What Doesn't Kill You

by Laura E. James

  ‘I stayed with Ozzy, you know? Until he went. In those final seconds, I held his head and spoke to him. I don’t know if he heard. What do you think? He was in a coma. Could he have heard me?’

  Marilyn hadn’t been in a coma, but she’d been under heavy sedation. To Griff’s mind, that was much the same state, and he never truly believed she heard his parting words. What chance did he have with a dog?

  Logan gave no reply.

  Griff continued. ‘He had a drip going into his paw, and he seemed half his size, lying on the huge black table, and when he took his last breath, I couldn’t help thinking how familiar it was. There were so many parallels with Mum’s passing, even down to the decision to end a life.’

  ‘Not this again.’ Logan fumbled for the chair’s remote control, pulling the sprung cord inch by inch until the handset was within his reach. As he manoeuvred it into a manageable position, it lurched away and bungee-jumped over the arm of the chair. ‘Bloody remote control.’

  What should have been an easy undertaking had the potential of turning into a major incident. Logan’s physical difficulties had not gone unnoticed.

  ‘Shall I get that for you?’ On Logan’s signal, Griff vacated his seat, recovered the controller, and stretched out the cord. ‘That should loosen it.’ He handed the unit to Logan. ‘It doesn’t seem very remote.’

  ‘Unlike the chances of you and I locking horns over your mother.’

  Griff took up residence on the sofa. ‘But that’s the thing,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘This business with Ozzy has made me view things differently.’

  That the loss of his dog should affect Griff’s spiritual understanding sounded ridiculous, but it was the only way he could explain his change of heart.

  ‘I’ve always thought you gave up on Mum. I believed that with our love and support and the great medical care she was receiving, she’d pull through. And we’d keep doing that until the next new drug arrived or the cancer had gone. I couldn’t see her sickness, the damage inside, or appreciate how ill she was feeling. She never complained, not to me. She’d sit in my garden, watching you potter, she’d smile at me whenever I joined you on the lawn, she’d tell me she was all right, and I believed her, because I had a major problem with the alternative. And she knew that.’ He paused to take breath and review his verbal deluge. He hadn’t thought of the words before he’d spoken them; they’d flowed, a babbling brook of surprises, streaming into perfect, logical sentences.

  ‘That’s why it was a shock. From my perspective, she went from my mum who was managing, to a woman ready to die. It came without warning.’ This was as much a revelation to Griff as he expected it to be for Logan. ‘She was protecting me, I can see that now.’ He glanced at his father, whose head was bowed. ‘You knew how ill she was. She didn’t hide anything from you and when she told you she’d had enough, you understood and you did the most selfless thing a person can do. You let her go.’

  Leaving the sofa, Griff knelt at his father’s feet. He removed the mug from Logan’s lap, and tenderly took a bony hand in his. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I was wrong. You hadn’t given up. Mum asked you to stand by her, and that’s what you did.’

  Logan wrapped his free hand over Griff’s, the tiniest tap from his thumb offering the utmost reassurance. ‘Son, it’s simple. When the person you love lies next to you in bed, crying in agony, telling you this is no life, you listen. When she says there’s pain worse than that of separation by death, you listen, even though she whispers she knows how much it will hurt you because it breaks her heart, too. And when she can no longer ask for your help, you watch, and you anticipate, and you do whatever is necessary to fulfil her wishes. Then, when it’s time for her to go, you kiss her, you hold her a little longer than you have before, and you tell her how much joy she has brought to your life. You make it clear you understand, and she’s not to worry. You tell her you love her, you always have and you always will, and she’s to go on her way, to a place where she’ll be free of illness and delivered from pain. Then you reassure her there’s nothing to be scared of, and you let her go.’

  The profundity of Logan’s soliloquy hit Griff at the back of his throat, and the ache prevented him from talking. Not that a reply was needed.

  The men sat in the same position for a good five minutes before Logan gave Griff’s hand a gentle nudge. ‘Thank you for listening to me.’

  Griff pulled a face. ‘It took me long enough.’

  ‘Only six years. We’ll call it satellite delay.’ Logan produced a weary smile. ‘I think I’d like to take a nap now. Are you working today?’

