Page 68 of You Were Always the One

‘She’s been unconscious since yesterday,’ Natalie says. ‘She’s been very peaceful. The nurse who came said she didn’t think she was in pain.’

‘I don’t think she is. She does look peaceful,’ I say, crouching down so that I’m close to Dora. ‘Hello, Dora. It’s Holly.’ I watch her for the smallest sign of recognition. But she doesn’t respond.

Natalie looks anxious. ‘Is it true, do you think? That hearing is the last sense to go?’

I turn to Natalie. ‘Quite possibly. I would keep talking to her. If she can hear you, the sound of your voice will reassure her.’ I take in the circles under Natalie’s eyes. ‘Why don’t you get yourself something to eat? I can stay for a while. I’ll call you if anything changes.’

Over the next two hours, I sit with Dora while it’s as though the last grains of sand in the hourglass of her time are running out. I think of everything she’s told me about her life. About the love she’s known, the family who mean so much to her. Then my thoughts invariably turn to Miles, before I push them away. Today isn’t the time.

Natalie comes back and the two of us stay with Dora as her breathing changes, then slows, before she gently fades from this world, her hand in her daughter’s. It’s quiet and peaceful – everything that Dora wanted it to be.

It’s a good death – there is such a thing, and it’s part of what my job is about. As I drive home that afternoon, I get the same feeling I often get about the fragility of human life, when one minute someone’s here; the next, they’re gone from this world.

Maybe I feel it more this time because of what Miles is going through. There are conversations we’ve yet to have about what lies ahead, now that we know what kind of cancer he has.

When I get home, he’s in the kitchen.

‘How was your morning?’ he asks when I come in.

‘Sad, but good.’ I don’t elaborate further. ‘How was yours?’

‘I had a call from work. I’m on leave indefinitely,’ he says uncomfortably.

I frown. ‘I thought you already were.’

He hedges. ‘I didn’t give them all the facts,’ he says. ‘I said I was having surgery. Anyway, now they know. It seems they can manage fine without me.’ He sounds bitter. ‘They already have someone in mind to take over my job.’

‘It’s just as well, isn’t it?’ I say quietly. ‘You need to put your energy into getting well.’

He laughs, cynically. ‘Let’s be straight about this. The tumour’s stage four already. We both know what the reality is.’ He sighs. ‘My career’s over, Holly. Everything I’ve worked so hard for. None of it matters, does it? Not now.’

I hear the despair in his voice, and my heart goes out to him. ‘You don’t know that. You need to give the treatment a chance.’

But when he looks at me, his eyes glisten with tears. ‘The consultant made it clear there isn’t a cure. It’s simply a question of how long I have.’

It’s like a light has gone out as I sit down next to him. ‘I wish there was something I could say.’ I pause. ‘But if we’re going to be straight, I think we should take this one step at a time. There will be good days and not so good ones.’ I pause again. ‘The kids will be home in a couple of hours. Let’s go out somewhere. It’s a lovely afternoon.’

‘You should go,’ he says. ‘I don’t think I can act as though everything’s fine. I have this feeling, Holly, about what’s happening to me. It isn’t a good one.’

24

RIGGS

After speaking to Holly, I think about what she said about working out what I want, for myself. I come to the conclusion that going away is the right thing to do, while she’s caring for Miles, while I take stock and figure out what comes next.

It’s a big question, isn’t it? What to do with the rest of your life? But for now, I don’t have time to ponder it. I have the last of my things to finish packing up, Emma’s left-behind books to take to a charity shop. A whole lot of stuff to store at my mother’s.

‘Are you sure about going away?’ Mum says when I get there. ‘It seems a little extreme, even for you, Rigby.’

‘It’s exactly what I need,’ I say firmly. I can already picture it in my head – a little house with mountain views, a small French bar a short drive away. Open space. Peace. ‘I’m only going for a couple of months. And it’ll give me the chance to write.’

‘Last time you said that, you were gone for over a year,’ she says wryly.

‘Mum, it won’t be that long,’ I say reassuringly. ‘And that was way back, before Emma and I were together. Anyway, I want to be here when the baby’s born.’

‘How is Emma?’ she asks.

‘She’s doing well. And she seems happy.’ The happiest I’ve known her if I’m honest, which makes me wonder even more why we ever got married.