Chapter Nine
December 2015
Christmas day went by smoothly and Sally and Gerry were great company. They didn’t continuously hound Lydia to have fun and they gave her her own space. They chatted over dinner preparations and Lydia went in to see Theo as soon as visiting hours started, then again after lunch when she’d needed to walk off the mound of turkey, pigs in blankets and roast potatoes. The only criticism of either of them that day was that they seemed to think she might forget to eat if they didn’t remind her, and that this day was their one and only chance to feed her up. That said, it was the first day Lydia had really had much of an appetite to eat a big meal in the company of friends, and it had made a welcome change.
Since that day in Hertfordshire and meeting Jonathan Maynard, Lydia had struggled to make sense of what was happening to her and Theo’s lives. It wasn’t just that she’d found Jonathan attractive, attractive people were everywhere, but it was more that they’d gelled in a different way and she could’ve easily sat there talking to him for hours. And that thought, that feeling, had almost bowled her over. She’d gone straight back to the hotel and packed her things, and instead of driving home first she’d gone directly to the hospital to see Theo. Graham had already been in to say his goodbyes before he headed back to New Zealand to look after his wife. Lydia felt sorry for the man, having two loved ones to care for, but he was strong, just like Theo. She assured him she would keep in touch if Anita failed to, and he told her he’d be back in a month or so. The look on his face when he’d had to leave his son had all but broken Lydia’s heart and she knew he’d be crying the second he walked out of the hospital.
Anita was still there that day, but this time Lydia didn’t care. She didn’t try to avoid the woman, instead she calmly washed her hands and used the antibacterial wash and went in to see her boyfriend, talk to him, let him know she was still there. She was still his. Anita made her excuses quickly enough, with a polite yet tight smile and something about going for some fresh air, and then Lydia had talked all about her day at the ski centre. She told Theo how cold it was inside, the snow that was way better than the dry ski slope she’d learned on, she talked about how it reminded her of their trip to New Zealand. She reminisced about that holiday, talking about The Remarkables, the mountain range a short drive from Queenstown, the ski field where she had first experienced skiing on snow. She held onto Theo’s hand, and oblivious to the nurse monitoring the machines to ensure everything was as it should be, she giggled about the almighty hangovers they’d nursed on their final day on the slopes, which had seen them leaving their lessons early, returning for a sleep at the apartment, and then when Theo had gone out for a free ski she’d taken herself into town for a massage.
The time between Christmas and New Year dragged on in the post-excitement lull and before the last hurrah of the final day of the year. Lydia visited Theo every day, with the office shut for a week and causing her to declare ‘boredom’ to him every time she went to the hospital. And apart from seeing Anita on occasion, both women respectfully kept their distance from one another whenever they could.
On New Year’s Eve, Gerry went out with his mates after all three of them visited Theo. Lydia had taken a box of posh Marks and Spencer’s biscuits for the nurses and doctors to share, because she’d totally forgotten at Christmas and some of them had been so kind to her. Sally and Lydia spent New Year’s Eve watching movies and pigging out on the remains of Sally’s Christmas chocolate. Lydia’s tree in the lounge at home was still adorned with chocolates because without Theo she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to pluck a single one off. Every time she looked at the tree, smelt the scent of it, it reminded her of them choosing it from the farm, him shouting at her to hold it down as he fixed it to the roof, her laughing when he slipped in mud and fell on his arse, and when they’d made love for the last time beneath the lights.
In the second week of January, it was time to go back to work and although Lydia hadn’t been in the office, she’d written up the charity ski article over the holidays ready for the deadline today. Having given her copy to her boss to approve, she spent the morning sifting through images from the photographer.
‘He’s supposed to be good,’ said Ian as he approached her desk, pen rattling between his fingers.
Jonathan Maynard? ‘Who?’
‘The photographer, Pete. The man whose photos you’re perusing now.’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘Jeez, Lydia, you’re still in the post-Christmas spirit: no energy or oomph.’
