The priest had followed them immediately, her heels tapping on the stairs behind them as they’d climbed up the two storeys to the wards. Eliza took a deep breath before pushing open the door into ICU, genuinely frightened about what she might find when she entered.
She was relieved to find her mum and Serena sitting side by side, talking, a clear sign that Patience hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. Louise looked up as they entered, and then stood up when she spotted Theresa coming in their wake.
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ she said, walking towards her, holding out a hand.
‘Not at all,’ Theresa replied, slowly and quietly, shaking Louise’s hand as she did so. ‘Now – can you tell me all about Patience?’ she said.
The family made room for her beside the bed, and Theresa sat down so that she could look directly at Patience.
‘Patience,’ she called out, softly, carefully. ‘Patience, my name is Theresa. I’m a priest here and your mum and dad asked me to come to see you. You’re very poorly, but I wanted you to know that we are all rooting for you. That you are loved and watched over.’
Golly, the sun is warm here. It feels like it’s closer to me than usual. It’s HUGE. The grass I’m lying on is lush and not at all scratchy, and I’m watching wind-whipped clouds scudding over my head.
Eliza watched as the priest carried out her duty, offering comfort in the face of extreme fear. Her voice was incredibly soothing, and Eliza found that her own breathing – which she now realised had been rapid all morning – was easing.
I raise my hands in front of my face and wiggle my fingers, marvelling at the invisible patterns I can make in the sky, like I’m conducting an orchestra of the elements.
Eliza looked over at Patience’s face. She appeared serene, as if she was having a lovely sleep. She thought that her breathing might have got a little easier in the past hour, but it was quite possible that she was imagining that. She wondered what Patience would say about her predicament, if she could speak. Probably a whole list of expletives – and fair enough.
‘And what I’d like to do now is to say a prayer for Patience. If that’s OK?’ Theresa was now looking at Louise and Pete, seeking their approval. Louise nodded readily and a few seconds later so did Pete. Eliza looked at him closely and could not see any signs of discomfort in his face or body language. Theresa seemed to have had a calming influence on them all.
‘Dear Lord, please watch over Patience,’ she began, ‘and give her the strength to fight. But please also look over her family.’
Eliza closed her eyes and, for the second time that day, pleaded with someone, anyone, to help her sister to continue to live.
That sun is growing larger by the minute. Is it… Is it… coming to get me? To take me home?
*
Eliza retreated from ICU after that and left her parents talking to Theresa. They hadn’t asked her to leave, but there was something about their hushed tones and intense conversation that told her they would rather she didn’t hear what they had to say. She also realised that it was the first time in months that she had seen them talking calmly to each other and she had no desire to disrupt such a rare event.
Hours spent in a hospital ward were definitely longer than ordinary hours, Eliza thought, as she walked out of the ward and into the corridor. At least twice as long. She had been taking turns with both her parents to sit beside Patience and talk to her, while they went to sit in the spring sunshine, or ate a meal in the on-site cafeteria. This time alone had given her plenty of time to think, not about Patience – she didn’t even want to go there, it was too painful to contemplate – but about the peripheral stuff in her life that needed sorting. She had to make some decisions, some plans.
‘Eliza?’
Jimmy was walking towards her down the corridor. She smiled at him instinctively, despite her worries about Patience.
‘Oh, hi,’ she said. They hadn’t spoken since that morning, when they had found Patience delirious in bed at the respite care home.
‘I’ve just come off shift; I came straight here.’
Eliza was puzzling over whether it would be acceptable to embrace him, and couldn’t think of anything remotely sensible to ask.
‘Look, I’m sorry. Do you blame me? I wouldn’t be surprised. We should have spotted it sooner. But we’re short-staffed and we really did think she was just tired…’ Evidently, Jimmy had misread her facial expression.
‘Shall we take a seat?’ she said, pointing to a bench further along the corridor. When they sat down, Jimmy’s knee brushed hers, and she took an involuntary sharp intake of breath. Her knee felt like it was on fire. She sprang away from him.
‘Actually, shall we get coffee? I’m gasping,’ she said, walking away briskly, hoping to regain her composure before he caught up with her. Despite her turn of speed, however, Jimmy joined her in seconds, and kept pace with ease, like a marine on a route march. Just a minute later, Eliza was beginning to sweat. They were almost jogging now, she thought, smiling to herself.
‘What’s so funny?’ Jimmy said, pursing his lips.
‘Do you run regularly?’ she replied. ‘Because I’m knackered and you seem to have just warmed up.’
‘It was your pace!’
‘I know, I know. My fault. I am obviously very thirsty. Ah, here we are,’ she said, grateful for a distraction. They had arrived at the café, a characterless white box furnished with uncomfortable metal chairs and white melamine tables, and decorated with posters advising visitors to wash their hands, get a flu jab, or check their cholesterol levels.
‘I’ll buy them,’ said Jimmy. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’ll have a decaf cappuccino, if they’ve got some.’
He turned around to look at her and made a face. ‘Decaf? Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure,’ she replied.
‘I’d have thought, given the day you’ve had, you’d be after all the caffeine you can get,’ he said as he placed her cardboard takeaway cup on the table.
