DENIS AND MARIE Jackson and Annie walked through the park. They walked past couples going the other way smiling and holding hands, children on scooters and bicycles and old people moving slowly. The big trees were just coming into leaf and there were tulips in the flowerbeds. Marie had said she needed a breath of fresh air and the park, with its ice-cream kiosk and the dogs chasing squirrels and the children feeding the ducks and swans, was just a short walk from the hospital.
May had arrived, properly, suddenly, in the last few days. May had always been Annie’s favourite month yet it did not feel like May this year, and she knew her parents could not feel it either. She could see it in the set of her father’s face, her mother’s held-high head.
She tried not to look about herself, tried not to smell the air or notice the drifting clouds, or the colour of the afternoon light on the black stone of the town’s walls and buildings – how, behind it, all the moors had turned from peat-brown to green. She didn’t want to remember this. She didn’t want similar days, in the future, to remind her of this happiness and sadness all mixed up together like two different paints poured into the same pot.
‘It won’t take long,’ the doctor had said, as he took the forms from Denis and Marie, as if he were afraid they would change their minds at the last moment.
There had been a strange, initial euphoria in the consent, a sense of joy in the fact that Johnnie would survive, but that he must lose his left arm. It had seemed a small price to pay, somehow, a reasonable trade-off: a life for an arm, but the euphoria had worn away quickly.
‘We’ve done the right thing, haven’t we?’ Marie asked now.
‘It’s the only thing we could do, love.’
‘When he comes round and finds out …’
‘We’ll be there for him.’
‘We’ve looked after him, Den, all this time. Patched up his bumps and scrapes, kept him in one piece. And now he’s going to lose his arm on our say-so.’
‘He’ll understand. He’ll be OK. He’s stronger than you think.’
‘He’s only a kid,’ Marie said. ‘He’s just starting out on his life. He doesn’t deserve this.’ Denis put his arm around her and pulled her close.
They reached the end of the path. They went through the gate and out onto the pavement that followed the road. They walked a little further and came to a pub. Denis looked at the light shining through the top half of the door and he hesitated. He looked at Marie. Their heads rested against one another. They needed one another. They didn’t need Annie.
‘You two go and have a drink,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Annie …’
‘I’ll be all right, Mum,’ she said. ‘I’ll pick you up from home, tomorrow at the usual time,’ and she kissed Marie’s cheek.
Marie held on to her. ‘You are going home now, aren’t you, Annie? Back to your husband and daughter?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘You’re not going to …’
‘No!’ Annie shook off her mother’s hand. ‘No, I’m not.’
Marie frowned and Annie frowned back. Not now, she mouthed. Don’t start having a go at me now.
‘Come on, Marie,’ said Denis. ‘I’m gasping.’
Annie waited until the pub door had closed behind her parents and then she turned and headed back towards the place where she had left the car, walking quickly, with purpose.
She stopped at the phone box, fumbled to find the right coins in her purse, and then called Everwell. Mrs Miller answered. Annie explained about Johnnie, and Mrs Miller said it was a crying shame but that Johnnie would manage. She said everything was fine at her end, that Elizabeth and Ethel had had their tea and were watching Coronation Street.
‘William’s not back then?’
‘No, lovey. He called to say he’s staying away tonight. He’ll be back tomorrow.’
‘Did you tell him where I was?’
‘I told him you were at the hospital.’
‘Was there any message from him to me?’
Mrs Miller hesitated. ‘Only that he’d be back tomorrow.’
The pips sounded on the phone. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ Annie called over them and Mrs Miller told her to take care.
Annie held the receiver to her chin. She had another 10p piece.
She dialled Tom’s number. He picked up on the second ring.
‘Where are you?’ he asked. ‘What’s happened?’
She told him, quickly, and he said: ‘Can you come to the flat?’
‘No,’ Annie said. ‘I have to get home, Mrs Miller’s waiting for me. William’s away again.’
‘Then I’ll come to you.’
‘You can’t.’
‘I can. I’ll wait for you in the garden. By the well.’
‘Tom …’
‘I have to see you, Annie. I have to know you’re all right.’
‘Then be careful.’
‘Don’t worry. I will.’
She hurried back to the car. As she drove away from the hospital, she thought she saw the bald-headed man going into a tobacconist’s shop, but she wasn’t sure. She told herself she was being paranoid, and she started to think about the night ahead and soon she forgot about the man; he was the last thing on her mind.