Sometimes she wanted to tell him exactly what her life entailed right now. He probably thought she’d spent Christmas curled up with a guy watching romantic movies on the television, or going out on Christmas Eve in search of a Christmas kiss, and had nothing more to worry about than who ate the last After Eight or whether they had enough ice cubes for their Baileys Irish Cream. But as tempting as it was to divulge everything about Theo, she didn’t want to. At least not yet. It was easier to cope with that way. No sympathetic looks, no asking every day how he was and whether he was getting better. Because her answer would only be, ‘no he bloody isn’t. He’s lying there not moving, not talking, and I really don’t think he’s coming back.’ And then she would tell them all about her promise to Theo and how she’d let Anita lead the way with the consultants to make sure that every extraordinary measure that could be taken was followed to the letter.
Lydia turned her screen so Ian could see. ‘He’s taken some great shots of the event and there are a couple of Jonathan…Maynard.’ She added his surname because it sounded way too familiar otherwise. ‘I think you’ll be happy with the finished article.’
‘And what was he like?’
‘Sorry?’
Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Jonathan Maynard. Bit of a charmer, I hear.’
He certainly was and she hadn’t been immune to the effect. ‘He was very nice, very polite and I’ve got some great quotes to use. Are you happy with what you’ve read?’
‘It’s all good. I’m just wondering if he said anything more about how he got involved in the charity side of things. You know what the public are like, a human-interest angle goes a long way, clarifies things for them.’
Ian was a great boss. Relaxed and modern, they were allowed to wear jeans in the office and used their discretion about clothing when attending events, conferences or meetings, but he did have a tendency to quote from journalism guidelines verbatim, and as he began his speech about human interest selling more sometimes than the rest of the subject matter of the article, she thought of Jonathan and his reply to her email. She’d sent him the piece as promised, and he’d agreed with how she’d written it. She’d left a lot of what he’d told her out of the write-up and he was very appreciative. She hadn’t heard from him since but she knew he’d flown off to Italy, the next stop for his teaching adventures.
‘I’m afraid that’s all he gave me,’ she lied. ‘And he’s off around Europe now. Incommunicado.’
‘Ah well, can’t be helped.’
Ian watched as Lydia carried on flipping through some of the shots from the photographer. They decided on the headline of the piece, and once they’d finished it was time for Lydia to move on to research for an article about flying long-haul and top tips for surviving not only the flight itself but the inevitable jet lag, especially with a young family in tow.
After work it was to the hospital for Lydia, thankfully without having to make any excuses. Nobody at the office was pressuring anyone else to go out for drinks. They’d done enough of that before Christmas and now everyone had quietened down, and tightened up their purse strings for at least a month or so. Another thing about her boss, Ian, was that he demanded hard work and diligence from his staff but he didn’t expect it much after the traditional clock-off time. He thought it would prompt burnout and only expected it if there was a particularly tight deadline. Other than that, staff were free to go or could take work home and do it whenever was convenient.
She left work and made her way towards the bus station. She passed through a small park, appreciating a glimpse of green space in a city steeped with history, culture and impressive architecture. The winter had been milder than anticipated with the threat of snow only hovering in the clouds above, and already there was a small clump of snowdrops behind a fence, buried near the base of a bush. The dangling white flowers swayed gently in the same breeze that made Lydia wrap her scarf more tightly around her neck, burying her face deep beneath. The snowdrops may be brave enough for the cold but she wasn’t. Not quite yet.
*
By early February it was as though those snowdrops had multiplied, with others coming out in force, their beautiful white tops making a soft blanket surrounding trees, behind fences, and daffodils had deigned to join them, braving the seasonal winds forcing the city to cling on to winter.
At the hospital it was business as usual. She greeted the staff she knew, acknowledged those she wasn’t so familiar with. Anita had already gone, knowing this was the time Lydia usually came in. They had fallen into an unspoken routine with Lydia coming along at five o’clock and Anita returning from six o’clock to eight o’clock, after her tea at the same bed and breakfast that, according to Grace, had given her a cheap deal because she used it so frequently now.