‘Ah, well, there’s a tale,’ she replied, taking the lid off her coffee to see if the barista had sprinkled chocolate on top.
‘Do you want to tell it?’
She considered this.
‘Shit, you know, I might as well. Today is utterly surreal. It can’t get any worse.’
Jimmy removed his jacket. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and the muscles in his arms danced as he lifted his coffee up to his mouth for each sip. Eliza was momentarily mesmerised.
‘Eliza?’
‘Sorry!’ She tried to focus on her coffee instead. ‘So, firstly, I told Mum about the wedding being off, and apparently it’s no big deal. Can you imagine? I suppose that she’s so consumed by Patience at the moment, she can’t really get upset about anything else, can she? It looks like I picked a good day to bury bad news.’
‘Or it could just be that she’s really not that bothered.’
‘Surely you know my mother well enough by now to know that she’s never not bothered?’
Jimmy shrugged his shoulders.
‘And then there’s the other thing. The big thing, really…’ In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. ‘… I’m having a baby. In the autumn.’ She looked at him carefully as she said it, interested to see how he’d react.
Jimmy put down his cup and a broad smile spread across his face.
‘You are? That’s amazing. Congratulations.’
She realised she’d been holding her breath waiting for his response and let out a huge sigh.
‘Thank you. I’m excited. Petrified, and excited. It’s Ed’s. But he won’t be around, so it’s just… mine.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be a brilliant mother.’
Eliza raised one eyebrow.
‘That just goes to show how little you know me, Jimmy.’
‘Oh, come off it. You’ll be great. Are your parents made up?’
Eliza bit her lip.
‘You haven’t broken that bit to them yet, then?’ he said.
‘Nope. Not quite yet.’ Eliza stared down at her drink, which the barista had decorated with a heart.
‘About earlier,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘Of course I don’t blame you. There’s little point blaming anyone. Dad is blaming Mum for the trial, I blame myself for the trial, and Mum is blaming herself, of course, and the doctors are just blaming bacteria. It seems to me that we are where we are and there’s nothing that any of us can do, except wait.’
‘But if we’d spotted it earlier…’
‘The medics said it must have come on really quickly. Look, please, please don’t beat yourself up about it. To be honest, we’ve always known that this day would come. Patience has been on borrowed time for decades.’
‘You’re talking like she’s going to die.’
‘Don’t you think she is?’
Jimmy looked at Eliza, his eyes wide.
‘No. I’ve got to know P and she’s got a fighting spirit.’
‘No amount of fighting is going to make any difference to this, Jimmy. This is just about biology.’
‘I know that. But I refuse to give up. I’ve watched someone die and I have no desire to see that again any time soon.’
‘Fair enough.’ Eliza put the lid back on her coffee and pushed her chair back.
‘Hey, have you told P?’ Jimmy’s eyes were bright.
‘About what?’
‘The baby.’
‘She knows I’m pregnant.’
‘But does she know that you’re keeping it?’
Eliza tapped her fingers against her cup. ‘No. I suppose not.’
‘Then you should tell her.’
‘Do you think? But she won’t understand it, will she?’
‘How can you be sure? I know you share all sorts with her. And she loves it, I can tell. Go and tell her.’
Eliza didn’t need to think twice. ‘You know what? I will. Thanks. Thank you, Jimmy.’ She pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘OK, then. I’ll see you back there in a bit, shall I?’ she said, her head tipping in the direction of ICU.
‘Sure. I’ll hang out here, and come up in half an hour or so.’
Eliza pulled on her coat and strode off down the corridor.
*
Louise was sitting with Patience and she looked pleased to see that Eliza had returned.
‘Your dad’s taken Serena back to the house,’ Louise said, sighing, patting the empty chair next to her, inviting Eliza to sit down. ‘It’s been difficult for her, seeing Patience like this. I think she needs to sleep.’
Eliza nodded. Sleep would also have been her preference, too.
‘When did the priest go?’ she asked.
‘Oh, about half an hour ago. She was wonderful. So caring, so interested in Patience – and in us. Your dad and I had a good chat with her.’
‘That must be the first time Dad has enjoyed talking to a priest,’ Eliza said.
‘Desperate times and all that,’ Louise replied, leaning over towards Patience and rubbing her arm. ‘He owned up to something, too. He’s lost our savings, would you believe. All of them. That’s what he’s been hiding.’
Eliza tried to look surprised. ‘Oh crikey, Mum. That’s awful.’ She had never been a convincing actress, but it seemed that her mum was so distracted, she didn’t even notice.
‘I know. Or at least, I think I know. Given today and how Patience is, I’m not sure I care that much. After all of that angst about our finances, trying to get a job so that I could help, sleepless nights spent worrying – it’s only money, isn’t it?’
Mother and daughter looked at Patience, immobile and attached to myriad different machines.
‘Lots of money, though,’ said Eliza, quietly.
‘Yes. But we’ll manage. We have somewhere to live, and an income. I’m just relieved he’s finally being honest with me, really. For a while there I thought he had another woman.’
