Good, good.’
‘Yes, it is good,’ Greg said, his mouth twitching again.
He opened the door of the consulting room and she walked out, straight past the receptionist, trying not to meet anyone’s eye as she headed for the door.
‘Oh and, Eve,’ Greg’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
‘Be sure to come back at any time if Marmite’s leg plays up again.’
Eve didn’t trust herself to reply, just mumbled something as Greg smiled and she pushed open the door, the bell signalling her exit.
Eve tried to play it down, focusing on her classes, chatting with Aisha, Mark and Danny, phoning Daisy and Harriet, but it was always in the back of her mind. She found herself smiling as she recalled their day out on the boat, the trip to the Christmas market. She realised with a start that she was really excited about seeing him again, that she tingled in anticipation as she thought back to that kiss. She spent far too long wondering what to wear. Thursday came around and she stood in her pants in the bedroom, staring blankly at the small collection of clothes she had brought with her.
‘What do you think, Marmite?’
Marmite got up, grabbed one of her favourite dresses and trailed it through the boat as a response.
‘MARMITE!’ she shouted, standing in the living room in her bra and pants pointing at him. ‘DROP.’
He did so but only because a large eye appeared in the porthole at the same time as she said it. A loud honk made both of them jump.
‘Leave us alone,’ Eve called, covering her boobs as if the goose was perving on her in her underwear.
It had been ages since Eve had really made an effort on her appearance, so she was relieved to see that she had thrown in her favourite brown suede miniskirt, coupling it with her soft cream cashmere jumper with the short sleeves. Slipping on her knee boots and bending to zip them, she felt her hair, clean and blow-dried, falling over her face. She spent a while making up her face with bronzer, mascara and lipgloss. She hoped she wasn’t over-dressed as she sat spritzing on perfume on the bench in the boat.
Had she made the boat smell too much of perfume? Would he want to come in for a drink first? She felt jittery, her stomach rolling. She was biting away the lipgloss as she told Marmite off for scrambling up her boots. She hadn’t felt like this since the early days of dating Liam, when he had called at her flat to take her out. She blinked, refusing to let thoughts of him in. She fixed her mind on Greg, his gentle smile when he’d suggested they go out, his face when he’d seen the gingerbread she’d made. It was as if the awkwardness of the last few days had deserted them. For a second she pictured his face right next to hers.
She turned the television on, glancing for the fifteenth time at the clock on the wall, trying to look out for signs of him, but the common was too dark now. It was too cold to wait for him on the deck, she could hear the wind whistling around, the river slapping against the sides of the boat. She was glad for the warmth of the boat, hoped they would be going to a restaurant with an open fire, sipping red wine as their feet and hands warmed up.
There was a knock then and her insides leapt once more. Smoothing her hair, she stood up, surprised by her strength of feeling. Plastering a smile on her face, she opened the door, letting the wind whip inside, lifting her hair as Greg pushed through.
‘You ma—’
‘I’m so sorry to do this.’ He was gabbling quickly, his hair sticking up from the wind, looking at her with urgent blue eyes so that her stomach did another flip. ‘I can’t stay. I didn’t have your number or I’d have called. I’ve got to go, I’m afraid, it’s an emergency.’ He had already turned back. He was wearing the camel-coloured coat, his hair styled. Why was he leaving? He was smartly dressed; they were heading out to a restaurant.
‘Right, I—’
He didn’t give her time to react or respond, had already left her, slipping in his shoes back over the common into the darkness. He had barely registered her, hadn’t looked properly at her at all. Now he was gone, a speck in the car park, diving into his car, the lights fired up and a screech as he reversed and turned left into the high street. Where was he going? What emergency could possibly happen at 8 p.m. on a Thursday night?
She had obviously misread things earlier, her sudden appearance at his practice must have forced him into things and he’d had time to reflect and change his mind. Then she thought back to the other times he had run off, checked his watch, seemed to be in that strange, distracted mood. She couldn’t trust him; she barely knew him really. It wasn’t enough that she felt
this incredible spark between them; it was all in her mind. It was just like Liam and her all over again.
