Chapter 40

“So what do I do now?”

Doctor O’Keeffe had just delivered more bad news. The blood tests and scans had both shown that the chemo hadn’t worked like he had hoped and there wasn’t much more they could do for me. The cancer was too widespread. Noel was sobbing like a baby in the chair beside me but I was too stunned to do anything except somehow on autopilot to reach across to find his hand. He grabbed onto it as if he was holding on for dear life. As if by holding onto me tightly, he might be able to stop me from leaving his world.

“I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of the road, Eva – there isn’t any more we can do for you. I’m truly sorry.”

I tried to digest what he was saying. “So that’s it? This is the end?”

“I’m sorry, Eva, the prognosis isn’t good.”

“Please say you’ve got it wrong, please? This can’t be happening?” Noel was saying.

“How long have I got?” It seemed as though someone else was asking these questions, not me.

“I would expect four to six weeks.”

I felt as though I was winded. Four to six weeks!

“I see.”

I didn’t expect it to come that quickly. It was an awful thing to be told you had such a short time left. The shock felt as though it had sucked my breath away and I couldn’t breathe. My first reaction was panic – panic for all the things that I still needed to do. Panic because I wouldn’t be there to watch my children growing up, all their milestones and big occasions. Patrick would be making his confirmation next year. And Aoife wouldn’t even remember me. I started hyperventilating and somewhere on the periphery I could hear Noel saying “No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. Someone has made a mistake!” over and over again. And I wished he would stop. He was still squeezing the life out of my hand.

“How’s your pain, Eva? Are you managing okay?” Doctor O’Keeffe asked me.

I nodded because I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Well, I’m sure you’d rather be at home at this time but if it gets worse I can refer you to a hospice for palliative care. Don’t suffer unnecessarily, Eva – we can give you pain relief to help you through it.”

“But that’s it then – it’ll be curtains for me, won’t it?”

“Well, I don’t like to be bleak but yes . . . usually the end of life isn’t too far away at that stage.”

“How will it happen?”

“Do you mean, what is the next stage?”

I nodded.

“Well, usually after the patient comes in for pain relief, they tend to sleep a lot more and gradually sleep most of the time and after that stage it is usually a matter of days. If it helps, they usually pass peacefully.”

“But there must be something you can do – there has to be something?” Noel said. “Some new treatment or therapy or even a clinical trial drug? There must be nearly a cure for cancer at this stage. With all those degrees you have up on the wall there, there has to be something you can do!”

“I’m afraid not, Noel. While we have made great progress in fighting the disease in recent years, there is still so much that we don’t know about it and in Eva’s case it’s too far advanced. I’m sorry.”

“What about radiation treatment? You haven’t tried that!” He banged his fist on the desk and I jumped in my chair.

“Unfortunately in Eva’s case the cancer is so advanced that the levels of radiation required would be too much for her body to take,” Doctor O’Keeffe said softly.

When I got out to the car park I had to run to be sick into a flowerbed. The shock and devastation started to hit me. We sat into the car but Noel didn’t start the engine. We both just sat there staring straight ahead at the drops of rain running in rivulets down the windscreen in front of us.

I felt a sheer overwhelming sense of injustice and anger. This wasn’t fair. I was a good person, wasn’t I? I didn’t deserve this – my family didn’t deserve this!

“I’m not ready to die, Noel,” I whispered. He leaned over across the gearstick and held me in his arms. “I feel so robbed. I’m being cheated out of my future – the kids’ future. I won’t get to help Kate over a broken heart or watch Patrick try on his secondary-school uniform for the first time. Or Seán when he scores a goal in the County Final. Or get open-mouthed kisses from Aoife and watch her take her shaky first steps . . . Or dab calamine lotion on red chicken-pox welts. Everything. I’m going to miss out on so much . . . And I’m scared of what lies ahead for me . . .”

“It’s okay to be scared – I’m scared too, Eva. I want to hit out and shout at God or whoever is taking you away from me. It’s not the way it was meant to be. We were meant to raise the kids and then kick back ourselves, maybe go to visit your sister in New York or go to see the Eiffel Tower like you always talked about.”

“Oh God, Noel, how on earth are we going to tell the kids?”

On the drive home, I watched the trees, now bare, whizz by the window. The cycle of life continued – the leaves that had budded in spring, grown leafy and green through the summer and shed their leaves in autumn, were now dead. Exactly like me except I had never had a chance to reach the winter of my life or even the autumn. We decided to tell the three of them together. We felt it would be better to do it united as a family and hopefully they could help each other through it.

“Your mam and I need to talk to you all,” Noel said when they were all gathered around after dinner that evening.

Aoife was sleeping peacefully in her crib. She was such a placid child, God bless her. She slept and ate and you didn’t hear a thing out of her in between.

“What is it?” Patrick asked.

“Well . . . we got some bad news today, I’m afraid.”

“What?” Kate asked. I could hear the panic in her voice.

I took a deep breath and said, “I’m afraid I haven’t got much longer to live.”

“What?” they all asked in unison.

“But you can’t – what’s wrong with you? You seem fine!” Patrick said.

It was hard for them to see it. They saw me looking a bit thin and hair gone but otherwise going about as normal. They couldn’t see through my body to where this cancer was eating me up on the inside.

“I’m afraid I have cancer and it has spread.”

“I knew you shouldn’t have had her!” said Kate.

“Who? Do you mean Aoife?”

“If you didn’t have her none of this would have happened.”

“But Aoife didn’t cause me to get cancer!”

“No, but you could have started treatment earlier – I heard you and Dad talking about it – I’m not stupid, you know. You think you whisper these things and ‘Oh, we won’t tell the kids’ but we know everything going on. You’re selfish.” She was pointing her finger just inches from my face. “I heard Dad telling you that you had to take the treatment but you chose Aoife over the rest of us.”

I could see the worried faces of Patrick and Seán looking at me in confusion, not really understanding what was going on, but wondering if what Kate was saying was true all the same.

“I didn’t choose Aoife over anyone – I just wanted to give her the best chance. It was a horrible decision to have to make. I really didn’t think it was cancer, Kate – I thought it was benign and that it would all be okay and any risk to Aoife was unnecessary – but I was wrong.”

“Yeah, but even if you knew it was cancer, would you have taken the treatment when you were pregnant?”

I said nothing.

“Well, would you?” Her index finger moved even closer to my face and her eyes were wide with rage.

“Probably not, if I’m honest.”

“See! You obviously don’t give a damn about me or Patrick and Seán – Aoife has caused all of this. You’re a selfish bitch!”

“Kate – do not speak to your mother like that!” Noel thundered.

“Or what? You heard what she said – she’s not going to be around for much longer so it doesn’t matter what I say to her any more.” She stormed out of the room.

I could see Noel blazing, about to go after her.

“Leave her, Noel – she’s just angry.”

“Mammy, are you really dying?” Seán asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry.” I snuggled my son into my chest and breathed him in.

“But who will look after us?”

“Daddy will. And Granny will help out too.”

“But I need my mammy.”

I wiped my tears away before they fell into his hair.

“Patrick, are you okay, love? I know it’s a lot to take in.”

He hadn’t said a word since Kate’s outburst. Patrick was the serious one of the three. He was the thinker and he would internalise his feelings.

“When will it happen?” he asked.

“The doctor thinks in few weeks.”

“But what about my confirmation?”

It was taking place in February, less than five months away.

“You’re going to have a lovely day and your daddy will make it extra special. And I’ll be there watching over you. I’ll make sure the sun is shining for you.”

“Are you scared, Mam?” Seán asked me. He was fiddling with the gold cross on my neck.

“No. Sure what have I got to be scared of? Aren’t I going to a better place where you can eat all the chocolate and sweets you want and you won’t get fat and you can play outside all day long because it never rains.”

He smiled at me, his innocent face looking up at mine in wonderment.

“Can you get Monster Munch there?”

“Absolutely, all the Monster Munch you can dream of.”

I spent the next few days under a black cloud. I just couldn’t stop crying, I would spend hours alone in my room because I didn’t want anyone to see me upset and then I would feel so guilty for spending the last few days of my life stuck down in my bedroom alone instead of with the people that I loved and I would feel even worse then.

I would cradle Aoife and stare down at her delicate perfection but then I would hand her back to Mam or Noel again just as quick. If I was honest with myself I was afraid to get too close to her because I was going to be taken away from her soon. It was better that she formed a bond with the people who would be there to look after her when I was gone. I also hoped, maybe a bit selfishly, that it would make it easier on me too when the time came to say goodbye. So even though it killed me and went against all my natural maternal instincts to leave my newborn out of my arms, I would hand her over to someone else and pretend that I needed to go and do something. Mam would say something like “Would you just sit down and rest, for God’s sake?” and put Aoife into my arms again but I began to get good with my excuses. I think Mam thought that I was angry with Aoife because, when it came down to it, I had essentially sacrificed my life for her, but that wasn’t it at all. I still didn’t regret my decision to forgo treatment but I felt angry that both of us couldn’t live. That was cruel. It was hard to rationalise why I would be given a baby when I was going to be taken away from her before she even had a chance to know who I was. That just didn’t make any sense to me.