  ‘Not until this evening.’ With his legs numb from kneeling, Griff dragged himself onto the sofa and gave his calves a slap. ‘I should get some sleep, too.’ He rubbed the back of his neck, recalling the earlier stiffness. ‘It’s impossible, though. Every time I settle, I see Ozzy or Mum.’

  ‘Difficult times.’ Logan closed his eyes. ‘You can try sleeping upstairs if you like. Just for today. You have a perfectly decent bed at the cottage.’

  Where lay the next apology, Griff thought. ‘Thanks. It’s a tempting offer, but I’m planning on seeing Evie.’

  ‘Oh. She didn’t say.’ Logan’s volume faded to a breath, and his head tipped forward until his chin was resting on his chest.

  Ensuring the blood had returned to his legs and they could support his solid frame, Griff rose from the sofa. His left toes still tingled. ‘Start on the right foot,’ he murmured, repeating Imogen’s advice.

  Logan stirred, his eyebrows momentarily lifting, his eyes remaining sealed. ‘Are you off?’ A big sigh.

  ‘Yeah, but I’ll see you soon,’ Griff whispered, pulling the living room door to.

  As he left the house he heard Logan say, ‘You will keep listening, won’t you?’

  Chapter Thirty

  Evie

  Rolling the Happiness jar from one hand to the other, Evie reached a decision. The note concerning her and Griff’s brief reconciliation had to come out. In its place would be one that read: The children and I are being spontaneous: we’re going on a mystery tour.

  Ten minutes into their journey, Dylan was fast asleep. The raw noise and bone-shaker motion of the Mini was the best sleep cure known to Evie. She checked him in the rear-view mirror. His head was turned to the side, and his cheek was cushioned against his car seat.

  ‘He’s going to get a bear hug from Griff when he sees him.’

  ‘Did he say when he’d be over?’ Tess flipped down the visor mirror and toyed with her brow ring. ‘Do you think he’d object to me getting a piercing in Ozzy’s honour?’

  ‘I’m not sure he’d notice just now. And no, I don’t know when he’ll be over. He’s not been in touch.’ Evie paused as she negotiated a small roundabout. ‘I expect he’ll come tonight, if he’s not working. He rarely forgoes putting Dylan to bed.’

  ‘I’d like to see him.’

  Evie glanced at Tess. ‘I know. So would I, but I imagine he has a few things to work through.’ She accelerated away, making hard work of shifting through the gears. ‘Logan told me about Imogen. I gather you’ve met her.’

  ‘I tried to tell you yesterday, but you were in a hurry to go out.’

  ‘We are the proverbial ships,’ Evie said.

  A silence followed as they rattled their way along the main road and came to a halt at a junction.

  ‘Which way?’ Evie asked. ‘The choice is yours, but be quick, there are cars behind.’

  ‘Go right,’ Tess said. ‘We’ll go to Portland.’

  Flicking down the indicator, Evie edged into the filter lane and waited for a break in the traffic. ‘I haven’t been there for a while.’

  ‘We can go and see Olivia.’

  The suggestion surprised Evie and she nearly missed her chance to turn. ‘We could,’ she said, willing the Mini across the road, ‘but she’s more Griff’s friend than mine. Why don’t we pop Dylan in his buggy and walk up to the café? It has a new owner. You can try out th
eir hot chocolate.’

  ‘No, no, no. You said it’s my choice. Olivia’s my friend, too. We’ll see her first and then we’ll go to the café.’ Tess propped her feet up on the dashboard.

  ‘If I crashed right now, your knees would go straight through your head.’

  ‘Then don’t crash.’

  ‘Legs down.’ Evie batted Tess’s thigh. ‘You want them in good working order for the walk to the café.’

  ‘I need my head, too.’ There was no anger in the exchange, and Tess did as she was asked. ‘This is good, Mum. Taking off on the spur of the moment.’

  Evie agreed. ‘I wish we’d done it more often. Is it too late to start now?’

  ‘Why would it be?’

  ‘You’re nearly sixteen. I’m not sure how much longer you’d want to hang out with me.’

