Tess

Week 38. You’re as long as rhubarb. But you’re something much more important than that this week. You are FULL TERM. You’re cooked. You’re ready. Anything that happens now is right and okay and not scary. Well, okay, that is NOT true. It’s flipping terrifying. But it isn’t wrong. If I go into labour now, you are not a preemie. We made it, baby mine. Me, Donna and Holly painted Donna’s box room at the weekend. Well – they painted, I supervised from a bean bag in the corner: they moved me every time they finished a wall. Dulcie was supposed to come too, but she got invited to some family party her boyfriend’s lot were having, and she blew us out. And we were happy to be blown out – she was so thrilled. Holly made some crack about chicks before dicks, but she was teasing. I know how relieved she is: exams are done, torturers have fallen away now that school is out, and the boyfriend looks like a keeper – for now, at least. Donna made us buy non-toxic paint – the softest apricot colour – like the edges of a beautiful sunset. She knows we won’t stay, but she wanted to do it anyway. She says maybe you’ll come back and stay on your own. She talks about you a lot that way – what she wants to do with you – the things she wants to show you and teach you. Sometimes it sounds like the way I was with Iris. A few months ago it might have hurt me – hearing her talk that way. It doesn’t now. I think it would be nice, for you and for her. And for me.

Tess wasn’t with Iris when she died, in the end. She’d stayed all evening the night before, but Donna, who’d come after work, had sent her home at ten-ish. ‘You need sleep, Tess. The baby needs you to sleep. Iris would send you, and I’m sending you for her. Go home, my love. I’ll stay.’ She’d kissed Iris, and driven home. She’d been too tired to drink the cup of tea she’d made for herself, slipping gratefully between the sheets and into a deep sleep. Maybe she’d thought there’d be a moment – that she’d wake if something changed with Iris. But she didn’t.

At 8 a.m., Donna put a fresh mug of hot tea down beside the bed, moving the full mug of cold. The clink of china woke Tess, and she heaved around to sit up. Donna was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. She’d been crying.

‘She’s gone, Tess.’

‘When?’

‘Around three.’

‘Was it …’ Tess’s voice broke.

‘Ssh. Love. Don’t. It was very peaceful.’

‘Promise me?’

‘I promise you. She was asleep. Just asleep. Her breathing changed. Got very slow, very shallow. Then it just stopped. It was easy. I promise. I was with her the whole time. Every minute.’

‘Oh.’

Tess couldn’t stop the tears.

‘You should have called me.’

‘There was no point, love, and no need. I don’t know that there’d have been time anyway. How many goodbyes have you already said?’

‘I don’t know why I’m crying. I’ve been ready …’

Donna held her. ‘We are never really ready, though, are we?’

‘No.’ She sounded like a child – she could hear it.

‘You loved her. She knew. She always knew. Even at the end, I’m sure she knew. You did everything you could for her. No one could have done more. She loved you.’

‘I loved her so much.’

‘I know. I know. Ssh.’ Donna was stroking her hair.

‘Can I go and see her?’

‘Of course. If you want to.’

Tess sniffed and rubbed her eyes. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t have to decide now …’

At nine, Gigi stopped in to see James en route to a shift. One of the carers, Chloe, stopped her in the corridor.

‘I thought you’d like to know, Gigi. Iris passed away last night.’

Gigi’s heart contracted for Tess. ‘Oh, bless her. When?’

‘Around three. I wasn’t on. I found out when I got in this morning.’

‘Was Tess here, do you know?’

‘I don’t think so. I think it was Iris’s daughter. Donna.’

‘I see.’

‘But Tess was here when I left yesterday. She’s been here every day. Since Iris got really poorly.’

‘I know she has.’

‘I just thought you’d like to know. I know you two are friends.’

‘Thanks, Chloe. Thanks.’ Gigi smiled gratefully and squeezed Chloe’s hands.

Gigi walked back out into the car park and took a few deep breaths of the summer air. It was a lovely day. The birds sang. She took out her phone.

Olly. Tess’s grandmother died last night. I’m at Clearview on my way to work. She’s not here, but I’m sure she’ll be here later. I knew you’d want to know. Mum

She leant against her car and stared down at her phone. The screensaver was the five of them. She didn’t know how to change it, should she want to – Megan did all that technical stuff. So it had been the same picture for years, as long as she’d had the phone. It was taken at Christopher’s graduation, so he was front and centre, proud and draped in ermine. She and Richard were flanking him in their Sunday best. Olly was on her other side, beaming his disarming beam, and Richard’s arm was around Meg, doing her photo half-smile. She’d thrust the phone at a friend of Christopher’s and he’d hurriedly taken the picture before the crowds had blocked the shot. Richard had been cross because the friend had cut off their feet, but Gigi loved the picture anyway. It captured all her children exactly as she remembered them being at that moment.

She smiled to herself and pushed the contacts button once more.

Richard. I’m on an early today. Would you like to get something to eat tonight, if you’re free?

‘For a moment, her forefinger hovered above the ‘send’ key. And then she pressed it.