Theo looked the same. Not good but at the same time not bad, and Lydia had started to find an inner peace rather than continuously torturing herself that this wasn’t what he wanted. Someone had come in and cut Theo’s hair, in a fashion, and Lydia had promptly whispered in his ear that he shouldn’t worry, when he got out of here she’d take him to his favourite barber’s where they gave you a beer while you had your hair cut, and they’d sort out the mess the hospital’s hairdresser had made. He was thirty-one, not ten, and he was far too old for the schoolkid short-back-and-sides he’d been given. Anita had also taken to shaving him regularly and Lydia was grateful. It was such an intimate thing to do, another thing he’d hate if he was able to voice an opinion.
After the nurse had been in, Lydia used a damp sponge to wet Theo’s lips, which were prone to getting dry and cracked. She told him all about her day. ‘Sally’s been away skiing,’ she told him. ‘She twisted her ankle quite badly. Gerry told her she could do a black run and she tried, bless her. Hopefully she’ll be up and about soon enough, she’s resting it at the moment and I took her some chocolates and a bottle of wine yesterday.’ She stopped dabbing his lips. ‘Snow sports are a dangerous pastime, not for everyone.’
She turned to drop the sponge back into the bowl and then squeezed Theo’s hand. ‘Come on,’ she whispered, ‘please give me something so I know this was the right thing to do. Just squeeze my hand or turn your head. Anything. Your mum fought for you because she thinks you’ll get through this.’ She gulped. ‘If anyone can, you can, so please try.’
She sat on a chair and watched him, willing him to do something, move anything or open his eyes, but after twenty minutes she knew it was a useless request, another pointless, one-sided conversation.
She left well before there was any likelihood of Anita appearing. Some days she could tolerate a conversation with his mum; other times, like tonight, she really couldn’t, because she couldn’t bear to look at the woman who’d kept Theo this way when he never would’ve wanted it. Lydia almost hated her for that, but reversing the roles, Anita almost hated Lydia for wanting the opposite. Perhaps neither of them had any right to make any decision on behalf of Theo. Perhaps nature and medicine would be the deciding factor and determine all their fates.
At home that evening, Lydia took out a readymade lasagne from the fridge. It was lazy and it wasn’t cost effective, but since Theo hadn’t been here, the pleasure of cooking had evaded her. It felt wrong to pour a glass of wine, sing along to music and make a meal that only she would enjoy. Most often than not she ate in front of the television, something she and Theo rarely did unless they had takeaway and were watching a movie. Usually they sat at the small, round kitchen table and chatted until late and Lydia could barely keep her eyes open a second longer.
She’d give anything to talk to Theo right now, to sit across the table laughing and joking with him like they used to.
She ran a finger beneath his message on the blackboard and her mind was back on the morning of the accident, the intimacy by the Christmas tree; the tree that she, Sally and Gerry had taken down in silence. She wanted to touch the message itself, the last thing he’d written, but she couldn’t, and she didn’t want to erase it, she didn’t want to get rid of another part of him.
She caught sight of the Tupperware container in the corner of the kitchen, filled with the chocolates they’d both so patiently tied on each branch of the real tree that had long since died and been taken away to be made into mulch. It’d been torture to resist them at the time with Theo reminding her not to sneak one when he wasn’t looking, but since the accident she hadn’t wanted a single one, so there they sat. If she didn’t move them before the summer they’d melt into a pile of goo as the sun streaked across the kitchen in its usual fashion.
When the phone rang, she still had a hand resting on the tub of chocolates. It was Sally.
‘Answer me something.’ It was the first thing her friend said to her.
‘What’s that?’
‘What have you got for dinner? I want to know exactly…it’s important.’
Bewildered, she played along and told her friend, ‘Lasagne, and I’ll have salad on the side. Why?’
‘Not enough detail,’ Sally said simply. ‘Home-made or shop bought?’
‘Shop bought.’
‘Have you cut your own tomatoes and cucumber for the salad?’
Lydia thought of the bag of lettuce in the fridge. She hadn’t thought to buy anything else to go with it. ‘I would have to say no.’