Kate was avoiding me. She was gone from dawn until dusk, out with Aidan or her friends. If I did see her she would swerve past me to get out of the room. She was so angry and I wasn’t sure what to do. I wasn’t sure how to handle it and I didn’t want to spend my last days fighting with her.

Noel was spending a lot of time out on the land. I knew it was too hard for him to be around me. This was how he coped and I had to let him do it but I felt so lonely and isolated. My heart broke whenever I looked at him and I felt guilty because he was going to be left on his own to raise four children and try and make a living off the farm. It was only when we were in bed at night that he would take me in his arms and we would talk about what would happen after I was gone. Afterwards he would fall asleep and I would lie awake into the early hours, my mind whirring in anger at the injustice of it all. I’d had so much energy and fight when the mass was first discovered back in that first scan but over the last few months, as well as growing rampantly throughout my body, it had eroded my spirit.

Word had obviously started filtering through the village that I wasn’t well – neighbours and old school friends and people I would have known when Kate was in primary school – people I hadn’t seen in years – had started calling over to visit me. There were new people every day. It forced me to put on a brave face because I knew they would be awkward and embarrassed if I got upset or let them know that it got me down. I would hold court and offer a plate of biscuits and I knew that they were wondering to themselves whether I was really terminally ill at all. If I appeared calm and accepting it was much easier for all of us.

The pain was getting worse. I now had difficulty getting up out of a chair or walking. Spasms would grip my abdomen like a vice. I knew it was only a matter of time before I would need to go into the hospice and then, well, I didn’t want to think about what came next . . .

Chapter 41

I don’t know at what stage I accepted what was happening to me but I no longer felt like there was a raging battle inside my head. I didn’t want to waste another minute of the time I had left being sad and depressed. The fight was gone. But I was still frightened about what lay ahead for me – the fear of the unknown – what would it feel like to die? Would I be aware of it? Was there such a thing as life after death? I knew my mother would balk at that one. I tried to push the fears back out of my head as soon as they surfaced and instead I focused on enjoying the simple things. I was too exhausted to go anywhere so that ruled out doing things like making a last-ditch effort to see bits of the country that I had never seen before like the Giant’s Causeway, but I was able to enjoy long chats reminiscing with friends or when Noel and I recalled funny things the kids did when they were small. Like the time Patrick had said he told us he was running away and when we looked inside his sports bag to see what supplies he had packed it was just full of his books.

My sister Anna came home from New York to see me. She said she wanted to see me now and not ‘after’. The ‘after what?’, went unspoken between us. She stayed for a few days and then flew back again. That was a hard one – each of us knowing that we would never see each other again. We had hugged, too afraid to let go, until I had eventually told her to go on or she’d miss her flight.

I woke up one morning with a raging fever and I was writhing and moaning in the bed with pain. The tablets I had been given no longer seemed to be having the same effect. My whole body felt knotted with the cancer as its cells gradually took over whatever was left of my good ones. Doctor O’Keeffe had warned us that this might happen. With the chemo I was susceptible to all sorts of infections that an ordinary person would fight off. Noel phoned Doctor O’Keeffe to tell him and he had written a referral for the hospice. They were expecting me later on that day. I hadn’t eaten much over the last few days. I didn’t recognise myself when I looked in the mirror, I never thought I would use the word ‘gaunt’ to describe myself but that was how I looked. My clothes, which were once tight, now were falling off my body. Most days I just stayed in my pyjamas and dressing gown because I didn’t have the energy to get dressed and I spent most of my time in bed anyway. Noel said I was like a bag of bones and was constantly at me to eat something but I couldn’t stomach food. Still he would persist – he would bring me my breakfast on a tray before I got out of bed in the mornings and he would set a place for me at the dinner table in the evenings.

It was surreal wandering around my house for what I knew was the last time. I gave Aoife a kiss and a cuddle – I had told Noel that I didn’t want her to be brought into the hospice to visit me. It was no place for a new baby and she was still so fragile. She smiled a gummy smile at me and hooked my baby finger inside the ball of her fist. I raised her fist towards my mouth and kissed each of her dimpled knuckles in turn. She was almost twelve weeks old now and was gurgling away, oblivious to all of the drama that she had been born into. She was such a good little baby – she was already sleeping through the night and she only cried to be fed or changed. Her eyes stared at me like she had been here before. It was as if she knew what was happening and she was playing her part in making it as easy as she could for me. I couldn’t believe it was going to be the last time I would get to hold her.

I didn’t have a chance to see Kate before I left for the hospice. She had been staying in a friend’s house ever since we broke the news to her. I had overheard Noel on the phone to her friend, asking her to have a word with Kate, that it was urgent, and to get her to come home and talk to me but she still never came. Noel had been in contact to make sure she was okay but she just didn’t want to be around us, so we gave her space. I desperately hoped that she might come to visit me. I didn’t want to leave on bad terms – I wanted her forgiveness.

Once in the hospice, I wasn’t in any pain. They had given me medication to help bring down my temperature and hooked me up straight away to a morphine drip. The relief was almost instant. I knew it was my time. I felt calmer and more accepting of what was to come. I had heard it said that a certain serenity descends on a person as they reach that transition between this world and the next. I wondered if this was the start of mine.

I was starting to sleep a lot more, the morphine making me drowsy. Sometimes I would wake up and wonder where Noel and the boys had gone to and then Sister Rita, the nurse looking after me, would tell me that it was the middle of the night and that they had gone home hours ago.

I opened my eyes sometime a few days later to see the blurry face of our parish priest, Father Ball. He was sitting on the chair beside my bed, wearing his usual black slacks, black short-sleeved shirt and white collar. His bulbous red nose seemed to grow bigger every time I saw him. He was fond of the brandy by all accounts.

“Well, now that you’re here, Father, I know I’m on my last legs.”

“Well, we always should have hope because without hope we’ve nothing,” he said.

“Ah come on, Father, even I know that my body has given up on me.”

“Well, the Lord is watching over you at the moment and he will help you through it.”

“Does he have morphine?” I started to laugh. “It’s great stuff!”

He looked taken aback and wasn’t sure how to respond. “I thought you might like me to hear a confession for you?”

I thought about Kate – she was the first thing that popped into my head.

“My eldest, Kate – I’m sure you know her – well, she’s very angry with me at the moment. She won’t come in to see me and the last time we saw each other ended in a blazing row so I guess if there’s anything . . . I’d like to make peace with that . . .”

“The Lord is listening, Eva, and he knows. What about the funeral arrangements?”

“Well, I want to be buried in the family plot – definitely not cremated – that’d be too scary for me.”

“And are there any hymns or prayers you would like?”

“I like that one – what’s it called . . . ‘Sing to the Mountains’?”

I watched as he made a note in his little flip-top notebook just like a Guard would do.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I didn’t have much to say to the man. I wasn’t the most religious person in Ballyrobin. I mean, I made the effort to go to Mass whenever I could but I wasn’t too put out if I had to miss it for whatever reason. I wasn’t like some of the Holy Joes around the town who were almost bribing Father Ball just so they could do a reading or become a minister of the Eucharist yet again.

“Oh and if they could get someone to sing ‘Pie Jesu’ – that would be nice too. If it’s not too much trouble . . .”

“Would you like to pray with me?”

“Sure it can’t do any harm, now can it?”

He started off an ‘Our Father’ and I mumbled along with him, more for his sake than my own.

“Oh, Father Ball – I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” Noel said as he came in with the boys a while later.

“Well, I was just leaving anyway, Noel.” He stood up and took his coat off the back of the chair and put his arms into the sleeves.

“Well . . . em, goodbye, Eva, and remember the Lord who brought you into this world will be with you when you leave it.”

I could see Patrick looking at me. I knew three-year-olds with more tact than Father Ball.

“And, Noel, remember your family in the church will help you through it.”

“Thanks, Father,” an embarrassed Noel mumbled.

“Mam, what was the priest saying?” Patrick asked as soon as he had left.

“Aragh, you know what priests are like – they’re not happy unless they’re spouting some religious mumbo-jumbo.”

He smiled at me, freckles from the summer spent playing in the fields gracing his cheeks and the tip of his nose. He was going to grow into a handsome young man, I thought sadly.

“Here, I’m parched, will you two go down and buy me a bottle of water?”

“But sure haven’t you a jug of it there beside you?” Noel gestured to the locker.

I winked at him and he knew then I wanted to talk to him alone. He rooted around in his pocket and pulled out a five-pound note. “You can get yourselves something nice with the change.”

