by Pam Rhodes
At that moment, Neil’s mobile rang. He groaned as he mouthed silently to Margaret that it was his mother.
“Oh, please give Iris my love, and tell her I hope to see her soon!” And with a chuckle and not one ounce of sympathy, Margaret left him to it.
“Mum,” Neil began, hoping to keep the weariness out of his voice. “How are you?”
“Waiting for you to ring me back from my two calls already this week! Don’t you ever look at your phone?”
“Sorry, it’s really busy here with the barn dance coming up tomorrow night.”
“Well, I’m glad I’ll miss it. It sounds very vulgar to me.”
Neil stiffened. “It’s a sell-out and we’re hoping for a delightful evening.”
“Hmm. Well, there’s no accounting for taste. I certainly hope for a quieter week during my stay.”
“You’re staying? When?”
“I arrive next Thursday. Pick me up at Paddington at half past three.”
“I’m always at the hospice on Thursday afternoons.”
“Then you’ll have to go earlier in the week. I’m sure they’ll understand that your mother must come first.”
Argument was futile. Neil had had enough years of experience with Iris to know when to give in gracefully.
“How long do you plan to stay?”
“My heating’s playing up. My man says it’s the boiler. It seems I need a new one, and I can’t possibly stay in the house without heating, not at the end of October with winter closing in. My neighbour says she’ll keep an eye on everything, so there’s no need for me to hurry back. I can stay as long as I want!”
What about what I want? How about a day trip? The thought struck Neil so quickly that he wondered if he’d actually spoken out loud – but if he had, it was wasted on Iris, who was still in full flow.
“Please make sure I have my own flannelette sheets on my bed, and it would be a good idea to keep the electric blanket on for twenty-four hours before I come so the bedding’s properly aired. Oh, and pop a casserole in before you start in the morning so it’ll be ready when we get back. Have you got all that?”
“Got it.”
“By the way, how’s Harry?”
“Surprisingly well. He’s been coming along to church every now and then, and I’ve seen him in the garden a couple of times.”
“Nice man. There aren’t many gentlemen like him around these days.”
“Right then, Mum, I must go. See you on Thursday.”
“And run the vacuum over before I come. You could do with a feather duster too. I’ll bring mine, if I remember.”
“Bye, Mum.”
“Half past three. Did you write that down?”
“I’ve got it. Bye!”
Neil ended the call and stared at the phone forlornly.
His mother was coming for an indefinite stay. Oh, joy!
* * *
“Neil, mate, it’s not going to be awkward, is it?” Graham’s voice, when he rang later that evening, sounded uncharacteristically anxious. “Only with Debs and Wendy being best friends, it’s natural that we’ll all team up to go to the barn dance together.”
“And I’m glad you’re coming! Who else is likely to volunteer to lend me the fashion item from his extensive wardrobe that is exactly what I need – a check shirt old enough for Roy Rogers himself to have worn, and in just the same style?” teased Neil. “Of course you must come, and of course I understand that you’ll be in Wendy’s party. It’s shaping up to be a great night. You’ll have a good time.”
“Right.” Graham still sounded a bit doubtful. “Um, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be telling you this, or if you already know, but Wendy’s bringing a partner along with her.”
Thump! That bit of news winded Neil like a punch in the chest. A new partner?
“Aah,” he managed to say at last, “no, I – I didn’t realize that, but it’s fine. We’re not together. She’s a free agent.”
“So you’re all right about it?”
“Absolutely. A lovely girl like her won’t stay alone for long, will she? I realize that, and I want her to be happy.”
“Uh-oh, I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I? You are upset. I can hear it in your voice.”
“No, not at all. Just took me by surprise, I suppose.”
“He seems a nice bloke. In fact, I know him a bit. He’s the deputy head of the school she teaches at. You might even like him.”
Neil grinned. “Perhaps not! He’d better be good to her, that’s all I need to know.”
“Yes, well, it’s early days. Debs says they’ve only been out a couple of times, so they may just be friends for all I know.”
“A couple of times? That sounds a bit serious to me.”
“But you broke off with her, so even if it is, you don’t mind, do you?”
“No,” was Neil’s firm reply. “I’m very pleased for her, for them both, and I wish them well.”
“That’s OK, then. Look, I’ll drop that shirt into the church office when I drive past in the morning. I’ve got a pair of old cowboy boots too. What size are you?”
“Ten.”
“Like me. They should fit a treat. I should warn you, though, they’re bright orange. I bought them years ago when I went on holiday to Nashville. I don’t know what they do to the leather there, but these boots seem to look more like satsumas every year.”
* * *
“You’re here! I didn’t think a barn dance would be your thing.”
Claire looked up from where she was stacking glasses beneath the makeshift bar they’d set up in the barn.
“This is my Uncle Bob’s barn. He’s got twin boys a year older than me, so I grew up playing Cowboys and Indians on this farm.”
“Whose side were you on?”
“The winning side every time! Whether I was a cowboy or an Indian, the boys were always too scared of me to let me lose.”
“Scary, huh? What did you threaten them with? Your black belt in karate?”
“No, I just knew too much about them and told them I’d spill the beans to their mum if they didn’t do exactly what I wanted.”