‘Is the oven on? Is it in yet?’
‘No.’ Lydia was laughing now. ‘You’re off your rocker, you are. What’s going on?’
‘Step away from the lasagne, Lydia.’
‘Okay…’
‘When was the last time you went out, to a pub, had a good old laugh?’
Lydia sighed. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘You’ll possibly hate me for what I’m about to say and that’s why I haven’t said it before now, but it’s been two months, and life has to go on in some shape or form.’ She paused, clearly unsure whether to continue. ‘It has to, Lydia. I know it’s tearing you up inside seeing Theo like this, but how about it? Just me and you, not a big crowd.’
‘But your ankle is still dodgy,’ Lydia claimed. ‘I’m not carrying you anywhere.’
‘It’s much better. I’ve been icing it and resting, so I think I’ll be able to manage. And Gerry is going to the local for a quiz night. So how about it? We’ll go to a restaurant of your choice – nobody is spending money in February after Christmas so we’ll get in easy. We’ll open a bottle of red and you can cry into a lasagne made by a chef on the premises.’
Lydia took a deep breath and slotted the lasagne back in the fridge. Because her friend was right, she needed to do something or she’d go crazy with the way she was existing right now.
*
They chose to go French, and the second they were through the door Sally requested the wine list and without asking Lydia a single thing she ordered a bottle of Merlot.
‘Thank you,’ said Lydia.
‘I know you like your Merlot.’ Sally chinked her glass against her friend’s the second the waiter left them to it. With her short-cropped blonde hair and blue eyes she was the complete opposite of Lydia. They’d once spotted themselves in the reflection of the window at university and laughed at how different they were: one short – Sally at a mere five foot – and the other tall at almost five foot seven; one with the palest of blue eyes and the other with eyes such a deep brown you could barely see the pupils unless you went up really close; one with curves and tanned complexion, the other with her petite build and only freckles colouring her skin in the height of summer.
‘I didn’t mean thank you for the wine.’ Lydia took a generous sip. ‘Although I do appreciate it. I meant thank you for being so bossy and making me come out tonight. You were right to insist and to be pushy.’
‘It’s early days, I know, and anything could happen with Theo. And I hope to God it does, but I also know that he would hate it if he could see you in that hospital every single day, not living the life he would like to be living himself.’
Lydia took a deep breath and quickly scanned the menu, narrowing down a starter and a main so she was ready when the waiter returned. ‘It’s like living in limbo,’ she explained. ‘He’s neither dead nor alive. And the worst thing is that every time I look at him, every time the nurses give me the look that says nothing has changed in the last twenty-four hours since I was there, I remember his face, looking at me, telling me he’d never want to be kept alive if that was all it was.’
Before Sally could reply, the waiter appeared and they reeled off their orders. When he’d gone on his way, Sally said, ‘I can’t even imagine what it’s like. But I guess it must be different for a mum than it is for us.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I just think it must be harder. She gave birth to him, has seen him through thirty-one years of his life.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ It was impossible to put herself in Anita’s shoes, she wasn’t a mother. ‘I think she hates me.’
‘I’m sure she doesn’t. I think she’ll calm down when she thinks about it rationally. You weren’t suggesting the doctors do nothing to help Theo, you were merely telling her what he would’ve wanted. I doubt it was a conversation he ever had with his mum.’
‘Sally?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She topped up both wine glasses.
‘Just for one night, do you think it would be okay to talk about something other than hospitals and my boyfriend?’
Sally grinned. ‘Now you’re talking. But first…’ She raised her glass. ‘A toast to Theo.’
‘To Theo.’ It felt right to do that. To acknowledge him, but then Lydia needed to relax in the company of her friend, she needed to chew the fat about mundane things – Gerry coming home from footy training and traipsing mud into the house, Sally’s mum taking up belly dancing which was, quite frankly, hilarious and had both of them in fits of laughter. And by the time they groaned over the dessert menus and declared they couldn’t fit another thing in, Lydia felt weirdly different.