Eliza wrinkled her nose. It wasn’t comfortable, knowing so much detail about her parents’ private lives. They had never discussed their feelings for each other with her before, but she recognised that her mum’s admission marked a turning point; and, after all, she had been waiting for her parents to be honest with each other for decades.
‘I’m glad for you, Mum.’
They joined hands and sat in silence for a while, listening to Patience’s machine-assisted breaths. And then Eliza decided to just come out and say it, the proverbial elephant in the room.
‘Do you think she’s going to die?’
‘I don’t know, sweetheart,’ Louise replied after a pause, her voice a perpetual sigh. ‘I really don’t know.’
Eliza looked down at the floor for a few seconds, before taking a deep breath, her decision made.
‘Mum, can I have a minute? With Patience?’
Louise looked at her quizzically.
‘Of course, darling. Without me here?’
‘Yes, please,’ Eliza replied. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll only be a minute. I’ll come to get you if anything changes. But I just wanted to have a private chat with her, if that’s OK.’
‘Of course. I’ll just be outside.’
She placed her hand on her mother’s arm. ‘Thank you.’
When Louise had gone, Eliza looked around her, taking in the nurses who were looking after other patients, and the gaggles of relatives framing nearby beds. Craving privacy, she stood up and pulled the flimsy curtain around them. She knew that it would block no noise, but she felt better knowing that no one would be looking at her if – when – she cried.
‘Patience – P. It’s me,’ she said, drawing her chair as close to the bed as it would go. She rested her chin on the mattress just a few inches from her sister’s face. She watched her in silence for a minute, trying to focus on her golden hair, her porcelain skin and her luscious eyelashes, and doing her best to ignore the tubes, the mask, the machines. She wanted to remember her as she was, not like this.
‘Patience? Are you in there? Can you hear me?’
It’s a beautiful day. Summer’s early glory: the air smells sweet with honeysuckle and a host of butterflies are dancing in our garden. I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, rocking. And she is jumping, jumping high in the air.
‘I don’t know if you can hear me, Patience, but I have some things I want to say.’
She lets out a shriek of glee, and cups her hands. Then she comes to sit down next to me.
‘Firstly, I want to say – I’m sorry I haven’t been that brilliant a sister. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’ve been resentful and distant and I haven’t been to see you nearly enough. But I wanted you to know, to really know, how much you mean to me.’
She leans towards me and holds her hands up so that they are level with my face. And then she opens them just a crack. A tiny crack, but it’s enough.
‘I don’t know how you feel about me at all, but you have been my constant, Patience. You have always been there, and I have needed you more than you know.’
The tortoiseshell butterfly which she’d been cocooning gently between her palms takes its chance and becomes airborne.
‘And the other thing, the major thing, is that I’m going to keep the baby, Patience. You’re going to be an auntie. And you’re going to be awesome at it. So keep fighting, my lovely sister. Keep fighting.’
As the butterfly makes its escape, it miscalculates its flight path and heads straight for my face.
‘Please don’t leave me. I need you. I can’t do this on my own.’
When it bumps into my nose, its wings tickle, and I begin to laugh; partly due to the strange sensation, but largely because she is laughing too, real belly laughs, and her joy makes me so happy. Then she drapes her arms around me, and we just sit there like that, laughing together. And I am happier than I have ever been.
Just as she had predicted, tears were now rolling down Eliza’s cheeks. Pregnancy had made her even more emotional than normal; her hormones were wreaking havoc. She reached into her pocket to retrieve a tissue, mopped them up, and then stood up to give Patience a kiss. It was difficult to find a piece of skin that wasn’t covered in a mask, surgical tape or tubes, but she eventually settled on her forehead.
‘You make sure you stay, now,’ she said, before turning and walking out of the ward in search of Louise.
When she eventually releases me, and then stands up and walks away, I wish with all my heart that I could reach out to her and bring her back.
*
‘Mum?’ Eliza had found Louise sitting on one of the benches in the corridor.
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you.’
Eliza took a seat next to her mother.
‘How did it go?’ Louise asked.
‘Oh, you know,’ Eliza had to find her tissue once again, to wipe away some more tears. ‘As you’d expect.’
‘Yes.’ Louise reached out for Eliza’s hand.
‘And Mum?’
‘Yes?’
‘I didn’t tell you the whole truth earlier.’
‘Ah.’
‘Ed and I have broken up, that’s true. But also – there’s something else.’
She paused. Was she really going to say it this time? Yes. She was.
‘I’m having a baby, Mum.’
Louise gasped. She whipped her hand away from Eliza and used it to cover her face.
‘Mum, I’m so sorry. This isn’t the time to tell you about this, is it?’
‘No.’ Louise had now started to cry.
‘I’m so sorry. So sorry.’
Louise put her hands back in her lap and looked at her daughter, her eyes wide.
‘What on earth are you sorry for?’ she said, sounding like a schoolteacher chastising a naughty child.
‘For being a total mess,’ Eliza blurted out. ‘For not being the daughter I should be. The daughter you need.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Louise said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. ‘You are my wonderful daughter, and you are everything I need.’
It was Eliza’s turn to cry now.
‘Oh, Mum,’ she said. ‘Oh, Mum.’