God knows what Greg was up to and she had been stupid enough to fall for it all again. They’d only just met really, but she felt so comfortable around him, relaxed and herself. No doubt he was seeing other girls. Maybe he always preyed on people new to the village. Either way, she felt stupid and silly to be making the same mistakes all over again. Do you never learn, Eve? You came here to reinvent yourself, start to live your own life again, learn a new skill, make new friends. You weren’t meant to fall for a guy the moment you stepped off the train.
Eve stood on the deck, drops of rain clinging to her newly dried hair, making her mascara run. The wind howled round her as she stood there staring dumbly out into the darkness. Her arms broke out into goosebumps; her skirt dotted with raindrops. Somewhere behind her an animal called, a pitying sound, sharp, causing her to turn with a start. She felt like joining in.
‘You don’t need to keep dropping everything,’ she said, taking her time over the words, her breathing heavy in the gaps.
Greg flicked his eyes across to Danny, who was standing by the window, his big arms folded so that he looked more like a bouncer than ever. ‘We’re not dropping everything, we want to come.’ Greg took her hand and held it, trying not to react to the weight of it, the veins that seemed to protrude now on paper-thin skin. When had his tough old mum become this old lady?
Danny stayed at the window, his face grimly battling whatever thoughts were going on inside. This illness had made the brothers talk a little more but they weren’t great at it. Up till six months ago they’d only ever talked about sport, women, Danny’s cars, Greg’s work. They tentatively spoke about treatments and outcomes, but it wasn’t often and now, seeing Danny struggling, Greg knew he probably needed to ask more.
She had been on the waiting list for a few months and they’d been told others had been waiting for years. He knew he shouldn’t hope, but the doctor had been clear; the damage to both kidneys was severe and dialysis was in no way a cure. She had an overnight bag packed and when the call came she called one of them to get her to the hospital. This time they’d put her through the tests again but had refused to operate. The kidney wasn’t viable; they weren’t able to explain more.
Greg knew his mum was disappointed and scared but she looked at him with her steady gaze, half her mouth lifting at the corner, a mysterious smile, her eyes playful. ‘There’ll be another one,’ she said, in a way that he knew was meant to reassure them.
Danny looked away, out over the grounds of the hospital car park, away from the words, the bleep-bleep-bleep of the bloody machine next to her, the drip puncturing her arm, the smell of disinfectant.
‘I’ve written a list,’ Mum said, indicating a piece of paper tucked between her book. Greg reached across and opened it, remembering the page number so he could return it.
‘You can fold the page,’ his mum said, the teasing tone in her voice, the bookworm berating her for taking books in the bath, folding the corners.
Greg looked at her, mock-appalled, relieved to cling onto this piece of normality.
She gave a soft laugh and it made Danny turn back towards them.
‘Take a look,’ she said. ‘Both of you.’ She turned her head to Danny. Her voice was raspy and cracked. It made Greg want to weep tears of frustration, remembering his mum singing embarrassingly at Midnight Mass, her voice soaring into the rafters, off-key but totally joyful, her voice screeching at them on the side of the hockey pitch, hollering at them to come in from the garden for tea, her voice filled with life and energy. He bit his tongue, terrified that he might break down and where would that leave them all?
He turned to the list.
Bank Password
Granny’s figurines
White goods
Funeral
Rings
‘The first one is simple. If it happens I want one of you to use my card and withdraw all the money from the account, the PIN number is 1981. There’s not much but I want you to pay any funeral expenses out of it and then share the rest between you…’
The year 1981 when Greg had been born. He swallowed, unable to find a reply to her. His mind was slow to catch up with her as she continued.
‘Granny’s figurines. I know you don’t like them and I won’t be around to see where they end up, but the glass-fronted cabinet is an antique so don’t just give it away. There’s one figure I love though, the blue ballerina, and I thought it might be nice to keep for…’ she paused, staring up at the ceiling, and then continued as if nothing had happened, ‘any grandchildren you might have. They’d like it, I think…’
Greg could feel his throat blocking, his chest starting to hurt.
‘The white goods in the house are old and probably about to go kaput, but I only bought the dishwasher last year and it’s still under warranty with John Lewis so please don’t just sell it on, one of you have it.’
‘I don’t want to listen any more,’ Danny said, his voice gruff, as if he had just been winded on the hockey pitch.
‘Mum,’ Greg said, his hand resting over hers, ‘this isn’t necessary.’