Lydia ordered two doubles of Baileys with ice and they paid the bill so they’d be left alone for a while. ‘Imogen’s coming home in a fortnight.’ Lydia had received the final postcard – it actually said that at the top – from her sister that morning. It had the usual banter detailing how this time she was in Hong Kong where she’d met up with a friend from school; she was coming home to start her first proper job. ‘I can’t wait to see her.’
‘Does she know about Theo yet?’ She pulled a face. ‘Sorry, I know we’re not supposed to be talking about him tonight.’
‘It’s okay, kind of inevitable that all conversations lead back to Theo at the moment.’ She sighed and toyed with the stem of her wine glass. ‘I made Mum and Dad promise not to let it slip. This is the only time she’ll have a gap year and she was close to him, she’ll be heartbroken. I figured if there was no change then what was the point. I actually hoped he’d be awake by now.’ She harrumphed. ‘I thought it’d be like in one of those movies or TV dramas where the patient in a coma has been asleep for years or decades and then wakes up looking and sounding the same, able to remember everything. Silly, eh.’
‘It’s not silly.’
‘She’s coming straight here from Heathrow, and I’ll tell her everything. She’s got almost a fortnight before she starts her first job as a marketing assistant for an insurance company up in York. To be honest, I’m not sure how she’ll find it, being on UK soil, doing the normal things people do every day. She likes her freedom too much.’
‘I’ll bet your parents can’t wait to see her.’
‘They’re excited, for sure.’
‘Have your parents been to see Theo? I know they’re fond of him.’
Her parents had liked Theo from the moment they met. He was friendly without trying too hard, he was a gentleman and they’d seen how happy he made Lydia. Even when they’d been through stressful times, her parents had always given him the benefit of the doubt. ‘They think the world of him, but with him being in intensive care and them living quite far away, it’s not been easy to pop in. They’re also trying to keep a respectful distance, knowing how hard this must be for Anita.’ She sighed. ‘It’s not even as though they can have a good old chinwag with him, is it?’ Her attempt at a joke met with a tentative smile from Sally. ‘Do you know how hard it is to have a one-way conversation with someone?’
‘Not easy, I imagine.’ Sally knocked back the rest of her drink. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here. There’s a bar across the street, the one we haven’t been to in years. Let’s start there and see where the mood takes us.’
There was no room for argument because as Lydia finished her own drink, Sally had already put on her jacket and was physically pulling Lydia’s arm to lead her out of the restaurant.
They giggled their way across to the bar where Sally flew straight to the front of the queue and the bouncer she knew. ‘He plays footy with Gerry,’ she explained when the bouncer let them straight in ahead of girls in strappy heels and mini skirts who’d clearly been waiting in the cold much longer. ‘Cocktail?’ Sally asked, snaking her way through the crowds to the bar. It was amazing how such a teeny person could make people move aside like the parting of the Red Sea.
They got through three cocktails each – two espresso martinis and then something called a Porn Star, which was surprisingly tasty as well as potent. And they were about to move on when Lydia spotted her boss, Ian, and waved to him. He came over and introduced himself to Sally who took an instant interest. Clearly she was thinking of dreaming up some scenario that pushed them together but Lydia knew the signs so she got him talking about his pregnant wife and his toddler twins. He offered to buy them another drink and the only beverage Lydia would take was a long, tall glass of water.
‘This is Connor,’ he said when a stranger lingered long enough for Lydia to realise Ian knew him. She’d thought he was trying in a not so subtle way to simply muscle in on the conversation. ‘Connor is my brother-in-law.’
‘Nice to meet you, Connor,’ Sally yelled above the din before she saw a work colleague of her own and excused herself to say hello.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ Lydia told him as Ian was commandeered by a woman Lydia hoped was his wife, judging by the way she was touching his arse and standing so close they looked like conjoined twins.
‘They don’t get out much.’ Connor leaned closer and she felt the warmth of his breath against her ear. Not in a bad or creepy way.
‘I’ll say.’ Her boss and his other half were canoodling like a couple of teenagers.