  At sixteen, Evie worked a full-time job, spent her evenings helping out at a youth club, and weekends at her best friend’s house. Her mother was single – not widowed because she’d never married Evie’s dad – thirty-six and living it up, entertaining a continuous stream of men of dubious natures and greasy hair.

  Spending time with her mum was not something Evie did by choice. At sixteen, she had very firm ideas of what she wanted from life. As Tess would.

  ‘Firstly, Mum, don’t say stuff like hang out or this will be the shortest mother–daughter spontaneity plan ever, and secondly …’ Tess turned in Evie’s direction. ‘I can’t see me not wanting to be with you.’

  The beautiful sentiment lifted Evie’s heart, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Tess fell madly in love with someone and wanted to spend every minute with them. Perhaps she already had. Evie recalled Tess talking about Rick, an American lad some months ago. And a French girl. She said she liked her accent. Considered it cute.

  Another roundabout gave Evie a few seconds to allow the thought to filter through.

  Stephanie. That was her name. Was that a conversation she should have with Tess? At thirteen, Tess had a boyfriend, Evie remembered. He was a cocky so-and-so who’d pushed Tess too far. He got what he deserved, but it wasn’t a good experience for a first love.

  Evie pressed the accelerator to the floor and urged the Mini to hit fifty miles an hour. The Ferry Bridge linking Weymouth to Portland gave her a long, straight stretch on which to build up power. ‘It will come,’ she said. ‘You’ll meet a special person and they’ll turn your world upside down and for every minute you’re not with them, you’ll be thinking about them, or texting them or wishing you were together.’

  ‘Is that how it was with Dad?’

  For once a question from Tess about Neil hadn’t caught Evie off-guard. ‘At the beginning. I was eighteen when I met him. He was a friend of a friend. We were introduced at a party. It was fancy dress.’ Evie had viewed Neil as her knight in shining armour. He was charming, handsome, and confident.

  ‘What did he go as?’

  ‘Your dad? He was in a shirt and tie. A red one. Quite flamboyant as it happens. He said he’d come straight from work. Turned out he always went to parties like that. He hated dressing up. Thought it was demeaning.’

  ‘Sounds right. What did you wear?’

  ‘Ah.’ Evie’s had been the skimpiest outfit of them all. She fixed her sight on the road, not daring to catch Tess’s eye. ‘I was dressed as a French maid. It consisted of a little black dress, a white apron and a feather duster.’

  ‘And Dad didn’t think that demeaning?’

  That wasn’t the reaction Evie expected. She thought Tess would be laughing and joking at the ridiculousness of it all. ‘He seemed to like it.’

  Evie’s relationship with Neil had been physical from day one – a coming together of the flesh, rather than a meeting of minds. He was Evie’s intellectual superior, and both parties knew it. At ten years her senior, he had a deeper understanding of the ways of the world. He’d said as much to Evie, but at the time it had bypassed her as a put-down.

  At eighteen she was flattered to have a man like Neil showing an interest in her and taking care of her. He was hot, intense, professional. He was a qualified architect. He told her he was set for life.

  Within months of getting together, he’d moved her into his house and insisted she’d give up work. Evie was thrilled. Not only could she care for the man of her dreams, but she no longer had to endure her mother’s questionable morals or listen to the lewd, suggestive comments from the succession of greasy-haired boyfriends.

  He wasn’t Evie’s first, but he was her first love, and she was happy to do whatever Neil asked. She was completely and utterly devoted to him.

  That made his future betrayal sinful and unforgiveable.

  It was true. Love was blind. And Evie had allowed it to make her a victim.

  Having suffered at the hands of Neil, sex was a minefield for her. It had gone from an amazing, intimate expression of love to a vicious, poisonous demonstration of hate.

  Thank God for Griff, the kindest, most patient, protective man on the planet. He’d restored Evie’s faith and shown her love was a healthy, honest human condition.

  ‘Griff’s nothing like Neil,’ Evie said.

  ‘I guess not.’ Tess flipped shut the visor, settled back, and folded her arms. ‘I can’t imagine Dad in Santa swimwear.’