The boys ran out giddily with Seán trying to grab the money out of Patrick’s hand. “Give it to me!”

“What was he doing in here?” Noel asked.

“I’d say Mam told him to come. What is it they say, Noel – the end is nigh?”

“Don’t say that.”

“Ah come on, Noel, I’m on the way out.”

“It doesn’t make it any easier though.”

“You look tired.” I noticed his face was more lined than I remembered.

“Do I?”

I nodded. “It’s taking its toll on you.”

“I’m grand.”

“Well, make sure you look after yourself, do you hear me? I know you’re busy looking after everyone else at the moment but if you were to get sick then we’d be really up the creek.”

“Will you look who’s talking? The words pot, kettle and black spring to mind.”

I smiled at him. “Oh, would you get me some Vaseline? My lips are all cracked.”

He opened the pot and, using his index finger, he gently applied the balm to my parched lips.

“That’s better. Thanks. Look, Noel, I don’t think you should bring the boys in to see me any more – I don’t want them to remember me lying like this in a bed all tubed up.” Something like this would stay with them forever. Plus I was starting to sleep a lot more and I knew they were bored hanging around. It wasn’t fair on them – they were only children.

“I see . . .” He trailed off. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I think it’s for the best. I don’t want any goodbyes either, do you hear me?”

“What, you just want them to go out of here tonight and say nothing – no goodbye or anything?”

“I think it’s for the best, Noel – I don’t want them getting upset. It’s best not to say anything to them.”

“Does it not seem a bit . . . well . . . mean?”

“Noel, I haven’t long left. I don’t want my last few days to be full of tears and maudlin goodbyes.”

“Okay, whatever you want.” He put his hands up.

“How’s Kate? Has she come back home yet?” It shredded my heart in two to know that the last words we spoke to each other were raging and wild and said nothing of the love I had in my heart for my firstborn child.

He shook his head. “She’s been back a couple of times to get things – clothes and the like – but she’s still sleeping in Sorcha’s house.”

“Does she mention anything about me?”

“Not really.”

“So you mean no, then?”

He nodded.

“Will you ask her again to come into me – I want to see her before I –”

The unspoken word hung in the air between us.

“I said it to her again this morning but you know how stubborn she can be.”

“Don’t I know it . . . And how’s Aoife doing?”

“Well, she’s good, putting on lots of weight. Getting nice and chubby now.”

“Ah good, God bless the little thing! What a start she has had . . . At least she’s too young to understand any of it.” My heart ached for my two daughters.

“It’s a blessing all right.”

“This morphine is great stuff, I tell you, Noel – and I can have as much as I want because it doesn’t matter if I get addicted to the stuff now. That is the plus side of this death business.”

“You have to look at the positives, I guess. You always were the more optimistic one of the two of us.”

“Now I don’t want you lolling around that house moping to yourself, do you hear me?”

“What do you mean?”

“After I’m gone, I want you to find someone new. Someone not quite as beautiful as me because I’d be jealous then but close enough – maybe someone with a bigger nose or frizzier hair.”

“Ah stop it, Eva!”

“I’m serious, because the first thing I’m going to do when I kick the bucket is to go looking for John Lennon. We’re going to have a right ’oul party.”

He was smiling at me but I thought I saw tears in his eyes.

When Noel took the boys home later I gave them each a big hug. I took my time breathing in their scents when they hugged me. I didn’t want to let them go. I forced back the tears that filled my eyes – I didn’t want them to see me crying. It was hard to believe that this was the last time that I would ever get to hold them – the babies that I had brought roaring and screaming into this world.

“You’d better go on – you’ve school in the morning.” I forced my voice to remain level.

“Night, Mam!” Patrick sang.

“Night, love.”

“Night, Mam.”

“Night, Seán.”

Chapter 42

“Are you okay?”

It was Sister Rita coming around to check on me. I had actually grown quite fond of her over the last few days since I had been under her care. She was a neat little woman with soft grey hair peeping out from underneath her white habit. She still chose to wear the habit even though most nuns had given it up years earlier. Her white nurse’s uniform was always pristine and starched and she always wore beige soft-soled loafers so you never heard her footsteps when she walked.

“I’m all right.”

“Were they your boys that I saw earlier?”

“Yes,” I said and her gentle manner caused the floodgates to open. “I don’t want to die – I don’t want to go!” I started to cry.

“It’s natural to feel like that, Eva.” She sat up on the side of the bed, pulled back the sheets and started to massage my feet.

“I’m going to miss out on so much . . .”

“Tell me who has gone before you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, have you lost a parent or someone else close to you?”

“My dad died when I was a teenager.”

“Well, then, I’m sure he’ll be waiting on you to guide you through.” Her gentle hands were kneading and plying the balls of my feet.

At a time when I just seemed to be aching all over, it felt heavenly.

“Can I ask you a question, Sister?”

“Of course, ask away.”

“Do you really believe in all of that stuff?”

“How do you mean – the afterlife?”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, I do actually.”

“But that tunnel of light business – don’t you ever doubt it all sometimes?”

“I’ve been close to a lot of dying people – it’s part and parcel of doing this job – but it’s a privilege actually to be close to people at such an intimate moment of their life as they get ready to start the next part of their journey.”

I looked at her like she was crackers.

“No, really it is, Eva – I’ve seen death up close, I’ve looked it in the eye and I know that when my time comes, I won’t be afraid. There is a look – a peacefulness – on the face of the dying just before they leave us and a contentment that I have still never seen on the face of a living person. Of course we don’t know what it is that makes them so calm as they leave this world but I like to think that they are being reunited with their loved ones that have gone before them.”

“Kate won’t come in to see me,” I whispered.

“That’s your daughter, right?”

“Yes.”

“She’s a teenager – she’s going through a tough time and she’s angry – she just doesn’t know how to express it.”

“I never got a chance to say goodbye to her.”

“Well, why don’t you write her a letter? Tell her everything that you would tell her if you saw her?”

“I suppose I could do that.”

“I’ll nip out and get you some paper from the office.”

“Thanks.” I began to plan what I might say as I waited for her to come back.

“Here,” she said when she returned. She handed me an A4 leafpad and gave me a pen. “Sorry I’ve nothing fancier.”

“Thanks, Sister.”

“I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be around to check on you in a bit.”

Even though I was exhausted, I sat on the bed under the lamp and concentrated hard on writing my letter and putting everything I wanted to say down on the sheet of paper in front of me. I made sure the words were just right and said exactly how I was feeling because it was my last gift to Kate.

Eventually I must have drifted off to sleep because I woke up to find my sheets were damp under me. I tried to speak but all that came out was a low moan. Sister Rita appeared back at the end of the bed again like some kind of white angel. She switched on the light and looked at me before putting her hand on my forehead. She went to fetch some water and a facecloth and sponged my face. The coolness of the damp facecloth was a welcome relief. She gave me some more medicine that she said would help bring down the fever.

Noel appeared sometime later, I remember it was either very early or very late for him – I didn’t know which. I could hear him talking to me but I didn’t have the energy to answer him so I closed my eyes and let them talk around me as I drifted in and out of sleep. I had vivid dreams of playing on hay bales with Anna as a child and picnics in the fields. I was twenty-three years old and performing on the stage in the Ballyrobin Amateur Dramatic Society’s annual show. Then I would wake up and Noel would be telling me stories from when the kids were small. I liked hearing them again – his voice was comforting. He told me how much he loved me and that it was okay for me to go and that they would all be fine. I closed my eyes and listened to him but I wasn’t able to respond. He was stroking my skin and his touch felt good. Then I was back sitting on the sand on Mulranny Strand with the sun warming my face. I watched as the kids jumped over the waves, Noel the biggest kid of the lot of them. I waved at them and they waved back at me, squealing in delight as the cool water washed over their skin. Gulls squawked on the warm air overhead. The waves were breaking in arcs on the sand in front of me and the water was rushing up towards me. I thought I was going to get wet so I got up and moved my towel back up the beach a bit further. I spread it out again and sat down and watched them all playing a while longer. A shivering Kate was now making her way back up the beach to me, the water running off her in drops. She left a trail of prints in the sand as she walked. I stood up and took a towel out of the bag. I held it out open until she reached me and I wrapped her close into its warmth.

28/10/1992

Dear Kate,

I am sleeping a lot more and soon I probably won’t be in any fit state to write this for you. Kate, my darling girl – I’m so sorry that we never got to say goodbye properly. I know you’re angry with me and you have every right to be. The problem is that we are so alike, you and I – you remind me so much of myself at that age – headstrong and impulsive.

Remember, Kate, that I love you – you were my firstborn, the one to amaze me with the wonderment of motherhood and how intensely we can love another person. It breaks my heart that I won’t be around to watch you grow up, to guide you on your journey into adulthood and to watch you become a young woman. Or that I won’t be there to listen as you swoon over a boyfriend or to help you through a broken heart.