‘It is,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘It might be. I just wanted to write it down. I wanted you both to know,’ she said, turning her head, aiming the words at Danny’s back, ‘I’ve thought of these things.’
Greg felt as if someone had taken a knife and sunk it between his ribs; his whole chest ached as he said, ‘We do know, Mum.’
She did well up now, her eyes misting over, one tear escaping down the corner of her cheek. Her colour had drained away, her skin had sunk. ‘If it’s not to be though, I don’t want just to leave you with it all. I want to help.’
Greg felt the words blocked in his throat. Danny’s shoulders were shaking as he looked back out over the car park. ‘It’s not going to happen though, they’ll find a match.’
Greg thought of last night, the beating of his heart as he had raced through the streets of Oxford in his car, no doubt setting off speed cameras as he made his way to the hospital.
She’d been called at home, asked to go in straightaway. She’d been with her neighbour Peggy at the time, who had insisted on driving her there. She’d called both boys from the car. ‘This might be it,’ she said, determined to sound calm, not get their hopes up.
Greg hadn’t been able to stay calm, had been preparing for dinner with Eve. He didn’t have her number, knew he needed to go but didn’t want to just leave her wondering. He knew he didn’t have long, didn’t want to miss it. There had been an accident, a kidney had become available. He didn’t want to think about why, that someone else’s world had just imploded. He didn’t want to hope but he couldn’t help it, his heart busting out of his chest when his mum had phoned and confirmed, agreeing to pick up Danny on his way.
Eve had looked wonderful and, as he arrived, he suddenly wanted to throw himself into her arms, feel the softness of her jumper, stay with her and Marmite in front of the woodburning stove rather than face the rain-soaked drive to the hospital to see his mum, this new, thinner mum who struggled to talk for a long time, who needed visits three times a week for dialysis. He hadn’t stayed a second though, afraid of missing it all, hoping he could see his mum before the operation. Eve had stood on the deck of the boat in the rain, Marmite silhouetted next to her, as he had turned back into the village, mind filled then with his mum.
And now they were here and there would be no operation. Mum would be returning home and Danny and him would have another few weeks, months, years waiting to see. A childish part of him wanted to scream through the corridors of the hospital, stamp and shout until someone helped them. Instead, though, he helped his mum into a wheelchair, pushing her slowly and carefully through to the car, hugging Danny silently just before they got in to take her home.
She was walking to class along the edges of the river. The water had risen in the last few days, the weekend a miserable wash-
out and she was surprised by the level. The path was littered with rotting leaves, some floating on the top of large puddles. Eve’s boots were covered in mud, dots splashed up her legs and onto the back of her black leggings. The air smelt of wet earth and Eve imagined insects crawling over the landscape. She had her phone clamped to her ear and was partway through telling Harriet about Greg’s disappearing act the night before.
‘Well, he must have had a good reason,’ Harriet insisted. ‘Hold on, Gavin’s here, I’m putting you on speaker phone…’
‘Oh no… don’t…’
‘Gavin, it’s Eve.’
‘Hi, Eve.’
‘Hey, Gavin.’ Eve gave up fighting it, not sure she wanted to share everything with her brother-in-law.
‘Eve’s new bloke ran off last night before their date.’
‘What new bloke?’ Gavin asked.
‘He’s not my new bloke,’ Eve insisted.
‘The new bloke, he’s a vet apparently, he’s run off.’
‘I’m so confused,’ Gavin said. ‘And don’t they usually run off after the date?’
‘The weird thing,’ Harriet filled him in using Eve’s exact words from moments before, ‘was that he seemed dressed for a date and then, bang, he was off, diving into his ca… Gavin, are you listening?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Poppy was pointing and saying “Phone”.’
‘Focus, Gavin, focus,’ Harriet chided.
‘Sorry.’
Eve giggled, feeling cheered already by talking to them both. ‘So what do you think is up with him? Do you think he’s seeing someone else?’ She had spent an absurd amount of time wondering; running through different scenarios, new answers entering her mind, each more unlikely than the next.
‘Maybe,’ Harriet said quietly, probably not wanting Eve to get her hopes up.
‘Yeah, but if he does I’m sure she won’t hold a candle to you,’ Gavin said, trying to steer them back from moping.