Page 79 of You Were Always the One

I buy flowers to arrange in vases, plan nutritious meals with Miles in mind. We even eat together most days. One evening, I look at us now, compared to how we used to be. It’s true our house is calmer and more caring, that the pace of our lives has slowed and our family is more united. But there’s no mistaking the change in Miles and I try to hide the undercurrent of fear I feel.

You do what you have to at times like these, I tell myself when Miles has another fall, trying not to overthink it. Now and then my mind turns to Riggs, far away near the Pyrenees. He sends the occasional message to which I reply only briefly, as I try to make sense of the paths our lives take. If there’s any purpose to any of it.

Through it all, unlikely rays of sunshine burst through the clouds that have hung over me and Miles for too long. One evening, when I take him a cup of tea in bed, he takes me by surprise.

‘Do you have a moment?’

‘Of course.’ I sit on the edge of the bed. ‘Fire away.’

His eyes hold mine for a moment. ‘I want to apologise,’ he says.

‘There’s no need,’ I say automatically.

But he weakly raises one of his hands. ‘Please, Holly. I want to say this.’ He pauses for a moment. ‘I haven’t been a good husband to you. I’ve lied. And I’ve cheated on you. But you’re still here.’ He sighs. ‘I was angry when my illness started. I know I took it out on you.’ His voice wavers. ‘And I know I don’t deserve it, but I am truly so grateful that you are here.’

For a moment, I’m lost for words. It’s the most Miles has ever said about his feelings. ‘It’s OK.’ My voice is husky as I take one of his hands. ‘I don’t quite know how, but we are still married. We’re a family, Miles.’ But I have to be honest, too. ‘I came so close to leaving you. In fact, if you weren’t ill, I probably would have. But I’m glad I’m here.’ My hand tightens around his. ‘I really mean that.’

It’s a moment that touches my heart, the kind of connection, appreciation, that’s long been missing in our marriage. It makes me think about what love really is. How it makes you feel when you have a hunch that time is running out. But perhaps love isn’t just about choosing the right person, as we all think it is. Maybe it’s who you are when things are falling apart. A different kind of love, but no less for that.

After his treatment finishes, Miles is exhausted and there are a couple of weeks when he hits a low. While he stays in bed, I take him meals and do what I can for him. I know this is what happens, but it doesn’t take the worry away. Max and Grace come up with their own way of helping, taking a book or an iPad into Miles’s room and curling up in the armchair by the window. Little is said; their presence speaks volumes.

But Miles turns a corner and one morning, I go in and find him sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘I’m going to try to get up,’ he says. ‘Would you mind helping me?’

We learn to savour moments, my family and I. Meals in the garden with blankets over our knees – when the weather permits, a TV show we all laugh at, while Miles starts to read all the books he’s never made time for before. This joy in simple things is something I hope will stay with us, an appreciation of the good days; to worry less about what the future might bring.

One afternoon, when I go outside and find Max and Miles talking together, my heart feels full to overflowing. After the disconnect with their father my children have learned to live with, I can’t deny the good that is coming out of this, for all of us.

The temperature drops, and the first frost arrives quietly, bringing crisp air, a landscape that sparkles. At the back of my mind, I’m aware of Miles’s check-up looming, this month. But for now, we have these days and I fill them as best I can. Building memories for my children, is how I think of it. Just in case, because I want them to be able to look back on the good days.

‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Rita says on one of her regular visits.

‘You just do,’ I tell her. ‘You would do the same.’

‘Remember, I would have killed him, months ago,’ she says. ‘I can see why you’re a nurse. You’re a natural at it.’

And then it all goes completely out of the window one afternoon, when Miles takes a call. He comes to find me, his face ashen.

‘That was Patricia,’ he says. ‘She wants to see me.’

My first reaction is no way do I want this woman in our lives. All she’s done is divide us. But the fact is Miles and I had already done that to ourselves. If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.

‘I told her no, Holly,’ he adds. Then he looks at me. ‘I’m only telling you because we said we’d be honest with each other.’ He pauses. ‘I’ve screwed up enough times. I don’t want to do it again.’ He goes back outside, leaving his phone on the kitchen table. His way of trying to make it clear that he means what he said.

I want to believe him – and he gives me no reason not to. Even so, my uncertainty is back. I hide it as, for a while, our family goes on as if the call from Patricia never happened. There are rowdy Saturdays at Charley’s, quieter days at home. Weekends when Rita joins us. I give a fleeting thought to Riggs coming back to England. Or maybe he won’t. After all, until Emma has the baby, he has no reason to.

And so it is that late-November has us back at the hospital waiting for Miles to have another scan. It’s a far cry from last time, Miles glad of my company as we sit together. Then after, there’s another wait to see his consultant. Next to me, Miles is anxious. Understandably so. What comes next is potentially life-changing, for both of us.

After, as we sit in the car, neither of us speaks.

‘I thought the treatment would make more difference. But it hasn’t, has it?’ he says quietly. ‘Makes you ask what the point was.’

There’s an emptiness inside me as I look at him. ‘Let’s go home. We both need to think.’

And then we need to work out how to tell our children that their father isn’t getting better. There isn’t anything anyone can do. The treatment hasn’t worked. All we can do is make the most of what time we have left.

DECEMBER