I know your dad will do a great job in raising you all – believe me, there is no better father out there, which helps me be in peace as I go but I wanted to write this letter to you so you can turn to it whenever you’re having a bad day – I might not be able to be there for you physically but I will be with you through it all and my words are here whenever you need them – I hope they’ll be of comfort to you.

I hope one day, maybe when you have your own children, you will understand my decision and that it wasn’t easy for me. Try to help your dad with the younger ones – the next few months will be difficult on you all but on the up-side you’ll have no one banging your bedroom door with the Hoover when you’re trying to sleep in on a Saturday morning!

You are my treasure. Always remember that you were put on this earth because you are special, so go and put your stamp on the world, my beautiful girl.

With love always,

Mam xx

Noel 1992

Chapter 43

As soon as I heard the shrill ring of the phone cutting through the night-time stillness of the house, I knew. I got out of bed and ran down the hall to pick it up before it woke the kids. I talked briefly to Sister Rita before hanging up. I rubbed the palms of my hands down over my face. This is it, I thought, this is actually it. I picked the handset up again to ring Josephine to come over and mind the kids.

And she knew it too. It was unspoken between us and if she found it hard to be left behind while I went to say goodbye to her youngest daughter then to her credit she never let on. She shooed me out the door and told me to drive safely and to ring her as soon as I could.

I turned the key in the ignition and the car started up. I cursed its loudness in the yard in case it would wake the kids. I pulled out onto the dark road and set off for the hospice. After a few minutes the red light for the petrol gauge lit up on the dashboard in front of me. Damn it to hell – the one time that I was in a hurry! God only knew where I would find a petrol station open at this hour of the night. I had no choice but to keep going and hope that it would last until I got there. I knew I was driving fast but Sister Rita had never rung me during the night before so I knew it must be serious. Somehow, I made it there, probably just on the fumes alone. I took a deep breath of the crisp night air in the car park to steady myself and then I went inside.

I met Sister Rita in the hallway outside Eva’s room.

“After you left she developed a bad fever, Noel. Sometimes this happens before . . .” She spoke in hushed tones.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m sorry –” She paused, taking a deep intake of breath. “I think it’s time, Noel . . .”

I followed her into the room and when I saw Eva again, the same woman that I had seen only hours earlier, I couldn’t believe how much she had deteriorated. She was lying on the bed, covered by a single white sheet and even though there was a chill in the air, beads of sweat glistened on her body. She was gone so thin and her skin was so translucent that you could almost see right through her like a ghost. Her lips were blue and her face was ashen. She didn’t open her eyes when I came in. I sat down on the chair beside her and reached out for her hand. It was freezing. Every now and then she would writhe and moan in the bed and I would feel utterly helpless. I was so angry as I thought about how unfair it all was. If there was a God out there why would he allow someone to conceive a child if he was going to give them terminal cancer as well? What kind of a God would do that? She had managed to get Aoife here safely but at her own expense. I prayed for him to do something. For a miracle. He owed it to her. Although I wasn’t in agreement with her decision not to take the surgery, I’d had to accept that it was what she wanted. But I don’t think any of us had thought that this was the way it was going to end.

“Is there anything you can do for her?” I said, turning to Sister Rita when she came back in a while later.

She upped the dosage yet again to keep her comfortable and her whole body seemed to relax a bit more when the pain relief kicked in a few minutes later. I slumped back down on to the chair beside her bed. I still couldn’t believe that we had come to this.

“You know, it might not seem like it but she can probably still hear you – our hearing is always the last sense to go,” Sister Rita said softly.

I nodded. I remembered hearing that somewhere before.

“Keep talking to her, Noel, so she knows that you are with her and that she is not alone. Tell her that you love her and that it is okay for her to go.”

So I did as she said and kept talking to Eva, telling her that she was going to a better place where there would be no pain, even though I wasn’t sure if I really believed it. I told her that it was okay to go, that she had nothing to worry about and I would look after everything here. But it wasn’t okay – I didn’t want her to go.

I loved Eva so much. Where some men talked about their nagging wives and spent their time longing to escape them, I hated every minute of being apart from her. From the moment I had first seen her on the stage when the Ballyrobin Amateur Dramatic Society were putting on a production of My Fair Lady and she was Eliza Doolittle, I had loved her. When I saw her delivering her feisty monologue I knew she was the one. She had the whole audience in the palm of her hand – her charisma had radiated off the stage. She loved acting and she was good at it too but, when Kate came along, it had slipped away and she didn’t have the time to commit to it any more. She kept saying that she must go back to it but she never did. I should have made her go back, I thought sadly. I should have done everything possible to let her do what she loved doing.

I stayed like that all night on the uncomfortable plastic chair talking to her. I would remember funny things that had happened with the children and I would tell her. Her breathing was rapid and rattling and sometimes it would stop altogether and I would think this is it – this is the end – and my heart would start thumping in my chest but then she would start again. Sister Rita was in and out giving more medications to keep her comfortable.

When dawn broke I opened back the curtains to let some light into the room. A magnificent red ball of fire lit up the sky. The sunlight glinted off the glass. It was going to be one of those autumnal days that Eva loved, cool, crisp and sunny. I looked back at her on the bed, her lips had turned up at the sides and a smile had crept over her face. It was like she knew that the sun was shining, I walked back over and sat down beside her again. I took her frail hand in mine and then she left this world.

I don’t know how long I stayed there sobbing as I held her hand, which was already starting to go cold. Sister Rita came in then and went to give me a hug and I’m ashamed to say it now but I stood up and kicked the metal pedal bin in the corner. I just wanted to lash out at something.

I drove home barely able to see the road in front of me through my tears. The roads were empty at that time of the morning and I drove fast. The car hopped off the crests of the road surface. I remember thinking that if I crashed and died now too that it wouldn’t be so bad but then I would think of our four children and I knew it was selfish of me.

I let myself into the kitchen quietly and Josephine stood up and walked towards me. We met and clung to each other with heaving sobs.

Telling the kids was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Josephine sat with me and she cuddled them all as they cried. Kate took it particularly badly. She sobbed until she was hyperventilating and I wondered if we should call Doctor O’Brien up to the house to sedate her. She eventually fell asleep from sheer exhaustion with Josephine stroking her face as she laid her head on her lap. My heart broke as I looked at my eldest, her hair was clinging to her damp face in ribbons.

I heard Aoife cry then. I had almost forgotten about her. I went over to her crib and picked her up. Her smile lit up the room and I thought how lucky she was to be spared all of this heartache. She was too young to understand and it was a blessing. She cooed at me like it was any other day and not the day the woman who had brought her into this world had just left it.

We had the funeral as she had wished and Father Ball did a lovely Mass and the choir sang the songs that Eva had wanted. Kate wouldn’t go to the funeral so she stayed behind at home and Aidan came up to sit with her. For once I said nothing and let her do as she wished. It was hard enough on her without me being on her case. One of the neighbours had offered to take Aoife, which I was relieved about.

A long queue of people came to pay their respects and offer me their condolences in the church. All their faces seemed to blur together as I shook hand after hand. Rough, smooth, broad, narrow, they all merged into one. The smell of incense wafted through the air. My heart broke for the two boys – they looked so lost amongst the huge crowd of mourners. Their school had made a guard of honour for the coffin as it went into the church and I knew they felt self-conscious as hundreds of eyes bored into them as we walked past them all. Eva’s sister Anna had come back from New York again – this time her whole family were in tow and I watched as the boys warily eyed up their American cousins with their strange accents, who they had only met once before.

When we went back to the house, I noticed that the neighbours had made trays of sandwiches and cakes and were serving up endless cups of tea to everyone. People were busying themselves in my house opening presses and drawers trying to locate things. Someone asked me where we kept the teabags and I got up to show them. It all seemed surreal. It didn’t seem like this was my wife’s funeral. Even though I had known she was dying, it still came as a shock in the end if that makes sense? I would be okay for a few minutes and I would drink the tea that was poured for me and talk to someone and then I would remember it all again. Someone told me that the meat factory was going to be closing after over fifty years in business and I remember thinking that I must tell Eva, but then I remembered I couldn’t. And it hurt as bad every time I remembered. I just wanted her back – this wasn’t what we had signed up for. We were meant to be raising our children together and then when they had flown the nest, it was time for us. That was the way it was supposed to be – not me watching as her coffin was lowered into the ground. The boys played with their friends, which I was grateful for – it was a distraction for them. Kate stayed down in her room with Aidan. I could hear her music blaring through the door but I let them at it.

Everyone cleared out that evening until there were only a few left behind doing the washing-up. The neighbour brought Aoife back home and said that she had never seen such a good-natured baby. Josephine took her into her arms and sat cradling her for the rest of the evening.