“Claire Holloway!” laughed Neil. “I’m shocked that you’d stoop to blackmail!”
“Neil Fisher!” she grinned in return. “This is a charity evening. Are you just standing at the bar trying to look decorative, or you going to buy me a drink?”
“Are you allowed to drink on duty?”
“I’m told I mix much better drinks when I’ve had half a pint myself, but not tonight! I might allow myself a quick shandy – half an inch of bitter and lots of lemonade.”
“You’re right. We don’t want any tiddly bartenders or curates at a sophisticated church do like this! So a shandy it is for me, barman – and have one yourself!”
At that point, Claire’s attention was taken by another customer, so Neil turned round to survey the scene. The barn looked amazing, like a film set straight out of a John Wayne movie. Bob had done a terrific job in decorating it with horse tack, pitchforks and shovels, and the subdued lighting created a cosy atmosphere, especially now the nights were drawing in. Bales of hay were set out around tables made of wooden crates, each with a flickering candle in the middle – well, what looked like a candle, but was actually a small bulb powered by battery, in deference to Health and Safety.
People were beginning to pour in now, many of them dressed in blue jeans, denim shirts, neck scarves and a variety of footwear that ranged from flashy cowboy boots to the odd pair of wellies. None of them have boots as orange as mine, thought Neil wryly. Still, no one’s going to lose me in the crowd!
Just then, a small group approached the bar: Margaret and Frank, looking splendid in their cowboy hats, and Peter and Val, who had really got into the spirit of the evening in matching check shirts with ornate brass buckles on their wide, patterned belts. They were just ordering their drinks when the caller started inviting everyone to take their partners out onto the floor to form circles of e
ight.
“Coming?” said Margaret almost coquettishly to Frank. He didn’t hesitate, and the two of them were the first couple to find their places.
“Coming?” copied Val, holding out her hand to Peter. There was just a moment of panic in Peter’s eyes before he grabbed her hand to follow Frank and Margaret, who were already some way ahead of them. Neil watched them go, thinking that the old Peter who’d lived under Glenda’s thumb for thirty years would have been far too inhibited to join in with something like this. No one could take pleasure in the collapse of a marriage – and Peter had definitely done his very best to keep his going – but when Glenda left him so suddenly and cruelly, anyone who was his friend had to feel relieved to see that a burden had clearly been lifted off his shoulders. Peter was a new man. That’s what the love of a good woman could do for you.
At that moment, bang on cue, Wendy entered the barn, linked arm in arm with a tall cowboy who was immaculately dressed in a smart check shirt, and jeans with pencil-sharp creases down the front. They looked relaxed and happy, sharing a joke as they picked their way through the crowd to where Graham and Debs were laying claim to a table they’d spotted in a nearby corner. As she took off her coat, Wendy glanced over towards Neil for just an instant. She looked beautiful. Wherever had she found that Wild West saloon-girl dress that went in and out in just the right places? Her hair was swept to one side in shining ringlets – the Doris Day of Dunbridge!
The moment was broken as Mr Immaculate Jeans said something that made her lean across to whisper in his ear. Neil’s stomach lurched at the intimacy of the movement – until he gave himself a stern talking-to, determined not to take any notice of Wendy and her partner for the rest of the evening. It was nothing to do with him. He should mind his own business and perhaps overcome his natural shyness and find his own partner to dance with. Suddenly he spotted someone who seemed a safe option. Barbara was walking towards the bar, so before the astonished playgroup leader had time to refuse, Neil grabbed her hand and marched her onto the dance floor.
If Neil had been anxious about tripping over his two left feet once the music started, he needn’t have worried, because it soon became clear that enthusiasm and a good sense of humour counted for a lot more than any dancing skill. The caller tied them all in knots by making them think they were moving one way, when suddenly he barked at them to turn tail and head the other. Two dances later, gasping for breath but laughing along with everyone else, Neil led Barbara off the dance floor and returned her to her husband, who was sitting next to the large table surrounded by members of the Clarkson clan. Neil was delighted to see that Jeannie and Colin were among them. Spotting an empty seat next to Jeannie, he sat down to join her.
“It’s good to see you out. Haven’t seen much of you since Ellen’s come along to take up your time. How is she?”
As Jeannie turned to greet him, he was shocked at how drawn she looked, her thin face dominated by the dark circles under her eyes.
“She’s poorly, Neil. Very poorly.”
Without even thinking, Neil covered her hand with his. Jeannie’s eyes became instantly glassy with unbidden tears.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, “just ignore me. This is a night out. I’ve got to stop being like this.”
“Why? How? You can’t help what you feel.”
Rubbing her eyes with her free hand, Jeannie looked down towards her lap to hide her embarrassment.
“Do they know exactly what the trouble is?”
“Well, it’s got a name now. Retinoblastoma. That’s the enemy. That’s what our beautiful daughter’s having to fight.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“You’re not alone. Neither had we. There are only about eighty cases a year in the whole of the country – and it had to pick her.”
“What is it?”