‘Sorry, I have to move away,’ said Connor and they walked over to a quieter corner. Lydia didn’t miss Sally’s approving look, and shook her head at her as if to say this wasn’t what she thought it was.
‘I’m assuming that’s your sister,’ said Lydia.
‘It is, and my parents have the twins on a sleepover tonight. This is the first time they’ve been out and she hasn’t got long before she pops the next baby out.’
‘So what are you this evening?’ she asked ‘A chaperone in case they misbehave?’
He grinned, his dark blond hair flopping carelessly from its haphazard parting. ‘I’d say they’re doing that already. No, they dragged me out. I lost my job last month and have been pretty miserable. “A face like a slapped arse” – I think that’s how my mother described it.’
Lydia giggled. She couldn’t imagine her own parents ever using such a phrase. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I was made redundant a while back and I know it’s not easy.’ She sipped the remains of the glass of water through her straw.
Connor clutched his bottle of Becks. ‘But then you were lucky enough to end up working with my brother-in-law.’
‘He’s a brilliant boss. And now I get to be one of those annoying people who can genuinely say they love their job.’
‘Now I hate you.’
She smiled. This was something she could talk about, because it was nothing to do with doctors, nothing to do with outcomes and probabilities, hope and hopelessness. It was plain old life and it was comforting. ‘My last boss was okay but a bit uptight. I worked for a major newspaper in London and I could only describe the work environment as fierce and cut-throat.’
‘Scary stuff.’
‘Don’t joke, it was. I never missed a deadline but I saw people who did cower beneath her glare, her reprimands.’
‘I’d say a deadline was all part of the job.’
‘Oh it is, and those people should’ve met them without fail. But if she was more approachable, maybe they would’ve flagged that there were issues getting interviews, or sometimes photographers failed to show or they’d be sent on a wild goose chase all through the back streets of London for sources that didn’t exist, or if they did they’d fail to generate a story anyone would read.’
‘Did you study journalism?’
‘I studied sociology. How about you? What’s your job?’
‘I’m a vet. The practice where I worked in Devon closed down and I guess I just haven’t got off my arse to do anything about it yet. I’ve got totally unrelated temporary work for now, but nothing to write home about.’
It sounded familiar to Lydia and she told him a bit more about her time freelancing, although over the din of the music, it wasn’t always easy to be heard. ‘Maybe you need a break,’ she suggested.
‘Maybe you’re right.’
They chatted on about locations in the UK he’d love to work, his love of the countryside and fear of the big city.
‘It’s not that I don’t like the city,’ he explained, ‘it’s just that I love the countryside more. You can’t beat all that open space.’
It had never appealed much to Lydia. She’d wondered if it would as she grew older but she and Imogen had yawned audibly and visibly when their parents announced they were moving out to a tiny village with no facilities for miles. ‘There’s not even a bus that operates out there,’ her sister had grimaced. ‘There’s no corner shop, no takeaway, not even a place to buy a can of Coke when you’re desperate,’ she’d added. To Imogen it was pure sacrilege.
When Ian came over and explained Niamh was tired and desperate to get home and put her feet up, Lydia’s time with Connor came to an end. ‘It was nice to meet you tonight,’ he said. ‘And thank you. You rescued me from watching my own sister being felt up by your boss.’
‘My pleasure,’ Lydia giggled and when he turned at the doorway, looked over the top of everyone’s heads and smiled, she returned the smile right back.
Sally was by her side in seconds. ‘He was gorgeous.’
‘Come on, don’t get any ideas,’ said Lydia, looping her arm through her friend’s. ‘Let’s get a taxi, shall we?’
Sally protested a bit but on the whole she was satisfied they’d managed to get out tonight, and when Lydia dropped her outside her front door, shoving her out the taxi and guiding her to the porch with the sensor light that dazzled them, Lydia was satisfied too. It was the first night out without Theo where she’d felt remotely normal, and for the first time she could honestly say she’d enjoyed herself. It felt as though she was beginning to put herself back together as much as she possibly could at this stage, and she knew it would make Theo proud.