“She looks so like her mother at that age, Noel,” Josephine said to me wistfully as she stared down at the sleeping baby in her arms.

I knew her heart must have been breaking. The natural order of life had reversed itself – she shouldn’t be burying her daughter.

After a few days everyone was gone. Anna and her family had caught their flight back home – the neighbours had left us alone and stopped bringing dinners in the evenings. Josephine told me to send the kids back to school, that it would do them good to try and keep routine and some sort of normality in their lives. Kate had withdrawn into herself completely. She never mentioned her mother – it was as if she had never existed at all – and I wasn’t strong enough to bring it up with her. I didn’t trust myself to talk to her without falling to pieces.

I would go out into the fields and not want to go back and face the house because it felt so empty without Eva’s presence. I hated those first few minutes when I would come in the door and acutely feel her absence. She could fill a room just by being in it. I always used to love coming home to her after a day on the farm and now I just felt lost in my own life and I didn’t know what to do about it.

And I had so many questions about Aoife. Although Josephine came over every day to help out with her, once I was alone, I realised that I wasn’t sure of so many things like how many bottles Aoife should be having? Or how was I supposed to know when she needed more? What age did you start them on food? And even then what do you give them? When she was cranky one day, I didn’t know if she was sick, teething or if it was just a bad day. This was all stuff that Eva knew and I desperately missed her and although I had always helped Eva out when the kids were babies, it was always with Eva’s instructions. It was only now that she was gone that I realised how on top of everything she had been. She just got on with things and everything ran smoothly in the house when she was around. Now the school uniforms weren’t even washed, let alone ironed. The house was filthy. A layer of dust ran along the surfaces and the white enamel bathtub had a grey scum along the waterline. Josephine was great and tried to take over Eva’s role in the household as best she could but she couldn’t do everything. And it wasn’t fair on her. She was nearly seventy. But I knew she wanted to do it. She needed to do it. She said it helped her to feel closer to Eva. She had decided to take Aoife to her house to give me a hand, at least take that pressure off me, but I still struggled to look after the other three as well as run the house and the farm.

“What will we do for lunch, Dad – there’s no bread?” Patrick would stand looking into the empty fridge and I would root around for some money in my pocket and tell them to buy something in the town. I knew Eva would be turning in her grave at the thought of them buying their lunch in the chippers.

Josephine made our dinner in the evenings but she already had a full-time job in minding Aoife. And she had her own house to run as well. We were so tight financially too – I had let things slide on the farm a bit over the last few months with Eva being in hospital and everything, so now we had very little to live on.

And I was starting to drink. Not much by some people’s standards but I was never a big drinker and I knew it was too much for me. Instead of coming home at lunchtime for a sandwich, I would go to Doyle’s and have a pint. Sometimes I would go down after work too if Josephine was able to take care of the children. She didn’t say anything at first but I could see her looking at me with her eyes narrowed or she would say “You’re going down again” and it wouldn’t be a question – it was a statement.

“I won’t be long,” I would offer, both embarrassed and disgusted with myself at the same time.

And all the time in the background were reminders that Christmas was coming and the sight of all that tinsel and those baubles everywhere just made it all the more painful. Eva had loved Christmas – it was her favourite time of the year. She would go to great efforts to make sure it was special for the kids – Santa letters were written well ahead of time and posted to the North Pole. Decorations were handmade. The tree was put up in the first weekend of December. We would all go to visit Santa and go for a bite to eat afterwards – it was a tradition now. The house would be full of the smell of mulled wine and mince pies and she would bake gingerbread men and decorate them with the kids. She had special Christmas plates and a tablecloth that got taken down just for the day and were put away again for the following year. The house would be stocked high with tins of sweets and biscuits so that we would be eating them for months afterwards.

Christmas Day was hard for everyone – her presence was sorely missed all day long. I had bought the wrong Nintendo game for Patrick and, although it wasn’t said, we all knew that Eva wouldn’t have made that mistake. I had bought Kate a make-up set full of colourful shades of pinks and blues – the woman in the chemist had assured me that she would love it. But her look told me that it wasn’t what she had wanted at all. Josephine had cooked Christmas dinner for us and, although it was a fine meal, the table lacked its heart.

Aoife and Josephine had grown very close. Josephine always seemed to have her cradled in her arms. And when she did give her to me to hold, I always felt slightly awkward doing it. I would have the position or the angle wrong and Josephine would gently suggest that I try to sit her forward a bit more but she would cry and then Josephine would say “Oh, she must have wind”. She always knew what to do with her and I had to admit that I would be lost without her.

Kate was my biggest problem. There wasn’t a week that went by where she wasn’t on detention for something after school. She got suspended for giving cheek to her history teacher. Then I had been called in because of her absenteeism. I was shocked because as far as I was aware she was going to school every morning but then I learned she had been spending the day sitting watching TV in Aidan’s house while his parents were at work. I was at my wits’ end with her. She wanted to leave school but there was no way I could let her go without doing her Leaving Cert. The thing was, she was bright and intelligent but she had lost all interest somewhere along the way and now she saw school as something to fight against. I knew Eva wouldn’t have wanted her to leave before completing her education either though what she chose to do after that was up to her. So I held firm on it, no matter how much she acted up. She ignored Aoife completely. I knew she blamed her for the fate of her mother, but she was only a tiny baby and couldn’t be held accountable for it all. Even Aidan, in fairness to him, would go over and look at her or tickle her under her chin at least. Kate still had so much anger inside her and I didn’t know how to help her. God knows, I had anger too. This was where I needed Eva.

Chapter 44

The time went by somehow, although I don’t really remember much about it now. I often wondered, if she’d had the surgery before the cancer had claimed her whole body, would she still be with us? But she was caught between a rock and a hard place – maybe Eva might still be with us but little Aoife may not have been – or maybe neither of them would be? Who knows how things might have turned out? And it was futile going over it all again – it still wouldn’t change the outcome.

I felt her presence everywhere – a song would come on the radio that reminded me of her and the day of her Month’s Mind there was a documentary on the TV about My Fair Lady. And call it a coincidence or whatever but the sun had shone brightly at Patrick’s confirmation – just as she had promised.

I would go up to tidy her grave or just sit and talk to her. Sometimes I would bring Aoife with me because I knew Eva would want to see her. She had grown into a wobbly toddler with straight white-blonde hair. She was learning to talk and would walk around the place pointing to different things saying “Wat dis?” “Wat dis?” She was still staying with Josephine – it was a habit we had fallen into and neither one of us dared to address it. I knew she had grown very close to Aoife and I didn’t want to be the one to disrupt it, especially when she was still grieving for Eva. Plus, if I’m entirely honest, with the farm and everything, I wouldn’t have been able to cope with a small child – I was already struggling to look after the other three. The arrangement worked for us and I still saw Aoife every day – Josephine would bring her over to the house or I would call over there. She called me ‘Dadda’ – she knew who I was – she just didn’t live with us. The boys were so good with her. They would patiently lead her by the hand, showing her the flowers in the garden, or read stories out loud to her. They loved their little sister.

Kate, on the other hand, didn’t want to know the child. If Aoife was crying, Kate would ask someone to make her quiet. If Aoife waddled over to Kate with her doll or something, Kate would get up and walk out of the room.

The day I opened the bin to put a teabag into it and saw the pregnancy test sticking up from the top of the rubbish, my world stopped. In slow motion I took the stick out of the bin. It could only belong to Kate. I wasn’t sure how to read it so I had a look around the rubbish for the instructions but they weren’t with it. Did this mean that she was pregnant? Dear God, no. I was already in a delicate state but this would be the thing that would break me altogether. She was only sixteen – I knew that she and Aidan had been together for a while but they were too young to be having sex and unprotected sex at that.

I was waiting for her when she came in the door in her uniform – tie missing, the top button of her blouse opened, her tatty army-green canvas schoolbag destroyed with black permanent marker.

“Where were you?” I stood up and walked over to her.

“School – where do you think?”

“Don’t use that tone with me! What’s this?” I held up the stick for her to see.

“Where did you get that?” she said quickly.

“You didn’t do a great job of hiding it in the bin!”

She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Well, are you?”

“What?”

“Pregnant, Kate!” I was shouting now. “Are you pregnant?”

“No, Dad – I’m not, actually, if you must know.”

The relief washed through me.

“Well, thank God for that!” I let out a long sigh, “What are you playing at, Kate? You’re only sixteen – you have your whole life ahead of you – why would you want to ruin it all?”

“My life is already ruined.”

“Kate, please, I know these last few years have been hard on you and I also know that you and Aidan are going to have sex no matter what I say but get yourself down to Doctor O’Brien and get the pill or whatever it is that girls take nowadays . . .” This was where I needed Eva.

