Having Noah explain what’s happening with Mum in such a logical way makes me feel—not better, but more reassured.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘It’s hard to watch, but it makes sense.’
‘I know it’s hard. Right now, everything we do is to maximise your mum’s comfort so she can pass with the same grace and dignity with which she’s lived her life. That’s our priority, for her, and for you and Ally.
‘It might sound strange, but this time can be very sacred. In a weird way, experiencing death can be almost as sacred as experiencing birth—you’re standing at the edge of a portal that’s totally beyond our human comprehension, and all you can do is watch in awe.’
‘I’m scared of seeing her die,’ I confess, ‘but I’m also scared of missing it. And I’m dreading it, obviously, but I’m also wondering how long this is going to drag out, because I don’t want it to be any more prolonged for Mum than it needs to be. Does that sound awful?’
‘It sounds extremely normal.’ Noah puts a quick hand on mine. ‘And one thing we’ve seen again and again is poor relatives hanging around, and sleeping on sofas, terrified that if they leave, their loved one will die alone. And as soon as they pop to the loo, or treat themselves to a shower, sure enough, their relative or friend passes.’
‘Oh, God. That’s awful. That’s exactly what I’m afraid—I was going to stay here tonight, if that’s okay?’
‘I can see why it seems awful, but it happens so often that many of us in the palliative world share a theory: that peoplewho are dying feel compelled to hold on for the sake of their loved ones, even though they’re more than ready to pass, and as soon as they’re left alone, they can make the crossing. For what it’s worth, I think your mum’s got another few days left in her. But of course you’re welcome to stay here tonight, if it makes you feel better. We can make up the sofa in her room for you.’
I take a bite of perfectly marinated and charred cauliflower. I didn’t realise how starving I was until I saw Noah with that bag and my body had an instant Pavlovian response.
‘Thanks. That would be great.’ I pull myself together. I should enjoy this heavenly, unexpected interlude with Noah. ‘This is delicious,’ I tell him. ‘Let’s talk about something less depressing. How is your week going?’
He shoots me a subdued smile. ‘I’m surviving. I miss you.’ His brown eyes are liquid as he holds my gaze. ‘I’m making my schedule as crazy as possible to keep myself occupied.’
It’s weird how much easier it makes the pain to bear when I know we’re both in it together. ‘I miss you too,’ I whisper. ‘So much. And I’m doing the same.’
‘So I’ve seen. How was Fashion Week?’
‘Crazy. Brutal. And fun, in a totally superficial kind of way.’
‘Good. You deserve some fun at the moment. Have you signed Burberry yet?’
‘No. I told them I wasn’t prepared to take any big steps while Mum’s so close to death.’ It’s partially true, but the rest of the truth is that every time I think of locking myself into that contract with Jackson for five more years, a wall of panic rises up inside me. So I’m avoiding and ignoring it for now. I change the subject. ‘What are you up to this weekend?’
He grins. ‘I’m cooking dinner for a few friends on Sunday—my signature Beef Wellington. Two couples I’m close to—they both met at med school, so we’ve all been friends for years. And they’ve each got a toddler, so the flat should get a workout.’
An image of Noah flashes into my mind’s eye, sleeves rolled up and an apron on, moving purposefully around his kitchen and joking with his friends while flashing his gorgeous forearms. Being all cute and competent with the babies. And hosting two couples without a date of his own. The physical pain is excruciating and the tears that are never far from the surface at the moment spring to my eyes.
‘Hey.’ He leans over and squeezes my arm. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. I’m fine—it’s so stupid. It just sounds perfect. I wish I could be there.’
‘I wish you could too.’ There’s a pause as he runs his thumb across my sweater sleeve and we both allow ourselves a moment of fantasy before his face creases into a smile. ‘I bet you’d be a great help in the kitchen.’
‘That’s so unfair!’
‘Do you actually cook?’
‘Well, no, but?—’
‘I rest my case.’ He whistles. ‘Sounds like I had a lucky escape. Bloody useless.’
‘You’re such a dick.’
‘I know for a fact’—he helps himself to more aubergine—‘that if you were there, I would be completely ignored all night. Completely. It’d be like that scene inNotting Hillwhere she goes to his friends’ house for dinner. Everyone would be star-struck.’
‘They would not.’
‘They would. Fact.’
When we’ve finished eating, Noah grabs a blanket and two pillows from a cupboard and his hoodie from his office. ‘Come on. Let’s go get some sleep.’
