Chapter 10
Max’s birthday used to be a big occasion and he always made sure that Eve’s birthday was even bigger.
He knew how to do celebrations in style and that had probably stemmed from the way that Annie handled those kinds of events.
Despite her success and her determination to honour her maternal family’s legacy, Annie was far from being the stereotypical lawyer, and was obsessed with family rather than work.
Max had followed his mother’s example by making Eve’s birthday special from the start of their relationship.
It always began with her favourite breakfast and a carefully selected gift, and he’d always book a celebratory meal somewhere wonderful.
But it hadn’t ended there. When he’d discovered more about Eve’s experiences of birthdays after her mum had died, and the event had stopped being marked in any significant way, he’d decided that she ought to have a birthday week to make up for it.
Her father’s idea of making an effort had been a twenty-pound note stuffed into a generic birthday card – the kind that came in a multiple pack, rather than the sort that said ‘Happy Birthday to a Special Daughter.’ On more than one occasion the card had arrived late and, once she’d reached the age of twenty-five, the cards had stopped arriving altogether.
It hadn’t mattered as much as it might have done, because by then she’d become one of the Pascoe clan, sucked into Max’s family in a way that had made her feel loved and valued.
She’d spent a long time before that wondering how different things might have been if her mother hadn’t died when she was barely in her teens, but she’d finally been able to let go of all those what-ifs, because the void created by her mother’s absence had no longer felt so overwhelmingly huge.
Even after Max’s assault, when he had no longer cared when Eve’s birthday was, Annie had never allowed it to pass without fanfare.
She’d always insisted on a special family dinner, and there’d be beautifully wrapped gifts from her and Nigel, as well as from Max himself; no one acknowledging that Annie had bought and wrapped those as well.
Max had been in an induced coma on the first of the family birthdays that came around after he was assaulted, but the ones after that had been marked by Annie as if nothing had changed, just as Eve knew Max’s birthday would be this year.
He was thirty-three and should have been just a year off qualifying as a surgeon, except now he often needed help with the most basic of tasks, becoming incredibly angry when he couldn’t do something as simple as fastening a button by himself and wrenching it off in fury.
Did Annie really believe it was just a matter of time before Max returned to his old self?
She was an intelligent woman, but she was also a loving mother, so Eve understood why it might be preferable not to face reality.
It was why they were all dressing up to go out for his birthday lunch, at Bocca Felice, a restaurant overlooking the bay in Port Kara.
‘So do you, Annie.’ Eve turned towards Max’s father, who was already seated next to his son, smiling. ‘And you don’t scrub up too badly either, Nigel.’
‘I know, I quite fancied myself when I caught sight of my reflection.’ Nigel winked, but that didn’t stop Max from rolling his eyes.
‘Must be something wrong with your mirror, no one is going to fancy you with that many wrinkles.’
‘Max, don’t be so rude.’ Annie’s face had taken on a pinched look, and she was clearly worried that the shape of the day had already been determined, because it was Max’s mood that would dictate whether or not they were able to have a nice time.
He wasn’t the only resident at Oakwood Park who had undergone a change in personality as a result of his head injury.
One day, when Eve had gone to visit him, and he’d lashed out at her because her breathing sounded ‘weird’ and he’d shouted at her that she never thought about him or brought him anything nice, she hadn’t been able to hold back the tears.
She’d visited after a night shift from hell, without any sleep, because Annie had been at home in bed with the flu and for once wouldn’t be coming in.
Eve had been exhausted, but she’d driven ten miles out of her way before even arriving at Oakwood Park.
Her first stop had been to the Asian foods supermarket, waiting outside until it opened, to get Max some of the matcha KitKats that had become his favourite on an holiday they’d taken to Japan two years before the assault.
There were two types, one coated completely in matcha, and the other a combination of matcha and chocolate.
She’d selected the wrong one and it had been enough to set Max off.
As she’d stood in the corridor outside his room, one of the other residents, a man called Sammy, who was about the same age as Max, came up and stood next to her.
She was furiously wiping away the tears, trying to stem more from coming, when Sammy had asked her a question in the gentlest of tones.
‘Do you need a hug?’ All she’d been able to do was nod, because she really did.
‘Everything okay?’ Jeanine, one of the carers had followed Sammy down the corridor, and he’d stepped back, releasing Eve.
‘She just needed a hug, but she feels better now.’ Sammy had smiled then and given them both a salute, as if to indicate his duty was done, before heading further down the corridor and disappearing into his own room.
‘Are you really feeling better, because you don’t look like you are?’ Jeanine had reached out and squeezed her shoulder and the tears that Eve had desperately been trying to stem had begun to flow again.
‘Max just seems to hate me most of the time, he’s so angry and I don’t know what to do to change that.’
‘You can’t do anything because it’s Max who’s changed.
’ It had been the first time anyone had been quite so honest about the situation, perhaps because Annie wasn’t there to insist it was dressed up another way.
‘It’s common with head injuries like his to become more irritable and to no longer be able to comply with social norms.’
‘But Sammy’s really sweet, and when I spoke to his mum she said he’d sustained a very similar head injury to Max.’ She hadn’t meant to make the comparison, but she couldn’t help it. If she couldn’t have the old Max back, then why couldn’t he at least be like Sammy?
‘Even if they’d had identical injuries, it wouldn’t mean it affected them in the same way.
Sammy’s mother told me he used to be really competitive in his job, even bordering on aggressive, when he was going after something he wanted before his accident.
Now, he’s a total sweetheart, but he’s still not the same Sammy he was.
The residents here almost always experience a change in behaviour because of the seriousness of their injuries and, as you know only too well, that can be one of the hardest things for loved ones to deal with.
I know it’s a struggle, but Max is so lucky to have so many people who love him unconditionally, especially you and his mum.
Not all our residents get regular visitors and Max gets more than anyone else.
Don’t be hard on yourself if you find it tough some days, anyone would. ’
Jeanine had hugged her then and it should have made Eve feel better, but all it did was bring forth a fresh crop of tears.
It wasn’t just the sympathy and understanding, it was the fact that Jeanine’s words had made her feel more trapped than ever, because they seemed to come with the expectation that her visits would never stop, or even reduce.
The thought of doing this for the rest of her life, made it feel like there was a hand pressed against her windpipe, with the weight of the world behind it, and suddenly it had seemed almost impossible to breathe.
She’d known if she didn’t get out she’d have a full-blown panic attack.
So Eve had broken away from Jeanine and run out of Oakwood Park, not stopping until she’d got to her car.
It had taken her forty-five minutes to go back in and try again with Max; to take the photos of the two of them she would need to send to Annie to satisfy his mother that they were coping without her and that her son wasn’t going without visits while she was unwell.
If Eve hadn’t done that, her phone would have rung constantly.
It was easier just to do her duty and to try and power through, despite the love she’d once had for Max having died, not in one fell swoop, but by a thousand tiny cuts.
She hated herself for not being able to love him like she used to, but she couldn’t pretend any more, not even to herself.
She did still love him, but it looked nothing like the love they’d once shared.
The only pretence she maintained was with Annie, and she hated herself even more for lying to the woman who had done nothing but show her love, and had been the closest thing she’d had to a mum since she was fourteen years old.
As Eve looked across at Annie now, she could see in the older woman’s face that the changes in Max hurt her every bit as much.
She might be desperate to cling to the belief that this was all just temporary, but deep down she must have known that hope was futile.
All Annie wanted was a nice family meal to celebrate Max’s birthday and Eve would do whatever it took to make that happen.