‘I think so. The woman at the clinic gave me the basics, and a few leaflets, which I skimmed through. I want to understand it, though. What’s on my mind right now is just how huge the stigma is. I’m guilty of it myself. I didn’t even think women could get HIV.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘How ignorant is that?’
‘You are not alone in that,’ the man replied kindly.
The stark reality of it all was beginning to sober Vic up. ‘I do remember seeing Princess Diana supporting the cause. You would have thought that she, of all people, would have been able to change people’s minds about it.’
‘She really did help massively, God rest her soul.’ Brian’s voice lifted slightly. ‘The London Lighthouse was remarkably close to her heart – it was amazing when she visited and got the press on board. It might be somewhere you want to go when you feel up to it. They host meetings where you will be able to gain any information you may need about living with the virus, or you can just go along and chat in general with people who understand, and, of course, won’t judge.’
Vic felt suddenly overwhelmed at this stranger’s outpouring of pure kindness.
‘Did you feel you could talk to people when you were diagnosed? I feel like I want to just hide away,’ Vic blubbered.
‘From my experience, everybody deals with it differently and it’s a great start that you’ve called us, so well done for that. The reason I do what I do is because the charity was, and still is, a lifeline for me.’
‘That’s so good to hear. Did your friends and family understand?’
‘Some of them. There will be people out there who can support you, Victoria, even if it is only a small community – andif not, then Terrence Higgins is always here for you. As are other charities. You don’t even have to tell anyone outside those who may be at risk if you don’t want to.’
Victoria started crying again. ‘Thank you, thank you so much… I forgot your name. Sorry.’
‘Brian. I’m Brian.’
‘Brian. You’ve been brilliant.’ Vic felt a wave of gratitude to this man just for being there. There was so much she needed to know, so much she would have to face now. ‘Before I go, is there anything else I should know, or that might be helpful for me to understand. I’m going to have to work out how to tell people, and I can’t even begin to think how to do that…’
‘Well, you need to know that some people are still terrified of HIV. They don’t understand it. They still do think it is a death sentence and they’re going to catch it from you. But in reality, it is a very fragile virus that doesn’t survive outside the body for long. And despite the misconceptions of so many, itcan’tbe transmitted through sweat, urine or saliva.’
Vic hadn’t even thought about that, but it was such a relief to hear it. ‘So, I can’t pass it on to my flatmate, for example if we share a cup or a towel, or have a hug?’
‘No. All of those things are perfectly safe – and you’ll be needing some of those hugs.’
Vic inhaled a deep breath of freezing air, which made her feel slightly giddy. She let out a little moan. ‘And how on earth am I going to tell the person who gave it to me?’
‘Everyone is going to react differently, Victoria, and they may not react in the way you expect. I would suggest that you are in a quiet place and have a leaflet handy about transmission. And maybe tell them how easy it was for you to get tested and suggest they go and seek medical care as soon as they can.’
‘It’s going to be so awful.’ Vic sniffed.
‘It’s going to be emotional, that’s for sure,’ Brianreplied kindly. ‘And of course, you can obviously direct them to us if they need support.’
Vic shivered dramatically.
‘How do you feel now we’ve been chatting for a while?’
She hiccupped loudly. ‘Still shit, but better than I did. Thank you. Thank you so much. And happy Christmas, Brian. You’re amazing, do you know that?’
‘Get some rest if you can,’ Brian said gently. ‘Make sure to check out our website. You really are not alone. I can assure you of that. And do call us, whenever you need to.’
Arriving at her mum’s, Victoria hugged Chandler like she had never hugged him before, opened the back door to let him out for a pee, cranked up the heating, then went to the kitchen sink and downed half a pint of water. She could hear the television blaring in the living room. She went in and found her mother sound asleep, head back, mouth open, snoring, a half-empty litre bottle of vodka on the coffee table. Taking a big slurp from it herself, with a grimace, Vic turned off the TV.
Then she noticed that the familiar well-worn familiar Christmas tree had been decorated, and felt a small glimmer of hope. The battered white lace-dressed angel that had been in the decorations box ever since she could remember was sitting with her silver legs hanging over the side of the mantelpiece. Two envelopes, one with her name, one with Albie’s, were propped up beside it. She ripped at her own to reveal aTo My Darling Daughter-embossed Christmas card. Inside a twenty-pound WH Smith voucher and the words:Thought you could get some drawing bits and pieces. I only just realised the word HEART contained the word ART. No wonder you’re good at it. Happy Christmas, Victoria. Love, Mum XX
Silent tears began to fall down Victoria’s cheeks. With the shield of alcohol wearing off, and feeling suddenly spentwith emotion, she took off her coat, slumped down on the floor and rested her back against the sofa beside her mum’s legs. Placing a throw she had pulled from the armchair around them both as if they were in some kind of cocoon, she laid her head back on her mum’s knee.
Alcoholic or not, this was the only mum she would ever have, and she loved her. She loved her with all her heart. This was the mum who, when Vic had been sick as a child, would make her Heinz tomato soup and put mashed potato in it. The mum who would go straight down the shop and get her Lucozade as soon as she had a ‘bug’. The mum who would put a cool flannel on her head when she had a temperature, or calamine lotion on her itchy spots when she came down with chicken pox. And boy, did those spots itch! The mum who would sing ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ to her baby girl when she or Vic were feeling sad, as it got to number one the year Vic had been born and Kath loved it. And the mum who would fight her every corner at school if for one moment she thought her precious girl was being treated unfairly.
Whether Kath Sharpe would be able to comfort her only daughter when the darkness came and pain was all around, Victoria didn’t know. But what she did know was that the only person in the entire world she wanted to be with at this moment in time was her.
When Victoria awoke with a jump from a weird, unsettling dream in which she was trying to drive up a sheer mountainside in a London bus, it took her a second to work out where she was. Lying on the sofa with the throw up to her neck, it seemed, and Chandler a dead weight on her feet. For one glorious moment, she felt happy to be surrounded by such familiarity. Then it all came rushing back and reality hit. Life as she once knew it really was well and truly over.
Pleased at least that the heating had clicked on, she brought her watch close to her face and squinted at it, just about able to make out that it was seven a.m. With her mouth dry as a desert, she pulled her feet gently out from under Chandler and made her way out into the hall. As she did, she heard heavy snoring coming from the dining room. Perplexed, she poked her head around the door to make out the silhouette of her mother under a mountain of covers, on what looked like Albie’s old single bed. Vic was just wondering how Kath had got up off the sofa and herself back onto it without her realising, and why her mother was now sleeping downstairs, when Chandler came tearing into the hall. Shushing him, Victoria splashed her face in the kitchen sink, put on her coat, then groaned at the thought of having to head back to London for her hospital appointment.