“I already have.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” I mumbled. “Look, Kate, just be careful, yeah?”

From that point on something changed between us. We tolerated each other now. I had to respect the fact that my little girl was now grown up and having sex. I hated to think of it but I had to be realistic as well. I wished that Eva was here. She would have had ‘the talk’ with Kate – she would have done a far better job than I ever could. I knew I had to trust Kate to make the right decisions – I couldn’t be there to police her all the time. But although she still asked constantly about leaving school, I held firm. That was the bargain – she did her Leaving Cert and I left her alone. We both knew as the Leaving Cert came closer that it was going to mark a change but I never thought she would just up and leave the day after she had finished her exams. She never said goodbye or told me she was going. All there was left was a note saying that she would call me in a few days’ time and to tell her gran and Aidan that she was sorry.

That was it – that was how it happened. Just like that, my daughter was gone as well.

Kate 2012

Chapter 45

Ben had gone into the spare room after our argument. I lay there under the duvet reading the letter over and over again. The bedside lamp cast shadows around the room as I ran my fingers along the notepaper that was still slightly indented with the blue ballpoint words that she had written many years before. I traced my finger along the slope of her writing.

For the first time in twenty years, I allowed myself to cry. It was like a dam had been opened, years of pent-up hurt and anger flooded out of me and once I had started I just couldn’t stop. The last time I had cried about Mam was the day that Dad had told me she was dead. The feeling of desolation and despair I felt that then, the physical pain of her loss, still haunts me now. I never let myself cry over her after that, I was too afraid of what might happen if I did. It was like my whole body had shut down emotionally after her death but now I lay there on the bed until my whole body was heaving with sobs. I couldn’t believe that the letter was able to do this to me – that the whole thing still had an effect on me. And as for Dad, why was he only giving this to me now? What did he think he was doing all these years by holding onto it? I was trembling with rage and scared at just how easily the words in that letter could transplant me back to those awful days in Ballyrobin and open up those wounds again, just like it was yesterday. So many painful memories were recalled – the last time I had seen her alive and we had fought. The weeks where I knew she was dying but just couldn’t get my head around it or face up to it. Dad asking me every day if I was going to go and see her in the hospital and that she was asking for me and me fobbing him off with my array of excuses. The terrible months afterwards when I just felt so lost and alone. And empty – that awful gnawing emptiness. How angry I was with her for not having the surgery to try and win her battle with cancer – how angry I still am. My fury at how selfish she was being. How I just wanted to be able to escape my own life. How everyone in the village whispered as I walked – “That’s the girl whose mother died” or the auld biddies who said “Her mother would be turning in her grave now with the carry-on of that one”. Or then there was the pity which was almost worse: “She’s a wild one that one but, God love her, isn’t she only after losing her mother?”

How I had resolutely made a pact with myself to get the hell out of Ballyrobin as soon as I could, no matter who I was leaving behind me.

Ben had stayed in the spare room that night and, when I got up the next morning, I saw that he had already left for school. My stride was fast and purposeful as I walked from the Tube. I heard my mobile ring and I fished it out of my bag. Dad’s number flashed up and I knocked it to voicemail. He probably wanted to see if I got home okay and whether I had read the letter but I was so angry with him I couldn’t talk to him.

I reached the gallery and pushed the door open.

“Hi there! So how did your weekend at home go?” Nat asked me as soon as I came in the door.

I walked over and plonked my bag onto the desk and hung my coat over the back of the chair.

“As expected, a complete and utter disaster. Ben’s not talking to me. I knew it was a bad idea to go and then Dad gave me this when I was leaving.”

I pulled the letter out of my bag and gave it to her. I waited for Nat’s reaction as she finished reading it.

“Oh my God, Kate!” She gasped as she looked up at me. “How come you only got it now?”

“I’m not sure what Dad was thinking by not giving it to me for all this time.”

“He was probably too scared that you’d rip it up or do something stupid with it.”

“Well, he’s probably right, I would have.”

The letter sat on the desk between us.

“How do you feel about it?” She nodded at the piece of paper. Its stiff creases from years of being folded divided it in four.

“I don’t know how to feel, to be honest – I’m angry at Dad for not giving it to me sooner and then when I read it, I’m angry at Mam all over again, y’know?”

Nat nodded sympathetically. We were interrupted by a customer coming into the gallery.

“I’ll go,” said Nat, getting up from the stool and walking across the floorboards. I folded the letter up again and slotted it back inside my bag. I watched Nat from behind as she went over to greet the woman. She still seemed so down since Will had left. I wished I could do something nice to cheer her up but, whether it was my baby brain or not, I just couldn’t think of anything really special. I had mentioned it to Ben and he had suggested taking her away for a spa day or something, but that wasn’t very original. I wanted to do something different that showed I had put a lot of thought into it so that she knew how much I valued her as a friend.

The rest of day went past slowly – we only had a handful of customers in. We sold half the amount of photos these days than we did a couple of years ago. Outside of our exhibitions, if it wasn’t for tourists and middle-eastern collectors, there is no way we would survive on a day-to-day basis. Tabitha never mentioned the drop-off in business. Knowing the eccentric character that she was, she probably didn’t notice. Once the business wasn’t losing money she was happy to coast along because she was too busy enjoying life in her Tuscan villa.

“Kate, you wouldn’t mind if I went to visit my mum for a few days, would you?” Nat said later on. “I’ve just checked and there are some cheap flights going at the minute.”

“No of course not – that’s a great idea. You could do with the break. Our own summer isn’t up to much anyway.” Nat’s mum lived in Spain.

“Yeah, I just want to get away from everything for a while – chill by the pool and get some sun on my bones.”

“That sounds like heaven. I’d nearly go with you except Tabitha would have a fit.”

“Thanks Kate, I’ll book the flights now then before the price goes up.”

At six o’clock we set the alarm and turned the hanging window sign to ‘closed’. I said bye to Nat and locked the door behind me.

Chapter 46

As I walked along to the Tube station that evening, my phone rang again. I took it out of my bag and saw it was Dad again so I let it ring out. When it finally stopped ringing I was convinced that I could hear footsteps echoing mine on the pavement behind me. Their sound carried on the cool evening air. I slowed down to try to hear better and the footsteps behind me slowed too. I turned around but there was no one there. I started to walk quicker and the footsteps did too. I came up near the park perimeter. I was just giving out to myself for being a pathetic scarey cat when I felt an arm grab me around my neck from behind. I went to scream but nothing would come out. I tried to wriggle out but the grip tightened until I could barely breathe, so I stopped struggling. My heart was thudding in my chest. I could taste the bitter tang of the leather from his jacket in my mouth. He pulled my bag off my shoulder with his free arm before releasing me and running off.

Then I remembered the letter.

“Wait!” I screamed. I tried running after him but I couldn’t with my big tummy. “You can have the money and everything else in the bag!” I cried breathlessly. “There’s a letter . . . I just need the letter. Come back . . . pleeeease!” I was screaming after him but it was futile. He reached the end of the railings, rounded the corner and was gone out of my sight.

I felt my mouth water and I thought I might be sick. A man crossed the street and came over to me. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a hooded top pulled up over a baseball cap. His clothes were what Ben would jokingly refer to as Boyz n the Hood gear.

“You all right there?”

“He’s taken my bag!” I gasped, pointing to nobody in the distance.

“He’s well gone, love. Sick bruvver doing that to a pregnant lady and all!” he said in a thick London accent. “The name’s Terry by the way – what’s yours?”

“Kate.”

Terry rang the police for me then straight away. I never even thought about them. My whole body was shaking from the shock. I felt wretched. This letter, despite my feelings about it, had just come into my life and now it had gone out of it again just as quick.

“Here,” he said, handing me his phone after he had told the police what had happened and where we were. “Do you want to ring someone?”

I nodded, taking the phone from him, and with shaking hands I dialled Ben’s number. He said he’d be there as quick as he could.

A police constable was on the scene within minutes. Terry had waited with me until he came and I thanked him profusely for helping me. From behind his jeans were desperately low and, as I watched him walking away, I found myself wondering how he kept them up.

The constable took a statement and said they’d let me know if there was any CCTV footage in the area – I knew to him it was just another snatch and grab and, in the grand scheme of his job, wasn’t really worth the time or energy to spend investigating it but it was so much more than that to me. I told him that I didn’t care about the bag but that there was a letter inside it that I needed to get back. I could see it in his eyes that he thought I was raving mad but he said that he’d try his best anyway.

Ben arrived on the scene soon after and came running up and put his arms around me.

“Are you okay? Are you sure you weren’t hurt? I hope to God that they catch that bastard!”

“I’m fine – but the letter, Ben – the letter Dad gave me when we were going yesterday – it was from Mam. She wrote it for me before she died. I had it in my bag!”

“Oh no, Kate – fuck!”