“Eye cancer. Did you ever notice that she seemed to have a slight squint? Perhaps you didn’t, but it started to become clear to me when she was just a few weeks old. I wasn’t really worried then, because babies often have squints when they’re very young. But then, in quite a lot of the pictures taken during the christening, we could see that the reflection of the flash looked different in her left eye to the other one. When the doctor saw that, he sent her for tests straight away.”
Neil squeezed her hand as tears threatened again.
“It’s taken a while to pin it down, but now we know for sure. It’s a cancerous tumour behind her eye.”
“What triggers something like that?”
“Mostly they’re hereditary, but this one isn’t – and that’s very rare apparently. As unlikely as Ellen being born against the odds in the first place. What are the chances of one little girl having to cope with two completely different sets of impossible circumstances like that? Millions to one! But it’s happening to her – to us.”
“What do the doctors say? How will they treat her?”
“They’ve mentioned chemotherapy, radiotherapy – even surgery. The trouble is, the tumour’s huge already. It may be too late.”
“Oh, Jeannie, I’m so sorry…”
“Colin and I don’t know what to do. They want us to decide. Should they go ahead and operate? Do we want them to try? Of course we’re desperate for them to try anything that might save her life. But then they tell us about the potential dangers. She might be brain damaged. She might end up blind or deaf. And in the end, after all that trauma and pain, she might just die anyway.”
She stopped to pull out a tissue from her sleeve, looking down again in the hope that no one beyond Neil could see she was crying.
“I watch our beloved little girl sleeping in her cot, and she’s just beautiful with her perfect little fingers and her soft skin and that downy fair hair. You’d never believe there was such evil lurking inside her. Then I think of the surgeons cutting into her, ripping her apart, and I don’t know what to do. Could they cure her? Could they give our darling baby back to us? Or will she die anyway? If that’s the case, I don’t want to cause her one moment of suffering or pain that could be avoided. I’d rather she just faded away, having only ever known the warmth and security of a loving home and family. Not hospital wards, with tubes and chemicals being pumped into her.”
“What does Colin think?”
“He’s just as wrecked as I am. It’s impossible for us to know what to do for the best. The trouble is that the doctors can’t say for certain how things will go. Their only answer is that we should try every option modern medicine can offer. But what will that be like for Ellen? We’re her parents. We adore her. We want what’s right for her – but what if that means putting her through torture? The facts at the moment seem to suggest that she’ll die anyway, so should we put her through painful, frightening treatment, or just let nature take its course, with all the pain-control she needs to have a reasonably comfortable life?”
“Either way is heartbreaking.”
“But we have to make the decision right now. If the treatment’s to have any chance of working, we’ve got to start straight away. We’ve talked about it endlessly. We’ve sat for hours reading up about the prognosis and deciding once and for all that we have to give her a chance by letting the doctors try to save her. And then we hold her in our arms, and look down at that trusting face, our perfect little girl – and we change our minds again. No wonder the doctors are losing patience with us! What sort of parents are we?”
“The most loving mum and dad who are faced with an intolerable situation.”
Jeannie looked up straight into his eyes.
“And what’s God up to? What cruel trick is he playing on us? After all those years of praying for Ellen, he gives her to us knowing he plans to take her away again. You know all that rubbish about him being a loving God? Don’t believe it!”
“I do believe it, Jeannie, because I know it’s true.”
“You would say that. It’s your job and nothing really awful has ever happened to you. You can afford to have a rosy view of God. We
’re beginning to realize he’s actually heartless and cruel.”
“We can’t know the bigger picture, Jeannie. We can’t understand why Ellen had to be born, and why perhaps God may take her back to be with him again. All we know is that in his care she’ll be safe, with no more pain or illness.”
“I don’t know that. All I know here and now is that the tumour in her head is killing her.”
“There’s a school of thought that says we’re put on this earth to learn the lessons in life we need to know, and when someone’s only here for a very short time, that’s because they’ve reached perfection and don’t need to stay any longer.”
Looking down at her tightly clasped hands, Jeannie was silent.
“I don’t know all the answers, Jeannie. None of us can. But I do know without a shadow of doubt that prayer has power. God listens and he cares. We pray every day for his will to be done – but we have to allow that to happen, even when we can’t understand.”
“If his will is that Ellen should have to go through unbearable suffering when she’s done nothing to deserve it, then I’ve got lots of doubts, I’m afraid.”
“Well, we’ll be praying for you – for your pain and fear as well as your doubts. And Ellen is constantly in our hearts and prayers, Jeannie. You’re all very loved in this community. If there’s any practical help you need, remember there are plenty of loving friends around you, longing to lend a hand in any way we can.”
Jeannie’s smile was weak but warm. “Thanks. I do know that and we may well need to take you up on that offer. And Neil, thank you for listening. I’ve believed in God all my life. I’ve never questioned his love for us even once – until now. Now I feel as if I’m not just losing my daughter, but I’ve lost my dearest friend. Where’s God when I need him? How can I trust him when I know he could cure her but probably won’t? Oh, I still believe in prayer and I know he doesn’t need to hear our endless, desperate pleadings to know exactly what we’re going through, but I can’t help feeling that Ellen’s illness is his decision. He’s allowing it to happen, and our prayers feel irrelevant.”