  Evie laughed. ‘You remember the first time you saw Griff, then?’

  ‘Mum, the image was burned onto the back of my eyeballs.’ Tess performed a dramatic shudder. ‘I’m surprised I wasn’t scarred for life.’ She held up her hand, her palm facing the windscreen. ‘And don’t even mention the baubles.’

  Evie had, on the day she’d met Griff. There was something that tickled her about the man who’d shimmied past the gathering crowd ignoring jokes about his gay apparel. His strategically placed Christmas decorations inspired a rousing chorus of ‘Deck The Balls’, as the vast number of people singing, slapping his back, and cheering him on assured Evie he was a well-known and well-liked man. It gave her the confidence to speak with him.

  ‘Nice baubles,’ she said, before they dived into the harbour.

  It was one of her favourite memories.

  Unlike her experience with Neil, her first sexual encounter with Griff happened weeks rather than days after they met. He hadn’t pushed her or demanded anything from her, putting her in charge of where and when; leaving her to choose. And she had.

  There was no singular reason that led Evie to that moment. It was organic. She appreciated Griff’s enthusiasm for life, and his kind nature – how he’d call during the day to see if she needed anything picked up from the shops, make hot drinks for everyone, display an endless patience for an inimical Tess.

  Evie enjoyed his easy company, his fierce passion for the sea, and the way his gentle hold was strong and protective. And he made her laugh so much, with daft jokes, self-deprecating humour, and slapstick comedy, especially when he was with Ozzy. They were quite the double act.

  It was when Evie was kissing Griff one cold February evening that his tender touch caressed away her burden of doubt and caution. From that moment, making love with him was not a conscious decision.

  Evie often thought of her first time with Griff as the true moment she lost her virginity. Sometimes she wished it was. He’d been so caring, so gentle, watching her, making her laugh, waiting until she was ready. She remembered crying at being shown how delicate and beautiful love could be.

  Cracks of light appeared in the world Evie had condemned to darkness. Griff had brought her back to life.

  And he’d brought her new life.

  Early in their relationship, Evie had to break the news she was pregnant. The prospect terrified her. The dramatic point of change between her and Neil had been the arrival of Tess.

  This time, it was Tess she told first, who, although shocked at the speed and Evie’s recklessness, was delighted. ‘You have to tell Griff,’ she’d said. ‘He might surprise you.’

  And he had. He was stunned, thrilled and excited. He
and Evie celebrated on the spot, in Evie’s living room, and again a few hours later in Griff’s.

  Ozzy missed out on his walk that evening.

  Poor Ozzy.

  Poor Griff.

  ‘Mum? Are you okay? Your face went from sickly dreamy to sad.’

  ‘It did?’ Relieved to make it across the causeway, Evie navigated the one-way system and parked the car alongside the craft centre. ‘I was thinking about your dad, and then Griff and Ozzy …’ She trailed off. The afternoon was meant to be about Tess.

  Evie returned to the topic in hand. ‘So, has that put you off hanging … spending time with me?’

  ‘What? You dressing up?’ Tess laughed. ‘Maybe if you went out like it now, but not when you were young.’

  Evie joined in with the laughter. It was good to release the tensions of the last few days. ‘I was young. And naïve. Made plenty of mistakes.’ She switched off the engine, twisted in her seat and studied Tess. ‘I didn’t have anyone to turn to, not really. You have me. You know that, right? Any worries, questions, problems – you can come to me.’ She noticed how Tess kept her hands tucked in her lap. For a girl who’d been adored and hugged from the moment she was born, she was not at all tactile. Not a revelation. Not when through a child’s eyes she’d seen the horrific consequences of falling in love with the wrong person. ‘I will never judge you,’ Evie said, refraining from reaching out.

  ‘Mum, I’m fine.’ Tess yanked at the door handle, swung round and put her feet on the kerb. ‘This has been fun.’

  ‘It’s not over yet.’ Evie followed suit, knocking her seat forward so she could retrieve Dylan. ‘And from now on, I promise I’ll make time for us to spend together. If this Imogen woman works out, things can only get better.’ As long as she stays away from Griff.