I nodded. The shock soon subsided and the tears started. I was distraught. The policeman went on his way again, promising he’d call me if they found anything.

We went home and Ben made me a cup of sugary tea and then set about ringing the bank to cancel my cards while I sat on the sofa and cried.

“I can’t believe I’ve lost her letter, Ben –”

“But it wasn’t your fault –”

“I never should have brought it to work with me –”

“Okay, Kate, you’ve got to calm down. This isn’t good for you or the baby.”

“But it’s all I had – the letter was all I had left!” I wailed. “I’ve lost her again, Ben . . . it has just come into my life and now it’s gone again.”

He wrapped me into his arms and stroked my hair, letting me cry it all out.

“I’m sorry for being such a bitch at the weekend,” I whispered.

“What did she say in the letter?”

“The date on it was the day before she died – she basically was saying goodbye to me and how hard it had been for her to make the decision about whether or not to have the surgery.”

“Wow.” He was stunned. “But how come you’re only getting it now?”

“I don’t know – I’m so mad at Dad – he obviously had it for all these years and never gave it to me.”

“Well, I’m sure he had a good reason.”

I glared at him.

“Kate, I don’t want to go through this all again. After the weekend we’ve just had, the last thing I want is to have another argument with you.”

“I know you’re still pissed off at me but you need to understand how hard all this is for me still.”

“I’m trying, Kate, believe me I’m trying,” he said wearily. “I know the letter is irreplaceable but it was given to you for a reason and look at what has come from it – you’re finally opening up about your mum’s death. You never really talk about her.” His tone was softer now.

“Well, that’s because it still hurts, Ben. A lot.”

“Of course it does,” he soothed. “I know I can’t understand how hard this still is for you but I’m here, whenever you want to talk about it.”

“How about never?”

He shook his head despairingly. “Why don’t I run you a bath, huh? You’ve had a really shit day.”

“That’d be lovely.” I forced a smile onto my face. “Thanks, Ben.”

Ben insisted on escorting me to work the next morning even though there were usually lots of people around in the morning rush-hour traffic so there wasn’t much chance of anyone mugging me then. I was okay, though I was still a bit shaken up. When Nat, who happened to be coming along the street at the same time, saw Ben kissing me goodbye outside the gallery she knew that something was up. She was in shock when I told her what had happened.

“I’m so sorry, Kate, I should never have left you. It’s all my fault!”

“But, Nat, I always walk to the Tube station on my own.”

“But maybe they saw you locking up and followed you because they thought you had money?”

“Nah – I was just unlucky – he saw his opportunity and he took it.”

“Well, that’s it. I’m walking you to the Tube in the evenings from now on.”

“You can’t do that, Nat, you live in the opposite direction and you’d have to walk back again on your own.”

“I’m not letting a pregnant woman walk up there on her own again.”

“But what happens if someone attacks you then on the way back?”

“If someone attacked me they’d know about it. Now that’s it – end of!”

I knew there was no point in arguing with her.

A few days later PC Black had rung me with an update to say that unfortunately they hadn’t been able to find any CCTV footage in that area – if it had been a few metres further up the street, it would have been picked up but in the spot where I had been attacked, there was nothing.

“That’s probably why he did there,” he had said. “These guys do it for a living – they’re professionals. They know exactly where and where not to do it. Unfortunately we’re seeing a lot more of these types of attacks with the recession.”

I was shocked that the muggers had the city mapped out and had pinpointed the best places to attack people. I just had to accept that it was gone. Well, I hoped karma would reach up and bite him on the arse one day.

Chapter 47

It was when I was alone in the gallery one morning while Nat was in Spain with her mum that I had an idea for something nice that I could do for her. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought of it earlier. The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. I just hoped that my plan would work.

I logged on to the computer and went through Nat’s files and found exactly what I was looking for. I felt a buzz of excitement flow through me. I really hoped that she wouldn’t get mad at me. It was a bit risky and the last thing I wanted was for it to backfire. I made some phone calls to a few of our printing and framing suppliers but when I told them that I needed it for the end of the week, they had all balked at the tight timeframe. I had to beg them and they agreed that they’d do it this once as an exception seeing as the gallery put so much money their way every year. I rubbed my hands in glee. It was all starting to come together.

I told Ben what I was doing and while he agreed it was a great idea, he also said it was brave of me, which made me start to doubt whether I was doing the right thing. What if Nat hated it? Something like this was very personal and she might not even be comfortable with it. I was wondering if maybe I should just forget about the whole thing. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset her more. But I had already put the wheels in motion, so to speak, so I couldn’t very well back out of it now.

I asked Ben to pop over to the gallery on his way home on Friday evening to give me a hand. My stomach was full of butterflies as I stood back and watched Ben hanging Nat’s photos up on the gallery walls. Nat’s subjects were always people. There was an old woman dressed decadently in furs, fingers heavy with jewellery, wearing a pair of slippers and pushing a shopping trolley with what looked like her belongings inside it. I remember Nat saying she had taken it on Kensington High Street. There was one of a bearded Jewish man with a kippah upon his head, deep in prayer. Another was one she had taken of a class of little girls with straw hats and ribbons in their pigtails from a local Montessori school crossing the street, following in an obedient line behind their teacher. There was one that she had taken of turbaned man manning a stall in Portobello Market. The photos looked amazing, they really and truly did. Her work should have been on these walls years before now. As we both stood back to admire them I felt goosebumps pop up along my skin. I just hoped Nat would feel the same way.

“I can’t believe Nat took all of these!” Ben said again.

“I know. She’s really good, isn’t she?”

“She has a great eye. Why did she never exhibit them herself?”

“Oh, you know Nat, she wouldn’t have the confidence – plus she doesn’t see herself as a ‘photographer’ – more someone who likes taking pictures as a hobby.”

“Well, she is every bit as good as these other people.” He gestured around the room.

“Oh, I know, I keep on telling her that. But hopefully this will make her see it for herself.”

I was a nervous wreck all weekend, thinking about how Nat was going to react. I couldn’t sleep with worry. Ben had to keep telling me to relax. I think he was afraid I’d send myself into premature labour.

The following Monday morning I went in to work half an hour earlier than usual just to make sure that I would be in before Nat. I was giddy with excitement as I looked at her photos displayed on the wall again. They looked great, there was no doubt about it. I just hoped Nat would think so too.

At five minutes to nine I watched her tie her bike on to the railings outside the window. She looked radiant and sun-kissed and it was clear that the break had done her the world of good.

“How was the holiday?” I asked as soon as she came in the door.

“Amazing! I just ate, slept and drank. The only exercise I did was to turn the pages of my book and lift my wineglass to my lips. It was exactly what I needed. And it was good to see Mum again too. Were you okay for the week on your own?”

“All good. As you see, the place didn’t fall down without you. But I was lonely talking to these four walls every day.”

“Aw, poor Kate!”

“I have a surprise for you.” I bit down on my lip. I always did it whenever I got nervous.

“What is it?” she said warily. “You know I hate surprises!”

“How can anyone hate surprises? C’mon, it’s upstairs.”

She climbed the stairs after me until we both stood on the mezzanine floor.

“What’s going on, Kate?” She looked at me in confusion. Then she moved closer to the walls and started looking at her photographs.

“Welcome to the exhibition of works by Natalie Anderson!”

I had tied a red ribbon around the central picture.

“But how did you . . .” She was speechless.

“Don’t ask! Let’s just say I pulled in a few favours!”

“But you can’t just put my photos on the wall!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve run them all past Tabitha first.”

“Did you tell her they were mine?”

“Well, not exactly . . . I just said that you were a new photographer we were working with.”

“Oh God, Kate, I’m going to kill you!”

“Well, she was very impressed actually. She said that if we keep finding talent like that she’ll be a happy lady, so there! And here, there’s just one more thing . . .” I handed her the invite that I’d had Charlie design and print.

“What’s this?”

“Read it.”

“But this says that I’m having an exhibition . . . starting next week.” She was horrified.

“Yep.”

“But I can’t, Kate!”

“Why can’t you? It’s all arranged and we’ve already had loads of RSVPs.”

“Oh my God, Kate, I can’t believe you did all of this!”

“Well, someone had to. I’ve known you for so long and you’ve never had the guts or belief in yourself to do this. I knew that if I left it to you, you’d never do it.”

She started to cry then. “Thank you, Kate – this is one of the nicest things that anyone has ever done for me.”

Relief flowed through me. “You’re welcome, you deserve it. You have such talent – I just know the exhibition is going to be a big success.”

“I wish I had your faith . . .” She walked back over and started looking at her photos closely. “How did you even find them?”

“On the computer, of course, but there were so many to choose from – I could have done three exhibitions easily.”

“Well, let’s just see how this one goes first, yeah?”

“Are you excited?”

“Are you mad – I’m far too petrified to be excited! I still can’t believe I’m having my own exhibition . . .”

After lunch a man came into the gallery. He was dressed in jeans and a jacket with a V-necked pullover underneath. I guessed he was probably in his mid-thirties. He was wearing thick-framed tortoiseshell glasses. I could tell he was a real arty type just from the way that he dressed.

“Check him out.” I elbowed Nat.

She looked up from the computer. “Yeah, he’s good-looking, I suppose,” she said half-heartedly.

I guessed she still wasn’t back in the game. I would test her from time to time but she had yet to get excited over a fine male specimen.

I climbed down off the stool and walked over to the guy.

“Hi there,” I said. “If you need any help just shout.”

“Thank you,” he said.

He wandered around the ground floor for a while before climbing the stairs. I could see him up over the balcony. He came to a stop in front of one of Nat’s photos. I knew which one it was – it was a simple black-and-white photo of a young woman sitting on a park bench. The woman’s hands were clasped together on her lap while she stared off into space. She didn’t seem to notice the pigeons that had gathered around at her feet. He stood fixated on the photo for a long time, way longer than usual. I went upstairs to him. I must say I was finding the stairs hard work these days. My hips, my knees, everything seemed to be aching constantly.

“Can I help you there?”

“That picture – who took it?” He pointed at the wall but didn’t take his eyes off the photo.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it – hang on until I get the photographer herself and she can tell you all about it.” I shouted down to Nat. “Nat, can you come up for a minute?”

She came up and joined us on the mezzanine.

“Nat, this gentleman was just wondering about this photo?”

“Where did you take it?” he asked her abruptly.

“I, um . . . just took it in the park over the road, one lunchtime. Why?” she said nervously.

“I’ll take it.”

We both looked at him.

“Em . . . okay . . . don’t you want to know how much it is?” I said.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Right – okay, I see. I’ll take it downstairs and wrap it up for you.”

There was something on edge about the man. He didn’t seem to be on the same planet as us at all, whatever was going on inside his head.

We went back downstairs and over to the till. He picked up one of the fliers for Nat’s exhibition off the counter and read it while I wrapped the photo in brown paper and tied it up with string. He paid over the money and then disappeared out of the gallery.

“That was a bit weird, wasn’t it?” Nat said to me, coming up behind me at the till.

“Yeah, he seemed a bit . . . unhinged or something.”

“I thought I was in trouble because I didn’t ask the woman in the photo for her permission first. I’m still not sure of all of the correct protocols. God, I really hope this exhibition will be okay . . . I feel like I’m in over my head – you saw what I was like there and that was just one person!”

“Don’t be worrying, it’ll be grand.”

Chapter 48

The day of Nat’s exhibition came around quickly. I shooed Nat out the door at lunchtime to get her hair done.

“Go on – no one wants to come to an exhibition and look at your scarecrow hair. Sort it out.”

“You cheeky mare!”

While she was gone I set about arranging the wineglasses on a table just inside the door. I had picked up fresh hydrangeas from the market earlier on and I distributed them in vases around the gallery. I lined up chairs along the mezzanine and set up the microphone as we always did for our exhibitions. I stood back and looked around the place. I had been working on exhibitions for a long time and couldn’t believe that this one was finally Nat’s.

“Swit swoo – check you out!” I said to her when she came back later that evening. Her thick auburn hair was blow-dried with a bouncy wave and she had changed into a black V-neck dress with a chunky red-beaded necklace and super-high platform heels. She looked stunning. I felt like a fat frump beside her. I had brought a change of clothes to work with me. It was another magnificent jersey ensemble but this time in a fuchsia colour. God, I couldn’t wait to start wearing regular clothes again. And high heels. I’d had to discard my high heels weeks ago when I had started to feel like a sumo wrestler on stilts, standing on top of them. I missed my heels.

“So how are we looking?”

“All done, I think – I’ve the champagne chilling in the fridge. Let’s have a glass.”

I took out a bottle and popped the cork. I poured her a frothy glass and a thimbleful for myself.

“Thanks, Kate – I need this to help steady the nerves.”

We clinked our glasses together.

“Here’s to a successful exhibition and the start of a glittering photography career.”

Nat gulped her glass back while I took a small sip from mine, wanting to make it last.

“Have you practised your speech yet?”

“Damn it – I knew that I was forgetting something!” She slammed her glass down on the counter so a small bit of the champagne sloshed over the side of the glass. She reached down to pick her bag off the floor and pulled out her notebook where she had been scribbling notes as they came to her over the last few days.

“Don’t worry . . . as long as you thank me, that’s all that matters . . .”

“You wish, Flynn!”

I heard my new phone vibrate on the desk beside me. I picked it up and when I saw it was Dad I switched it off and put it back down again. This was the second time that he had rung me today. Ben had given him my new number. He had tried calling me several times since my trip home but I hadn’t answered any of the calls. I knew he probably wanted to explain to me his reasons for holding on to the letter for all these years but I didn’t want to hear them.

A few people started to arrive into the gallery just after six. I went over to greet them. I offered them a glass of champagne and handed them a brochure for the exhibition. Nat looked really nervous. I could see her over the balcony, pacing nervously and fiddling with her necklace. She came back down the stairs.

“There’s hardly anyone here!”

“Relax – people always arrive late to these things, you of all people know that.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re right.” She took a deep breath.

Fifteen minutes later and Jensen’s was full to capacity. I had sent the invitation around to our entire mailing list. It was always hard to know how many would actually turn up on the night but this was brilliant. A lot of our regulars knew Nat personally over the years and so they were delighted to come and show their support. Ben had come along with another teacher from the school who was also into photography. Lots of friends of Nat that I knew had turned out too. It was all going really well, except for the fact that I was running around like a mad-woman. Nat went upstairs to mingle with her guests and I was greeting all the newcomers downstairs and trying to keep everyone’s glasses topped up.

After the guests had moved upstairs Nat made a lovely speech where she gave me a special thank-you. My hormones had lost the run of themselves these days and I had tears in my eyes. People were so impressed with Nat’s photos and were coming up and asking her about them. It was the first time that many of her friends had actually seen her work. I was inundated with people asking questions and trying to red-sticker the ones that people wanted to buy. I was running up and down the stairs trying to take for the photos that had been sold. I couldn’t keep up with all the people so Ben had to step in and wrap the photographs that were sold to free me up.

“Eh, isn’t that the same guy from the other day?” I whispered to Nat as I put another red sticker onto a photo behind her.

She spun around and saw the man from last week, his eyes fixed on her photos so that there were only inches between his eyes and the photograph. “All he’s short of doing is studying them under a magnifying glass!”

We observed him for a while before we were called away by a journalist looking to get a photo with Nat and myself.

“That went really well, didn’t it?” I said to Ben who had stayed on to help us clean up after we had closed the door behind the last guest. I had been so busy between greeting guests, selling pictures and telling people about the work that the evening had flown past and I couldn’t believe it was nearly nine o’clock.

Nat came down the stairs with a tray of empty champagne glasses.

“Leave it, Nat – we can’t have the artist cleaning up after their own exhibition!” Ben said. “I’ll give Kate a hand here – you go on and meet your friends for a drink.”

“Are you sure?” She looked at me.

“Go on – we’re just going to clear up the glasses – we can sort the rest out in the morning.”

“Oh my God, I’m literally buzzing. This has been one of the best nights of my life and it would never have happened without you.” She wrung her hands. “Are you going to come?”

“Nah, I’m exhausted but thanks anyway. Have a great night. You deserve it.”

She picked up her bag and walked towards the door.

“And take your time in the morning,” I said. “I’ll be fine for a few hours on my own.”

She stopped at the doorframe and swung back around. “Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, thank you so much.” She grinned as she went out the door.

After Nat had gone, with only the two of us left behind, the usual stillness of the gallery was restored.

“Here, this is for you.” Ben took a wrapped photograph out from under the desk and handed it to me.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

I opened the brown-paper wrapping and took out the photograph. It was the one I had told Ben was my favourite. It was a sepia-toned photograph inside a brown wood frame, of a mother holding the hand of a toddler. Nat had taken it from behind as they walked ahead of her on the path. It was so simple but moving. I’d had tears in my eyes the first time I had seen it.

“Thank you!” I said, throwing my arms around his neck. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did – I knew you liked it and I didn’t want anyone else to buy it first so I put a red sticker on it and wrapped it up when you weren’t looking. And you deserve it – you did so much for tonight.” He raised his champagne glass. “To new beginnings!” he toasted.

“To new beginnings!” I clinked my tumbler of sparkling water against his glass.

“Look, the red light is blinking on the answering machine – do you want to check it before we go?” Ben said just as we were getting ready to go home.

“Nah, it’ll be fine until tomorrow. C’mon, I’m exhausted.”